by Cara Wylde
“Mmm… yes.” I smiled up at him and pecked him on the lips. “Just tired. Who’s going to carry me back to the Academy?”
As they argued over the privilege of carrying me through the woods, I didn’t stop them like I usually did. My mind was on something else. Why would Francis follow us away from the party, when he clearly knew why we’d sneaked out? And why would he stay and watch? How long had he been there? Had he seen GC fuck me, too? Did he enjoy watching people have sex, or just me?
Well, well, well… Who would’ve thought? Francis, kinky? I looked at Paz and GC, who were still arguing. Should I tell them? No. Not before I figured out what Francis’s deal was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I spent the whole weekend in bed, and my boyfriends were more than happy to bring me whatever I needed, from food and drinks, to ice cream, cheesecake, and books from the library. I felt extra lazy and like I needed a break. I couldn’t stop thinking about Francis.
On Monday, the first class was Psychology with Headmaster Colin. It was one of the classes we now only had with the VDC. Topic of the day: how to deal with abuse victims and reap their souls when their abuser has gone too far.
“Rule number one,” said Headmaster Colin. “Do not turn on the abuser. No matter how hard it is to fight your desire for justice, you will have to keep your head cool. If it’s not their time, then it’s not their time. Your focus must always be on the soul you are there to reap. And you, Violent Death Reapers, are uniquely qualified to reap the souls of the abused and the broken, to comfort them in their last moments, and sever their string of life gently, yet firmly.”
I shifted uncomfortably. How many times had I thought my father would finally snap and hit me or my mother just a little too hard? Or in the wrong place? Or that he’d miscalculate his physical strength and push me or her too harshly over some table or chair? And once you lost your balance, God knew what you could smash into before you hit the floor…
Headmaster Colin fixed us with his gaze, one at a time, to make sure we were on the same page. Psychology was going to be a freaking pain this year. As VDC, we were looking at some pretty nasty scenarios. And it was hard knowing our only purpose was to reap the soul of the one whose time had come, not the soul of the one we personally thought deserved to fucking die.
Someone snickered at the back of the class, and we all turned to see who it was. A vampire with dirty blond hair, eyes as blue as the sky on a cold morning, and cheekbones as sharp as blades.
“Mr. Delacroix, care to share with us?”
“I was just thinking… Sometimes, we Violent Reapers can get lucky and get a case where the abuser kills himself after.”
Headmaster Colin cocked an eyebrow. “That does happen. Unfortunately, it’s not very common. Either way, Mr. Delacroix, I believe the thought of such a tragic event shouldn’t make us laugh. Remember: no matter whose soul we reap, we must do it gently and respectfully.”
“Sorry, Headmaster Colin.”
The professor smiled indulgently and went back to his notes. He usually had to tell us so much in class, that if he didn’t follow his lesson plan, we’d end up with pages and pages of information, and not one good strategy to comb through them and extract the essentials.
“Moving on, what do we do when the victim clings to life, but we know it’s their time and we can’t spare them? There are three ways we, as Grim Reapers, can go about this…”
The sound of the door being thrown open so hard that it banged against the wall cut him off mid-sentence and made us all jump two feet in the air. Metaphorically speaking, of course. My heart beat so wildly that I reached over my desk and grabbed Pazuzu’s hand. One firm squeeze, and I felt better.
“Mila!”
I blinked at the man who’d just barged into our classroom in such a rude manner. What the hell? Who was he? How did he know my name?
Headmaster Colin tried to stop him. “What is happening? Whatever it is, I believe it can wait,” he said in a polite, yet firm enough voice. “We’re in the middle of a lesson.”
“Mason, come on! You know I can barely find a free minute these days! I can’t wait around for you to finish your…” He waved his hand dismissively. “... whatever this is.”
Headmaster Colin cleared his throat. “Psychology.”
