“If you’re so worried about her, why don’t you pick her up in Daddy’s car and bring her yourself?”
Cedric doesn’t even slow. He’s already moved on. “I have some business to attend to,” he says, and then finally does pause for a second and halfway look back to me. “But I will be sending it over for her after class. Didn’t you hear? Octavia will be with me tomorrow night.”
A muscle in my neck twitches. Is Cedric trying to make this a competition? Because if he is, I am already in. Way in. Octavia Hadley is a prize worth fighting for.
She jumps a little when I step out to greet her in the morning. It’s a little cooler than usual. A fog rolled in off the river around 5am, and I would know. After what Cedric said, I couldn’t sleep. If there is someone dangerous watching Octavia, I had to be sure as hell that I got to her first.
But in those lingering moments before dawn, waiting for her just in case she decided to make an early morning exit, I couldn’t resist the memory of her. Octavia, her body so close to mine at the cafe. I still remember the smell of her. It is sweat and sweetness and something like lavender before it’s been picked.
“You shouldn’t come stalking out of the fog like that,” she says as I approach. I can still hear sleep in her voice.
“I wasn’t stalking,” I say, “I was lingering.” I check my phone. “How did you expect to get to the Ritual complex on time?”
She shivers a little in the thin sweater she’s wearing. It’s almost September and weather changes quickly in New York. “I thought someone from Long Island would’ve come more prepared,” I say as she hops down the steps towards me.
“How do you know where I live?”
“You don’t need a ritual for everything, if that is what you’re asking,” I say. “Sometimes you just need to be charming, or nimble fingered.”
And with that, I give her back the ID I stole from her wallet when she came into work on Sunday. From the look on her face, she didn’t even realize it went missing.
“Come on now,” I say before she has the opportunity to say anything else. I grab her by the arm and lead her off to the subway.
She stops trying to squirm away by the time we reach the stairs, so I let go of her.
“I don’t need a babysitter on my way to class,” she says.
“Well, from what I’ve heard, I’d say you do.” I swipe my subway card and pull out a second for her.
She glares at me a second, but takes it. “What have you heard about me?”
“Just that you’re a little prone to getting lost.”
She eyes the subway pass in her hand a little suspiciously. I like to think she is playing, but I’m honestly not sure. Maybe she’s grown more wary since I last saw her. After what happened on that subway, and knowing the kind of people who are after her, I would be.
“The Ritual teacher gave this to you, to give to me? Of all people?”
“Yes. Of all people, I am your paired.”
“One of.”
Octavia meets my gaze with that same inner fire and makes everything in me alight. She swipes the card and passes on through the turn styles ahead of me. I have to shove my way in front of a disgruntled group of businessmen in order to catch up with her.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask her once I do.
She stops in front of the nearest empty patch in front of the tracks. The way she stands so close to the edge both intrigues and terrifies me. I stick out an arm and make her take a half step back.
“Hold on,” I say. “This card will take you wherever you mean to go, on any track, any line, any direction—and it is always only one stop away.”
“Woah.” She fishes out the card from where she dropped it randomly in her bag. “Why doesn’t everybody use them?”
“They’re regulated, for safety reasons,” I say.
“I’m surprised you believe that.”
“I don’t...but it would be a crime to start off the morning with conspiracy theories about our overly controlling mage bureaucracy.”
“And yet somehow, you still did,” she says.
The air fills with a whooshing noise even before the intercom announces the next train is arriving. “Keep close to me,” I say, taking the opportunity to put my other arm around her. I like how small she is in my arms. She doesn’t immediately accept the embrace, but when she does, it makes my body sing.
She holds on to me long enough that I have to be the one to pry us apart so we can actually get on the car. I still feel the touch of her arms on my shoulders, and the way just for a moment, she pressed her face into my leather jacket.
“So, where is the Ritual complex?”
I have to shush her and drag her away from an old man who is standing uncomfortably close, for a variety of reasons.
“Geeze Octavia, you have to careful what you talk about in public. Just because other people can’t see what we can see doesn’t mean they cannot hear you.” When she gives me an odd look like I’m the crazy one now, I continue. “Think about it. Besides, look at me. I don’t exactly look like freaky shit is out of the question for me.” I gesture down at myself. Some of my own Ritual tattoos are visible at the base of my leather jacket. The rest of me is heavily distressed, bloodstained, or otherwise singed.
“Right.” She nods.
“You’d be surprised what you can get away with here, but you’d also be surprised at what you can’t.”
There is a sudden odd feeling on the train, almost like it is simultaneously speeding up and screeching to a halt at the same time. I am used to it by now, but Octavia is not. I see her brace herself on the ground. One arm shoots out and grabs hold of the closest aluminum handhold. The other grabs me.
“Careful now,” I say, “Or one of these days—”
She shushes me loudly and presses a finger to my lips.
“Before you say anything about me falling for you, don’t. Just. Don’t.”
I let the tiniest bit of a smile turn up the outer corners of my mouth. “Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I don’t have to.” I flick my tongue against her finger, and she quickly draws away. But not before she catches the look that flickers across my face.
