by Maya Daniels
Hopefully things are better on the other side, but something about the way the shifter is standing tells me I won’t like what I find.
19
This time it feels less horrible when I cross the portal. It might be because I am already feeling sick to my stomach on the other side but I’m not sure. It all fades when I tilt my head up, the silver moonlight washing over my face like a caress. Home, the voice inside my head whispers with reverence.
“We have a problem.” Azgor shouts, coming around the monstrosity of the building as he rushes to meet us. I know it’s terrible because the ghoul is yanking on the collar of his shirt, leaving it gaping at the neck. Exchanging a tired look with Astara, we head his way, Zoltan, Fenrir, and Leo—who’s still in wolf form—trailing behind us. Everyone knows I’ve always been a workaholic, not wanting to deal with actually thinking about anything, burying it all to keep busy, but this is getting to be too much. Even for me.
I need a break from life …
“We are okay, thank you for asking.” I greet him dryly, not stopping when he startles at my comment.
“That is a piece of excellent news, indeed, Ms. Drake.” Wringing his hands, he seems torn about whether to follow us or wait for the males. “Unfortunately, we have a situation here to deal with, so we can’t pause to celebrate your first passage between the worlds.”
“You actually do that?” Ignoring Azgor, we continue on our way. “Celebrate when someone goes through for the first time?”
“You saw what happened.” Astara shrugs. “It’s kind of like a rite of passage.” Azgor grunts something, turning away from us.
“Hmmm, interesting.” I don’t find anything interesting about it, but at least I prolong the time of my ignorance. I really don’t want to hear what problems the ghoul is talking about.
Snorting, Astara bumps her shoulder with mine. “You know he will follow us around until he speaks his mind, right? It’s one thing I love and loathe about Azgor. Insistent like a pest.”
“It’s not like we are going to run away. I tried, remember? That shit doesn’t work.” A muscle twitches between my shoulders at the thought. “We will face it as soon as we enter the building. He didn’t have to come all the way here.” Cracking my neck, I rub it with my hand. “I’m so tired that I could probably sleep for a century or two.”
“I hear ya on that.” She sounds as tired as I feel.
“It’ll have to wait.” Fenrir joins us with a sigh. “Three more disappearances in Sienna, two dead guards found in the hallways near their rooms …”
“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”
“And two of the vampire students were found decapitated in the dining hall.” The Fae gives me a side-eye glance.
“How many of them are there?” Pushing away the fatigue dragging me down, my brain kicks back into gear. “Hunters,” I clarify when both of them look at me with a question on their faces. “Between the first attack and those we had waiting for us in front of the portal, I thought that was the majority of them?” Phrasing it as a question, my head turns from Astara to Fenrir. “It was close to seventy? Maybe?”
“That’s about half of their organization in the city, yes.” When my eyebrows crawl up my forehead, Fenrir shakes his head. “They are scattered around the world, close to the portals we have. This is not the largest one they have.” He turnss at Astara, asking for confirmation with his gaze. “I think that’s London, no?”
“Yes, their numbers are greater there.” Nodding absentmindedly, she stares with distant eyes at the Academy. “Although, if Zoltan goes through this portal a couple more times in a row, we might find them coming in waves.”
“Oh, goody.” At least I’m not the only one obsessed with the jerk. It doesn’t make me feel better, either.
“I’m more worried if Francesca is seen going through right now.” Fenrir’s comment makes me frown at him.
“Why? What did I do? The assholes were attacking us. Should I have just sat there meekly?” My fists clench. “What I did at the portal might have been a little overboard, I’ll give you that much, but at least no one ended up poked with a potion-soaked dagger.”
A look passes between them.
“What?” Astara chuckles when I snap at them.
“We are worried …”
“We?” I stare at her pointedly, and she nods.
“Yes, we are worried about you being seen going through because they now know that you are his weakness,” she says it gently, as if it will hurt less that way.