“Oh, you still teach that? I would’ve thought you’d want to move on to something more interesting by now.” He shrugged and turned his back to him, his blue eyes fixing on me once again. “My beautiful daughter. At last…”
I blinked twice, then my eyes went as wide as saucers when I finally realized who he was. He was tall, well-built, with long, graceful limbs, broad shoulders, and lean muscles. He was dressed in black from head to toe – elegant shirt, perfectly-cut dress pants, and a long cloak that covered his shoulders and his back and touched the heels of his expensive shoes as he walked. His scythe was slightly taller than him, and he held it in his left hand, with confidence. His hair was light blond, tied neatly in a low ponytail, and his eyes were of an intense blue.
He took a step toward me, and I instinctively jumped out of my seat and took two steps back.
Valentine Morningstar.
He was here, right in front of me, my real, biological father, and I was acting like a mad person who didn’t know where to hide or run. He beamed at me and walked swiftly to my desk. I took another step back, and my hip hit Sariel’s desk. For some reason, he’d chosen to sit behind me today.
“Mila. Oh my God, look at you! I should have been there. I should have been there to watch you grow. Will you ever forgive me?”
But there was no real apology in his eyes. In fact, his whole expression was in stark contrast with his words. I tried to smile and failed. I couldn’t manage more than a grimace, and my voice seemed to be just as uncooperative as my face muscles, because I opened my mouth to say something, and nothing came out. So I closed it and waited to see what would happen next. Face-to-face with my father for the first time, and my gut told me there was one word to describe him: unpredictable. His whole personality was built on his unpredictability.
“Mila, come here.” He threw his scythe at Pazuzu, who caught it, closed the space between us, and drew me into a tight hug. Discreetly, he smelled the top of my head, and the much-too-intimate gesture made me freeze in place. “I’ve missed you so much!”
Really?! I wanted to push him away, but that seemed inappropriate. I looked around. The shock on the VDC students’ faces said everything. The only ones who weren’t shocked, – just surprised and curious, – were Pazuzu and GC. Francis was staring at me and Valentine with furrowed brows, as if he was trying to make sense of the scene but wasn’t quite managing. I couldn’t see Sariel, since he was behind me.
“I think about you every day,” Valentine said, squeezing me tighter. “There isn’t a moment when you’re not on my mind.”
Okay, that’s it. And you expect me to believe this total BS? I pushed him away gently. There was no point in making more of a scene, so I mostly pulled at his cloak, trying to make him understand that it was time for him to get the hell off.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I managed. Which was ridiculous! One, I did know what to say. Liar! And two, since when was it okay for a stranger to just invade someone’s personal space like that, hug them without their approval? And no, it didn’t matter that I was, allegedly, his daughter.
Finally, he let me go. Not entirely, though. He held me at arm’s length and fixed me with his intense blue gaze.
“Look at you! So beautiful. You look just like your mother.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “But what did you do to your hair, Mila? Why this fake blue when your natural color is the purest shade of blond I’ve ever seen? Just like your mother…”
“S-stop.” I swallowed heavily. “Stop talking about my mother.”
“Katerina. Such an exquisite beauty! And you’re following in her footsteps.”
“I
never knew her.” Also, saying I was following in her footsteps when we both knew she was a sex worker… I almost expected to hear Sariel whisper “kuchka” or “kurva” behind me. Then I remembered he’d recently turned from my bully to my protector. Or something.
“I will tell you all about her,” he whispered, and for the first time, I thought I heard some emotion in his voice. On the other hand, he might have just been a good actor. “At dinner. We’ll catch up at dinner.” He leaned in, closed his eyes, and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
I shuddered. His lips were cold against my heated skin. When he finally let go of me, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. I stood there, still frozen in shock, as he waved at Headmaster Colin, grabbed his scythe, and rushed out of the classroom at the same speed he’d rushed in.
“I held Valentine Morningstar’s scythe,” Paz said as he looked at his own hand. He exchanged a glance with GC, who seemed to have fallen into a sort of awed admiration toward Paz. Just because he’d touched Morningstar’s scythe. “Did you see that? He let me hold his scythe!”
I would’ve rolled my eyes if I hadn’t been so shaken. Everyone was staring at me. Now, more than ever, I felt vulnerable and exposed. The only girl in a room full of men. I took a deep breath in, centered myself, and walked back to my desk. Before I could sit down, Headmaster Colin stepped up to me, reached out to close my textbook, and looked me in the eye.
