by Abbie Lyons
"Don't tell anyone about this," he said, as if I needed reminding. "Obviously I've just broken you into a storage room that neither of us is supposed to have access to. But don't tell anyone about—"
"I won't tell anyone I touched you," I said. "Don't worry."
Raines paused, a few steps away from me. "I meant don't tell anyone about Wilder."
"Oh." I picked my up own pace, forcing myself to ignore what I'd just said. "Well, right. Of course."
We walked in silence, not an uncomfortable one, but still. Exhaustion was taking hold of me, like someone had turned the gravity up and my body was dragging itself towards the nearest soft surface. Fortunately, whatever stupid back routes and shortcuts Raines knew got us outside of the common room pretty quickly.
Before we went in, he caught my elbow.
"We'll figure out what he's up to, Nova," he said in a low voice. "I promise. I don't want you to think this is a revenge thing or a sibling rivalry thing. I mean, you know it goes deeper than that, but...I don't want this to happen to you. That's what I'm focusing on. Not Wilder. Just you."
Shock radiated down my body from head to toe. The words were so unexpectedly kind, free of snark and scorn and even putting his "let's kill my half-brother" vendetta to the side for the moment. It was so un-Raines-like. And yet, now that I knew him better...it was just like him.
And I really, really appreciated that.
"Okay," I said. "Thanks. And, listen, if you ever need to talk about...you know, what I heard in your dreams—"
"No," Raines said sharply. He closed his eyes and took a long breath out through his nose. "That wasn't something you should've heard. That's none of your business."
"Might be, kinda," I replied. "Because of the whole—" I mouthed, but did not say out loud, soul binding thing.
The ripple of annoyance that kindled in me was unmistakable. Probably just best to drop it. I was bone tired, anyway, and my bed was just steps away. I wanted to plunge into the kind of deep sleep where dreams weren’t even a possibility.
Hell, I'm not sure I ever wanted to dream again after tonight.
With a resigned nod, Raines swept into the common room—so much for chivalry—and I followed suit. It was almost three in the morning according to the giant celestial clock, and the room was all but empty. Empty, except for—
"There he is." A blonde figure rose from one of the armchairs, clad in a tight gray T-shirt and black jeans. Aleksandr. "Been worried about you. Thought maybe you bit it."
"I’'m fine," Raines all but grunted. I wanted to roll my eyes. Guys.
"Oh, well, good," Aleksandr said. "You going to sleep, or what?"
"In a minute." Raines flicked a gaze at me. "Good night, Nova."
I didn't know what to do, so I stood there like an idiot. "Um, goodnight, Raines. Goodnight, uh, Aleksandr."
The Russian gave me a curt nod. Just past his form, I could make out another guy, the third in the trio, sitting comfortable but alert in one of the armchairs, a book in hand. Collum Tavish.
If he saw me, he pretended not to notice. He was wearing glasses, something I'd never noticed before, and focused intently on the pages of whatever he was reading. Seemed like a weird time to be doing homework, but okay.
As I walked to the girls' dormitory entrance, I threw one last glance at Collum. His eyes barely moved, but there's no way he didn't see me. He didn't seem angry, not at all, but just...his attention was focused elsewhere. Which made sense—of course it made sense. And wasn't even the biggest problem of the night. Wasn't even a problem at all.
I was almost up to the entrance stairs when I heard it.
"G'night, Donovan."
When I looked back, he was buried in his book again. That's when I realized: it wasn't a textbook. It was Harry Potter.
Chapter Seventeen
Of course, I could barely wait to tell Morgan what had happened. But thanks to the exceptionally late night, and my body's refusal to wake up even for coffee, the first chance I got was in Fulguration. Professor Donner was off messing around with a vacuum arc and when our little group was finally out of teacher—and Camilla—earshot, I spilled the whole story.
Well, almost the whole story. I obviously left out the soul binding part, and kind of fudged the whole "Raines smuggled me into a secret supply closet" thing. Morgan, barely touching her plasma globe, just let her mouth hang open in delight and shock.
