by LJ Swallow
Knowing Andrei wants to continue our relationship, in whatever weird way we will, helps too. His old barrier against the academy is back, but he'll need it. Some refuse to believe he's innocent— a rumour now spreads that his grandfather used his position on the council to free Andrei. Each time I hear lies spread about him, my anger and resentment grows.
I don't think the academy has reached the end of the situation—Andrei's future, or the new troubled relationships between the houses.
By the time I finish breakfast alone, Jamie's in the library. The guy hates if facts hide from him in books—he subscribes to the 'knowledge is power' idea. Since I told him what I saw the day I collapsed, he's become frustrated that he can't find any information about the academy's history.
He's combed the library for information about the building prior to the place becoming an academy, convinced there should be records beyond lists of patient case notes. The most important thing we need is a plan of the building that could reveal secrets beneath.
Whenever I think about the place once holding asylum patients, my skin goose bumps. I've heard about Victorian treatment of the mentally ill and I risked time in hospital before discovering I'm sane. Jamie will dig hard and deep enough to find the answers he needs. He refuses to fail.
I head outside and towards the main building, ready to join Jamie in the library. As I step into the spring sunshine, an unusual sound carries across the breeze towards me. Voices come from the playing field's direction, shouting and laughter.
I make my way around the edge of the building and look to the fields. Rugby team members pass the ball to each other and my heart lifts as I stumble across the grass towards the practice. This is the first time I've seen anybody on the fields since Lorna's death, and as half the team are Gilgamesh, some of them must be amongst the group.
Ash?
The closer I get, the clearer I can see them, and I scan the figures until I spot Ash. The sunny spring day brightens more along with my mood.
If I'm honest, one of the reasons I became an ardent supporter of Ash's rugby matches is how he looks in the uniform. His muscular figure revealed more than when walking around in his uniform. But I also love watching how passionate he is about the game, losing himself in each match, demonstrating the fierce spirit and physical prowess.
Mesmerised by seeing Ash again, I wander to the place I always stand when watching him play. I smile ruefully when Ash doesn't notice me, as he focuses on his performance.
"Guys! Come on! You can do better than this!" yells a voice and Vincent marches onto the pitch, calling the team together.
The guys look up at Vincent, who speaks and jabs his fingers around the pitch. He's not happy. I look around for Professor O'Reilly, but he's absent.
The team has a new coach.
I'm the only spectator apart from Vince, and as he walks back off the pitch, he spots me and he slides his eyes away the moment mine meet his. Ash pauses and glances over too, and I wave to him. Did he see me? Because he doesn't wave back.
Vincent isn't close by, but I'm as nervous as if he were standing beside me. If I were with Jamie or Tobias, I'd approach Vincent and try to sense a thought or feeling from him; perhaps carefully approach the edges of his mind. My gut tells me that's a bad idea. Whatever he's done to Ash, and whoever he is, means I can't approach him alone.
I sit on the grass and pull my knees into my chest as the practice continues. Vincent won't scare me away; I haven't seen Ash for days and I'm as worried about him as he is about me. He's sent occasional texts from somebody else's phone, checking if I'm okay. No phone calls, which is crazy. Ash is trapped in his house and in the memories in his mind; I have the other guys to support me. He has nobody, and I'm frightened for him.
Vincent continues to yell at the team and as I watch something strikes me. These are only Gilgamesh players. The academy team is made up of Walcott too.
More segregation?
Ash plays as strongly as ever, his skill evident against the others, and the total focus he has when playing stops him looking off the pitch to me. Vincent stares ahead, arms crossed, face smug that Ash pays little attention to anything off the pitch.
Not a word passes between me and Vincent for the next half hour, but my awareness he's close by keeps my heart hammering. I bide my time, determined to speak to Ash whether Vincent likes it or not.
I refuse to leave until I speak to Ash.