Yes. Octavia Hadley will make one hell of a prize.
But I am starting to think she isn’t the one in danger of falling.
17
Octavia
I don’t know whether to be excited or disturbed. The two feelings inside me are frighteningly similar. So instead of facing either of those feelings, I hop off the subway car as quickly as possible.
We are in the oldest, most run-down station that I’ve ever seen. I doubt anyone other than a Ritual Mage has set foot in it for the last half-century. I hear Draven step lazily off behind me before I feel the soft brush of his hand on my lower back.
“Abandoned, perfect for our use.”
The car shoots off behind us as if it had never stopped. While I am wondering how often a routine subway malfunction is actually a mage getting off at their special stop, Draven is already disappearing into the mouth of one of the tunnels leading away from the platform. I call it a tunnel because although I am sure it is technically a hallway, it is so old and grimy that it is hard tell.
“You’re not leading me down to some dungeon to kill me, right?”
When we meet the end of the tunnel, it is not a sudden and terrible death that I meet, but rather a small group of very tired-looking people sitting on a variety of benches and chairs. They look up at us when we walk in. There are maybe eight of us in total.
They might all fit the Ritual bill when it comes to that outward dark and brooding look, but someone is an absolute angel inside because it doesn’t take more than a couple seconds before I’m handed a steaming cup of coffee. And a good thing too. I shiver again. The further into the abandoned tunnels that we walk, the colder it gets. Maybe that is why Draven wears a leather jacket all the time.
More likely it is just to complete that bad-boy look that only he thinks he
is actually pulling off.
“Welcome to Ritual class, Octavia.” The Ritual teacher appears from a side tunnel. I try not to reel back at the sight of him. He is covered from head to toe in splatters of blood, and in his hand is a bucket. I can smell the contents from here.
It is immediately apparent who is a first year Ritual Mage. We are the only ones reacting to it at all.
“Draven is responsible for catching you up,” the teacher says. “For now, I suggest getting accustomed to the smell of blood.”
We sit at the furthest table from him. It is an old picnic table carved with hundreds of tiny, faded initials. I hold the coffee close to me for warmth.
My senses slowly awake with every sip of coffee. Within a few minutes, I’m not sure that is a good thing. It takes everything in me not to plug my nose from the scent of fresh blood rapidly spoiling.
Draven must notice this because he goes out of his way to distract me. While the teacher goes over the specifics of how he butchered the animal—I don’t catch what it was—Draven tries to explain what I missed while I was in my other classes.
“Rituals are given a bad rep because of what they usually entail.”
“You mean animal sacrifice, right?”
“Yes. And blood. And body parts and liquids, and basically anything else that you can consider disgusting. You name it, we use it.”
“You’re really selling the Ritual Mage thing,” I mutter.
“Now, come on.” Draven nudges me with his elbow. He lets the touch linger a little longer than necessary. Even though his leather jacket doesn’t allow our skin to touch, I still feel the slightest thrill. I remember the touch of his tongue on my finger, both strange and erotic at the same time. I feel heat growing in my body, so I quickly cross my legs and look away.
The Ritual teacher doesn’t seem to care whether we listen or not. I am surprised by how closely everyone else does listen, though. Even Draven, between bouts of explaining things to me, seems to be intently engrossed in what the teacher is doing. Once or twice I catch him repeating something the teacher said to himself, to be sure he got it.
The third time he does this, he catches me watching. “Ritual Magic is very precise, very particular. Say what you like about it, but you aren’t about to do it accidentally.”
“Huh?” I shoot him a look. There is no way he knows about that, is there? “Did you see...”
“The video?” Draven shrugs. “What can I say. You keep surprising me.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” I say. This is not a subject I want to get into. It is bordering dangerously close to having to discuss how I am supposed to choose between him and the others. So I change it. “If Ritual Magic is so precise, what was with the ritual you had me perform at the café the other day?”
Draven’s smile widens, and his eyes flicker to the ground and back up before responding. “I have a confession. But first, you have to tell me something.”
“What?”
“Did it work?” It is my turn to roll my eyes. “Well,” he says, “did it?”
My face must betray the truth. The teacher looks over in our direction when Draven breaks out in semi-suppressed laughter, but he doesn’t stop what he is doing. Draven lowers his voice a bit when he continues. “It wasn’t a real ritual.”
I sit up straight. “But it worked.”
“What did you dream about? I’m interested to know what you think I did.”
Before he can continue to badger me, there is a sudden commotion in the doorway. Footsteps echo loudly in the seconds before a figure, it takes me a couple seconds to realize it is Flynn, barrels in. He skids to a halt for a second as he surveils the room, spots Draven, and then comes hurtling towards him.
“You!”
He barely has time to breathily say the word before the two are tumbling to the ground in a tangle. I scramble up onto the top of the table.
What the hell is going on?
