Investigated

by Maya Daniels

  The mental punch he sends my way doubles me over. Groaning and gripping my knees for all I’m worth, I try my best to block him out. Imagining walls made of bricks did not work. Closing doors, or hell, even raising steel walls couldn’t block his assaults. No matter what he tells me to try, I’m like an open field left for him to plow through. I can feel tears streaming down my face, the pain unbearable, but he doesn’t let go. I know he won’t until I’m almost passed out on the floor. I learned his tricks early yesterday.

  “There you are.” A smooth female voice purrs happily, but I’m in so much pain I can’t lift my head to see who it is.

  Fenrir groans somewhere in the room, and I wonder if Zoltan decided to hit him a little too. It’ll serve the Fae right for sitting there watching me suffer and enjoying every minute of it. Steeling myself for another mental punch—it’s a pattern Zoltan has—I almost fall flat on my face when the pressure totally disappears. It lasts longer than a heartbeat, and I finally lift my head up, flicking the hair off my face.

  I wish I stayed in crippling pain instead of seeing a beautiful woman wrapped around Zoltan like a boa that’s trying to strangle her prey. My heart does a painful lurch when she presses her face in his neck, and his arms wrap lovingly around her body, while his gaze is locked on mine. Fenrir gasps and starts yapping something, but his words blur into nothing. Pain like nothing Zoltan could’ve mentally inflicted stabs me at the center of my chest, and I’m shocked to see I’m not crumpled on the ground bleeding out. What are seconds seem like days as I watch them entwined around each other. The woman has her eyes closed, oblivious of everyone but the man holding her in his arms.

  The same arms that were wrapped around me.

  Realization dawns on Zoltan’s face, maybe from finally understanding the situation or seeing something on my blood-drained face, and his hand moves to reach for me. Something inside me snaps. A crippling fear that he might force me to stand here and continue to watch them together. Or worse, convincing me it’s not what I think it is because I know I’m stupid enough to believe him. The energy surges through my limbs, and I feel the blast bursting from my chest and sending both of them flying back, slamming into the opposite wall and falling in an unmoving heap on the floor. Fenrir’s droning words are silent, and one glance at him shows me he is on the ground too, his long, platinum hair fanned around his head. Shocked, I stand frozen in the silent room while looking wide eyed from one unconscious person to the next. When Zoltan is the first to move, his arms flinching before he tries to roll to his side, I bolt out of there so fast that a few people passing the door end up bowled down like pins.

  “Francesca!” Zoltan’s bellow sends me running faster.

  The fat tears overflowing my eyes make everything blurry while I streak through the academy. With no destination in mind, I’m not even surprised when I see the hallways decorated with golden accents getting closer and closer. The pain in my chest starts spreading wider, numbing my lungs and my heart. My hair flying behind me like a flag, I’m not sure if I’m running away from Zoltan, or I’m trying to outrun the crippling feeling overtaking my body and soul.

  What did you think? That he was yours to keep? The snarky comment in my head was unwelcomed and a much-needed reminder of how stupid I am.

  The calling of my name disappears along with the rest of the sound that is a constant buzz in the building the moment my feet enter the alluring hallway. My skin prickles just like when I pass through wards when I enter it without slowing down my speed. Even here, I can feel the damn vampire, his energy reaching for me like a spiderweb trying to trap me and reel me back to him.

  I will not let it.

  My lips are bleeding from biting on them as hard as I can to stop the sobs from escaping. I didn’t cry apart from a few treacherous tears when my father was killed, so I will most assuredly not cry for a fucking man I’ve known for not even a week. Doors blur as I keep running through the seemingly endless hallway until I’m forced to stop in front of a closed door at a dead end. Sucking lungfuls of air, my eyes dart around as if Zoltan can materialize at any moment. My head jerks back, looking over my shoulder when scuffing on the floor alerts me to someone sneaking in. I might be hallucinating, but I’m not willing to wait and see if I’m right. Grabbing the golden handle of the door in front of me, I yank it open, stepping inside and slamming it closed behind me. Pressing my back on it, I close my eyes while I breathe deeply in hopes to slow down my heart.

