I had never heard Nualla say anything unkind to another person. Well, aside from one really. The only person she seemed to openly despise was Michael Tammore. Which was perfectly alright with me, since he was a pretentious wank anyways. He was one of those people who used their power to abuse others. Michael routinely picked on the shy, the less affluent, and anyone he felt was less intelligent than himself.
My friends, on the other hand, were the kind of friends you always hung out with at school, but who never seemed to call you to do things on the weekend. Well, with the exception of my best friend Connor. There wasn’t a Saturday that went by that he wasn’t hanging out at my place or me at his.
My friends and I definitely weren’t the most popular kids in school, but we also weren’t the least popular ones either. We were somewhere in the realm of people not caring. No one aspired to be us, and no one shoved us in the janitor’s closet. Our little group was made up of Connor, Sara, Beatrice, Jenny and myself. We had ended up sitting together the first week of freshman year and had just never bothered to find new seats…or friends.
After a quick trip to my locker I had walked into Trig—my least favorite class—and taken my usual seat in the back of the room next to Connor. Trig had gone by as it normally did—painfully. I liked Mr. Savenrue—really I did—but Trig was just about the least interesting thing in the world.
Connor and I left class heading for our lockers when Nualla came out of the Calculus class next to us. I opened my mouth to say something to her. “Hey.”
Nualla turned back toward me, and I held my breath. She had turned, she almost never turned. She looked right at me. Well not at me exactly, it was more like through me. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she turned back, and continued walking to her locker.
I let the breath go. I don’t know why I kept trying, it was a lost cause really. I must have been less than nothing to them—to her.
Sigh.
Nualla and her friends mostly flat out ignored me—looked right through me—as if I wasn’t even there. It was like they couldn’t see me; like I was invisible. If it wasn’t for the company of my friends, I might even have thought I was a ghost.
However, this did not affect my infatuation with Nualla Galathea. I would watch her—not in a creepy stalker way, but more in observational awe—like one would admire a statue or a beautiful painting. I noticed everything about her, but she had only looked at me once, the first day I had ever seen her. She had been walking to a table in the atrium with her friends and had looked up and smiled at me through the glass.
As I watched Nualla travel down the hall to our next class, I popped my locker open. After nearly four years here, I really didn’t have to look too hard to spin the dial to the correct combination. Nualla stopped at her locker and dropped her bag inside in one swift, beautiful gesture of her arm. Every movement she made was like a graceful dance. I don’t know why I hadn’t given up on her yet and gotten myself a real girlfriend. It was just…something in me just couldn’t seem to let it go. Like some piece of me knew something I didn’t. Though I did wish it would get over itself and let me in on the secret.
“Are you staring at that Galathea girl again?” Connor asked with a sigh as he folded his arms and leaned against the locker next to mine. His hair was a well-kept spray of dreads pulled neatly into a ponytail. His mother had probably gotten on his case again and threatened to cut it off if he didn’t keep it neat. Which—knowing Connor—would probably last for all of a few weeks before it started getting into disarray again.
Connor looked over at Nualla before looking back at me and rolling his eyes. “I’m telling you man—never gonna happen.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sighed as I turned back to my locker and tossed my bag in.
Mr. Lucas had demanded we not bring bags to Chemistry, so no one would accidentally trip over them. He had said something to the effect of, “This is chemistry, not physics. We don’t need to see what happens when someone falls on their face.”
“We need to get to class, you coming?”
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I replied, though I wasn’t really listening because I was still starting at Nualla without actually appearing to look at her—a skill in and of itself.
“Well hurry up, I heard a rumor that Mr. Lucas is switching up our seats again,” Connor said and strode off toward our Chem II class.
“‘Kay,” I said, but he probably hadn’t heard me, considering in a few seconds flat he was already halfway down the hall. But then again, he was a 6’4” black kid, and most of that was legs.
I closed my locker with a sigh. I really couldn’t stand around staring anymore, and I would see her in Mr. Lucas’ class anyways. So tablet in hand I started walking toward class, my eyes fixed on Nualla under the pretense that I was looking at the hallways beyond her.
After only a few steps, a sudden piercing headache flashed across my eyes. I stumbled and dropped my tablet on my shoe. It bounced off the white rubber tip of my black All Stars and skidded across the floor. As I bent down to get it I rubbed my temple. Things like this actually happened to me more than I wanted to admit. Though not enough that I’d ever bothered to mention it to my parents.
When I stood up, Michael was standing next to Nualla, and they were having a heated argument. They both seemed fuzzy and out of focus, like they were much farther away than they should have been. And the more I concentrated on trying to look at them the fuzzier they got and the more my head hurt.
I would have just gone to class and taken some Advil if it had not been for what I saw next.
NUALLA
I knew what was going to happen a split second before it did. I always knew with Michael. As good as he was with his illusionary abilities, I could always feel the impact to the air as he prepared to release it.
Michael grabbed my arm. “You’re going with me to the Winter Ball.”
