by Abbie Lyons
“Well, that’s a start,” I shot back.
Then again, hadn’t I learned a little about Raines just now? Maybe more than he’d wanted me to know about his whole family situation with Wilder, but enough. Enough to see that there was more than meets the eye.
“You seem like a great girl,” he added. “I just don’t want to see this place eat you up and spit you back out.”
I tugged my elbow back.
“Trust me,” I said. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
Chapter Eleven
The hours until midnight flew by. I vaguely recalled dinner—complete with three cups of coffee—doing a little studying with Morgan and Teddy, and then lounging around the common room, but all too soon, the giant astronomical clock on the wall was reading 11:45 and my heart was positively busting out of my chest.
In Morgan’s and my room, I looked myself over in the mirror. We didn’t have to wear our uniforms to the exetasis—in fact, the briefing had encouraged us to wear “something comfortable,” which just made me increasingly apprehensive of what the hell was going to happen to me. Visions of some kind of physical challenge like on a kids’ game show came to mind.
I shook my head. I’d opted for the best casual wear I could put together out of the Hades-provided wardrobe, which honestly was pretty extensive. I had on black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved midnight blue thermal over a black silk camisole, which seemed smart in case it got cold. Wasn’t that what they always said about the SATs—layer, in case it’s too hot or too cold in the classroom? I couldn’t remember. My last full year of high school felt like a lifetime ago.
The water-clock on the dresser clicked to 11:55. Shit. Now I was going to be late. Dressed appropriately, maybe, but fucking late.
I scrambled to tie up the laces on my Docs—obviously not doing anything without those on my feet—and dashed out of the room.
Wilder’s office was located off of his classroom, through an archway and a wooden door at the back of the room. I arrived at 12:02—not terribly late, I reasoned—to find the door closed. I swallowed hard, raised my fist, and knocked.
“Come in,” came the deep voice. I squared my shoulders a final time and strode in with as much confidence as I could muster.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting from Wilder’s office, but this was not it. It was, to put it kindly, a huge shitshow. Papers and books were stacked on every available surface, some open and bookmarked to hell, some splayed upside down with their spines up, some literally dog eared. There were posters and portraits on his walls, too—not the corny motivational ones that Lattimore had up, but ones with all kinds of diagrams and illustrations of plants, old philosopher-looking types, and even some diagrams of what looked like animal dissections. The only one I recognized was the Vitruvian man—the da Vinci guy who looked frozen in every stage of a jumping jack in the middle of a circle.
And then there was the man himself. Emphasis on man. Usually, Wilder dressed in a central-casting “hot professor” ensemble, with an array of waistcoats and crisp shirts. I had to admit, it was like the school uniform sexiness and then some. But tonight, he was dressed...normal. And yet still sexy. He had on jeans and a long-sleeved rugby shirt in a subtle dark red stripe, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his powerful forearms. He still had his glasses on, of course, but his hair was a little less well-kept than usual, which honestly just added to the effect as it flipped over his forehead.
“Nova,” he said, sounding genuinely happy to see me. He rose and gestured at a chair in front of his desk, which was, of course, piled with papers. “Come in. Sorry for the mess. I’m something of a pack rat.”
“I can tell,” I said, before I could stop myself. But Wilder just laughed.
“Now you know my secret. Outside of the classroom, I’m just a regular slob of a guy.”
Regular guy and then some. I ignored the pleasant squirming in my stomach and settled into the chair that Wilder cleared for me. I sat straight up, my hands folded in my lap, feeling the need to be prim for some reason.
“So...” I started.
“So,” Wilder said. He didn’t return to his seat, but leaning on the edge of his desk, arms folded, staring at me. Staring just a moment too long. I felt my cheeks get hot. “Sorry,” he said, and rose to circle back around to his seat. “Just getting a good look at you.”
“Oh yeah?” I couldn’t keep a flirtatious note out of my voice. It genuinely felt like it was getting hot in here. “What for?”
“Well, like I said, you’re my first,” Wilder said. “And I’m not too commanding a professor to admit that I’m nervous. I owe it to you to do this properly.”
I swallowed hard for the second time that night. Even if the test was executed to a T, I still might fuck up and fail.
Hell, at this point, I was pretty sure that was a certainty.
“Now, there’s some boring administrativa to handle,” Wilder said, pushing his glasses up his nose in an almost Teddy-like gesture. He shuffled some parchment. “Let’s see. Nova Donovan. Age nineteen. Birthplace New York City. Mother...”
“Leda.”
Wilder looked up. “Deceased?”
I set my chin. “Unknown.”
“I see.” Wilder’s expression was unreadable. “Father?” he said gently.
“Unknown,” I said. “Totally unknown.”
He gave a small nod and scratched something on the parchment. “And do you know which of your parents gave you the demon blood?”
I shook my head. “No clue. I didn’t even know I was a half-demon until Lattimore scared the crap out of me in a random park in Brooklyn.”
Wilder chuckled. “Among his many talents. So you’ve never manifested any powers prior to your arrival at Hades, is that correct?”