  As soon as my lids drop, I can see them together. Both of them dark, tall, beautiful together, their bodies wrapped around each other so that nothing can pull them apart. Another stab, this one more painful than the first, doubles me over, and I drop to my knees at the door. Loud sobs are wrenched from the bottom of my soul, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. Pressing my forehead on the soft floor, I hug my middle as I cry like I’ve never done before. My tears drench the thick carpet, but it dries out by the time only sniffles and tremors are making my body twitch. Spent and numb, I drop on my side, staring with glazed over eyes at nothing. Even the reason that brought me here in this state is gone from my mind.

  I feel nothing.

  “That was quite a display,” a frail voice speaks, but I have no strength to move apart from blinking. “If I knew a boy will force you to come to me after I’ve spent days trying to call you here, I would’ve forced his hand to kiss you sooner.”

  That got my attention, alright.

  Jerking upright, my head swivels around to find the owner of the voice. The room is empty, sending shivers down my spine. You are so stupid, Franky. Running here like an idiot without thinking.

  “What’s new?” my voice is raspy, and my throat hurts when I answer my inner voice like I’ve been screaming for weeks.

  “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, child?” The frail voice chuckles softly.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” Massaging my throat as if that will help, I push myself off the floor.

  “It’s just you and me here.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Obvious.”

  “My name is Soren; I don’t know Obvious.” Whoever it is, sounds thoughtful. I almost laugh. Almost. “It has been a while since I have been outside these rooms. Is he a new one? Do we have a new Daywalker?”

  “Where are you, Soren?” Ignoring his question, I inch further into the room. “Why can’t I see you?”

  The place would be pitch black if it weren’t for the slightly-parted drapes on the windows, which let the silver glow of the moon break the darkness. Shadows seem like they loom in every corner, and I almost jump out of my skin when a lump moves on top of the large bed at the center of the room. The rushing of my blood through my veins sounds like a train in my ears.

  “Come closer, let me see you.” The lump moves again, the blankets covering it stretching like an eggshell preparing to burst open.

  It’s creepy as hell, and I’m not surprised when goosebumps raise over my arms.

  “Why did you need me to come here?” Sliding my feet slowly, I move closer still. “Was that you making that irresistible pull that lured me in the hallway?”

  “It was.” He chuckles happily. “I thought I lost my touch when you didn’t come.”

  “Has no one told you that in these new times, we actually call people using words? It’s creepy and deranged otherwise to lure them in like a predator.”

  “No one comes here anymore.” Sad and petulant, he moves again under the blankets, and I crane my neck to see him from this far away with no luck. “They have forgotten who keeps all of them alive.”

  My stomach drops to my feet at that statement.

  “You control the ancient magic of this place?” Hissing angrily, I grab control of my anger until I hear more of what he has to say.

  If he is the one doing all the killings here and in Sienna, only one of us will be left breathing in this room by the time I’m done. The energy that knocked over everyone in the weapons room starts churning in my chest, spreading throug
h my limbs. My heartbeat slows down, the gentle feeling washing over me like a soothing balm.

  Thump.

  “Oh, how powerful you are going to be.” Still chuckling, Soren talks, oblivious that I’m about to rip his throat with my bare hands if he answers one question wrong.

  “Are you the one killing the students and the residents of Sienna?”

  “Of course not.” Scoffing, he twists again under the damn blanket.

  “You said you keep everyone alive. Are you controlling the ancient magic of the academy?” Asking the question he didn’t answer, I move closer a foot.

  “Control it?” Confusion is evident in his frail voice. “No, nothing can control the magic child. I only feed it.”

  Thump.

  “You what?” I sound shrill, but he shocks me so much I take a step back, snapping out of the trance-like state I was in.

  “Any existing magic has to feed on a life source. For the academy to stand, someone had to feed it. I was the one that took on the task.” Flipping again, he finally stops twisting. “Not that they are grateful, the ignorant fools.”

