UNORTHODOX | KAI PARKER

XVI .ONE WEEKEND ONLY.

Chapter 16

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We shovel ourselves into the car, atmosphere uncomfortably silent. The air still polluted with the dreary cloud hanging above. Kai doesn't speak, his face is hard and jaw locked, his features cold. I dance around the siphoner with trepidation, heart still racing and skin still pricking with chills from the atmosphere of the shed.

I stuff his newly acquired ruck-sack onto the floor by my feet, not before rooting through the contents in search of some CD, any CD, to fill the silence and aid in a distraction.

My finger tips come in contact with leather. The book, bound with cow skin and intricately adorned with gold illustrations and foreign writing. Supernatural, mystical, no doubt. I pull out the book, eyes fluttering back and forth between the scripture and the siphon, who twists the key in the ignition, with apprehension.

"You gonna tell me what this little bedtime story is yet?" I force out a breathy chuckle, tremor and nerves palpable however and I cringe. I stare at the sociopath with a nervous anticipation, tip-toeing around him and his erratic outbursts. He pulls the car out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel and sinking back into the comfort of the seat in a casual manner, almost in an attempt to feign composure. But his expression tells a different story.

"It's a type of Greek Grimoire. Old as shit, as you can see," he responds— casual, yet with a hint of something else. A twinge of something darker. "And it might just tell us what makes you oh-so-powerful." His neck cranes to face me, popping his brows and forcing his lips into a twitching smirk. "Better get reading."

If I didn't know any better, if I hadn't come to really know him, I'd take it at face value. He's good at what he does, at unfurling the mask around his face and slipping into the body of someone else. But unfortunately for me, I did know better, and I couldn't bask in my oblivious bliss of his state. It's unnerving, really. My eyes zone in on his mouth and the faux smile it curves into, before breaking my stare and snapping my eyes to the book in hand. I can pretend to live in ignorant bliss, even for a little bit.

My fingers trace over the engravings, enamoured by it's properties. How it could solve the mystery that is myself in a simple paragraph. I let out a shaky breath, like preparing for war. Or a cataclysmic disaster. I flip over onto the first page with delicate fingers, intimated by it's age, but my face instantly drops. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and frustration.

"Kai. This is in fucking Greek."

He scoffs. "Yeah, no shit. It's a Greek Grimoire."

I roll my eyes, flicking through the pages in search of any hint of understandable language— really fucking regretting not taking Greek Linguistics as a college course. "I'm sorry to inform you, but most people are not fluent in ancient fucking languages, you witchy shit."

The witch actually lets out a real breathy chuckle at this, and the sound causes my shoulders to relax — albeit only slightly — and a small smile to make its way onto my face. "Firstly, I'm not fluent— do you really think I care for Latin outside of spells?" he rolls his eyes, like my assumption is ludicrous. "Secondly, I snatched a Greek dictionary," he nods towards the bag at my feet. "You really have to get over your habit of underestimating me; it's a great character flaw."