School of Broken Souls

by C. R. Jane

  My lips start tingling as I watch him...I’m not sure why.

  She spins in a roundhouse kick, slamming her foot in his chest, sending him reeling. But he’s back and charges after her. She stiffens, waiting, legs apart, fists tight. He bulldozes into her, his shoulder ramming into her stomach, arms locked around her waist. Her breath expels, and I cringe at how much it must hurt. She’s thrown off her feet and both of them land on the floor with a loud thud, her body trapped underneath the much larger Alexander who looks to have just broken every bone in her body.

  I’m frozen, hypnotized by this. Freak, she’ll have to be taken to the hospital for at least broken ribs. I’ve never seen a guy have that level of aggression against a girl before.

  But no one in the room is panicking. Alexander climbs to his feet and dusts his hand before offering his hand down to her. “One point for me. No hard feelings, Clarissa?”

  She slaps his hand away and gets to her feet without so much as a groan. “You cheated.”

  Clarissa. So that’s her name... I can’t stop staring at how Clarissa isn’t limping or even rubbing her middle. Doesn’t she feel any pain?

  “No cheating. It’s pure muscle,” Alexander mocks. “Maybe spend more time building your strength and less time lurking in the shadows.” He turns around so we see him, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, mimicking a blow job. His friends chuckle, while Clarissa snarls.

  “Fuck you!” She rushes him and leaps onto his back, her hands lock around his neck, choking him.

  And suddenly the whole class is hooting, and Mr. Dusk is there in a second flat, pulling them apart.

  “Alexander, get out of my class now and go to the headmaster’s office,” the teacher hollers.

  Alexander shoves Clarissa off him as if she’s nothing but a pesky mosquito, and there’s no word from Mr. Dusk about her attacking the guy. I’m suspecting she’s a protected species to him.

  Alexander is marching toward the door, toward us, a pissed off expression warping his expression.

  Panic slams into my chest. Mercy and I scramble backward. Without thinking I spin and grab her hand, and both of us are running to the nearest door. I shove it open into a black room. I don’t know why we’re running but being here feels wrong, like we’re breaking an unspoken rule.

  We rush inside and shut it just as I spot Alexander stepping out of the gymnasium. He looks our way, his nose quivering as if he’s smelling the air.

  Both of us have our backs to the door, our breaths heavy and sharp, and we’re holding hands. Please don’t see us, please.

  Sweat trickles down my spine as we wait. His heavy footsteps are outside the door, or is he walking past? But he stops and I hold my breath, the darkness of the room swallowing us.

  When we finally hear his footsteps leave and grow distant, I can breathe again.

  “Shit that was close,” Mercy whispers.

  “Crap.”

  A click sounds, and a small beam of light materializes from a small flashlight in Mercy’s hand.

  “Where’d you get that from?” I ask but my gaze is following the bouncing ball of light over the empty room. It’s filled with reclining chairs, at least half a dozen, all lined up next to each other as if we’re at a foot massage parlor. Next to each is a stool. No windows or light bulbs.

  “I always carry a flashlight just in case. Never know what will happen. I have a small blade in my shoe too.”

  Her light falls on a huge, black box in the far corner, and I strain to look closer at what it can be.

  “Oh, shit,” she murmurs. “Is that a coffin?”

  I shudder as I now see the black coffin that seems to gleam under the beam of her light. This coffin apparently comes complete with shiny black handles. A shiver snakes up my legs.

  “What the hell?” I reach for the door at my back. “We need to get out of here.”

  I open the door and look outside to find the hallway empty, the door to the gym shut. We sneak out and run. No words. Just heavy breaths and pushing ourselves forward. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting someone to come out after us, but they don’t. When we finally come to a stop on the ground floor of the Dragon Tower, we’re gasping for air.

  We burst out laughing like the lunatics we must be, my body shaking with adrenaline and the fact that I’m terrified at what we just saw.

  “Why are they training to fight?” Mercy whispers. “I only have P.E. on my schedule and the most we did was dodgeball. So, what’s that about?” She points upward to the ceiling, toward the gymnasium up on floor three.