"Oh my Gods," she said when I was finished. "I mean, first of all, bloody hell but I'm glad you're all right. Wilder is absolutely mental. He's lost it. I can't believe—I mean, I suppose I can, but still."
"Yeah." I halfheartedly traced my finger over the surface of my own plasma globe. "Welcome to my life."
"Second of all, though, Nova, yet again you should just be on the cover of Messy Bitch magazine. Maybe you could even be Messy Bitch of the Year. I mean, two guys in one night?"
"God, Morgan!" I whirled around to see if anyone had heard her. "Keep your voice down. First of all, there wasn't any 'two guys' thing going on. I only"—I lowered my voice several decibels—"kissed one of them." Even if I'd wanted to kiss the other one. "It was just...intense with both, is all."
"Oh, I'll bet." Morgan's eyes gleamed. "I'm sorry, I know I should be focusing more on the attempted Nova-cide, but you know me. Hard to ignore, right, Teds?"
Teddy barely looked up from his globe. "I guess."
Morgan caught my eye and gave me a sort of who pissed in his Hellwater? expression. "Anyway, I digress. What are you going to do about...him?”
“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” I said drily.
“Wilder,” she clarified. “The rest can wait, in my opinion. Not quite as life-or-death.”
I twirled around my plasma globe, hoping for a spark. My palms felt hot, at least, but that could just be nerves. Even after almost two semesters here, I still assumed any physical sensations were just my dumb human body (or dumb human hormones) and not any indication of demon prowess. Most of the time I was right, too.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I mean, I'm still worn out from that whole ‘trippy dream spying’ thing. It was definitely the most fucked-up exetasis we've had, right?"
"For sure," Morgan said with a low whistle. "I mean, I don't consider myself to have lived a life of too much suffering and misery, but there was certainly some stuff coming up that made me a little squidgy feeling. Plus, the whole cage thing was strange, even if I guess I understand the reasoning. Poor Lattimore was very sweet about it, though. He even gave me his handkerchief."
"Don't you want to ask how my exetasis went?" Teddy said more than a little sharply. Morgan and I both started.
"Of course, Teddy," Morgan said. "We were just getting to you."
"Yeah, I'm sorry," I added. "How was yours?"
Teddy let out a long exhale.
“So...bad?” Morgan said.
"I don't know,” Teddy said. “I just don't know, guys. Honestly, I hate to say it, but I feel like you've barely been paying any attention to me. I don’t mean to sound selfish, even though I guess that does. I know I'm not, you know, trying to murder Nova, or go on a date with either of you, so maybe I'm less exciting, but I'm also your friend. I thought, anyway," he added. He looked winded after he said it, like he’d just sprinted a mile.
"Of course you're our friend!" Morgan cried. "How can you say that?"
Across the room, Camilla, Zelda, and Ruby all perked up from behind their textbook-perfect arcs of electricity, as if they were only too eager to hear trouble in paradise.
Teddy looked uncomfortable, his cheeks turning a deep pink above the crooked knot of his tie. "Well, friends care about how their friends are feeling, right? And I've been having kind of a lot of shit going on these past few months. A lot to process."
"We care," I said. "We definitely care."
"I mean, yeah, I'm sure you do," Teddy said. "But you also kind of ignore me. Sorry, but it's true. You take me for granted like some kind of sidekick."
&nbs
p; Both Morgan and I fell silent. Teddy wasn't wrong.
"I'm sorry," I said again. "How was your exetasis?"
For some reason, asking the question seemed to break something in Teddy. "It was miserable, thanks for asking. I had to relive...it. Everything that happened last semester. All of it. I couldn't make it stop. Couldn't wake up from the dream. And then I just had to...you know, drink the antidote and just walk back by myself. No one was here to meet me. I didn't sleep at all last night, either. I feel like...I feel like shit." He took a deep breath. His knuckles were white as he clutched the edges of our work table. "I have to live with the fact that I'm going to be a danger for the rest of my life. Being possessed by Chaos once...it's not just like a little scrape that heals. It leaves a scar. And guilt. I don't like that that's who I am. I don’t like that that’s all how everyone here thinks of me. And I thought you two...well, I thought you’d be different. I thought you’d let me talk about it and deal with it and just be like a shoulder to cry on, or whatever. But—”
“Nova’s been in danger too,” Morgan said. “Don’t forget that. It’s not just like we’re ditching you to paint our nails.”
