“I don’t think anyone should be going on patrol until they understand what you’re facing,” the woman responded.
As we approached the pair, they both looked over, and I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between the two, and not just because of their colorful straight hair. Both were small and thin in face and body. They had aquiline noses, colorful arched brows, and full lips in their heart-shaped faces. The biggest difference between the twenty-something-year old and her middle-aged mother was that the older of the pair seemed perfectly content sitting down in a swivel chair behind a large, old-fashioned wood counter while Professor Sharp bounced in place like standing still for even a second was too painful to endure. The Mystical Arts teacher had always been a bit abrupt and tense, but anxiety might as well have been wafting off the young Elite professor in waves. Her gaze snapped over to us as we all flooded in through the doors.
I felt Justin at my side, his warmth pressing up against my arm, and I simultaneously wanted to pull away and push closer, so I just stayed perfectly still, trying not to breathe.
“Cr--ud,” Professor Sharp muttered. “See, Mom, you sidetracked me from doing my job.” She gestured out to me. “I'm so sorry, January and Mr. Walters. I was supposed to collect you from class.”
“It's fine.” I leaned back toward Justin.
Professor Sharp chewed so vigorously at her gum. It looked like she was battling something in her mouth. After a second, she pushed off the counter. “Hey January, this is my mom, Ms. Sharp. The rest of you know her.”
“Call me Clare,” the older version of my Mystical Arts teacher said.
Fuck. Me.
It wasn’t my professor that was the contact for all of the informants. It was this sweet looking receptionist.
Clare gave me a warm smile before her gaze traveled back to her daughter, and the grin slid into a stern expression. “We are talking tonight, Rachel. I'll expect you at dinner.”
Professor Sharp nodded slightly to her mom before spinning away. “Yeah, so, Principal Chambers said we could use her office, but you two need to return to class. You shouldn't be here.” She nodded to my silent, hulking bodyguards.
“But before you go back...” Clare set a jar of candies on the counter and winked at Mitch.
His brown eyes snapped to mine. In his eyes, I could tell he was asking me what I wanted him to do.
“I'm good,” I mouthed.
Mitch grabbed a handful of what looked like caramels—and with his thick fingers, it looked like he took half the bowl. “I'm going back to sleep.”
Clare grinned down at her much-depleted candy stock, but when she lifted her gaze, she looked stern again. “Mitch, honey, I better not hear that you're sleeping in your classes again. Justin, sweetheart, grab a couple of candies on your way back, too.”
Justin ignored the offered sweets. He swallowed hard. “Will you have Professor Sharp walk you back to class and stay with Mitch once you’re finished?”
I studied the hard planes of his face. “You’re feeling sick again?” Now that I was inches from his face up close—I could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Is it like this weekend?”
His golden eyes met mine. “Yeah. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
I leaned in toward him, looking into his bloodshot eyes. “Do you need any help?”
“I'm fine. It's probably just the flu.” He tried on a smile, but it looked like it didn't quite fit, and he dropped it. Leaning down, he kissed me gently on the forehead before stepping back. “I'll call you tonight.”
The gesture was so automatic and tender, I didn’t even think to object until he was backing away. He knocked on the counter once. “Clare, I'm heading home, can you call my house?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” The green-haired admin spymaster shook a mouse on its pad, and her desktop lit up. “I'll call your mom and tell her that you're on the way home.”
“Thanks.” His golden eyes flashed to mine, and he whispered, “I'm fine.”
For some reason, I wanted to grab Justin and tell him that if he was going, I was too. There was something wrong here—I felt it in my stomach, but what could I say? No, don’t go home when you feel sick. What if cruel Justin rears his ugly head once again?
It sounded ridiculous even in my head. Ignoring the impending doom feeling in my chest, I told Justin I'd talk to him tonight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The only word I could think of to describe Principal Chamber's office was cute. She clearly had either a literary or a Disney obsession. I would have guessed Mary Poppins, simply because she had always reminded me of the magical English literary icon, but from the state of the Principal's office, I was guessing the woman more related to Alice in Wonderland. Everywhere in the room were large, mismatched teacups and porcelain figurines of the Cheshire Cat and Mad Hatter. Several Lewis Carrol quotes decorated the walls along with painted sketches from the original work. Instead of a desk, a long table filled her room with a quote ingrained in the wood.
“We're all mad here.”
“First of all, I should probably tell you why I’m here.” Professor Sharp leaned in from the other side of the table. “Look, January. Wait, one sec…” She held up a finger and spat a bright green wad of gum into a wrapper and threw it at the corner trashcan before turning back to me. “The Elite Council—almost—unanimously agreed that it should be me taking over your guardianship long term. I’m going to be the one who trains you and restocks you with bi-weekly blood supplies for the foreseeable future. I hope you’re good with that, as it’s already been decided.”
“The Hawthorn Group is giving me a guardian, and you’re going to be it?”
It seemed almost too good to be true.
“You okay with that?” she asked.
I nodded. “I just expected it was going to be like, Mr. Yates, who openly wants to get rid of me.”