  “How did Clarissa get up so easily after being thrown down by Alexander. That guy is so huge and he totally body slammed her. Did you see the width of his shoulders?”

  Mercy eyes me suspiciously.

  “What?”

  “O.M.G. You have a crush on him, don’t you?” She grasps my hand. “Rule number one. Never ever, under any circumstances fall for Them. Ever!”

  I scoff. “I don’t have a crush on anyone. He’s a jerk like the rest of them. Now, where’s our next class?” I reach for my schedule in my pocket, but I can’t focus on the words as her accusation swirls in my mind. As if I could be attracted to someone as arrogant and mysterious and perfectly good looking as him.

  Hell, what am I saying?

  I have to stop thinking about him and his muscles. It’s my second day and I’ve already broken some invisible rule, got threatened by Clarissa, and I’m hated by Mr. Dusk.

  I guess at least I made a friend.

  Mercy is already guiding me outside where the clouds are masking the sun and a cool breeze cools the sweat on my neck.

  “Let’s go to class,” she insists. “And forget about him. Boys like him don’t even know we exist.”

  “Best thing you’ve said all day.”

  The rest of the day flies by with one boring class after another. I keep my distance from the rich and beautiful students. Them, as Mercy refers to those students. It’s an appropriate term since something is undeniably different about them.

  The next few days float past in a monotonous blur of sleeping, eating, and studying. I miss my parents terribly and speak to Mom daily to check up on Dad. He’s started his treatments, which means progress. Now he has to heal before they can do a scan to see if there’s been any changes.

  The fact that he’s started his treatments at least makes my time here feel a little worthwhile.

  Mercy’s conspiracy tales keep me occupied, but with each passing day I find myself longing for classes with Professor London more and more. Or Braxton as he told me I could call him. I shouldn’t think of him so much but he’s always in my thoughts.

  A light drizzle falls and slides down the Tudor style windows. I stroll along the corridor from my room, making my way to Mercy’s. From around the next bend of the dark corridor, someone approaches me, and I glance up. I stare into the palest irises carrying a dozen hues of blue. They’re set in a beautiful face framed by deep, brown hair. His angular face has an angelic appeal, and there’s no other words to describe Nyx but beautiful. Mischief stirs deep in his gaze though, and my breath catches in my lungs.

  I shouldn’t react this way around him, but my body seems to have forgotten how to walk, how to put one foot in front of the other, and I’m standing still as he passes me. His head twists while he walks past me, his hand accidentally brushing against mine, and my whole-body shudders in response. One corner of his mouth pulls upward in the sexiest smirk I’ve seen, as if he knows what reaction he has over me.

  With his attention still on me, the world seems to slow. If he were a wolf circling me, then I’d eagerly throw myself to the wolves. Do anything to join their ranks and become one. Something about his presence makes me melt and lose all common sense.

  But who in the world looks so perfect, so gorgeous, so freaking delicious? I mean besides Professor London, Alexander, and Dante...

  Nyx walks past me now, and our gazes remain locked. A strange groan rises through my
chest and it falls from my lips in an involuntary loud gasp.

  His mouth opens with who knows what insult, but I don’t want this moment marred by ugliness, I need it to remain frozen in time.

  “Shut up,” I blurt out.

  “I didn’t say anything.” His voice is deep, rich and silky, and confusion replaces his earlier Adonis expression.

  “Just shut up.” I rock on my heels and dart down the hall, away from Nyx. My cheeks are on fire. What’s wrong with me? I become mush in front of a hunk and blubber crap to him.

  When I reach my friend’s room, I knock and stare back down the hallway finding no sign of Nyx. He’s one of them, and I should know better than to let myself fantasize.

  Mercy opens the door; her eyes are cloudy, and her brow is furrowed. “What day is it?”

  “What? Are you okay?” I push into her room where frames of newspaper clippings of various conspiracy theories are plastered on the walls. I don’t bother to read them, but the words alien government catches my attention. I reach for Mercy’s hand. “How late did you stay up studying?”