Teddy’s face went genuinely red.
Well, we did do our spa night, I thought guiltily. After an entire day spent without Teddy. And when was the last time I asked him how he was recovering from his possession? Had I ever even brought it up to him?
My stomach felt like a rock tumbler of shame.
“Class?” said Professor Donner. “Let’s wrap up and do our demonstrations, how about?”
Wordlessly, Teddy pivoted his stool around so that he was facing the front of the classroom, his back to us. Morgan and I exchanged a look and sat in silence as one by one, our classmates marched to the front of the room and crackled bolts of all sizes and colors from one wall to the next, pausing only so Professor Donner could measure the length of the scorch marks and note them in his grade book. Camilla, of course, practically sashayed up to do hers, and locked eyes with all of us in turn before deftly twisting her wrist and sending out an arm-thick, hot-pink bolt of electricity, complete with a twinkling shower of sparks.
“Bravo, Ms. de Locke!” Professor Donner had to unroll another length of measuring tape. “That’s a full five meters!”
Camilla stared—glared, really—at us one more time before she took her seat, her poison smile curved over her lips.
“What’s she so smug about?” Morgan muttered so only I could hear.
“Does she need a new reason?” I whispered back. Then again, she did seem especially poncy, as Morgan would say.
“Mr. Dewberry?” Professor Donner said. “You’re up.”
Teddy pushed his hands on his knees and rose slowly. Shoving his glasses up his nose with a finger, he rolled up his sleeves and adjusted his tie, almost as if he were buying time. Which he probably was.
Poor Teddy. Another fresh wave of guilt washed over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Raines would make of that.
Come to think of it...
I cast a quick survey around the room. Where was Raines? I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t in class. But then again, I hadn’t noticed him enter, either. I would have felt it, I was almost positive.
“We’ve only got a few minutes before the bell.” Professor Donner not-so-subtly rolled his measuring tape up a few more turns. “So if you don’t mind—”
Crack.
Bold, brilliant light shot from Teddy’s arm—a searing blue that left a soot-black, nearly solid line on the stones beneath it.
“Holy shit,” Morgan said.
Teddy, for what it was worth, looked shocked, and not only because his hair was now standing on end and his glasses were askew. If anything, that appearance made him only look more Teddy-like.
“Damn,” Professor Donner said, and shrugged. “Good one.”
Teddy smoothed his hair, pushed his glasses back up, and took his seat again, stone-faced and silent.
God, I felt like crap. I really wasn’t the only one with big problems.
Get some perspective, Nova, I chided myself.
Because if there was one thing I’d learned at Hades, it was that I was nothing without my friends.
Chapter Eighteen
I kept a low profile for the rest of the day, and by the time I’d gotten another good night of sleep under my belt, I felt at least marginally ready to...begin to consider starting to figure out what the hell I should do about Wilder.
I could lodge some kind of formal complaint with Dean Harlowe—surely that was a thing here? Or, like, a student ombudsman? I wondered if demon academies were subject to Title IX laws. Then again, they weren’t even subject to the laws of physics, so probably not.
Besides, I realized, sipping my coffee in the refectory next to an uncharacteristically muted Morgan, ratting out Wilder for attacking me would inherently involve explaining why he attacked me, and that was not about to be something I’d get into with Dean Harlowe. Sure, maybe she’d take care of Wilder somehow or another, but I’d still get majorly busted for being soul bound. So would Raines, for that matter. And with the whole probation thing...well, we’d probably both get bounced out on our asses.
And neither of us had anywhere to go.
Then again, maybe there was another way.
“What was that thing you were saying the other day?” I said, apparently abruptly, because Morgan jumped. It was weird to be sitting by ourselves. No Teddy, obviously. It stung, but I understood. “About Dean Harlowe rounding up all the subversives? Do you really think she’s on the hunt for bad professors to weed out and save the school somehow?”
