by LJ Swallow
Tobias swears she's okay, that he'll keep her and Jamie safe, and Maeve insists she'll give me the alibi I need.
But he doesn't think that's enough.
How long until the Confederacy authorities decide what to do with me? They've basically convicted me without trial, and I can guess what happens next.
Ravenhold.
Unless I'm facing the other future I imagined. Death.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this? Is this my sister's revenge? Because if she's responsible, somebody powerful has infiltrated the academy and influenced another hemia to work for them. There are a dozen or so hemia here, and a number don't like witches.
But surely none of them would risk death.
Last night, Maeve tapped into the dam holding my emotions and now the bad spill out after the good. However hard I try to push down the fear and frustration at the injustice, the feelings rise again. I'm stuck, alone inside my head, unable to distract myself in the usual way.
I sit on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees, and draw on the high from my time with Maeve last night. If someone told me my night would end with Maeve giving herself to me, and me taking less than my instincts told me, I would've told them they're insane.
Since the first time we kissed—no, the first time she was rude to me—I've held the fantasy that the impossible could happen. Deep down, I knew sex would never be on the agenda, and stupidly taunted myself by kissing her. Twice. Each time, I managed to grip onto the control I never believed existed, and the deluded idea we could be together grew.
But I never trusted myself.
How did I hold back from feeding on a witch when the scent from her skin covered mine, and her blood rushed through her body to each place I touched or kissed? The drugs? Or because she isn't ‘a witch'? She's Maeve, the girl who overwhelms my senses in other ways. She's dug into the darkest parts of my soul and lit them up with her affection and refusal to accept I'm the evil creature others say I am.
Sex with Maeve was unlike anything before, I can't find words to tell her or myself the intensity of connecting with her physically. The desire for her blood will always be with me, and I've proved I can fight this.
I dig both hands into my hair and rest my forehead on my knees. The Confederacy don't need to torture me—the thought I'll never see Maeve again or have the chance to tell her everything I've hidden destroys me. Only the trust and belief Maeve has in me holds me together now and gives strength in my darkest time.
I doze, dreaming about what I'd do when she's in my bed again.
If I survive.
Someone walks into the room, not knocking, and I jump up on alert immediately. Mr. Suit stares down at me and I reel as his projected energy hits my head. The door closes behind him and he strides over, seizing me by the throat. I choke, pushing away the urge to fight back. I have the strength to take him on, but not the stupidity.
Pain seizes my head as he grips harder, staring into my eyes as he rakes through my thoughts. I don't look away. I've nothing to hide.
Apart from Maeve.
"You're clever, Tepes," he snarls. "I know all about your superior mental magic skills taught to you by Tobias Whitlock. You can hide from us, but you can't hide what you did from yourself."
"I'm not hiding anything."
"Bullshit," he says and drops me to the floor. "You were seen in the Walcott hallway around the time we suspect the girl died. Were you there at any point last night?"
"Yes, but I—"
"Then why not admit what you did and save us a lot of fucking time?"
"Because, I am not responsible."
He tips his head at the pleading tone in my voice. "You make me sick. You were given a chance to attend the academy because your grandfather insisted you're nothing like your mother. Nobody would listen to me when I warned them you'd do something like this."
"Who wouldn't listen to you? I don't understand."
He crosses his arms and his suit sleeve pulls up, revealing an expensive wristwatch. "Dominion killed my wife and your mother co-ordinated the attack. As chief of the police, I make it my business to prevent deaths as well as investigate them. I sit in on Confederacy meetings. I told them they were idiots if they let Gabriella's child into an academy. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Tepes."
Defeat overwhelms me and I drop onto the bed. This man wants revenge. I've no chance.
"You've come to take me, then?" I ask flatly. "How's Ravenhold at this time of year?"
He sneers at me. "The same as every other time. Cold. Miserable. And inescapable."
"Sounds lovely."
My sarcastic humour doesn't amuse him, and something else appears to bother him. "I'd take you now, but I'm waiting for the papers I need from the ministry. They'll arrive tomorrow." Lips twitching into a smile, he leans forward, face almost touching mine. "I'll be back tomorrow evening around sunset to take you on a one-way trip to Scotland."
Chapter Eleven
MAEVE
I'm woken by snoring and rub my eyes in confusion, relieved when I discover I'm still in my room. Amelia snores sometimes, but not like someone's drilling the floor. Last night, I dozed off as Jamie hugged me, but I woke briefly in the night beneath a blanket and alone.
I smile at the source of the snoring: Jamie's tall, spread-eagled figure on Amelia's bed. If he'd stayed cuddling me, Jamie would've squashed me if he usually sleeps like this.
I prop myself up on one elbow and watch, bemused by his serene expression contrasting with the rumbling snores. The stubble on his face has grown too, and there's something sexy about the rougher Jamie; a ‘something' he could use to his advantage if he ever grew more confident with girls.
"Jamie."
He doesn't stir.
"Jamie!" I toss a pillow at his head and he grabs hold as it lands on his face before he looks at me, bleary-eyed.