There is just enough time for Flynn to throw a punch before the teacher intervenes. He is much faster than his laid-back demeanor would make me expect. He is not fast enough, however, and the punch connects and leaves Draven bent over with a hand held to his face.
“How could you?” Flynn’s voice fills the space around us. His hair, usually coiffed to perfection with what I have decided must be magical hair gel, fans in long sweaty waves across his face. I’m reminded of our incident in the shower, and against my bidding, I feel a blush rise. “I gave Octavia that book because it was supposed to help her. What did it take you, two days to steal it from her?”
Wait, Flynn gave me the book?
Draven blinks and works his jaw. It doesn’t appear to be broken at least, but there is definitely going to be swelling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Flynn looks like he is on the verge of some kind of mental breakdown. He stretches his arms up behind his head, and takes a deep, aggravated breath. His voice is not calm and collected like it usually is. “Who else would need an ancient book on rituals and runes?”
“Loads of people. Including the ones that definitely want to use her for themselves.”
So the book was on runes. And wait...it takes me a second to realize what is going on here. Are Flynn and Draven fighting...over me?
I’m not given the time to figure it out.
The Ritual teacher has had enough. He, like everyone else, figures out what’s really going on here at the same moment I do. “Enough! I’d report you if we were on school grounds. For now, get out of my sight and settle this civilly. One hint at another fist fight and I’ll have you both suspended or worse.”
I can’t afford to miss another class, but I am also not about to let these two talk about me while I’m not around. I follow them out into the empty subway terminal. It’s slightly warmer out here, but the chill between them is permeable.
“You came all the way out here to accuse me of stealing a book?” Draven says, as soon as we are sure we are out of earshot.
“I know you stole that book,” Flynn says.
“Wait a second, can I have a say in this?” I try stepping in between them, but they are both so tall that they can continue looking angrily at one another over the top of my head. “First of all, Flynn, you gave me that book?”
He looks a little taken aback. “Of course I did. Who else would have given it to you?”
“Um, quite literally anyone.”
He snorts a little. The sound makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and not in a good way. Now is not the time to be stoking bad emotions, but I can’t help myself.
“Seriously, how was I supposed to know? Also, how did you get into my room to leave it there?”
“You were in her room?” Draven’s voice grates threateningly, though it may just be the swollen jaw.
“It’s quite easy.”
“How often are you letting yourself into girl’s rooms, Flynn?”
Flynn doesn’t answer him. He looks Draven over one more time, and I realize he is probably trying to read his mind. Whatever he finds there satisfies him. “If you really do swear you didn’t do it, then I should go.”
It isn’t until he hops down onto the abandoned tracks that I realize how he got here. No wonder his hair is such a mess. I wonder how long he was running through those tunnels to find us. He did all this for me? Seems a bit rash for him when he could have just, I don’t know, written Draven a strongly worded note.
Draven is not so easily satisfied, however.
“So you’re just going to come down here, punch me in the face for something I didn’t do, and then try to leave?” he says.
“If you didn’t do it, then I have to find out who did,” Flynn says. He doesn’t look at me before he takes off down the tunnel.
Draven sees me peering after him.
“C’mon Octavia. You seriously can’t be feeling sorry for him. He punched me, remember?”
“I just...” I follow him back towards class. “I feel bad. Don’t get me
wrong—he shouldn’t have punched you. But you also can’t really blame him for thinking you might be behind it. He wouldn’t be the first. But,” I have to raise my voice to keep him from interrupting me, “he did come all this way down here to try and save me. Even if it was a complete waste of time.”
We pause one last second before going back into the classroom. If it can be called a classroom.
“You’ve got bite. It’s what I love most about you,” Draven says before he goes to stand right in the ring of the other students. But I have to pause. I know Draven didn’t say he loves me, but the words catch in my chest as if he did. What if while I am here trying to keep all these powers for myself, one of these boys really does fall for me? What if it is more than one? I hadn’t thought of that before.
I’ve never considered myself to be particularly lovable. I don’t hate myself, at least not more than your average sixteen-year-old hates herself, but I’ve never considered myself desirable. I haven’t even ever had a boyfriend. It never occurred to me that multiple of them might end up fighting, literally fighting, over me because they have feelings for me.
I have been so selfish. I can’t keep this secret to myself much longer.
I walk over as quietly as I can and join the group. The teacher is describing all the ways that blood can be used to elicit different results depending on its freshness. I try to pay attention, but I’m lost in my own world. It isn’t until Draven casually puts his arm around my waist that I am able to focus.
The gesture that would normally make me freeze up, instead helps me relax. I look up at Draven for a couple seconds before he realizes it. His hair is dark but streaked with just enough red that I wonder if there is Scottish or Irish ancestry in him. He’s got a bit of stubble on his chin, and briefly, I wonder how it would feel if I kissed him.
He catches me looking, and glances down at me. For the briefest second, I get the first hint of a genuine smile on his face.
I keep assuming I’m alone in this, but I’m not. I’ve got Draven on my side. And all the others too.
Absorb: Book One of the Forgotten Affinities Series Page 10
