Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

“S
he’s getting worse.” Joyce watched as the nineteen-year-old girl rocked back and forth against the wall.

Canary—a nickname given to her because of her yellow-and-black-streaked hair—had her knees pulled tight against her chest and her hands clamped over her ears. A steady stream of incoherent ramblings poured from her mouth.

Jaxon knelt in front of her, dropping his head to the side in an attempt to make eye contact. Canary didn’t look up, and the ramblings didn’t stop.

“Stress?” he asked.

“Undoubtedly,” Joyce said. “She grew irritable the first day and struggled to keep on task. We were all emotional, so I didn’t think much of it. The second day, she complained of noises that didn’t affect any others. I thought she was over stimulated, so I kept her workload as light as possible. But by the time we arrived here, she just shut down.”

“And now this.”

“And now this,” Joyce repeated. Her voice was even, but worry creased the edges of her eyes.

“We’ve all been through a lot,” Jaxon said, standing. “Allow her time to cope. If that’s not enough, talk with Leira or Vincent and keep her under. Her mind needs time to heal.”

Joyce nodded, though she didn’t look as though she approved.

“Speak,” Jaxon said, the word coming out rougher than he intended.

“This is outside my realm of expertise,” she said. “I treat cuts and scrapes, even burns and stitches on occasion, but this…” She looked back at Canary. The poor girl didn’t seem to realize anyone was in the room with her. “I don’t know the first thing about treating a mental breakdown.”

“Do what you can,” Jaxon said.
We’re all in over our heads.
He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, relieved to escape Canary’s ramblings. Deep down, he knew mental illness wasn’t contagious, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable to be around. The idea that he was only one trigger away from madness was a truly terrifying thought.

He stepped into the main living space. The inside of the cabin was larger than one might have expected based on its deceptively small exterior. Complete with a full kitchen containing an eat-in bar and dining and living rooms, the main living quarters consisted of one giant great room centered around a stone fireplace, where a fire burned day and night. Furnished with two ancient couches and a slab from a great redwood serving as the dining room table, the cabin was filled with eclectic designs that didn’t complement each other. A floating staircase led upstairs to a loft, where Allyn and Kendyl had played as kids. Now it slept the bulk of their number. Privacy was a thing of the past.

Even then, the cabin was still too small for their number. But they worked to make do. The cabin echoed with the sounds of hammers and saws, and it smelled of sweat and fresh-cut timber. A team of young magi were using the rusty tools Jaxon had found in the garage to build bunks along the long wall of the living space. Jaxon didn’t believe they would necessarily be using the bunks—he hoped to leave any day—but staying productive would keep their spirits up.

“Jaxon.”

Jaxon turned to find Erik, the building team’s leader, waiting anxiously. He had removed his shirt, exposing his sweat-slick olive skin and well-defined frame. Having been his instructor for years, Jaxon knew the young magi well. He’d been there when Erik had wielded for the first time, and after only a year, he was one of the Family’s quickest learners.

“We have a problem,” Erik said.

Jaxon stifled a groan. When Erik didn’t immediately come out with it, Jaxon gave him an irritated go-ahead gesture.

“We’re running out of lumber,” Erik said.

If it hadn’t been for a series of similar complaints over the last couple days, Jaxon wouldn’t have believed what he was hearing. “You’re in the middle of a forest. Go cut down more.”

“We can’t.”

Jaxon resisted the urge to pinch his forehead. “Why not?”

“The ax handle broke,” Erik said.

“And are you, or are you not, a magi?”

“I would blast them down, but…”

“But what, Erik?”

“You ordered us not to perform any magic.”

Jaxon exhaled his frustration in a long breath. He
had
issued that order. The cabin was secluded and barely visible from the mountain highway, but they were a house full of wanted people who had lived in the shadows for centuries, and he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. Their days were already numbered.

“You’re right,” Jaxon said. “I apologize for being short. In this, I grant you permission, but do so away from the road, and set up sentries to be sure no errant hiker stumbles on you.”

“Okay,” Erik said. “Thank you, Jaxon.”

Before Jaxon had a chance to respond, Erik was assembling a small squad, ready to move forward. Jaxon swelled with satisfaction—the young man’s eagerness was one of the traits that had endeared Erik to him.

