Out in the living room, Donte and Nixon were doing what they do best, and that was being diabolical in the most mage-like way. Evil, sinister glares spread across their face’s, dark eyes turned to charcoal, and that eerie stench lingering out of their room made me inch my way towards the door and out. I wasn’t the only one. Silas walked out of his room and paused, sniffing the air. One quick look at our diabolical brothers and he turned quickly on his heel and ran out, a puff of smoke – imaginary, obviously – where we once stood.
Out the door myself, I turned and was suddenly slammed into a furnace. Heat crawled up my body, burning my skin when I touched Lawliet. Suddenly embarrassed, I stepped away and ducked my head, wanting to hide the excitement. My eyes cast up, though, as I tilted my head down, and that grin, malicious and calculated on his face told me that he knew I was hiding the heat that plagued me.
“Morning, Eileen,” he said. Lawliet twitched an eyebrow as he spoke.
“Good morning, Lawliet.” My voice was small, delicate. If he didn’t have good sounding ears, my words might have even bypassed a mages ears, forcing me to repeat what I just said.
“So, therapy this morning,” Lawliet said as we walked down the stairs.
He smirked, which never really was a light-hearted smirk when Lawliet does it. Whenever he smirks – aside from the fact that a lump form in my throat and butterflies swirl in my stomach – it was like he found something amusing without me knowing.
“Do you talk about me in therapy?” He then suddenly asked that smirk still on his face.
I immediately knew why he was smirking. He had that question prepared, but he also knows my answer. As golden eyes looked at me from the corner, as we walked, he knew I was going to lie and was daring me to lie. Lawliet already knows that I have spoken about him in therapy, either because he overheard, knows me too well, or he can see through the mask cursed upon me. I don’t want to think that he spied, overhearing my conversation when he looked dumbfounded last night when I told him that I had therapy. So, he can see through the mask. Maybe it was because I could feel my face melting as nervous sweat accumulating along my forehead at his question.
I decided to entertain his question so that I don’t sound like some sort of obsessive mage that gossips to my therapist about how beautiful Lawliet looks when he’s smiling.
“In what way were you implying?” I asked. Lawliet cocked an eyebrow. My question threw him off, he wasn’t expecting my counter question to his question. This is entertaining.
“What do you mean in what way am I implying?” Lawliet asked. At this rate, none of our questions is going to be answered. There’s going to be a consistent amount of questions atop of questions.
“Are you asking if I talk about you in a romantic way or in general?” I said, shrugging.
Golden eyes suddenly went wild. “You talk about me in a romantic way to your therapist?”
“No.”
“Then why would you say that?”
“It was a simple, yes or no question. You are the one acting as if I did talk to the therapist about you in a romantic way.” Golden eyes narrowed. “Amusing.”
“Eileen, you are… wait, so what way have you been talking about me to this therapist?”
I shrugged. “I can’t tell you that.”
“How come?”
“Therapy sessions are private,” I then announced.
We stopped at the door to where my therapy appointment would be placed, and I leaned up against the wall. Lawliet looked tormented, maybe even a little annoyed. “That’s cruel,” he muttered.
“Perhaps I may tell you what we will talk about today, on one condition,” I said. If I could smile mysteriously, I would. Lawliet narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You spend time with me tonight.”
“Why not over the weekend, during the day, in a public place, where you cannot seduce me?” Lawliet said through clenched teeth.
“I have to take a peculiar bunny for a walk,” I answered.
Torment and annoyance plagued Lawliet. He was unsure of how to handle this dilemma. Apart of me knew that he wanted to deny me the right to spend time with him after school hours, at night, alone. However, there was a dominant part of him that was more curious about what I talk about than being alone with me.
“Deal,” he growled, low and annoyed.
I thought that he was going to put up more of a fight – but instead, he walked off muttering how manipulative and seducing I am, with that innocent look on my face. That was most certainly a new take on that bland, dull look of a robot. I don’t think anyone has ever called me innocent or looking innocent I should say, but here Lawliet was, storming off, muttering those words.