“Excuse you?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing, so I stop walking, glaring at both of them. “How the fuck did the two of you come to the conclusion that I’m his weakness? Because I saved his ass from being skewered a few times?”
“Exactly.” Fenrir nods primly at me, and I want to slap the arrogant expression off his face.
“You should get your head checked, Fae.” Shouldering my way past him, I march towards the open double doors of the Academy, murmuring under my breath. “I’m his fucking weakness, my ass. He has no weakness apart from being a jerk, that’s what that is.”
“My brother does not get skewered.” Astara must’ve followed my rushed footsteps.
“Well, he almost did.”
“That’s my point exactly, Franky.” My stomping slows down at that. “He is looking after you more than watching his own back. It leaves him open most of the time.”
My stupid heart jumps at that.
“Soren tied my life to this Academy, and your lives, so he is protecting his interest, you could say.” Take that stupid heart.
“If you say so.” She doesn’t sound happy at my reasoning, but I don’t care. That should strangle my ovaries and put them in their place. “But my point is, he doesn’t pay attention with you around. They are going to explore that after seeing it.”
“There is a solution for that.” My hand waves animatedly so she can’t see it trembling. “Keep him away from me. He is a pain in my ass, anyway. Problem solved.”
Stepping through the doors, we both stop when heads turn our way. Some of the faces seem relieved to see us, but a few are watching us with hatred burning in their eyes. For the hundredth time, I can’t help but wonder what I’ve ever done to any of them, apart from being alive. It’s not news that everyone hates half bloods, but they can at least ignore me.
“I think the two of you should come along.” Fenrir walks by, not even turning to see if we will follow.
I want to go in the opposite direction on principle alone, just so he knows he can’t boss everyone around. The tense atmosphere, along with the energy in this place that pumps like a ticking bomb, move my feet to follow his lead. Everyone is tracking our movements in dead silence, making me uneasy. I don’t like being the center of attention unless it’s a fight. I want to get fucking superstar attention in a fight.
We pass the hallways, flames dancing above our heads like they are happy to see us. I look at my feet so I don’t have to see everyone staring, and a frown pulls on my forehead. No wonder they are staring. Glancing at Astara, I see she is wearing the same clothing from when she was hurt. We both are painting a picture like we have bathed in blood. The garments are black, but there is no mistake why it’s all stiff and crusted, the stench wafting off us confirming it loud and clear. My head lifts and I grin at a demon guard we are passing, the wildness in my eyes making him flinch.
“Stop that.” Astara snickers, and I join her despite my effort to not smile.
“They’ll stare anyway.” Shrugging a shoulder, I scan the place around, but my mind is in a different place. “This will give them something to talk about.”
Fenrir heads to a room on our right, stepping inside and holding the door open for the rest of us. We all pile in, spreading around. It’s a comfy-looking space with bookshelves lining the walls, a desk pushed in one corner with a leather chair behind it. A few sofas are scattered around, and some armchairs, giving everyone space enough to take seats.
&nb
sp; I rush to an empty chair so no one can sit next to me, making Astara laugh at me. Groaning, I curl my legs under me, every muscle in my body hurting. Even the ones I didn’t know existed. My tailbone hurts for fuck's sake. I can’t remember if I fell on my ass anywhere. Zoltan sits behind the desk—I mean, of course he does. At my scrunched-up face, Astara chortles again, covering it with a cough.
“So, things have escalated while we were gone.” Zoltan addresses Azgor, who is the only one standing. Well, he didn’t fight for his life that I know of.
“Yes, as I told you, and we found no evidence pointing us in any direction.” The ghoul yanks his shirt collar. “The Board was notified, but we haven’t heard anything from them yet. Soren is still unresponsive.”
That perks up my ears.
“Everyone was accounted for at the time?” Azgor frowns at my question.
“Yes, the guards questioned and checked on everyone.”
“And who questioned and checked on the guards?”