"What time is it?"
"Early. I can't sleep. Although you obviously can."
He pokes his tongue out and swings his long legs around to sit. "No Tobias yet?"
"No."
Hell, Tobias needs to find us soon. It's killing me that I don't know what's happening to Andrei.
Jamie reaches for his sneakers and pulls them on. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Okay," I lie. "But a hug would be nice."
"Like I said, any time."
I cross the room and sit beside Jamie, although partly I don't want the hug in case the gesture triggers my tears again. Embracing Jamie feels like the most natural thing in the world; why did he hold back for so long?
"I'm sure I smell bad," he says, chin resting on the top of my head. "I'll head back to mine for a shower and be back in fifteen? As long as you're okay?"
I smile up at him as he stands and smooths his mussed hair. "I'll be fine. I'm better after sleeping. More determined."
"Good."
I stand too and Jamie bites his lip as we face each other in silence. "Thank you, Jamie," I say softly.
"For what?"
"Taking care of me when I needed someone."
He reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. "I always will, Maeve."
And in a sudden, snatched move, Jamie kisses my forehead, between my eyes, holding my head gently as he does. My breath hitches as his lips remain pressed against my skin.
"You never need to ask or thank me. I'm here," he says quietly. "Just ask."
We've found ourselves here so many times, but where is 'here'? I move back and silently hope in the midst of everything we don't add another complication to our lives. Before either of us can do any more, I hug Jamie to me and kiss his scratchy cheek. His arms encircle me the way they did last night and I soak up the comfort we share for a moment.
"I'm here for you too," I say.
Jamie breaks our embrace first and with a half-smile, he leaves the room.
I can't put my finger on what, but there's something about Jamie that's unusual. Onceover, I thought this was a link
created by the vision I had about him, and that he keeps himself at a distance in case he sees more. But this is different. Despite the affection he gives me, something holds him back from opening up to me.
I don't think Jamie's himself again yet.
A silent Confederacy investigator dressed in black, wearing a badge with a stylistic C engraved, escorts me towards the administrative part of the academy. He instructs me to sit on a wooden bench outside a room close to Theodora's, then talks to a second man standing by a bench opposite me.
I look over. A Petrescu boy dangles his arms between his legs and stares at the floor with a sullen look on his angular features.
Tobias stands beside him, arms behind his back, dressed as Professor Whitlock again. His face is marked by stress to match Sofia's current look, but I sense him brighten when he sees me. I can't help but smile broadly, communicating my relief at seeing him.
Tobias murmurs something to the boy he's with before crossing the hallway.
"Miss Foster."
I frown at his formality. "Yes, Professor Whitlock?"
The Confederacy man opposite glances over then returns to his conversation.
"What's happening? Why are we still here? Where's Andrei?" I ask urgently, eyeing those around me.
Tobias lowers his voice. "Things are complicated, Maeve. Don't tell the men inside that room about yours and Andrei's... activities."
"But I have to tell the Confederacy police. I'm his alibi," I whisper.
Footsteps sound on the polished floor behind me. "Yes. But don't tell these men. I'll explain later."
I shake my head in confusion. "But—"
"If you want to help me fix this, don't say anything." I clam up as he uses the tone that shuts down our conversations.
The footsteps pause behind me and Tobias straightens, offering the person a warm smile. "Sofia."
Great.
I turn and give a false smile. Sofia tips her chin to look down her nose at Tobias. "The decision to keep Petrescu and Walcott apart includes professors as well as pupils."
"I apologise. Maeve accosted me demanding to know about Andrei. I'm merely explaining I haven't seen him since last night." He's curt but hinting at information I need.
He saw Andrei last night and now it's daytime, they won't be able to move a hemia vampire. "Is Andrei still at the academy?" I ask.
"Yes, Maeve. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important matters to deal with than chatting to students." With a nod at Sofia, he returns to the Petrescu student.
I stare at the back of Tobias's head as he turns away from us. Andrei may be safe now, but when night comes, the danger grows. Does Tobias have a plan?
"Do you feel alright, Maeve?" Sofia asks and lightly touches my arm with her fingers. "Did he attempt to touch your mind?"
"Not at all," I say, attempting to hide the annoyance.
"He'll be questioned too," she says with a smug satisfaction in her voice.
"Will you?"
"Me? The stars, no. I've no involvement with vampires."
"You don't like Petrescu much, do you?" I ask.
Sofia pushes hair from her face, the charm bracelet on her arm jingling as she does. "We must strive to stay unified." The sour looks she's giving the back of Tobias's head doesn't suggest she's striving hard.
If unity slips away between professors as well as students, the academy faces bigger problems.
The room I walk into appears unused, the shelves in the corner empty and only a desk and three chairs. A perfect place for interrogation. Two men sitting behind the desk look up as I walk in. One checks his watch as the other waves at me to sit. They're both younger than Rupert, dressed in suits they don't look comfortable in, and I'd take a guess they're witches. Does Andrei stand a chance if witches run the investigation?
"How many more?" grumbles the guy with the watch, peering at me through green eyes.
