Read Online Wolf's-own: Koan by Carole Cummings - Free Book Online
Authors: Carole Cummings
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to the mattress and took a long drag. Fuck it. Liquor only drove the lethargy deeper, and the temporary muffling of his thoughts never made the headache worth it. Anyway, Caidi wouldn't go away just because Jacin was muzzy. She'd been waiting for him, here in this too-luxurious room at this too-luxurious inn, when they'd arrived in Mitsu almost two weeks ago, and so far, she only seemed to go away when Malick was around. Otherwise, she just hovered about, nattering at him, making him think about things he didn't want to think about, tricking words and confessions from him he didn't even know were down there somewhere. The only good thing about Caidi not-really-haunting him was that she somehow managed to silence Beishin once she started in on Jacin, so Jacin just kept not asking her to go away.
"Do you know why I love you?” Caidi asked. It was soft and spoken kindly, but it sent a bit of a frisson up Jacin's backbone.
"No,” he whispered, because he'd never been able to figure it out. She'd only been a little thing when Asai had taken Jacin away—no, when Asai had bought him, bought him from his father, and that still stung like fire, but it was the truth, and dressing it up in less appalling words was worse than useless; it was gutless—but Caidi had been far too young to have formed any attachment to Jacin back then. Jacin had been surprised that she'd even remembered him when they'd been reunited. Doubly surprised that she'd latched on to him the way she'd done. Jacin had loved only a half-remembered image of a towheaded toddler, but Caidi had been a reality for which he hadn't been prepared, and so he'd been helpless to shut her out. He wanted to regret it but he couldn't. Wanted to shut her out now, because knowing she wasn't real was killing him, but he couldn't do that, either.
"Because,” Caidi told him evenly, “you love so big, even when you don't want to. Because you can't help it. And because you need it back, but you don't know how to take it.” There was a pause, but when Jacin didn't fill it, Caidi went on, “You stepped in front of a sword for him, you saved his soul, but don't forget why he was risking it in the first place."
Jacin shut his eyes.
That was actually the one thing he'd never been able to explain away, where Malick was concerned. He almost wished that he could, so he could finally settle everything into neat lines with predictable end points, know what to expect, but that one too-big-to-ignore fact loomed over the conclusion and made one plus one equal four hundred and seventy-two. Malick had been forbidden to even touch Yakuli, and yet he'd meant to kill him. For Jacin. It was... inexplicable. Hope crouched at its edges, and Jacin shied away, because hope had never done anything but fuck him over in the end, and that was the worst kind of hurt.
Caidi tutted a little. Jacin could hear the heels of her shoes knocking against the wall beneath the windowsill, and he thought it was a little strange that his mind would conjure something like that, but he'd learned not to analyze the things his mind came up with too deeply. He never liked what he found.
"You think Malick doesn't know how to love, Jacin. But his problem is that he loves too much, just like you, it's why Wolf chose him, and everything he threw around so carelessly for over a century is now narrowed down on you. You have to learn how to figure out what to do with it."
Sometimes Jacin thought maybe this really was Caidi, maybe she really was a ghost who just knew too much, because there was not a single word in what she'd just said that could possibly have come from Jacin's own mind. It threw him, clogged up whatever he might have been thinking of saying into the back of his throat where it tangled with the smoke and the remnants of the liquor and burned . His eyes teared.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be here,” he said, throat tight. “I don't know... how to be.” His hands fisted. “And he won't tell
"Do you know why I love you?” Caidi asked. It was soft and spoken kindly, but it sent a bit of a frisson up Jacin's backbone.
"No,” he whispered, because he'd never been able to figure it out. She'd only been a little thing when Asai had taken Jacin away—no, when Asai had bought him, bought him from his father, and that still stung like fire, but it was the truth, and dressing it up in less appalling words was worse than useless; it was gutless—but Caidi had been far too young to have formed any attachment to Jacin back then. Jacin had been surprised that she'd even remembered him when they'd been reunited. Doubly surprised that she'd latched on to him the way she'd done. Jacin had loved only a half-remembered image of a towheaded toddler, but Caidi had been a reality for which he hadn't been prepared, and so he'd been helpless to shut her out. He wanted to regret it but he couldn't. Wanted to shut her out now, because knowing she wasn't real was killing him, but he couldn't do that, either.
"Because,” Caidi told him evenly, “you love so big, even when you don't want to. Because you can't help it. And because you need it back, but you don't know how to take it.” There was a pause, but when Jacin didn't fill it, Caidi went on, “You stepped in front of a sword for him, you saved his soul, but don't forget why he was risking it in the first place."
Jacin shut his eyes.
That was actually the one thing he'd never been able to explain away, where Malick was concerned. He almost wished that he could, so he could finally settle everything into neat lines with predictable end points, know what to expect, but that one too-big-to-ignore fact loomed over the conclusion and made one plus one equal four hundred and seventy-two. Malick had been forbidden to even touch Yakuli, and yet he'd meant to kill him. For Jacin. It was... inexplicable. Hope crouched at its edges, and Jacin shied away, because hope had never done anything but fuck him over in the end, and that was the worst kind of hurt.
Caidi tutted a little. Jacin could hear the heels of her shoes knocking against the wall beneath the windowsill, and he thought it was a little strange that his mind would conjure something like that, but he'd learned not to analyze the things his mind came up with too deeply. He never liked what he found.
"You think Malick doesn't know how to love, Jacin. But his problem is that he loves too much, just like you, it's why Wolf chose him, and everything he threw around so carelessly for over a century is now narrowed down on you. You have to learn how to figure out what to do with it."
Sometimes Jacin thought maybe this really was Caidi, maybe she really was a ghost who just knew too much, because there was not a single word in what she'd just said that could possibly have come from Jacin's own mind. It threw him, clogged up whatever he might have been thinking of saying into the back of his throat where it tangled with the smoke and the remnants of the liquor and burned . His eyes teared.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be here,” he said, throat tight. “I don't know... how to be.” His hands fisted. “And he won't tell
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