I shook my head again. There was whatever happened back in that alley, but that was more of a nervous breakdown than a power. “And...” I wondered if I should admit it. But if not now, when? Maybe being honest would help me figure this whole mess out. “And not since I got here, either.”
Wilder looked up again. “You mean—”
“I have no powers,” I said. “I mean, at least that I can see. Or control. But yeah, so far...” My voice got soft. “Nothing.”
Wilder gave a curt nod. But said nothing, I noticed.
We went over a little more basic information: star sign (Leo), Chinese zodiac (horse), Kabbalarian name energy (say what?), blood type (no idea) and finally, it seemed that the paperwork portion of the evening was over.
“Well, thank you for your comprehensive information, Nova,” Wilder said, smiling. “I’ll see you for the next session.”
My head jerked up from where I’d been studying a strange-looking brass instrument on his desk. “Really?”
Wilder laughed. “No. But wouldn’t that be funny?”
My heart rate settled down from its spike. “That’d be one word for it.” But I smiled a little myself. “You know, in the human world, all we have to do is answer some questions on a test to determine our whole future.”
Wilder raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
I ventured to guess his parents hadn’t raised him among humans for long if he didn’t even know about the SATs or ACTs.
“Well, in terms of where we’re going to college,” I said. “Or not going, as the case may be.”
Wilder laughed again. It felt good, making him laugh. Like it wasn’t something easy, but totally worth the effort. And the sound of his laugh was putting me a little at ease, too.
“No, there’s a bit more to the procedure, I’m afraid,” Wilder went on. “It’s not so much a test as a...series of measurements, I suppose.”
My eyes flew back to the brass instrument on his desk. Wilder chuckled.
“It’s an astrolabe, Nova. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“I wasn’t,” I protested. I didn’t know what an astrolabe even was, but presumably it was safe.
“I realize this is a lot for you to take in,” Wi
lder said. “All of it. Not just the exetasis.”
“Yeah,” I said, a little more softly than I meant to. “But I’m getting used to it. My friends are helping me figure everything out.”
I didn’t realize how weird it would be to say the words “my friends” until they actually came out of my mouth. But I did have friends. Maybe not ride-or-literally-die friends like the Infernal Three, but still. Even after just a few weeks, I felt like I could trust Morgan and Teddy. Raines had been right about that much: trust was worth its weight in gold.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Wilder said. He paused, as if considering whether to go on. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a burden being paired with my brother in our class today.”
“No,” I said quickly. “He’s...fine.”
Wilder exhaled, almost a sigh. “Yes. He just has to...well, we’re all here to learn, aren’t we? Even me.” He folded his hands on the desk. “Anyway, on to business. Now, I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar with every last form of demonic divination—I’m not even familiar with all of them myself. Skilled demons who’ve put years into specialization can read fates and destinies in everything from chicken’s eggs to human toenails.” Seeing my eyes widen, he chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’re not doing anything too out there.”
“Permission to speak frankly?” I said, raising my hand slightly. “Everything here is ‘out there’ to me.”
Wilder’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. It was a nice crinkle—mature but still, if I was honest, dead sexy.
“I’m sure. The important thing is for you to stay relaxed. Think of it like having your blood pressure taken—if you tense up, you’ll throw off the results.”
I nodded.
“So, there are a few standard methods that we perform during the exetases so that we can have a comprehensive sense of your innate power.”
“Okay,” I said. “Meaning...what?”
“Meaning we want to cover all possible realms of your power. So, physical, mental, spiritual, external—with some kind of weapon or wand,” he explained, “retrospective—what’s already happened to you—and potential—meaning a sense of what’s destined to come in your future.”
“Okay,” I said again. “Makes sense.” And it did, in its own weird way. “So that probably means a lot of tests.”
“They’re not tests,” Wilder said, almost automatically. “But yes. Four sessions, each with its own specifically selected method.”
The question I had to ask was gnawing at me too sharply to ignore it. “And what if none of the tests, you know...show anything?”
Wilder waited just a beat too long to answer. “They will,” he said. “The odds that you’ve been summoned to Hades Academy without cause...well, it’s highly, highly unlikely.”
I remembered something from my conversation with Teddy. “What if I’m supposed to be somewhere else, though?”
Wilder’s brow furrowed. “You mean Elysium?” I nodded. “Well, that again is unlikely, though admittedly less so. But if such were the case, then the exetasis would reveal as much. Nova...” He rose from his seat and came around to the other side of the desk, right to my side, and dropped to a crouch. “I want you to know that there’s nothing to worry about. This process is all about honesty. It’s about uncovering as close to ultimate truth as we can—the truth of who you are. That, for any kind of supernatural being, is the most formidable power any of us can hope to possess.”
The strength of his gaze was honestly too much. I could accept that being this close to Wilder did things to me—things that were, of course, wildly inappropriate—but for the first time, I wondered if maybe it was doing things to him too.
I willed myself to exhale calmly. “All right. So what’s first?”
“Atta girl.” Wilder flashed a smile that could only be called devilish. “We start with physical—it’s the simplest and most straightforward.”
At the very word physical, my heart plunged into my stomach. “So like a fitness test or something?”
Wilder chuckled and rose to stand. “No, nothing so human as that. Are you familiar with chiromancy and oculomancy?”