“We did, of course.” He glares at me, acting insulted.
“You can glare all you want, ghoul. Someone inside here is picking us off one by one. Excuse me for questioning how thorough you lot are.” Grinding my teeth, I stab the air with a finger, pointing at the closed door. “Those fuckers out there mean business. This was the first time I’ve come across them that I know off, and I nearly died.” His eyes widen comically. “Astara nearly died thanks to them. They are upping their game to whatever their end goal is. Meanwhile, here we are, holding conferences.”
“I assure you, Miss Drake, I wish to find them as much as you do.” Spreading his arms wide, he appears defeated, and guilt stabs me for going off at him. “There is only so much I can do.”
“Francesca, we know Azgor has our best interest at heart. You are placing your anger in the wrong place,” Fenrir says softly, while Zoltan watches me with an unreadable look on his face.
I squirm in my seat.
“I’m angry at many things, but Azgor is not one of them.” There is tension in my neck, and no matter how many times I crack it, I can’t get it to go away. “I’m just … I’m … tired.” I sink deeper into the chair with a sigh.
“We all are, and we need rest.” Zoltan leans his forearms on the desk. “There is not much any of us can do right now, and I suggest we all get some sleep. It was a long night.” Turning to Azgor, he nods in acknowledgment. “For all of us.”
“What do they all have in common?” blurting it out, I glance at all of them in turn. “They must be somehow connected, right?”
“They are all random.” Azgor doesn’t sound very sure.
“We figured out that all the killings and disappearances in Sienna were half bloods.” When Azgor opens his mouth, I stop him with a hand. “It’s okay, you can say it in front of me. It’s what I am and I can’t change that.” I turn to Zoltan and Fenrir. “The rest must be somehow connected. They were pure bloods for sure?”
“The guards and students, yes.” Fenrir nods thoughtfully, searching my face. “What are you thinking?”
“From everything I know so far, it all leads me back to this Academy.” I watch them all, chewing on the inside of my mouth. “They were looking for a freak throughout Sienna, hoping for dragon blood, or so we think. After I got manipulated inside the gates, guards started dropping like flies. Now, students have joined the headcount, and only vamps. The only ones that are actually Daywalkers.”
“That’s fishing,” Zoltan points out with a stony face.
“If you ask me, it’s too much of a coincidence.” Rubbing my thighs roughly, I lift off the chair. “I don’t like coincidences, nor do I believe in them.” Ignoring the pointed stare Zoltan gives me, I turn around, heading for the door.
“Get some rest,” Fenrir calls out when I jerk the door open.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.” Looking over my shoulder, I give him a strained smile.” I have shit to do.”
“Where are you going?” Astara leans forward as if preparing to follow me.
“I have to see an annoying old man about something. If you hear him scream, I might’ve stabbed him to wake him up.”
Astara’s laughter follows me even after I close the door behind me. Soren better be in a chatty mood. I’m not joking when I say I’ll stab his ass if he doesn’t wake up.
20
“Francesca.” Zoltan’s voice stops me at the entrance of the golden hallway—a nickname I came up with all on my own. I stop at the weapons room first; I like to be prepared for the conversation I’m about to have.
“There are things that only Soren knows, Zoltan. I have to try.” Watching his long legs eating up space between us makes me inch closer to the hallway, knowing he can’t enter. “I can’t just sit and hope for the best.”
“I’m not trying to stop you.” One side of his mouth quirks up at my suspicious squint. “I’m not.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I heard what Astara and Fenrir were saying.”
“Instead of eavesdropping, you should’ve paid more attention to what Azgor was saying.” Annoyed, I fidget from one foot to the other. “You know, about people being killed and all that. Then what I said would make more sense to you, and you wouldn’t call it fishing.”
“You are angry with me.”
“Do you even hear yourself when you talk?” My heart picks up a beat to match my frustration. “Not everything is about you. People are dying, for fuck's sake. No one is doing anything about it except talk, and then they talk some more. Well, I’ll be damned if I sit on my ass and let it happen.”
