18
Octavia
A sleek black Rolls is waiting to pick me up as soon as Ritual class is over. At the end of class, Draven leads me up a winding, molding staircase that opens up to a service door in some Brooklyn back alley. And I thought it would be easy to get lost at the academy.
Draven leans over the door for a second after I get in. He glances towards the driver and then back at me. “Call me if anything gets weird.”
“How...” He does a flourish with his hand and gives back my cell phone. I didn’t even know it was gone. He’s got to give Flynn some slack for thinking he was the one who stole that book.
I don’t know why I am surprised when we pull up to the massive four-story brick mansion in the upper east side of Manhattan. I immediately regret my choice of dress for the evening. The last time I went to a dinner party was at Wednesday’s, and they aren’t exactly the bourgeoisie of the modern age.
Not like Cedric’s family, apparently.
The driver steps out to open my door and let me out, then just as quickly jumps back in and pulls away from the curb. I am left alone on the sidewalk.
I hop up the first couple of steps to the door. The wood it is made of is probably worth more than all my organs sold on the black market. The brass door knocker is so shiny, it doesn’t look like it is actually supposed to be used, so I press the doorbell instead. The sound it makes echoes through the entire house and reverberates out onto the doorstep. I immediately consider just running away, but then I hear Cedric’s muffled voice through the door. He tells me to come in, so I try the door and it’s unlocked.
Cedric is halfway down the stairs when he looks up at me. The faintest hint of a smile interrupts the concentration on his face as he finishes changing out the cufflinks on his pinstriped silk shirt. The pale color contrasts against his latte-hued skin, making his blue eyes stand out even more than usual.
“My apologies,” he says. “The housekeeper has gone home for the day. We send her home early when we have mage business to attend to.”
I gulp and step inside, letting the door swing shut behind be with a slam. I am utterly out of place here.
I feel Cedric’s eyes on me as he reaches the bottom step. His gaze lingers on the fit of my gray leggings and the sweater I grabbed on my way out the door this morning. I am suddenly made aware of how it is tighter on me than I previously remembered. My fingers go to tug on the bottom hem, willing it to cover the slim strip of stomach that it stubbornly insisted on revealing all day.
“Don’t worry,” Cedric says. “You look...” his eyes rake over me once more, “perfect.”
I would hardly use those words to describe me, but I don’t have much energy left to argue. I’m already feeling the need to crawl under a rock, but I doubt a house this grand has even a pebble out of place.
Cedric ushers me forward and we head off towards an open sitting area to the left of the main staircase. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. An older woman sits in the other room who I hadn’t noticed there before. Since Cedric is the closest thing to me at the moment, I sink my fingernails into his arm and try to dart behind him.
I’m immediately impressed by how hard his arms are. I didn’t take him for the type to hit the gym, but the muscles underneath that silk shirt are hard as steel. Not very good for clutching on to, but very good for hiding behind.
“Oh lord, did I startle you?” the woman’s voice comes across as bored, not concerned. But then again, why would she be; she’s just been sitting here watching me awkwardly gawk at Cedric in his own home.
“This is Amelia Hemmings,” Cedric introduces us. I realize I am still hiding partially behind him and step out. I may be imagining things, but I think he relaxes a bit when I finally let go of his arm.
“Hi.” I am not sure if a handshake is in order, so I just stand here even more awkwardly. She doesn’t make to move either.
But Cedric doesn’t seem to be in a rush to make ourselves scarce. “Octavia here is the girl who got assigned all three affinities,” he says.
I feel my stomach knot up. Being introduced like that feels wrong somehow.
She immediately sits up and looks me over a second time. “Is that so?”
“She is also my paired.” Cedric’s hand moves to rest on my lower back, but something about the touch doesn’t feel quite right. His hand remains stiff and moves away as quickly as it appeared.
“I did wonder if I recognized you from somewhere,” Amelia says.
“Yeah, that good ‘ol news article,” I say, and immediately regret opening my mouth. Am I really so determined to make myself look like a complete fool?
“Right.” Now she reaches out her hand to shake mine, and when I accept she holds onto my hand for a moment too long. “Please,” she says, “Call me Amelia. All my friends do.”
There is a soft ringing sound from somewhere off in the house. I may not be used to attending fancy dinner parties, but I’ve seen enough movies to know, or at least hope, that means there will soon be food in my mouth preventing me from saying anything even more stupid.
“Now if you will excuse us...”
Before either she or I can make any further conversation, Cedric whisks me away down another hallway and into a formal dining room. We are the first to arrive, so I grab a seat as quickly as possible and flop down into it. Maybe if I am sitting by the time the rest of the guests arrive, no one will have the opportunity to see how vastly underdressed I am.
“I didn’t know your name was Derek Galveston?”
“Huh?”
Cedric leans over me and adjusts the name card placed in the middle of the plate. Oops. I try to squeeze out of the chair before the rest of the dinner guests get to see me frantically looking for my name. I finally find it.
I am happy to see that I am not placed anywhere near Cedric’s father, the principal, but I am also apparently not seated next to Cedric either.