“No, I assure you, I’m not.” I jerked away from him, folded my arms and glared at him with contempt.
“Then who are you going with?”
Frak! I hadn’t actually asked anyone yet.
I looked out at the nearly vacant hall; the students that were still there were shuffling to their lockers or dashing off to class completely unaware of us. Then again, Michael was using his influence to make them not notice us.
“I don’t have to tell you,” I said, moving my hands to my hips to appear more solid. Michael was a good five inches taller than me, so I needed all the help I could get.
“I can make you,” he said, lifting my chin with his finger so I was forced to look into his eyes.
I pushed him away with all my strength and tried to step past him. “You wouldn’t dare.” Michal’s illusionary abilities weren’t nearly as potent as his persuasion abilities, trust me I had learned that one the hard way.
In one swift motion Michael reached out and slammed me against the locker. “Enough of your games, Nualla! We both know you are not going to choose a human mate, so why do you keep picking them and not—”
“And not you, you mean? Because I would rather have anyone’s company than yours.”
Michael stood there silently, looking just the slightest bit stunned, but he didn’t remove his hold on my shoulders. The truth was I could say all the snide things I wanted, but I couldn’t get away. He was much stronger than me. He knew it. I knew it.
The bell rang and the last remaining students fled the halls. I closed my eyes and made a desperate silent plea for help even though I knew it was hopeless.
And then something weird happened.
I heard the faintest clatter—nearly inaudible to the human ear—and then an unfamiliar voice demanded, “Get your hands off of her—now.”
My eyes shot open, and both Michael and I turned in the same moment to stare. In the hall stood a guy I had never seen befor
e.
“Who the hell are you?” Michael said, in a voice that nearly betrayed just how surprised he was. Which was exactly what I was thinking. I had attended Bayside Academy all four years and could never remember seeing this guy before—and that’s saying a lot considering the school is pretty damn small.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, that’s no way to treat a girl. Especially one who’s not your girlfriend,” the guy answered, glaring at Michael.
I could feel Michael’s hold on my shoulders tighten. This guy had found Michael’s one fatal flaw—his pride. It was common knowledge that Michael got whatever he wanted. However, only a few people knew that Michael coveted one thing more than anything else on earth. The one thing he couldn’t seem to possess. Me. But somehow this guy had figured that out and had thrown it in Michael’s face. The guy was either supremely lucky, or had a death wish.
“I said, let. Her. Go,” the mysterious guy demanded, taking a step closer.
“What are you, a white knight or something?” Michael asked with disdain as his hands slipped from my shoulders.
The guy crossed his arms. “When worthless punks like you make me. So yeah, I guess today, I am.”
Michael glared at him with a look more deadly than I had ever seen him use; his hands balling up into fists at his sides. I just gaped at the stranger, he might as well have just poked an enraged tiger with a sharp stick. This was about to get ugly.
“Excuse me?” Michael said in a low, deadly voice, shaking with barely contained anger. I was sure Michael had probably never been insulted like that in his entire life, and the shock had already begun to wear off.
“You heard me,” the stranger said, standing up a little taller. He was about an inch shorter than Michael, but was built far more solidly—though I doubted this would help him much if they started throwing punches.
I squeezed my eyes shut; I knew what was coming, and I really didn’t want to see it.
I waited for the sound of fist meeting face, but when I didn’t, I opened one eye. Michael was standing with one fist slightly out, looking at something beyond the stranger. I opened my other eye and leaned around the boys for a better look. Apparently the fates had not designed for the stranger to die today, because the one person Michael feared at the school, was coming down the hall looking at a tablet in his hands.
When he was only a few feet from us, Mr. Savenrue, Bayside Academy’s only daemon teacher, finally looked up. “Mr. Tammore, Miss Galathea, what are you doing in the hall? Class started nearly five minutes ago.” Mr. Savenrue looked over at the strange guy, a look of confusion briefly crossing his face. “Are you new here? I can’t seem to remember your name.”
“Patrick, Patrick Connolly. I’m in your first period class, sir,” the stranger answered, looking equally confused.
Mr. Savenrue looked at him for a moment. “Yes—yes of course you are,” he stammered uneasily before broadening his focus to the rest of us. “Like I asked before, what are the three of you doing in the hall?”
“I was asking Mr. Tammore to stop harassing Miss Galathea,” the stranger—apparently named Patrick—answered as he scowled at Michael.
Mr. Savenrue fixed Michael with a fiery gaze that could have melted ice. His gaze shifted to me where it cooled considerably to a look of sympathy. “Is this true, Miss Galathea?”
Without missing a beat I answered, “Yes, Mr. Savenrue. Michael was trying to coerce me into going to the Winter Ball with him. I tried to explain I was already going with someone else, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
“No one asked you yet; you’re lying!” Michael growled as he narrowed his eyes at me.
“I asked her,” Patrick said as he fixed Michael with a deadly glare. “And she said yes.”