“They are wrong.” He keeps with his one-track mind, ignoring everything I said. “You are not my weakness.”
“So, you didn’t almost get stabbed and pinned to a wall like an entomology project gone wrong?”
“I’m not an insect.” He growls through clenched teeth.
“No, you’re just a jackass.” I rub a hand over my face tiredly. “Listen, can we do this another time? Like maybe next year, huh?” At his glower, I sigh. “I want to see if Soren will talk to me, and then I want to sleep. I can’t even think straight anymore.”
“We need to talk about this.” Repeating the same thing like a broken record, his hand reaches for my face, freezing in midair when I flinch. “Make no mistake that we will talk about whatever this is, Francesca Drake.”
My heart is jackhammering my chest as I watch him storm away. My eyes burn with unshed tears that I angrily blink away. We won’t be doing jack shit if I stay away from him. I managed to do it after the party that screwed up my life, and I’ll do it again. The longer I think about it, the more determined I get.
Spinning on my heel, I face the hallway. It stretches in front of me as far as my eyes can see. I feel its call like a gentle touch at the center of my chest, unlike at the beginning when it was overwhelming. It’s more like a greeting than a call. With a deep breath, I step through the invisible border that no one can cross if Soren doesn’t want them too. I need to ask him for pointers on that one; it’ll come in handy.
My feet move slowly, and I watch my fingers trail over the golden accents of the decorative molding on the wall. The tips of my nails bump the divots and swirls, twisting up like the waves of an ocean. It’s soothing being here in this place of mystery, and I feel my body relaxing with each breath I take. It’s not long before I find myself standing in front of Soren’s door. I just stop, staring at it like the wood will tell me all the secrets I want to know.
The door cracks open.
“It’s good to know I’m welcomed.” Pushing with the palm of my hand, I walk inside. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me.”
Silence is my answer, the dark room illuminated just by the parting of the curtain and the silver ray of the moon that streams through it. The lump on the bed doesn’t move. Everything is still, and I feel bad for disturbing the silence, my footsteps on the thick carpet bringing me nearer to the platform. Standing above the sleeping f
orm, I pause.
Soren looks precisely the same as the last time I saw him. The dark veins that were visible under his pale skin are gone, making his eternally youthful face exquisite and too perfect to be real. His platinum hair spreads out on the pillow like a cloud around his face, where the silver light of the moon creates shadows. My stomach clenches at seeing them dance around him.
“I have questions.” Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I think on how to approach this.
Nothing. Not even a flutter of his thick eyelashes.
“You can’t pretend to sleep while people are dying, Soren.” Clenching and unclenching my fists, I loom over him. “Not even you can be that selfish.”
Nope. Nothing.
“You gave me that dumb speech of sacrifices, on how you are here willingly because you believe in destinies and fates, yet here you are.” Pacing in front of the bed, I wave my hands, agitated. “Sleeping away while those you claim to be protecting are dying left and right.” Stopping above his head, I stab a finger in his face. “You are a liar!”
Nada. Not even a change in his breathing.
All the fight leaves me in a rush. I drop next to the bed, crawling closer and leaning on it. Pressing the back of my head to the soft covers, I stare at the ceiling, sadness pulling me down like an anvil is tied around my ankles. Even when my life went to shit, I stupidly thought I’d at least be able to save the rest of Sienna. No more innocent people will die. The joke is on me. Fat tears trickle out of the corners of my eyes, soaking my hair and the covers I’m resting on.
“I came here with a dagger ready to stab you if you don’t talk to me.” Hiccupping a cough that sounds a lot like a sob, I shake my head at myself. “I can’t even do that right.”
Tears keep rolling down my cheeks in rivulets. Angrily, I swipe at them with the back of my hand. They keep coming, so eventually I give up, my chest shaking in silent sobs.
