by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 32
Emma
I have twenty minutes to convince as many hybrids as I can that leaving the Acropolis means more than survival, it means starting over. I've never been good at talking with others, and now I have to be more than a good conversationalist. I have to be a revolutionist.
Fiona is brushing her hair in the bathroom when I approach her. I step behind her awkwardly and her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Two more she-demons move behind me. Hesther and Gwenyth. They have their arms crossed. No one here confronts another hybrid for friendly conversation. I hold my hands up in a gesture of peace.
"I need to talk to you," I say quietly.
Fiona's eyes meet the twins.
"We don't talk here, Chase. It would be best if you back away now," Fiona warns.
I don't heed her warning.
"I'm leaving the Acropolis," I say bluntly.
Fiona's brush clatters into the sink, and the twins' eyes go wide. Fiona spins.
"What?" she asks.
I have her attention now, and I take advantage of it.
"They are reassigning me a new Guardian. Conor Reinhardt says they fear me, that this means they are planning to kill me."
Fiona's face falls.
"And you want us to care? Any games you play can get us killed too. Move it, Hybrid."
I remain motionless.
"Conor's helping me leave the school."
The twins' mouths fall open as they rush toward me, one on each side of me now.
"You're going to run with him?" they ask simultaneously.
I nod
"And I want you to join me," I say firmly.
Fiona laughs, her gaze moving over me slowly.
"There aren't many of us here, Chase. Have you seen the gargoyles at this school? Even with our abilities, we are outnumbered and still mostly untrained. It's suicide."
"It's hope," I breathe.
Hesther and Gwenyth's eyes are bright, and I know they don't need much convincing.
"Where would we go?" they ask.
"Conor says there's a place in Italy . . . ."
Fiona shakes her head.
"And you trust everything Conor Reinhardt tells you? Oh, that's smart."
I lift my chin, my jaw tight, my pride wounded.
"Will Reinhardt and Marion Durand are leaving as well."
The twins gasp as Fiona's gaze searches mine. I feel her surprise.
"Why?" she whispers.
"Because staying here is the same thing as dying. There's too much prejudice against the hybrids. They're scared of us, scared we'll unite. We don't have to be evil. We don't have to be good," I say.
Hesther looks at Fiona, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
"She's saying we have a choice. She's offering us freedom, Fiona."
"We're in," the twins say together.
Fiona is thoughtful.
"And if we decide to go? What then?"
I watch her, my eyes meeting hers.
"We train on our own. We learn how to be the best we can be without restriction," I say.
Fiona nods. The lights flicker in the bathroom, and I know I'm running out of time.
"I don't have access to the main residence hall," I say as I back toward the door. "If you decide you are in, spread the word. Give the other hybrids a choice. We're meeting by the lake before dawn."
And with that, I walk away. It's the best I can do. With the little time allowed me, I have planted the seeds of rebellion.
"Did it go well?" Conor asks quietly as I exit the bathroom.
He is leaning against the wall, and he pushes away to move beside me. I nod as we walk. He leads me to the small bedroom, and I walk inside with my stomach tied in knots.
The door clicking shut behind us in the small room is too loud. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that everything will go wrong. I'm afraid we will be hurting more people than we help.
"There's no time to worry now, Em. Lay down," Conor orders.
I back toward the bunk, sliding onto it carefully. I haven't changed into pajamas, and I won't. Not tonight.
"Scoot over," Conor says suddenly, and I realize he's standing next to the bed.
I look up at him, startled.
"What?"
He smiles.
"Just scoot over, Em. It's not safe tonight. If anyone tries to get to you before we leave, they'll have to get through me first."
He pushes me over gently and climbs into the bed next to me. I'm not sure what to think of this, and I awkwardly scoot into the wall. I suddenly have six legs, and a million arms. I can't figure out where to put them all.
"Just lie still," Conor whispers, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He's enjoying my discomfort.
"There's not enough room," I mumble.
Conor chuckles.
"There's plenty of room. Trust me."
He rolls onto his back, facing the bunk above us before stretching out his right arm, offering it as a pillow. I look at him warily, my eyes searching his gaze before finally settling down next to him, his arm under my neck. The lights go out, and we are plunged into darkness.
The dark has a way of making everything sound louder. Every breath Conor takes moves through me, causing tingles to shoot down into my toes. And every time he shifts, the sheets sound like sandpaper rubbing together. I need a distraction.
"Do you think this is going to work?" I ask.
I feel Conor's breath on my neck, and I know his head is facing me. I'm still staring up at the bunk.
"I don't know, but we're out of options."
I let my head roll to face his. We're only an inch apart now. Even in the dark, I can make out the features of his face. We're both silent, still, and then . . .
"Emma, what happened in the woods . . ." he begins.
This isn't the distraction I was looking for. I don't want to pretend the kiss we shared never took place, but I will.
"Never happened," I finish in a whisper.
Conor's finger is suddenly touching my lips, and I jump as he traces them slowly. My whole body catches fire.
"No," he breathes. "It happened. It sure as hell happened."
"Conor . . ."
His finger presses against my lips, shushing me.
"You and me, right or wrong, it happened, Em. It happened. I'm not sure I'd be here right now if it didn't. I shouldn't have told you to forget it."
It's too dark for me to make out his features as well as I'd like to, and my heart is beating way too fast. It's loud in the darkness, deafening.
"What are you saying?" I whisper.
His hand is cupping my cheek now, and I close my eyes against the pressure.
"I'm not sure, Em. I'm really not sure."
I smile against his hand.
"Unsure is okay, you know. Unsure is where you discover sure."
Conor chuckles.
"And how do you discover sure?" he asks.
I let temptation get the better of me, and I reach out to touch his face with my hand. There is light stubble under my fingers, and I know Conor hasn't had time for anything resembling a shave, much less a haircut.
"You don't. It finds you," I answer.
I feel Conor's smile against my skin, and he takes my hand in his, kissing my palm before folding my fingers around the kiss.
"Should be one hell of a journey," he whispers, his lips touching my forehead now.
I close my eyes, letting the sensation run through me as he presses his lips lightly against the tip of my nose and then my lips. There, he stops, pulling away as he runs a finger down the side of my face.
"Get some sleep, Em. We've got a hard journey ahead of us."
I roll onto my side, my back to Conor."
"Conor?" I ask.
He's quiet a moment, his breathing even.
"Yeah?"
"I kind of like unsure."
Conor laughs, his hand playing gently with the back of my hair.
And with that, I let sleep take me.