  “That must be it,” she mutters to herself as she nods nonsensically and sits on the edge of her mattress, looking lost. “Just had a strange dream, and I was getting ready, but now… I don’t know. My head feels foggy.”

  I reach over and place a palm to her brow. She’s clammy. “I think you’re getting sick. You hop into bed and I’ll bring you some food and hot tea from the cafeteria.”

  “Not hungry. I just need fresh air.” She doesn’t protest as I help her lay down, which is unlike her, and I worry for her. But I also remember the time I stayed in bed for two weeks with the worse chest virus. So, I open the window in her dorm, and a light breeze rushes inside.

  Mercy climbs under the blankets in her school uniform.

  “I’ll bring you something to eat at lunch then.”

  She nods and is already curling in on herself before I can even take a few steps, so I retreat and shut the door behind me.

  I skip breakfast and make my way through the main building toward my next class with Braxton, hoping to catch him in his office before class. It seems like a good excuse to see him to tell him about Mercy missing the day since probably someone on the teaching staff should know that she’s sick.

  It’s freezing in this building, and I rub my arms. Laughter and chatter sounds along the halls, coupled with groups of students huddled deep in conversations. Raven Academy right now reminds me of any normal school.

  The pace of the hallways has slowed so it’s not hard to find him. Sans his usual tie, his white shirt is open at the collar and tucked into pants that hug his masculinity. The girls all whisper he’s dangerous, his hair verging on black in the faded light streaming in from the window, eyes hooded and sinking to the same daring depths.

  The sight of him, so intent and staring right at me, pushes all the air from my lungs. I’d prepared myself for the racing heart and ragged breath that always accompanied me seeing him. I was prepared to try and be fun and flirty with him. But I didn’t know it would hurt. I couldn’t plan ahead for the ache that lives in my chest when he doesn’t acknowledge me standing in the entrance of his office. Instead he continues to talk to Professor Carmichael, the blonde arithmancy professor who wears her clothes a little too tight for her position and age.

  I hadn’t thought to be thankful for an empty stomach, until it flips when his gaze finally flicks to me. His jaw clenches as tight as fists by his sides. He doesn’t know how empty I’ll feel when he glares at my lips and doesn’t mouth hello.

  Maybe I just imagined our earlier shared moments. Stolen stares at me from across the classroom.

  I quickly leave the room before Professor Carmichael can see me. I keep my head low and push my way through the sea of faces.

  Stupid. So, stupid.

  What am I thinking? That he’ll draw me into his arms and kiss me? The thought takes me there, making me mourn something that I’ve never experienced with him.

  I pull out from the throng of students, the chaos that’s so perfectly moving from one class to the next. I lean against the lockers, imagining him staring at me with desire, our glances battling each other, but him giving in first.

  “Why do you do this to me?” he’ll say.

  But before I can respond, he grabs my arm and he draws me to him. My heart is fluttering, and I lose my breath. He presses his lips against mine, and my body softens in his arms. I close my eyes. I’m shaking, needing him, desperate to feel him all over me. Every nerve ending in my body and brain is snapping, exploding. Something about having a man so much bigger than me, more powerful undoes me.

  A breath of air brushes my ear and I flinch around, ripped from my fantasy and back to reality.

  Clarissa’s in my face, one hand flat against the lockers, the other shoving me in the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? Are you deaf?”

  Fire scales up my neck.

  Groups of students stand around silently, staring at us, to see the spectacle - me. I back away, but my hands curl into fists. I’ve been here before. Had Alexia push me around, ghost me, but I don’t care how beautiful Clarissa and her kind are. I won’t let them push me around.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know the world revolved around you.” I hold my ground and suddenly everyone around us falls silent.

  Clarissa’s upper lip curls. Maybe she’s never had anyone stand up to her, but then I remember her fight with Alexander in the gymnasium, and my earlier bravery dissolves.