  “Why did you want me to come here, Soren?” Taking another step back, my knees bend, preparing to attack him if he is trying to trick me by acting harmless. “Do you need to feed so you can fuel the magic, too? Is that why you were pulling me here?”

  “What nonsense are you speaking, child?” Soren’s voice sounds stronger in his anger at my insult. “I was calling you here so I can help you survive.”

  “Survive what? The party?” My hands drop slightly in confusion. Maybe Soren is crazy and has no idea what he is talking about.

  “What party?” A cough rakes him, and he continues to mutter about parties and no one inviting him anywhere anymore. I stand with my mouth open. “You need to survive this place if we are to remove the plague that is spreading on our grounds. You need my help or all the world will be cast in darkness.”

  “Why do you care if I live or die? I’m no one; I can barely look after myself, little less the rest of the world. You got the wrong girl, buddy.”

  Shaking my head, I almost turn to walk away. This is all stupid. I want to find a hole and hide for a decade to lick my wounds. I can’t even take a break in peace in this damn place.

  “I know I have the right girl. It’s you that can’t see it,” Soren says so softly I nearly miss it.

  “I’m not even supposed to be here, Soren!” The hurt, frustration, and anger make me want to scream, so I snap at him. “I’m a fucking half blood in the middle of your fucking glorious Daywalker academy.”

  “You are more than that, Francesca Drake.”

  “I need everyone to stop using that cheesy line!”

  “But I know it to be true.”

  Soren is persistent, pissing me off so bad that I storm next to his bedside without thinking. A frail, thin man with long, white hair lays peacefully at the center of the bed, his eyes closed and his dried lips lifted at the corners in a serene smile. He looks Fae, but his ears are covered, so I can’t be sure. The blue veins are visible through his pale, paper-thin skin, yet his face is unlined, and no wrinkles can be seen. His head turns slightly as if he can feel me watching him.

  “How can you be so sure, Soren?”

  “Because you are just like me, Francesca.” His eyes snap open, and my entire world screeches to a halt.

  Snake eyes are staring back at me, and the world turns dark.

  Chapter 23

  Flattening the invisible wrinkles on the silky red camisole that magickly appeared on my bed along with a knee length black pencil skirt and stilettos with a six-inch heel, I blow out a breath. I’ve been avoiding Zoltan like Death himself. My mind is still jumbled after I wake curled up like a fetus in front of my bedroom door. A memory of running through the hallways with golden accents, talking to someone about evil spreading through the academy, and Fae feeding magic are like quicksand through my fingers when I try to grasp them. I can’t be so messed up from seeing the vampire with another woman that I’ve lost my mind. Can I? I would’ve thought that I’m nuts for sure if there issn’t one thing still as clear as my own reflection in the mirror in front of me every time I blink.

  Snake eyes.

  I know they were looking at me from someone else’s face as well as I know my own name. Anxiety and excitement churn in my stomach, and I brush my hands over the silky tip again. The red color stands out against my golden skin and blonde hair that’s falling around my shoulders every which way. My eyes look too big for my face, red rimmed and still bright from crying. Somehow, my cheeks are also too pale but nothing I can do about it now.

  Fenrir came to inform me that the party was starting in an hour, and he left the clothing, letting me know he will be back in precisely thirty minutes to escort me to the formal hall. I did tell him to fuck off and die along with the cursed vampire, or something along those lines, as soon as he mentioned Zoltan. He looked like he wanted to argue, but some morbid satisfaction settled on his face and, nodding primly, he walked away with a bounce in his step.

  Maybe insanity follows the Fae genes.

  The knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts, and with one last look at the woman in the mirror, I lift my chin up, opening it. Fenrir looks like he is about to faint. Either from the way I’m glaring at him, or because I look like a hot mess.

  “Are we going to stand here staring at each other all night, or are we going?” Shouldering my way past the still-gaping Fae, I close and lock the door behind me. “I thought we were not allowed to be late.”

  “Of course, of course.” Stuttering, Fenrir shoves his hand palm up, waiting for me to hand him my key since I don’t have a purse.