Leira appeared out of their shared bedroom, his phone in her hand. “Jaxon?”

Jaxon stiffened.
What now?

She held up the phone.

Who would be calling?
What remained of the Family was at the cabin.
Unless it’s another Family prepared to offer aid?

“I’ll take it outside,” he said, moving toward the door, which opened onto a covered wraparound porch.

A waist-high railing, painted a faded red that was flaking away, ran the length of it and overlooked the front of the property, where the gravel driveway and evergreen trees were heavy with fresh snow. To his left, trails led to the clearing where he had performed the Brandings. The hills to his right fell away and wrapped around into a deep valley behind the cabin. Leira emerged, holding the phone in front of her as if it were soiled clothing.

“Everything all right?” Jaxon asked.

“It’s your Family,” she said.

Jaxon hesitated.
My Family.
They must have received word of the fall of the McCollum Manor.
Are they planning to offer asylum?
He took the phone. “This is Jaxon.”

“I should be relieved to hear your voice.” Talisa Green was a sharp woman with a nasally voice. Smart, driven, and set in her ways, she was not a woman Jaxon wanted to cross. She scared him more now than she had when he was a child.

“Hi, Mother.”

“It’s true then,” she said. “Graeme is dead.”

Jaxon glanced at Leira. She wore a slightly puzzled expression, but she touched his shoulder, offering her silent support. She had likely also expected the call—though she was probably put off by the timing.

“Yes,” Jaxon said.

“Leira has never shown much interest in leading the Family, and even if the rumors of Liam’s
ailments
are exaggerated, he’s too young. So I suppose then that that means you’re the McCollum Family’s acting grand mage.” She hadn’t asked a question, but the dead air following her statement suggested she expected an answer.

Jaxon kept it short. “It does.”

Talisa sighed deeply. “Your father isn’t going to be pleased. He wants you home.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Leira’s face reflected full-blown confusion. “Do what?” she mouthed.

Jaxon held up a finger. The conversation was awkward enough—he didn’t need her involved, too.

“They’re not your responsibility, Jaxon,” his mother said.

“I’m not going to argue about this,” he said. “I’m here. And I have accepted the responsibility.”

“Jaxon—”

“No.” Jaxon exhaled sharply, reining in his anger. “I have lived with this Family for nearly as long as I lived with my own, and I will not leave it to splinter further. If you and Father wish me home so badly, then I will return with the condition that the McCollum Family returns with me.”

Her answer was quick. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Talisa said with the full weight of authority. “The McCollum Family is on the brink of collapse and has gone to war with a rival Family without the permission of the Forum.”

“Mother—”

“I will not have this Family drug into it.”

“It already has been,” Jaxon said. “I was part of it.”

“Which is why we want you home.”

“You have my conditions.”

“And you have our answer.”

Jaxon turned away from Leira, moving farther down the porch. “This is madness. The McCollum Family is one of the oldest Families in the Order. How can you reject their plea for help? How can you deny
my
request?”

“Jaxon,” Talisa said, her voice taking on a motherly tone, which he instantly distrusted. “It’s better this way. The Family will splinter, but other Families will absorb them. Their bloodlines will continue.”

Jaxon set his jaw. “This is your will?”

“It’s the will of the Forum and Arch Mage Westarra himself.”

“Why?”

“They have nothing to offer.”

“That’s not true,” Jaxon said. “If I had been made aware of the session, as I should have been, I could have—”

“The McCollum Family no longer exists in the eyes of the Forum,” Talisa said.  “Arch Mage Westarra had no reason to invite a delegate from the Family. Furthermore, any further requests for aid will be denied—by any Family.”

Jaxon tapped the phone against his forehead, thinking.

“We expect you home within the week,” Talisa continued. “Tidy up your replacement and be gone. If not, we will be forced to remove you.”

The call went dead.

Jaxon felt Leira approach. “I’m being torn in two,” he said softly.

“What happened?” She rubbed the back of his neck with her thumb and index finger.

He could feel her concern and wished he had the strength to tell her that it was going to be all right. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything more. She knew what was at stake. She knew the strain he was under. The weight of two Families bore down on his broad shoulders, and no matter which side he chose, he would hurt people he cared for deeply. There was no right answer. He’d failed.