Mr. Savenrue put his head in his hand and said with an exasperated huff, “Mr. Tammore, if a girl doesn’t want to go with you to a dance that’s her right. You can’t always get what you want, you know.”
“I usually do,” Michael mumbled under his breath.
“What was that, Mr. Tammore?” Mr. Savenrue asked, raising an eyebrow at Michael.
“Nothing, Mr. Savenrue,” Michael answered, looking sideways at nothing in particular.
Mr. Savenrue didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “Hmm. Well, Mr. Tammore, why don’t you accompany me to the dean’s office.” Mr. Savenrue reached into his bag and pulled out two late passes. He handed them to me and Patrick with a strained smile. “Mr. Connolly, Miss Galathea, why don’t you head to class.”
As I watched the two of them recede down the hall to the stair I tried to decided what I should say next. I mean, Patrick had basically asked me to the dance without actually asking me. Did he really want to go with me, or was he just saying that to get Michael to back off?
I cocked my head to one side and looked up at Patrick. “So…I’m going with you to the Winter Ball?”
“Yeah…about that…” Patrick said as he ran his hand through his hair nervously. “You were just bluffing, right? ‘Cause if you already asked someone else you don’t have to go with me. I just said that to piss off Michael.”
Wow, someone who liked to mess with Michael nearly as much as I did. This guy was getting better by the minute.
“No, you’re right, I was bluffing. I hadn’t actually asked anyone yet. But I’ll go with you—if you ask me that is.” I looked up into his eyes and was lost in the beauty of them. They were deep pools of nearly black-brown. Throughout the whole of what had just happened I hadn’t really looked at him until now.
Patrick had a broad, square-jawed face framed by straight black hair that flared out with a slight curl at his ears. His bangs stopped just short of his eyes, which were almond shaped, hinting at a possible heritage. He was solidly built, not too skinny, but definitely not a bodybuilder either—which I liked. He was 5’ 9” at best, just a few inches taller than me. The more I looked at him the more it made me giddy and restless inside. And I had to wonder how I had managed to miss him these last few years, because he was seriously gorgeous.
Patrick cleared his throat but kept his eyes down. I could almost feel the waves of nervous energy flowing off him. He finally swallowed hard as he looked up into my eyes. “Nualla, would you go with me to the Winter Ball?”
I was more than a little shocked that he knew my name, but I hoped it didn’t show in my face. “I would love to.”
Up until this point he had seemed really self-assured, cocky even, but now he just looked at me for a bit, blinking. Finally he asked in a startled voice, “You’re serious?”
“Were you serious about asking me?”
“Well yes of course but—”
“Then yes, I’m serious, I’ll go with you to the dance.”
His reactions were kind of weird. He was the kind of cute that should have won him lots of female attention, but he seemed downright shocked that I had actually said yes.
“Um…okay,” he said as he ran his hand nervously through his hair again. His expression barely concealed the panic behind it.
It was almost painful watching him wrestle with himself, so I decided to throw him a safely line. “We should probably get to class.”
“Oh yeah, you’re probably right.”
We walked the rest of the way to class in silence. His quiet, shy demeanor was in sharp contrast to the person he had been only moments before. Maybe he had a Lancelot complex or something. Or maybe he found me more intimidating than Michael—though I seriously doubted it.
As we stepped through the classroom door, Mr. Lucas turned to us with an exasperated expression, sucking in breath for a burst of lecture. But before he could get even a single word out we held up our passes.
He let the air out with a sigh and turned back to what he had been doing. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence. You two can take one of the
back tables. Since you both missed out on today’s earlier activity, you are now lab partners.”
As we made our way back to our seats Nikki eyed me with a curious expression. Either she was wondering why I was late, or she was wondering who the hell Patrick was—or both.
Mr. Lucas didn’t even wait for us to make it to our seats before he resumed his lecture about today’s class work. Mr. Lucas liked to periodically switch our seats and lab partners around so no one got too comfy—or lazy. Today was apparently one of those days.
It wasn’t until the end of his lecture that I realized I had left my tablet in my locker. Frak me—he was never going to let me go get it after being as late as we were. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. Blah, this day was already starting to suck, and it wasn’t even close to being lunch yet.
I heard a light clattering, and when I opened my eyes, a tablet was sitting on the table in front of me. “You can borrow mine if you like,” someone offered from next to me. I looked up at Patrick and he continued. “You forgot to grab yours because of Michael.”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I.”
Patrick went back to quietly examining the smart board in the front of the classroom with today’s assignment on it. I couldn’t tell if he was shy or just nervous. The more I looked at him, the more I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him before. How could I have possibly missed a cute boy like this wandering the halls for four straight years? Even if he was terribly shy I wasn’t that blind, was I? Maybe he was a new transfer or something.
I rested my jaw in my hand and released a bit of my own influence. “So…how long have you been a student at Bayside Academy?”
Patrick looked at me in confusion. “Four years—why?”
Daemons in the Mist (The Marked Ones Trilogy: Book One) Page 2