  “Let’s go.” Slapping the offending thing away, I slip the key to my room in the waistband of my skirt.

  Recovering from his ridiculous reaction, Fenrir grabs my elbow and leads me through the hallways. My heels click against the floors, announcing our presence everywhere we turn. Unnerved with the thoughts in my head, the gawking of those we pass makes me more irritated.

  “You look nice.” Trying to break the charged silence, I glance sideways at Fenrir.

  I’m not lying. He does look stunning in his black dress pants and black button-down shirt, the thin golden tie lying flat over his broad chest. His platinum hair is falling like waterfall over his shoulder and back, two tiny braids bouncing every time his head turns to look at me. In other words, he looks presentable, unlike me. They didn’t even give me a bra for fuck's sake. I can feel my breasts bouncing with each step I take.

  “Thank you, Hellion.” Fenrir stops me from stewing in frustration. “You look stunning.”

  Snorting, I step awkwardly with my left foot when I try to see if I can feel the blade I strapped on my upper thigh. They may have taken my weapons, but no one said I can’t just take one from their wall. I made sure I grabbed the sharpest one I could find. Maybe I’ll stab Zoltan with it in the middle of his forehead when I see him. My heart thumps pathetically in my chest. I wish I can rip it out and step on it for being so stupid.

  Fenrir’s fingers tighten on my elbow. At some point during my time here, I stopped being bothered when he touches me. Not just him, but the jerk vampire, as well. Refusing to consider what that means, I turn to see what the Fae wants.

  “Before we get there.” He looks conflicted, and I wait, letting him make up his mind. “Before we get there, I think you should know something.”

  “If you mention Zoltan, I’ll have you know that I will take off my shoe and nail you to the wall with it.”

  “Astara is his sister.” Blurting out the words fast, he steps back, releasing my elbow.

  If he didn’t grab me, I would’ve ended up on the floor. The weight that was preventing me from filling my lungs with air lifts, my body sagging in Fenrir’s hands. My ears are buzzing, lightheadedness forcing my limbs to tremble and cold sweat to bead on my hands and back. Fenrir curses up a storm under his breath as he picks me up, rushing us thro
ugh the closest open door he can find.

  I can’t stop shaking.

  Words don’t want to come, my mouth numbing, and fear spreads through me with the thought that my heart might actually explode. My chest feels tight, and every thump I hear hurts like a knife through my ribs. I’m hyperventilating, and all I can do is gasp for air that does not help me breathe. Still cursing, much louder than before, Fenrir shoves my head to my knees, bending me in half, and the strap holding the blade around my thigh cuts into my skin.

  “Deep, slow breaths, Francesca.” Fenrir’s words finally make sense. “Deep, slow breaths. Come now, you will not deprive me of seeing Zoltan grovel at your feet. Would you?”

  A hysterical laugh bursts from my lips as my breathing starts slowing down. Tears are sliding down my cheeks and my skirt is soaking them up, so I try to lift my head, but Fenrir presses on it, holding me in place.

  “Keep breathing. There we go.” Voice soothing, he keeps talking until I finally feel like myself again.

  “Let me up, I’m fine.” When his hand lingers at the back of my head, reluctant to release me, I honestly laugh. “I promise I’m not going to die on you. I’m fine.”

  He moves, taking a step back, and I flick my hair away from my face while wiping at my eyes. “I look a mess.”

  “You look beautiful.” He counters without missing a beat.

  “And you, my friend, are an excellent liar. Just like any other Fae I’ve known.” Chuckling, I swipe under my eyes with the tips of my fingers.

  “You are half Fae.” Pointing an accusing finger at my face, he tries and fails to look stern.

  “Touché.”

  Throwing his head back, his deep musical laughter fills the space around us. The first real smile lifts my lips since I walked into that stupid weapons room. But the reality is a bitch and slaps it off my face with the tick of a second. Groaning, I shove my face in my hands. I don’t have to say a word.

  Fenrir laughs harder.

  “You should’ve left me to die.” My muffled words make him chortle.