Morgan plopped one, then two, then three sugar cubes into her tea, then stirred halfheartedly. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe. But didn’t we decide that even if she was, she was barking up the wrong tree with Mantel?”
“Yeah, true.” I thought a minute longer. “I guess I’m just wondering if we can sic her on Wilder somehow. If she’s already on the warpath looking for people screwing up the school’s system...”
“Hmm.” The old gleam almost flickered back into Morgan’s eyes. “Has he done anything else?”
I shook my head. “No. I haven’t seen or heard him since that night.” A quick scan of our surroundings confirmed he wasn’t in the refectory either. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just...plotting his next move or something.”
“Bleh.” Morgan sat down her tea. “Way too sweet.” She blew a puff of air into her bangs. “Sorry, Noves. I’m not not worried, you know? Truly. It’s just, you know, the results coming...”
Oh, God. Somehow, given all the drama with my nightmare-dream and Wilder almost throttling me, I’d forgotten that our exetases were over. The tests were done. That was it.
My heart raced. Would zipping out early, even if I was just trying to save my own stupid life, count against me? Or would Wilder throw the results even if I had passed, or proven myself worthy, or cleared the threshold, or whatever?
“And then there’s Teddy,” Morgan said glumly. “I feel shit about it, don’t you? I don’t even know how to start with him.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Same. Might just let him take his time? He deserves it. We shouldn’t push him.”
“Gods, here I am, loyal to the death to you two, and yet I still end up being a crappy support system. No wonder Matthias ghosted me.” She sipped her tea again, forgot it was too sweet, and plunked it back down. “Hey, where’s your boy-toy, by the way?”
Speaking of people I hadn’t seen since the night of the exetasis...
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, my heart twisting involuntarily at the memory of him in his glasses. There was something personal about that sight, almost like something he’d wanted me to see. “Around, I guess.”
Morgan lifted a brow. “Everything all right?”
“As far as I know,” I said truthfully. “What, do I have to spend every waking minute with him?”
“If I were you?” Morgan said. “I would.”
The bell sounded, cutting our conversation short.
“Let’s just get to class,” I said, sealing the topic off for good.
I WOULD NEVER HAVE expected Applied Methodology of Terror to be my favorite class, but something about forcing myself to be as scary as possible really gave me an outlet for my stress. Also, while the reading for other classes could make my eyes cross, the assignments for this one were all visual: looking at medieval manuscripts, Japanese scrolls, old sketches by Da Vinci, line drawings of gargoyles, anything that humans had ever put down as being scary. That, and it felt like the most useful class, at least in terms of what Hades Academy was all about: causing terror.
I’ve never really felt terror.
I shook off the memory of Raines and shook out my arms and legs at the same time. Today, Professor Riggs had us working on transmorphs that were more traditionally, for lack of a better word, “demon-y.” He’d drawn a whole diagram up on the chalkboard, his whistle swinging wildly on its lanyard, of what features in a demon are most effective. Simple deformity—a crazily asymmetrical face, or a giant creepy mouth full of teeth—was unsettling enough for most purposes. Horns, scales, flames, forked tongues—those all worked because humans had socially conditioned themselves—ourselves, I guess, in my case—to think they were scary, and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Blank or black eyes were a subtle but effective method—humans read feelings through facial expressions, led by the eyes, so blot that feature out and blam, we’re crapping our pants.
“Eventually,” Professor Riggs—who I still wanted to call Coach Riggs, given his demeanor—“you’ll find the transmorph that becomes yours. The one you’re most comfortable with, the one that you can snap into the quickest, the one that is you when you’re at your most demonic.” He clapped his meaty hands. “Okay! Let’s hop to it. Time to express yourselves.”
No one was paying super close attention. The impending exetasis results were really the only thing any first-year students could think about, and both Morgan’s anxiety and the collective fretting of all our classmates had wormed its way into me, too. Part of it might have been Raines, but—as I confirmed with a sweep around the room—he wasn’t here. So who knows what he was feeling.