“You’re excused for the rest of the class, Mila.”
I blinked. Did I want to be excused? “I… uh…” I hazarded another glance around me. The VDC guys were still staring at me as if I were some sort of alien who’d been in their midst for more than a year, and they were just now becoming aware of my true nature. Yes, in fact, I did want to be excused. “Thank you.”
“Let’s make it the rest of the day,” he changed his mind. “See you at dinner.”
“Y-yes. Thank you.” I gathered my things as quickly and as silently as possible and tiptoed out of the classroom. On my way to the north tower, I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder every two minutes. I wasn’t being followed, and I was being silly, but it sure felt like it.
He knows who I am. He found me. But why now? I could almost slap myself over the head. He’s always known who I am. Then why hasn’t he made contact? “I’ve missed you so much, Mila!” Yeah, right. “I think about you every day.” Bullcrap. He wants something from me. But what? Something I couldn’t have given him before. Nineteen years, and he’d never thought about showing up. Because I held no interest to him. Not as a common human with no powers and no perspective. Now that I was a student at Grim Reaper Academy – in the Violent Death Cabal, no less, – and now that I was in year two, which meant I’d survived year one and had a chance at finishing my studies and becoming a Grim Reaper… Now, I did hold interest to him. A lot of interest. Does he know about the prophecy? Oh shit! What if he knows about the prophecy? But the most pressing question was: did he believe in the prophecy?
* * *
As I walked into the dining hall, I could feel all eyes on me. And I mean all. Word spread fast at the Academy. Apparently, boys were just as gossipy as girls. As I walked toward the VDC table, I heard Pandora whisper something in Kitty’s ear. Two stunning redheads, heads close together, talking about me. Fabulous! Soon, all the girls at the Neutral Death table were whispering amongst themselves, but what surprised me was that there were no giggles or laughs. None of that. They all seemed so serious. The Righteous Death table was just as active, with Sheba and Sammy whispering over each other, while Lorna sulked in a corner. The Merciful Death table was the most silent one. I figured Klaus had made them behave.
I spotted GC and Paz, and made to sit next to them. As one of the other VDC guys made room for me to get to my boyfriends, Valentine’s voice rose over the incessant chatter.
“My daughter! Come sit with me.”
What now? But he was sitting at the professors’ table! I couldn’t possibly…
“Mila, we have so much to talk about,” he insisted. He stood up and beckoned me over, which put me in a position where I couldn’t refuse. “Come.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I exchanged a glance with GC and Paz, and they encouraged me to go.
“And then tell us all about it,” GC said, beaming at me.
Oh, great! They’re more excited about my father than I am.
“Go, go, go,” Paz shooed me.
“I can’t,” I mouthed silently.
“Mila, you have to,” Paz said in a serious tone. “He’s Valentine freaking Morningstar!”
“And you’re his daughter,” said the VDC guy who’d stood up to make way for me. There was so much awe and respect in his dark brown eyes that I was taken aback. “I can’t believe you’re Valentine Morningstar’s daughter. Oh my God!”
“What’s your name again?” And I felt so rude for asking…
“Raziel.”
Right! The angel who’d jumped first on Mabon last year. Right before Sariel and Lorna had tried to fucking murder me. Huh. Maybe being Morningstar’s daughter won’t be so bad. Maybe it will give me an edge. I stole a glance at Sariel. He’d been staring at me, but when I looked his way, he averted his gaze, as if he were embarrassed. Weird.
I turned back to Raziel. “I’m sorry, I…”
A genuine smile grew on his face. Up to his ears, even. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my fault I never properly introduced myself.”
Come to think of it, none of the VDC guys had ever properly introduced themselves. They’d all treated me like shit since day one, and it had been up to me to guess their names from hearing them talk to each other and hearing the professors call them in class. Except for Pazuzu and GC, who’d wanted to fuck me since they’d set eyes on me, Sariel, who’d wanted to end me, and Francis, who’d wanted to… well, he never wanted anything, really, I hadn’t interacted with the others much. Seeing how Raziel was suddenly behaving around me, I felt like that would change soon. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for such a massive shift in the status quo.
