Derrick recovered first, of course.
His mouth curved again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time.
"I didn't hear you arrive," he said.
Jordan tilted his head slightly.
"Ofcourse you didn't. You are not built for awareness "
That earned a flicker of something in Derrick's expression. Irritation. Calculation. Disdain.
I watched it all unfold with my arms still crossed, pulse annoyingly loud in my ears.
Jordan began walking towards us.
Unhurried.
Like time was something that adjusted itself around him rather than the other way around.
His eyes landed on the scattered books at Derrick's feet.
Then on me.
Just a glance.
But it did something irritatingly physiological to my nervous system that I refused to investigate further.
"You're blocking corridors now?" Jordan asked Derrick.
Derrick scoffed. "I was having a conversation."
Jordan nodded "Try having it somewhere less suicidal."
Derrick's smile sharpened again, but it had lost some warmth.
"Touche. You were quite lucky in Don Puerto"
Jordan stepped forward just slightly. His voice had none of the creeping fear that was trying to bug me at the memory of that horrible assassination attempt at Don Puerto "I wasn't lucky. You are very much incompetent as a hired hand. You will still fail even as a council rat".
"Now, that's enough, Jordan" I said , raising my hand and stepping in between the both of them. Derrick s face was hot and his mouth moved but no word was heard. Jordan meanwhile rested once more on the wall, his face so neatly composed as to be considered innocent.
Derrick leaned down slightly, gathering the fallen books.
His voice dropped as he placed it back into the stack.
"I can't wait to see how long it takes before someone finally proves what you are," he whispered. "And when they do… I want front row seats when the Council decides what to do with you."
He straightened.
Smiled once.
Then looked at Jordan.
"Enjoy your little alignment," he said lightly. "It usually ends in funerals."
And then he walked past us.
"Don't provoke him" I snapped immediately Derrick was gone "That guy is dangerous ".
"Relax" Jordan smirked, that characteristic indifference perched heavily on his face like a placard. My stomach churned. I wanted to swat the pride away.
"You practically called him an incompetent assassin."
"He is an incompetent assassin."
"Jordan."
"What?"
My migraine pulsed.I rubbed my temple.
"He tried to kill you."
Jordan's shoulders rose and fell in an indifferent shrug. "Many people have tried to kill me."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
I groaned.
Sometimes talking to Jordan Files felt like arguing with a particularly handsome brick wall.
A very dangerous brick wall.
A very dangerous brick wall with nice shoulders.
I hated my life.
Jordan's eyes narrowed slightly. He held my shoulders and was staring at my eyes with a sense of urgency. "Night, are you okay?"
I swatted the hands away "Of course I am ." I rolled my eyes.
Jordan turned my face this way and that with a sense of panic in his eyes. I was livid "Quit it. Whats up with the fuzz?"
"What happened today". His voice was surprisingly calm and composed.
" what happened where ?" I asked .
"The football field."
Damn werewolves.
Nothing escaped them.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I shrugged.
"Your pulse spiked."
"I was watching football."
"Your pulse spiked." He insisted
"I was surrounded by people."
"Your pulse spiked."
I glared.
He stared back.
Patiently.
Infuriatingly.
Like a wolf waiting beside a rabbit hole.
Eventually I lost.
"Fine."
Jordan folded his arms.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The truth."
I resisted the urge to throw something at him.
"A vision."
His expression immediately changed.
The teasing disappeared.
Not completely.
Just enough..
"What did you see?"
The migraine pulsed again.
Hard.
I swallowed.
"A man."
Jordan waited.
"A chained man."
His eyebrows drew together.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"What did he look like?
"
"I don't know."
"You saw him."
" I was busy panicking."
Jordan sighed dramatically.
I pointed a finger at him.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That disappointed parent thing."
"I am disappointed."
I made a strangled sound.
He looked pleased with himself.
Which lasted approximately three seconds.
Because my expression must have changed.
The amusement vanished instantly.
"What else?" The question was quieter.
I hesitated.
Then said it.
"He knew my name.He called me Night Carter."
Silence.
The corridor suddenly felt too warm.
Too narrow.
Too aware.
Jordan's gaze searched my face.
"You've never seen him before?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Jordan." I was trying so hard to control my rising temper.
"That wasn't an answer."
"Yes. I'm sure."
Another pause.
Then:
"Well we will find him and save him" And then he added pompously "As usual".
Simple.
Confident.
Like he was discussing weather forecasts instead of prophetic visions.
Oddly enough, that helped.
A little.
Not much.
A little.
Then Jordan suddenly reached out and flicked my forehead.
I yelped.
"What was that for?"
"You're frowning."
"I have a migraine."
"You're frowning aggressively."
I rubbed my forehead.
"One day somebody is going to poison your food."
Jordan smiled. "The list is long."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the corridor.
"Wonderful."
We both turned.