“Is there a problem?” I hear a voice from over my shoulder. It is Amelia Hemmings again. She slides into the seat beside mine and gently moves the place card with her name to the side.
“I guess I thought I would be sitting next to Cedric,” I say, slowly lowering myself down next to her.
“What on earth for?” she says.
The room has already begun filling with other people. Most of them don’t even waste a glance on me. I look around and see that no one else finds the placements odd, so I look down at my hands in my lap and fidget with the cloth napkin.
“No reason, really...”
The dinner bell rings again and everyone finally settles in. Cedric seats himself across from me, and after flattening out his own napkin on his lap and straightening up to his always-perfect posture, he gives me the faintest of nods.
His father, the principal, is the last one to arrive. When he looks at me, I feel that slight pressure on the front of my brain. The bastard is trying to use his Psychic powers on me again, but I remember what Cedric and Flynn taught me in class and I focus on building a tall brick wall. I encase my mind in it, tucking away all the complex thoughts and emotions. The least of which I am barely able to suppress when he glances at me a moment too long—annoyance plain on his face. Though whether it is because of my presence, or because I am resisting him, I don’t know.
So far this dinner party seems like it is going to be a smash hit.
I keep waiting for servants to appear and start pouring drinks, but none do. Instead, Cedric’s father grabs his glass and lifts it up to make a toast and the glass in front of me fills magically on its own. The rich dark liquid smells like bourbon and maple syrup.
“To old friends,” his father says with a nod at Amelia next to me, “and new acquaintances,” to which he nods at me, though with noticeably less fondness. “And to continuing the traditions that our forefathers laid down long ago.”
I expected his toast to drag on. Instead, I have to quickly pretend to drink along with everyone else.
I never experimented much with alcohol—not after Wednesday and I discovered the crème de menthe in her mother’s cupboard, and then spent the next twelve hours vomiting the mint-colored contents of our stomachs into the plastic laundry hamper. I don’t want a repeat of that night, so I take the smallest of sips. Even then I am immediately hit with the softest buzzing in my head and I quickly set it down.
For the next couple of courses, from the soup that appears magically in front of me to the pecan-encrusted duck that slices itself into tiny bite-sized pieces, I just try my best to avoid conversation at all.
This only lasts until, despite my best efforts, the man seated to my left asks me to pass a butter dish and notices Amelia on my other side.
“It has been too long! Last I heard you were in London.”
Amelia pats her lips daintily with the corner of her napkin. I don’t dare do that. I’m afraid all the crumbs that have accumulated in my lap will fall out and all over the floor if I do. “I was,” she says, “But Allister asked me to come back.”
“Oh right,” the man passes the butter back to me. I try to catch Cedric’s eye as I set it back in the center of the table, but he is still engrossed in his own conversation.
The man beside me continues to loudly speak over me. “The whole ritual debacle. Poor girl, did they ever decide what to do with her?”
I freeze. They are talking about me.
Amelia catches this, but not before the man continues without pause. “But naturally someone like her could never be allowed to practice that kind of power.”
“Oh, dear.” I see Amelia trying to work out how she can save the conversation, but she is too late. About time I got some answers.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
I try to position myself so that the man has no choice but to talk to me. He is old, perhaps even older than the principal, his face red from the drink, and he hasn’t even so much as wiped the last of the first course’s soup from his mustache.
He barely glances at me. Cedric’s father, however, catches my eye from across the table. He is better at concealing his emotions from me this time, but I bet I can guess at what he is thinking.
The man finally answers me. “No family, no understanding of our society. Maybe if it was someone like Cedric here, we could allow it—he’s a good sturdy boy who won’t be taken advantage of. Except maybe by his father.”
Everyone who is listening to him chuckles at this before he continues. Cedric stops his conversation and listens now too. I catch his hand clench the end of his fork so tightly that it bends.
“Too much of a risk. Though, quite honestly, it could all be a waste of time. She probably isn’t strong enough to wield all that magic.”
“Now Charles—” Amelia touches my shoulder and leans in to speak. “I just take it as a sign that it may be time for change. All concern over order and tradition...isn’t it a little antiquated? I have always said that secrecy breeds secrecy.”
There are several nods of approval around the table, but Cedric’s father is not among them.
Charles huffs. “I’d have her magic stripped straight away. She’s already displayed a total disregard for our bylaws. Good riddance, I say.”
“Why?” I ask. “Because she doesn’t have magical parents?”
He pauses a second, his fork halfway to his mouth. He seems completely oblivious to the fact that the majority of the table seems to finally understand what is really going on here. He mulls over it while he shoves the bite into his mouth and chews. After he’s swallowed a hearty swig of the drink before him as well, he finally nods. “I always said that bringing in mages from non-magical families was a mistake. If it were just up to me, she would already be gone.”
I am standing though I don’t remember getting to my feet. “You will have to excuse me,” I say. I don’t wait around to see if Cedric is going to follow.
I dart down the hall and slip into the very first room. Turns out it is not so much a room as it is a closet. I don’t care. I pull the door shut behind me and take a second to breathe. My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I take it out and see a text from an unknown number.