Post practice, the team head to the changing room at the sports hall, and I remain in my spot on the soft grass. Ash doesn't come over, instead marching back across the fields with his team. My heart plunges into my stomach when he doesn't approach me. Is he that scared of Vincent?
I'm not walking back into the academy until I've spoken to Ash, and if that means I need to sit here until I find a way, I will. Ash needs to know I won't give up.
Daisies grow around me at the edge of the pitch and I pick a handful to make a daisy chain while I watch activity around the sports hall.
Ten minutes later, Vince heads away from the building alone and I straighten. Nobody follows him. No Ash.
I chew on my lip as I watch Vincent walk around the corner on the way back to the academy. A few minutes later, the team members begin to trickle out of the sports hall and in the same direction.
Seizing my chance, I walk across the grass towards the back of the hall, to avoid an encounter with anybody leaving via the front exit.
The rear sports hall doors are open and the smell of strong deodorant and heavy perspiration mingle as I walk inside. A handful of voices, including Ash's, echo from inside the guys' changing rooms, but not as many as were on the pitch.
I duck into the girls' changing rooms, positioning myself so I can see who leaves—or if Vincent returns. There aren't doors, only an L-shaped open entry that hides people inside from view.
My phone sounds and I glance down. Jamie asking where I am. I'm typing a quick reply when two other Gilgamesh guys walk out.
Stepping back, I wait for their conversation to fade as they head away.
Now or never. I sneak to the entrance to listen again; there can't be many more guys left in there. If I'm lucky, I won't walk into a bunch of naked shifters.
Padding across the tiled floor inside, I make my way to where the benches and lockers line the walls close to showers.
Ash stands with his back to me, naked.
Almost.
A white towel is slung and knotted low around his hips, barely reaching his knees, but aside from that… naked.
I blink before continuing to stare as he searches through a black gym bag. This is a sight I won't forget in a hurry. I've seen him shirtless, but this is secret fantasy material. Every inch of him is ripped, everything in perfect proportion. I can see why he's seen as the strongest of his generation.
"I can sense you, Maeve," he says and turns, arms out. "Come here."
I don't need asking twice and rush at him, and he engulfs me with his embrace. He smells clean and fresh, strangely like apples, his skin cool and damp still.
"I can never sneak up on any of you," I protest. "You all know when I'm around."
Ash tips my chin and concerned eyes study mine. "How are you? I've heard some scary things."
"How are you?" I ask. "What happened?"
A small cut slices through Ash's eyebrow and the yellow from a fading bruise shades the side of his head.
"I'm fine."
He's lying. Shifters heal easily, so whoever did this must've inflicted some damage.
Anger seethes, because I can guess exactly who.
"You need to tell me everything that's happened," he says, looking at me keenly. "Is everybody safe?"
Something falls to the ground close by, alerting us that somebody may be close by, and Ash pulls me around a corner.
"What is Vincent's game?" I whisper, placing a kiss on his shoulder.
"He wants to take over from Professor O'Reilly."
"Theodora won't allow that. I think T
obias has told her his suspicions," I say, tracing my fingers from his pecs and along his ridged muscle.
"Then why hasn't she removed him?"
"It's easier to watch an enemy under your nose than an alerted, hidden one." My fingers pause at his waist.
Ash also constantly touches and kisses my skin, as if trying to remember who I am. I'm attempting to focus on the conversation and not the physical pull dizzying me.
I stop fighting and dig my hands into the back of Ash's hair, pushing my mouth against his. He makes a noise of surprise before crushing me to his chest and teasing his tongue into my mouth. I focus on keeping my hands in his hair against the temptation of allowing them to wander elsewhere, as we keep the kiss under control.
Mostly.
I pull away from him, frightened someone else will walk back into the changing rooms.
"I should get dressed," says Ash with a smile.
"Feeling vulnerable?" I ask and sneak another touch of his abs.
His lips twitch. "Wishing you were naked too."
Heat floods into me, aroused by talking about nakedness. Focus. This isn't the right time.
"I think so."