“Hell no,” I said. “And I’m in Remedial Latin, so don’t expect me to guess, either.”
“Chiromancy, which you may have encountered—well, in a totally false form, of course—is what humans call palm reading,” Wilder explained. “Oculomancy is a bit more complex, but essentially, it’s a reading of the colors and patterns in your irises. In your eyes.”
At the mention of eyes, my mind immediately went to Raines and his fiery stares.
“There’s power in the eyes, then?” I asked carefully.
“Oh, of course,” Wilder said. “They’re as unique as the lines on your palm or the prints on your fingertips. A rich source of information.”
“So how’s this gonna work? You just stare deeply into my eyes for an awkwardly long amount of time?”
There was a pause. “Actually, yes. That’s exactly how the oculomancy portion works.”
“Oh,” I muttered.
“Look, I’ll be the first to admit that exetases can be quite awkward. How do you think I felt when I was your age and Professor Stultior stared longingly into my eyes for what felt like an hour?”
I giggled. “I’m surprised he didn’t fall asleep.”
“He had a bit more pep in his step back then. Still, not the most enjoyable night during my time as a student.” He paused, sensing how nervous I still was despite the jokes. “Don’t worry, Nova, I’ll try to make this whole thing as comfortable as possible. I know this process can be strangely intimate. It could probably do with some retooling. But it’s how we’ve been doing it for thousands of years, and it’s done the trick so far.”
Wilder retook the seat behind his desk and shuffled some papers out of the way, clearing a small space between us.
“Apologies for the mess, again,” he said. “My first exetasis, you figure I would’ve cleaned the place up a little knowing I’d have company. Anyway, we’ll begin with the chiromancy. It’s a little simpler than the oculomancy. Could you please place your hands face up on the table?”
The room was feeling hotter, and at this point it was hard to separate what was nerves, what was attraction, and what was just a natural part of the test. When I placed my hands on the table, I hoped Wilder wouldn’t notice how clammy they already were. Not the cutest thing in the world, that’s for sure.
“Very good, everything seems to be in order,” Wilder said giving them a quick look. Whatever that was supposed to mean. “Now, I’m going to place my hands on yours. This whole process could take as quickly as a few seconds or as long as a few minutes. Maybe even longer in rare circumstances. It’s important in that time that we stay quiet and don’t look each other in the eye. The oculomancy results should be completely separate from the chiromancy results.”
“Got it,” I said nervously, already wondering just how long we’d be essentially holding hands in silence.
“Then let’s begin. Good luck, Nova.”
Before I could even muster a “thanks” he laid his hands on top of mine. Immediately I could feel something. Was it magic? Hormones? No idea, but Wilder’s hands on mine sent a rush of energy through me that would make any girl shiver. I did my best to stay composed, keeping my head looking down toward the floor.
I wasn’t sure what I should be thinking about. Obviously he was testing my demon powers in some way, but that was the last thing I could think about. I wondered how long the test would go on, or if he thought my hands were gross and sweaty. I for my part thought about how strong and manly his hands felt.
I didn’t even have a good way of telling how much time had passed. Thirty seconds could feel like thirty minutes when you were alone in a room with your dashingly handsome professor.
Still, it felt like this was going long. At least several minutes must’ve passed. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe I had so many powers that it was taking him
extra long to observe all of them?
Fat chance of that.
“Okay,” he finally said. “The chiromancy test is completed.”
“Did I pass?” I couldn’t help but immediately ask.
There was that smile again. “It’s not that kind of test. This isn’t a pass or fail thing. And besides, we judge cumulatively rather than on a test-by-test basis. Remember, we’re trying to paint a fuller picture of who you are as a demon.”
But behind that smile, I could tell he was hiding something. That same intuition that could tell me whether somebody would fall for my three-card monte trick was telling me that Wilder wasn’t being totally upfront with me.
Can I really trust my intuition at a time as tense as this? I wondered.
“Next,” Wilder said, seeming eager to move on, “is the oculomancy test. Again, all this involves is silently staring into each other’s eyes. Try to be as still as possible and keep your thoughts clear. And try your best not to laugh. Apparently many students have a tendency to just start cracking up when they do this. This test can last up to an hour. I think that’s all you need to know.”
“Perfect,” I said with as little emotion as possible. I knew I was exactly the type who might break out into laughter while a good-looking guy just looked at me for an hour, so I figured I’d get a head start on trying my damndest to rid myself of that tendency.
“Then let’s begin.”
Even though we were no longer touching, it became clear early on that this test was much more intimate. It felt like Wilder was looking into my soul, and for all I knew, maybe that’s what he was doing. I became very aware of my whole body. Did my hair look okay? Was I breathing too heavily? If this was going to go on for a while, I wanted to look my best for Wilder.
He. Is. Your. Professor. I had to keep reminding myself. My entire future could hinge on these tests, and I was incredibly frustrated with myself for being too focused on if I looked cute enough.
Wilder’s eyes seemed to shift colors as I looked into them. Nothing so drastic as Raines’s eyes, but just slight changes in tone. I wondered if mine were changing, too.