After three knocks, Gail opened the door to her little office. Her eyes widened when she noticed me standing there, waiting patiently for her to open the door further so that I could step into the warmth and out of the cold, crisp hallway.
Gail looked surprised to see me. I guess it has been a week since I last saw her. A lot has happened since then. I nearly died twice, so I believe she would more than likely be pleasantly surprised with the stories I would be telling her.
“Eileen, I have been so worried about you. I even sent a letter to your birdbox, did you not get anything?” Gail asked. She then furrowed her brows and looked down, in thought. “Or did I imagine that I had done so.”
Come to think about it, the tweet bird has screeched a lot more these couple of days. I tend to tune him out, knowing that bad news comes whenever a letter spat out down the bottom of the birdbox. Usually, they are of newspaper or magazine articles of rumours spread about me. I never would have thought that I would get a letter of concern from someone. My heart fluttered a little knowing someone was worried about me.
“I did. It has been a busy week to respond, sorry,” I murmured, sitting down as I spoke.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, pressed against the silver, glittery buttons on her dark cream shirt. She then sat down on her seat and took hold of her notepad that was on the table before the both of us.
“Do you want a coffee hit or herbal tea?” Gail asked.
I shook my head. Coffee or herbal tea don’t sound sweet at all. Perhaps hot chocolate, but I know she wouldn’t have any. It is rare for mages to have chocolate on them. I am just lucky that Mage Academy has a wide range at the buffet.
“Alright, we will get started then,” she declared. My body stiffened –but not in a way that it was noticeable – when Gail leaned forward and stared, wide-eyed, at me. “The last time we spoke, you told me that you believed you were being followed.”
“Oh… yes, I think I am,” I admitted.
“Can you go into further detail of this?”
“I get this feeling.”
“Does this feeling feel wrong?”
“Not really. I feel cold, in a way, and a shiver crawls up my spine when I feel pairs of eyes on me while my back is turned,” I explained. “Usually, it comes when I am alone. Not all the time, but at times that makes me wonder who it could be.”
“Strange. Has it gone further than following?”
I nodded. “At times, yes, but the feeling is different, so I am unsure if who is following is the same as the mage who wants to hurt me.”
“A mage wants to hurt you?” She questioned. Her eyes widened further in horror when I agreed with her by nodding my head. “Have you told a teacher or Headmage –”
“Headmage knows and is taking action,” I interrupted her. I dislike listening to sentences when I know what they are going to be. Usually, to be polite and proper, I would have waited, but now I seem to be doing things the way I want more often. “I am supposed to be around friends or a group until he finds who wants to hurt me.”
“Did someone bring you here this morning?”
“Yes, Lawliet,” I answered. A smile stretched across her face. I wanted to roll my eyes and look the other way, shaking my head while saying, “it isn’t what you think,” but in reality, it
was like that. “He’s a good friend,” I lied. I can’t stutter or anything, my face is like a mask, she wouldn’t be able to know.
“Yes, of course, you are allowed to have friends that are boys – but what a generous friend Lawliet is to walk you here early in the morning.”
“Yes. He is very kind,” I agreed.
“Does he, or any of your friends for that matter, know about this?”
“Only Lawliet, but that was because he was there to witness the event himself,” I answered.
“Hmm… how has the bullying been so far?” Gail then asked, switching subjects completely once she gained all the information she wanted. “This Rebecca girl, right?”
“Yes, still the same. She has been sick, so whenever she is sick, I don’t get bullied because everyone is a sheep.” Gail snorted a laugh. “It’s true. They are too afraid to say anything to me unless she is around.”
“Yes, I have seen that quite a bit, around here,” Gail then agreed, nodding her head. “However, it is the way you deal with it that matters most and to not let it affect you.”