I’ll have to deal with this later. With a sigh, I moved away from the VDC table. As I walked toward the dais upon which the professors’ table was perched, I could feel all those curious eyes still on me, following my every move. God, I felt naked! As I stepped up the low stair, I pulled at my skirt to make sure it covered my bum and the back hadn’t accidentally gotten stuck in the hem of my tights. Stupid. Ridiculous. That was why I’d always hated skirts, actually. But someone would have laughed by now if my clothes were wonky. Right? Or not. Since Valentine Morningstar had made his unexpected appearance in Headmaster Colin’s class, people seemed to have forgotten how to laugh. Or even that laughing was a thing.
“Finally.” Morningstar beamed at me. “We dine together.”
He pulled up my chair, and I sat down between him and Mrs. Po, our Anthropology professor. I made myself as small as I could. The table was already laden with delicious food and beer that was way stronger than what the students were given, but my appetite was nowhere to be found. Even if I were hungry, I didn’t think I’d be able to help myself with food at the professors’ table. Not without spilling half of it on the tablecloth. My hands were already trembling, and I turned them into fists in my lap.
“What would you like to eat, daughter?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He started piling grilled salmon and stuffed mushrooms onto my plate, then he poured me a glass of red wide. Oh. They have wine. “Your mother used to love a good Pinot Noir.” He pushed the glass toward me, and I couldn’t refuse it. My hand was sweating as I curled my fingers around the long, thin crystal leg. He raised his own glass as he looked around the table. “To my beautiful daughter, to our long-overdue reunion, and to her future career as a Violent Grim Reaper! Cheers!”
“Cheers.” The professors said in one voice that sounded half-reluctant, half-uncomfortable. Okay, maybe not half-half, because there were other feelings to be divined – if you were a good diviner,
that was – surprise, shock, disbelief, outrage. Still, no one contradicted Morningstar. No one told him it wasn’t customary for students to ever dine at their table. Not even Headmaster Colin dared to say a single thing that might have gone against his wishes. Oh my God, they’re scared of him.
So, the rumors were true. Valentine Morningstar was the most powerful and influential Grim Reaper the supernatural world had ever seen to date, and they were all terrified of him. Impossible to overthrow, impossible to retire, impossible to say no to. And I was his daughter.
“Come on, Mila. At least a tiny sip,” he pressed me when he saw I hadn’t touched my wine. “I’m dying to know what you think.”
Are you, now? Are you really dying? I took a sip and actually loved the way the rich, black cherry aroma tickled my taste buds. Well, I’d never tasted anything like this, for sure. Morningstar’s blue eyes were fixed on me as he waited for my verdict.
“Amazing,” I whispered. “I love it.”
He clapped loudly, then leaned back in his seat. His whole demeanor and body language screamed power and confidence.
“You and your mom… Good taste, good taste!” He shook his head and smiled nostalgically. “In wine, but in men, too.” He threw a glance at the VDC table, and I knew he meant GC and Paz. I blushed to the tips of my ears. “I’m proud of you, Mila. I saw your worth score. It’s through the roof! And I don’t want you to worry about Sariel, Francis, Lorna…” He waved his hand dismissively. “The only reason they’re still at the top is because their parents donate money to the Academy. And Francis’s great-grandfather was one of the founders.” He looked at Headmaster Colin over the rim of his glass. “Favoritism. Never been a fan. But that will change soon. I’ll make sure of it. You deserve better. You deserve to be appreciated for who you are and what you do.” He turned to me. “Don’t you agree?”
I looked at him with wide eyes. I hated that I was suddenly the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, but I just couldn’t shake the role he’d forced me into. I nodded because I couldn’t trust my voice. Also, I didn’t yet know if I agreed with him. It didn’t bother me that Sariel, Francis, and Lorna were ahead of me. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of favoritism. For one, I knew Sariel and Lorna worked their assess off. Francis… Francis was another story. He was always going to be another story.