"You think you should be naked too?" I can't tell if he's shocked or hopeful.
"I mean I think you should dress or I won't be capable of a coherent conversation with you."
He catches my mouth in a swift kiss and chuckles as he turns away.
Ash stretches up to grab clothes from his locker and his towel shifts down from his waist, revealing his dimpled lower back.
My heart stutters as something catches my eye. "Omigod. Ash."
He turns and smirks as he tightens the towel again. "Don't worry, I'll keep myself covered, unless you want to see more?"
"No. Ash..."
His grin drops at the expression on my face. "What's wrong? Maeve?"
I step to Ash and take hold of his taut waist, turning him to face me again. "Your back."
I pictured unclean images of Ash naked a few minutes ago, but there's nothing playful or suggestive as I move the towel down slightly and inspect the skin at the base of his spine.
A patch, a few centimetres in diameter, marks his back like a vibrant purple tattoo. The pattern is barely visible across such a small area, but this isn't a scar. No scar resembles something like this. Why didn't I notice last time I looked?
"Can you see here?" I ask and touch the spot.
He twists his head in an attempt to look, but can't without a mirror.
"What? You're worrying me."
Cautiously, I reach out and touch where the bright iridescence contrasts with his tan, the strange patch smooth and warm. "There's something odd here."
Ash places his hand on his skin, pushing my fingers out of the way. "What? What can you see?"
How do I say this? "I think you have scales on your back, Ash."
He jerks away from me. "What the fuck? No."
Ash yanks open the locker he's closest to and turns to examine himself in the mirror on the door.
Ash's face pales and his lips part in horror before he slams the door closed.
"Are they scales?" I ask.
He grabs his clothes from the bench and turns to me, holding them against his chest. "I need to dress, then I'd better get back to Gilgamesh."
"Ash…" I reach out but he looks stiffly ahead.
"I'll see you in class later. We're allowed to mix now." He pauses. "Okay?"
"Talk to me, Ash," I whisper. "What happened?"
"Nothing." He walks towards the doorway, hand on my back to escort me out. "Talk later."
"No!" I pull away. "Why is that on your back?"
"I didn't know it was there!" I shrink back at his harsh tone. "Maeve, let me deal with this."
"Why didn't I see the scales last time?" I ask myself as much as him. Did I confuse the mark with a freckle?
"You can't tell anyone," he urges.
"What? No, Ash. We tell the others."
He drops his clothes to the floor and takes his t-shirt to pull it on. "Don't say a word unless I'm with you."
His hands shake as he reaches for a pair of sweatpants and I ask the question we're both thinking.
"Did you shift, Ash?"
If he says yes, that wouldn't terrify me as much as the fear I see in his eyes.
"I don't know," he says hoarsely. "Can you go now? And promise me you won't say anything until I'm with you?"
If the changing rooms had a door, Ash would've shut it in my face. He walks away from me back towards the lockers and I hesitate. The guy's understandably in shock and scared too. I'll respect his wishes and not walk straight to Tobias, but if Ash doesn't say something soon, I'll have no choice.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
MAEVE
Gilgamesh are back in lessons this evening.
Petrescu and Walcott keep themselves strictly separate outside the Potions classroom as usual, and the arriving Gilgamesh avoid them both. I admire Theodora for insisting the houses continue in their joint classes, but I'm concerned she allows Professor O'Reilly to keep them apart for some lessons.
The big topic of chatter is that Katherine and Clive's relationship ended, confirmed by the academy power couple ignoring each other outside Potions class.
I sought Ash out the moment I saw Gilgamesh students arriving; I spot him hanging back when usually he's leading.
"Wait here, Jamie," I say.
Jamie blinks. "Everything okay?"
"I just want a private word with Ash before class." He narrows his eyes. "It's fine, Jamie."
"Uh huh," he says doubtfully.
Ash's expression reflects doubt too as I approach him. "Good to see Gilgamesh here," I say, then add in a quieter voice, "how are you?"