"Ten," says the second guy and yawns.
The first guy swears under his breath. Clearing his throat, he picks up a sheet of paper and the guy beside him picks up a silver pen.
"Name?"
"Maeve Foster."
The guy crosses my name off a list.
"Did you know the deceased?"
I blink. "The academy is small. We all did."
"And the perpetrator?"
"Suspect," I retort. "And yes, I know Andrei."
The man pauses in his writing and shakes his head without looking up. "Where were you last night?"
"I went out and then came back to the academy at around ten p.m."
"Walcott?"
I nod.
"See anything suspicious?" He takes a slurp from a plastic coffee cup in front of him as he continues his bored repetition of the questions.
"No."
"Where were you at eleven p.m?"
Perspiration grows along the top of my back. "Bed."
Technically true; I haven't specified whose.
The second man leans back, the chair on two legs as he links his hands behind his head. "Thanks. You can go."
I remain rooted to the spot. "Is that all you want to ask?"
He pushes a hand through his short dark hair. "Sweetheart, we're stuck here until we interview every student in the academy. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can go."
Unbelievable. Couldn't they find staff who actually want to do their jobs?
"I would've thought you'd find mind readers helpful in your investigations. Is there one?"
The dark-haired guy splutters. "Waste of resources. We'll bring one in tomorrow to interview any Petrescu kids we feel need investigating further."
"Have you considered that a Petrescu student may not be responsible?"
"We just do what we're told." He yawns again. "Ask the next Walcott kid to come in. Yvette Grant. She should be outside."
That's all I need. I nod, unsure whether to be pleased I'm not subject to an interrogation, or annoyed that these men don't give a crap about the investigation. Tobias warned me not to tell them the one piece of information I have that could help Andrei. Why?
I turn to the door and one of the guys calls out to stop me. I look over my shoulder.
"You're that future-sighted witch chick, aren't you?"
I straighten. "Yes."
"Shame your talents didn't work this time. You could've saved a life."
The guy beside him snickers and anger at their attitude grips my chest. They didn't even introduce themselves. "My powers don't work like that."
Without waiting for a response, I leave the room.
I'm dizzy with anger as I step outside. Tobias and his student are no longer around, only the two Confederacy men.
"Is Yvette Grant here?" I ask.
"Does it look like she is?" asks the taller man, snidely gesturing at the empty bench. "Go fetch her. I'm on a break."
Gritting my teeth, I turn away. Nobody gives a shit about this investigation or finding the real killer—Andrei makes a perfect scapegoat. But for who?
I check my phone for the time—only mid-afternoon. This day goes on forever, but we might need that to help Andrei.
Chapter Twelve
MAEVE
The weight remains inside me as I make my way back towards Walcott, dragging one foot in front of the other. As I move through the grounds and make my way around the cloisters, I pass mine and Andrei's bench.
Ironically, Yvette and Becci sit there, beneath the shade of the trees that shroud the bench in shadows at night. Both wear the full academy uniform, including the blazer with the house colours. Her eyes aren't red from crying today, but they're still dulled.
"I've been asked to find you," I say as I cautiously approach.
Yvette glares at me as if I shouldn't share her breathing space, so I look to Becci instead. The slender girl with her curly red hair immediately averts her eyes. Another person who refuses to look at me.
"You?" asks Yvette haughtily. "Why?"
"The investigators want to interview you.
Main building. Room beside Professor Lancaster."
"What do they want to know?" she retorts.
"I don't know. If you talk to them, you'll find out, won't you?"
She responds to my irritation with an expression that clearly says, "piss off."
Gladly.
Message delivered, I continue on my way. The worst part of this conflict is people equate my support for Andrei with not caring about Lorna's death. Isn't the fact I want to bring the real killer to justice enough to show how horrified and saddened I am? The idea somebody I know, although not well, was violently murdered in a room close to where I usually sleep sickens me. I'm heartbroken for her family and friends and as frightened as everybody else what this could mean.
More frightened because I know the killer is still out there.
Has Jamie spoken to the useless investigators yet? I step inside the cloisters and my footsteps echo on the floor, the air cooler beneath the stone than outside on the lawn. Another significant spot catches my eye—the place I first kissed Andrei—and I swallow down the growing lump in my throat, turning my head to look through the arches and back to the lawns instead.
My hair lifts at the back as if I'm outside in the gentle breeze, and the noise of air rushing towards me follows. I look over my shoulder and see nothing as the strange wind whooshes past my ears, strong enough I need to fight to keep my footing.
I startle at a cracking sound to my left and a chunk of stone drops at my feet. I'm too late to avoid the brick-sized piece and trip. Something hits me in the back, and I stagger forward more as someone grabs my hair, unable to turn to see who. My assailant yanks my hair back until my eyes water.
Gripping the hands on my head, I attempt to dislodge the fingers holding my hair. "What are you doing?"
I can't turn without causing more pain and I stop struggling. Another gust of wind hits hard enough that I'm pushed forward and cry out as my hair pulls tighter.
"Let go!" I shout out. "You're hurting me."