“He applied,” the caseworker said. “But the Elite Council immediately turned it down. There are very few members of the council who share Mr. Yates’ opinion in regards to you. The prevailing opinion is still that you are an important asset to the organization.”
“Oh.” I had been envisioning being tied to some Hawthorn Group stooge for the rest of my life, but now that I thought about it, this seemed like the natural choice. Professor Sharp was the Elite who had the most access to me. No one would be suspicious of her giving me extra training, or if I met with her regularly, as everyone believed that I was a senior Elite who was less proficient than most freshmen.
“Okay, good,” Professor Sharp said in her rapid-fire pace as she pulled out another stick of bright green gum and stuck it in her mouth. “At this point, Blackburn doesn’t want you to go off campus after sunset without a guard, so if you want to go to the movies or something, check in with me at least three days prior.”
I looked at the pair. “So, vampires are still hunting me?”
“Actually, the nightstalker threat may not be as urgent, but something else has come up.” Professor Sharp looked like she might continue, but Mr. Walters cleared his throat.
“I should introduce myself more fully. I am Mr. Walters, chief mediator and caseworker for minors at the Hawthorn Group.” He laid his hand on the table, his long, bony fingers looking extraordinarily large on the smooth wood surface. The man considered me with his tired brown eyes. “As I said in the hall, I was assigned to your case, Miss Moore. I will be working closely with Ms. Sharp until your eighteenth birthday when a caseworker specializing in adult Supernatural asset placement will take over. Until that time, I will be dropping into Blackburn Academy regularly to speak with you. I will also be defending your rights in the ongoing negotiations with Mr. Sebastian Holter and his estate. He has made a full confession, confirming your account of events —”
“He confessed?” Heat rose in my cheeks as the teacup decorations spun around me slowly. I slapped my hand onto the wood and leaned across the table. “Sebastian came here to stand under my wi
ndow in the middle of the night and watch me, and then he confesses to kidnapping and attempted murder just like that?”
“Yes.” The tall man seemed unfazed by my intense outburst.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would he do that? What’s in it for him?”
“As far as we know, nothing. Mr. Sebastian Holter has made a full and exhaustive confession and wishes to make recompense. The negotiations are not final, but some figures have been considered. The Hawthorn Group is looking at confiscating between eighty-five and ninety-five percent of Mr. Holter’s personal assets, which is valued in the hundreds of millions. That sum would be divided evenly between you and the eight families of his victims.”
The feeling in my face continued to get hotter and hotter until I was sure that I was inhaling smoke. I didn't know why this news made me so angry, and when I looked between Professor Sharp and Mr. Walters, they seemed a little puzzled too. Surely, I was supposed to be relieved that my kidnapper turned himself in and confessed, but Sebastian Holter didn't do remorse. “He is planning something. Wait...” I paused to shake my head, “Did you say eight families? I was under the impression that there were a lot more than eight.”
Professor Sharp tapped a finger on the table and fixed me with a grimace. “January, human minors under the age of eighteen aren’t considered responsible for the crimes they committed if there’s any doubt that it was under an authority’s direction. The way that the Hawthorne Group handles these matters, all those crimes will go to his father, because Jameson Holter was both Sebastian’s boss and his family patriarch.”
“That is correct.” Mr. Walters nodded. “We cannot charge minors for crimes they committed under duress if it was at the instruction of their commanders. It is the policy of the Hawthorn Group to give immediate and unconditional clemency, in most cases.”
“Duress?” I was shaking now. “Sebastian smiled after he killed his own sister in front of hundreds of witnesses—and he was so proud of it, he ordered Blackburn Academy to keep a video of him doing it. So, you’re saying that Sebastian will never have to acknowledge what he did to Marisa, and Mitch will never get that closure? Not ever?”
They both just watched me. After a second, Mr. Walters reached back and grabbed a tissue box off a side table and pushed it across the wood.
For one irrational moment, I considered throwing the box at the wall, but that would probably be considered a dangerous Supernatural threat. A lump formed in my throat, and it took a couple of attempts for me to swallow the anger down enough to speak. “So, is he going to prison or something?”
The pair continued to remain silent, staring for a few seconds and then Mr. Walters slid a form in front of me. “He’s going to be released from custody after he’s met all the terms of his sentence, which is scheduled to conclude on the last day of October.”
“And, then he’ll just be free?” I asked.
“He’s now classified as a dangerous Supernatural, but he’ll be allowed to rejoin society as such under the heavy surveillance of the Hawthorn Group. The Elite Council agrees that Sebastian’s fixation with you continues to be a dangerous problem. As part of the terms of his sentence, Sebastian will have to stay away from this school and from this list of locations. It includes your friends’ houses, your mother’s rehabilitation facility, and your grandmother’s place of residence and employment. If you are in the Hawthorn Building on official business, he’ll be asked to keep away from the lower floors while you’re there.”
“This is a joke, right?” I held up my hands as my stomach rolled. “What’s to stop him?”
“If he’s seen approaching any of those places, it will be considered an act of aggression by a dangerous Supernatural on you and your family, and the Elite force will immediately be summoned to apprehend and arrest Sebastian.” Professor Sharp’s tapping finger increased its speed.