Jaxon imagined slamming the phone into one of the nearby wooden beams that supported the overhang. It somehow felt
right
.

“Jaxon!”

He blinked, looking down. The phone was shattered in his hands. Broken bits of plastic and glass covered the railing.

“I…” he stammered.

Leira reached for him tentatively, her expression equal bits of shock, concern, and fear.

“I’m fine,” he said sharply.

She pulled her hand back and brought her fist to her lips. Behind her, a few surprised onlookers watched from the cabin doorway.

Jaxon flushed. He was the anointed grand mage of the McCollum Family and heir to the same position in his own Family, yet here he was, behaving like a pubescent teenager. No worthwhile magi, let alone a grand mage, lashed out and smashed objects in anger.

Embarrassment turned to frustration, then anger, mixing with his already present fury. It was his responsibility to keep it together so others didn’t have to. Having failed at that, he could see the vanishing trust in the eyes of the watchful magi. Leira must have seen it, too—she turned and told them to go back inside. When she returned, she opened her mouth to say something.

Jaxon cut her off with a dismissive wave. “I’m fine. I need space.”

“Jaxon…” Leira took his hand. He could feel her pulse racing through her fingertips. She shared in his terrified feelings. “Let me in.”

Jaxon shook his head. She didn’t know what she was asking. He’d come to the McCollum Family as a boy in a man’s body. Like Liam, he’d grown up in a solitary world, one chosen for him, and had been groomed and trained for a singular purpose. His upbringing hadn’t left many opportunities for friendships, but in the years he’d spent with Graeme as his mentor, he’d grown closer to his children than he had anyone else. Liam had become his younger brother, someone to watch over and protect, someone to guide and counsel. Jaxon had taken great pride in watching Liam grow and begin to fulfill his potential.

Leira had become something else. He didn’t know if he could call it love, but he did know that he’d never felt the same way about anyone else as he did her. She was smart, beautiful, and strong. He could lean on her. And she had a way of seeing him as nobody else did. They were… compatible, if nothing else. But his time with the McCollum Family had always been finite. He hadn’t let himself fall for her, not completely. He couldn’t stay, and he doubted she would follow. That was not who Leira was. To open up, to let her in, would only make the pain of his inevitable decision cut that much deeper.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” She had inherited her father’s stubbornness.

How did Graeme hold it together? Was it a stubbornness to succeed?
Jaxon was under only a fraction of the pressure Graeme had experienced. A splinter. Rebellion. Death. Graeme had been a pillar of strength through it all, unflinching and unwavering. He had held on until the end, and because of him, his Family survived. His children lived. And because Jaxon was too weak, he had put that all into jeopardy. His anger boiled again.

“Nobody expects you to do this alone.” Leira’s words cut at the heart of his self-deprecation. Of course he was supposed to do this alone. That was what the position entailed. That was what leadership meant—a leader had to be the example he wanted the rest to strive toward.

“We all need help sometimes, Jaxon. And it can take on many different forms—everyone needs something different. So whatever you need, I’m here.” She squeezed his hand, her eyes pleading with him.

Jaxon took a deep breath. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, they were in this together. “Let’s take a walk.”

A short time later, Jaxon found himself walking with Leira down the narrow mountain road adjacent to the cabin. The peaceful trickle of a slow-moving creek somewhere in the sparse wood off the road accompanied the soft crunch of their steps. Clumps of grass grew between the cracks of the crumbling asphalt, their green tips barely visible above the accumulating snow. Frozen branches overhead glistened like crystalline wonders in the soft glow of the winter afternoon. More tiny flakes fell, covering their tracks and melting against Jaxon’s bare arms. Most young magi assumed he simply ignored the cold. They didn’t know that as long as they kept their chests warm, their limbs would be, as well.

Leira was bundled under a black coat held together by a series of silver buckles. Her chin-length black hair was hidden under its hood. She glanced at him from time to time, occasionally offering a smile, which he returned.

Nothing centered him like the outdoors.
I need to do this more often,
Jaxon thought, remembering that Graeme had often walked in the woods surrounding the manor. He’d even cultivated an outdoor office there, a private sanctuary of sorts. Jaxon had been so caught up in managing the Family’s struggles that he’d forgotten to take care of his own.