How is dinner with the resident royals?
It can only be Draven. I’m too frustrated for it to make me smile. I text him back, my fingers shaking as I type.
Come get me?
I hear footsteps outside the door.
Now.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and lean my back against a wall of fur coats. I try not to think about all the creatures that were killed to make the silly things.
I try not to think about what that man Charles had said. I’m tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do with my magic. It isn’t like I chose this. It chose me. My family should have nothing to do with it. Neither should their own damn opinions.
There is a slight creak outside the door, and before I can think to hide behind one of the fluffy furs, Cedric opens the door and peers inside. His eyes are glassed over as he blinks at me—probably from the same drink that incited the rest of the hurtful comments.
“Octavia, what are you doing in here?”
“Looking for spiders,” I say, even though I’ve been quite impressed so far by the lack of them. But now I think every inch of this place seems almost too clean. Sterile even—not unlike Cedric.
“Come on, don’t listen to what the old man said. He’s been on the school board for too long. It was a different time back them.”
His words don’t still my racing pulse, but I do allow him to coax me out of the closet and down the hallway back to the sitting room. This time I make sure it is actually empty before I sit down in one of the chairs.
Cedric grabs a glass decanter from one of the cabinets and pours two drinks. He hands one to me, and when I hesitate says, “Don’t worry, this one is just regular brandy.”
I take it from him and even though I refused to drink earlier, now I do. The liquid is like bitter fire in my mouth and throat. My body doesn’t want me to swallow, but I force myself to. Rather than drawing out the suffering, I throw the rest back and drink it all at once.
“What kind of creature are you?”
I set my glass a little too hard on the table beside me. “One that doesn’t usually drink.”
Cedric still holds his glass. He takes a small sip and savors the flavor a moment. That single glass is, like the rest of this place, probably exorbitantly expensive. I just chugged it like it was a rum and coke.
The sounds of the dinner party continue drifting down the hallway, apparently uninterrupted by my outburst. Maybe I am overreacting. I am a guest, after all, like everyone else. Just because that awful man said what he did, doesn’t mean Cedric and his father agree. Doesn’t mean it is true.
I am about to text Draven telling him I changed my mind when I hear another voice. This one I am familiar with, and it makes my vision spin even more than the drink.
“Cedric, you didn’t tell me your father was throwing a dinner party.”
Whitney stands at the top of the stairs. She is dressed in a long silk dress that is more of a nightgown than actual clothes. She catches me staring and smiles at me in that way that assures me she doesn’t think she is better than me, she knows it. “As soon as I heard about it, I rushed over early in case Cedric needed a new date. I thought at least one of us should dress the part.”
“Early?” I glance at Cedric and shoot him an accusatory glare.
“I told you to come later. After the party.”
“Wait, so you told her to come?” I stand up. Even after only one drink, my voice comes out louder than I mean to. I almost think I hear the banter in the dining room waver a moment, but it doesn’t matter.
“History is history,” Whitney says. She takes a step down towards us. “You can’t resist it.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be here now, with you.”
“And that somehow makes it better?”
I take a step forward. This is all too much. I wan
t to go, now, but I don’t have my backpack and I don’t know where it went. Someone must have put it away for me. It is probably back in the coat closet where I was hiding, but I didn’t think to look for it.
“Now, later...it doesn’t matter.” Whitney finishes her descent down to the base of the stairs. I can tell Cedric is torn as to where he is supposed to be. “Cedric belongs with me. To me. No pairing is going to change that. Besides...a little birdie told me you are going to have to choose just one of your paired. Don’t you think it would be a little selfish to try and steal the only one who’s already taken?”
“Now is not the time for this,” Cedric says. His voice comes out too loud as well. I wonder how many drinks he had with dinner.
My blood is rushing in my ears. How does she know about the choice? I glance at Cedric. He must have told her.
“You’re right,” I say. I don’t care that I don’t have my bag. I storm past the both of them and out onto the sidewalk. Cedric follows me out while Whitney remains inside. I whirl back to him a second, cutting my voice so only he can hear. “Maybe everyone is right. If I choose one of you, it certainly isn’t going to be the boy who doesn’t care about me enough to not invite his ex over as soon as he thinks I am going to leave. Or invite me to a dinner party just to provoke his father.”
“If you choose?”
I realize for a moment that it is the first time I’ve spoken the thought aloud to anyone other than Wednesday.
“That’s right,” I say. I take a deep breath and prepare to plunge out into the surprisingly chilly night, alone. “For a second there, I wondered if this wasn’t all a mistake. That maybe I could find a way to make it work. But I can see now that I was wrong.”
19
Octavia
I am nearly to the end of the block when I hear my name being called. It is not Cedric, but it is also certainly not by Draven. I half turn back towards the front door. I should have waited just outside for safety reasons alone, but I didn’t want he and Whitney to be able to see me out there like some pathetic teenager who just got dumped. I know I didn’t exactly get dumped, but I imagine this is how it feels.
Absorb: Book One of the Forgotten Affinities Series Page 11