“No.” I stood so suddenly that the chair behind me toppled back and smacked into the ground. “The only people that saw Sebastian kidnap me the first time were Mitch and a couple of other students, and he just took them too. You can’t let him out. He’s too smart—he’ll just try to kill us again, and there’s nothing you guys can do to protect us.”
Professor Sharp scraped her lip back and forth with her teeth, making a stripe in her purple lipstick. “January…” She glanced around the room and sighed. Lifting a hand, she muttered a long stream of words. A wave of what felt like static electricity crackled over my skin, making the little hairs on my arms stand on end.
The air around Principal Chambers’ office felt electric and alive, like instead of molecules of oxygen bouncing around us, it was a current of pure, sentient energy.
“This can’t leave this room,” Professor Sharp said as she stood. “I need you to understand that the council didn’t make this decision lightly. There’s a new Supernatural threat in Brightside, and it’s the deadliest threat we’ve ever seen. The Hawthorn Group is not equipped to handle it on its own. The best chance we have is having Sebastian working with us and not against us.”
“You don’t get it...” words dried in my throat for a few seconds, “He's only ever going to be working for himself. Just a couple weeks ago, Sebastian got a large group of master vampires to attack Blackburn Academy, and that was after he had a scion invade the school. You think it’s a coincidence that there’s a new Supernatural threat right now and you suddenly need Sebastian Holter desperately?”
“January,” Mr. Walters said loudly enough to call my attention to him. Even though he was sitting, we were almost eye-to-eye. “In Sebastian Holter’s official statement, he claims that when he died, he woke with a drive to start over and live a meaningful life of service to the Hawthorn Group. He said he wanted to make things right.”
“And you all believe him—just like that?”
Professor Sharp bounced on one foot and chewed her gum like it personally wronged her. “No one believes Sebastian Holter, January. Most of us are sure that he has us at the Supernatural equivalent of gunpoint.”
“Trust me, giving in to Sebastian when he has you at gunpoint is only going to get you shot,” I said. “Whatever creatures left those murdered people on the lawn were purposely goading the Hawthorn Group. It has Sebastian Holter’s style all over it.”
Professor Sharp inspected me slowly. “What do you know about the message on the lawn?”
I shuddered. “All I know was that the so called prank wasn’t one.”
Mr. Walters and Ms. Sharp exchanged a heavy look before she asked me, “How do you know that?”
“Thermal vision.” I tapped my cheek. “I heard the scream and looked out the window. The bodies hadn’t cooled yet. They were all different temperatures.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you see what left them there?”
I shook my head. “By the time I got to the window they had either already gone, or they don’t have a heat signature.”
The twenty-something Mystical Arts teacher swore under her breath as she bounced up and down. “Yeah, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”
“Were you alone or with others when the incident happened, Miss Moore?” my caseworker asked.
“There was a large group in my room. We were doing a movie night.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I glared at him. “I’m not a suspect, right?”
“Miss Moore, you should be aware that one influential member of the Elite Council did propose the idea that you were colluding with the Supernaturals involved. Unfortunately, they believe that you are spying for the Supernaturals in order to bring down the Hawthorn Group.” He didn’t say Mr. Yates’ name, but I was almost positive that was who he was referring to.
I couldn’t help but remember the blonde in scrubs checking the trashcan seconds after I left that stall in my mom’s rehab. Was it all a setup, or did Mr. Yates actually think I passed information to the Supernaturals that caused that scene of carnage? The very idea had acid shooting up into my throat, causing my chest to bur
n. “I didn’t have anything to do with that attack.”
“Miss Moore, I believe you.” Mr. Walters slid an open notepad across the table. “However, it is my job to keep ahead of any suspicion, so I’d like a list of all of the people who were with you at the time of the incident, just in case certain parties try to cause you problems to push through their own agendas.”
“No one in their right mind could ever truly consider you a suspect, January,” Professor Sharp snapped. “That message that was written across our school campus, ‘play with us,’ was formed with the bodies of sabbatianoí from Houston. Their families didn’t even know that they were missing. Something abducted fifteen of our highly trained operatives, carried them two thousand miles in a matter of hours, killed them, broke into our campus without leaving a trace, and used their dead bodies to write a message to a dorm full of the offspring of sabbatianoí. The majority of us are considering the possibility that it might be a threat aimed at you. The Supernatural community at large isn’t happy about the advantage you give us.”
I knew one Supernatural in particular who was unhappy about my existence, so unhappy that it was his obsession. It was that same person who had a track record of using outside Supernaturals to carry out his murders.
Play with us.
Someone or something was playing a gruesome game. Was it some unknown Supernatural group taunting all of Blackburn Academy, or were the words meant as a message from Sebastian directly to me?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sorry I haven’t responded. I still have the flu. Stay with Mitch. I love you.
I stared at Justin’s text on my phone screen as the discordant clamoring of the Academy cafeteria grew louder and louder in my ears. I had been waiting four days to hear that message chime and see a response from Justin, confirming that he was okay. Now that it had arrived, I didn’t feel reassured in the slightest.
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