He rubs his lips together and darts a look around. "Freaked out. Sorry about earlier."
"I totally understand."
"I agree I need to tell someone—Tobias. Is he around?"
"How about Andrei?" he asks. "He could ask Tobias to meet with us."
"I saw him last night, but I doubt he'll come to class yet."
Ash wrinkles his nose. "Tobias is never far. He'll want to speak to us all, and now Andrei's back and we can…" He trails off. "Help with my memories. I think that's more urgent now because of this." He touches his back.
I'd press him for more, ask if he thinks he's shifting, but I don't want to know the answer. He may not know himself.
The tension in Potions isn't any different to the last class I sat through. Ash, Jamie, and I take our usual positions and we carefully copy Professor Turlington's notes from the blackboard.
Amelia's seat remains empty as a glaring reminder nobody has heard from her. This bothers me more than the staring and whispers; I no longer care what they think.
"This elixir is complicated and not normally learned until the final year," remarks Jamie as he flicks through a book listing ingredients. "Plus, the ingredients are hard to find and expensive."
I read the title: Aegis Elixir.
"This is a strong protection spell," he continues. "The academy is teaching us this deliberately."
"Good," says Ash and takes the book. "Lorna's killer is still out there."
"Then we need to perfect this." Jamie taps his pen on the table, brow furrowed in concentration.
The classroom door opens behind me and two Walcott students opposite me stare, with aghast expressions. Before I can turn, somebody sits beside me in Amelia's usual seat.
The quiet chatting in the class ceases until Yvette says, "What the hell?"
"What did I miss?" asks Andrei, and he cranes his head to look at my notes.
My heart jumps out of rhythm. "I thought you were avoiding class," I whisper.
"I can't fail the year again," he says, as if that would be the greatest problem in his life.
I reach beneath the table and squeeze his hand, but my stomach lurches as I notice the Tepes signet ring on his middle finger. The last time I saw that symbol, it was paint
ed in blood on a wall.
Fortunately, Professor Turlington doesn't flinch at Andrei's arrival and the whispering stops, even if the staring doesn't, as the lesson continues.
Andrei's subdued and distant from those around, which isn't an unusual state for him. He's so unfocused there's little point him attending, but I admire his bravery at returning to lessons two days after arriving back.
A muttering Jamie shoves aside the vial containing his second attempt, rises from his seat and crosses towards the tall shelves which hold the bottles and jars filled with dried herbs.
"You'll need to help me, Maeve," whispers Andrei, dark eyes shining beneath his fringe. "I suck at potions. Can never get the measurements right."
"Jamie's your guy for that," I say. "Well, usually."
Andrei huffs. "I can't tell if the guy likes me or not."
"He's weird with everybody since the prophecy about his death," puts in Ash. "Nothing personal." He pauses for a moment. "He's worried about Amelia disappearing too, and I doubt he's happy about yours and Maeve's nighttime activities."
I purse my lips at Ash's not-so-subtle words, but Andrei doesn't flinch. "I need to tell Jamie something, but I don't know how."
"I just said, he knows you and Maeve are together. Everybody does."
"No. About Matt."
Ash tenses and he hunches over to whisper. "What? Did you see him at Ravenhold?"
Last night, I deliberately avoided asking Andrei anything about Ravenhold or who he met; he may not be ready to share yet. If Andrei rejects the memories, he can pretend the experience never happened. Or thinks he can—I'm not so sure.
The heaviness I'd begun to lose sits back in my stomach again as I glance at Jamie, searching through the jars. "What's happened to Matt? Was something wrong when you saw him?"
"That's the point," whispers Andrei. "I didn't see him. I asked because, y'know, we were sort of friends. Matt isn't at Ravenhold."
My chest tightens. Did Amelia know?
"Where is he?" asks Ash stiffly.
Andrei shrugs. "Nobody knows. Or cares, apparently. He didn't fit in."