  I look out into the crowd for a familiar face, for a teacher, but instead I find those ice-cold blue eyes. Alexander. He watches me, studies me, but doesn’t move. Not that I expect him too, but I’m getting tired of his glares. I’m burned out from feeling like an outcast everywhere I go.

  “You should be sorry.” Clarissa says as her hand strikes out, reaching for my face.

  My heart shoots to my throat, and I jerk backwards. Her nails catch me on the jawline, digging, scratching. Vicious eyes pierce through me.

  Her leg kicks mine out from under me, and I lose my balance. I’m falling backwards, a cry flying from my mouth. My hands flay outward.

  Movement from the crowd moves closer, but I grab onto someone’s sleeve and I fall, dragging them down with me. The juice bottle they’re carrying slips as they curse. Fast and hard, I hit the ground with my ass and my lungs empty.

  The bottle smashes, shards of glass tossed around me.

  Instinct kicks in, and I pull away from the spray, but something sharp bites into my palm pressed to the floor. I flinch and look down at the red bubbling across my flesh, collecting and rolling down the sides of my hand.

  Someone’s at my side, crouching low. “Quickly, we need to get this tended to.” Her hands are under my armpits and she lifts me in a heartbeat, but my attention swings to Clarissa who’s standing still, watching me with predatory eyes.

  “This isn’t over,” she threatens, and I have no doubt it isn’t.

  I glance over to my savior as she loops an arm around my back, drawing me away from Clarissa, from the crowds. It’s the girl with the short-spiked hair from the bathroom a few days ago with her cryptic message about this school being their playground. I guess she was talking about them.

  “I’m Jenny, and word of advice. Stay away from Clarissa.”

  Students are moving again, brushing past us, chatting, most likely about me.

  “Does she treat everyone like that?” I glance back to see she’s gone.

  “For the most part; but I think she’s treating you worse because you caught their eyes.”

  My wobbly smile falls flat. “That’s ridiculous. Anyone could see that she doesn’t have anything to worry about there,” I say, bending to pick up pieces of the fractured glass that Clarissa’s temper tantrum had led to.

  “Leave it, I’ll get one of the cleaning staff to clean it up.” As Jenny departs down the hall, Alexander approaches. The seductive rhythm of his voice beats in time with my racing h
eart. I stand and drop my hand against my thigh.

  Shit.

  Squeezing my eyes closed does little to lessen the sting of separating flesh; warmth spreads far too quick to mean anything but too big for a Band-Aid. One step has me leaning against the wall, pulling out a tissue I had in my pocket. I gasp as I touch the open wound.

  “Adeline?”

  Double shit. The shiver I so desperately wanted to blame on the weather is zipping across my shoulders as if he demanded it happen. A second later, Alexander’s breath is hot against my ear. He flips my hand over and his chest rumbles behind me.

  “Can you walk?”

  I snap my eyes open, immediately regretting it when his tense jaw blurs in and out of focus. “I don’t do blood well.”

  He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, drawing a smile from me at the fact that he keeps such an old-fashioned thing on him. He deftly knots it around my palm.

  “I can see that. You look like you don’t have any left in your body, you’re so pale.”

  Wrapping his arm around my waist, he practically lifts me from the floor. I take advantage of his heat, pressing my nose into the pure male musk in the curve of his neck that I had smelled earlier. Spice and everything nice have me smiling into his skin. Sandalwood, he smells like sandalwood, and my body tingles in all the right places. For just a second, I imagine I’ll have the chance to live in this beautiful place forever despite the fact that this is the first time we’ve interacted like this.

  He sighs and tightens his hold.

  It’s only a moment, but it’s a good one, with his fingers digging into my hip and the hard edges of his pectorals and abdomen pressed against me. It’s over before I can say his name, and we’re moving side by side until I find myself walking through the boy’s dormitories into what must be his room.

  “Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.” The command comes as he guides me onto a couch. I’ve no room for argument when he uses that tone, so I relax with my head back and eyes closed. A pulse has started in my hand. Just when my breath finds the same beat, a flutter of knowledge prompts my eyes open. Alexander is staring from the doorway, watching me.