“It doesn’t affect me. I am the top of most of my classes, or best, and I am not bragging, I am stating facts. I can give you all of my test results in rune work, history, crystal works… perhaps not potions.”
“No, I believe you, truly.” Gail raised her hand up to stop me from listing on and on about my test results. “But why not potions?”
“I don’t like potions overall. It wasn’t my worst class when I went to school when I was younger. I had good scores, but I had to work harder with that work, and I disliked every second of it. I found that potions were a waste of time… for me, that is.” I tried to clarify at the end, in case she was indeed a mage that excels and loves potions.
“Potions is… interesting. Adult mages use at least two to three different potions in a day, depending on how they feel.”
“What was yours?” I asked.
“Well, I put a booster in my coffee this morning, to bring my energy levels up, and my hay fever potion around lunchtime. The walls of this room, in particular, are quite stuffy with dust that cannot be cleaned, forever engraved in the cracks, unable to be cleaned by any room, and so when I have the heater on, my eyes grow watery, and my nose tickles.” Gail smiled and folded her hands on her lap. “How about you?”
“None. I don’t use potions on myself.”
“Ever?” She asked, raising her brows.
“Not anymore. I used to when I was younger. My mother would give me a potion every morning to keep me healthy so that I won’t be plagued with a cold, or the flu you know: watery eyes, stuffy nose, sneezing, itchy eyes, anything like that whenever we were out.”
“I know what potion you are talking about. That’s a strong potion.” I nodded in agreement. I could vividly remember how that potion made me feel, and it was the same feeling that I feel now. Utterly emotionless. A mask that couldn’t crack, spellbound.
“So, how do you feel not using potions now? Better?”
“I feel more human. Not so reliant on a mages capability to keep me healthy. I keep myself healthy.”
“Huh,” Gail smirked and looked down at her clipboard. “Your family Guardian, Elijah, I believe his name is, has written down on your school report that you have a habit of eating unhealthy snacks during the day, like chocolates, and sweets.”
The bunny is evil.
“Hopper,” I then corrected Gail. “His name is Hopper, and he used to be my grandfather’s Guardian.”
“Really?” She sat up, interested. Bonus points for me because I distracted her away from the main issue… my love for sweets.
“Your grandfather was a very charismatic man: headstrong, strong in general, and loved all life. When was the last time you spoke to your grandfather?”
“A week after my grandmother passed away.”
“Oh… I heard about that. Unfortunately, mages magic is limited when it comes to diseases that stick and spread. I am sorry to hear that, Eileen. But… was your final conversation with your grandfather positive.”
“Normal,” I murmured, my voice growing smaller, softer, as I remembered the last time, I saw him. “He came over a lot. Took care of us and cared for us more than working at the Organisation. He spent time with us individually: helped Silas with his crystals, indulged in one of Donte and Nixon’s pranks and helped them with their potion. And for me, he would talk to me like…” I trailed off. Gail moved in closer, suddenly on the edge of her seat. “Like I was a child. Like he loved me. Asked about my day and listened. Before he left to go back to Organisation, he said, “You are more than the heir to the Frost family, Eileen: and I still don’t know what he meant about that. I wanted to interrogate him, but when Mother came home, she claimed that Grandfather never appeared at Organisation. He disappeared, leaving a note on my mother’s dresser, claiming her to be the ruler until I come of age, where a new mage will be voted ruler.”
“Wow. How did you feel when you found out Gospel Frost left?”
My chest hurt. There was this crushing, crippling depression and sadness that swept over my body. It felt like my heart was being squeezed, about to burst within these invisible hands grasp.
“Pain.” I nodded, staring blankly at Gail’s brown, leather shoes that had the buckled strap at the front. “I felt betrayed.”
“Why betrayed?” She asked. Because the one mage I thought knew me best left me alone in this world to fend for myself.
Before I could answer, the warning bell that rings ten minutes before class rung out. I stood, relieved that I didn’t have to answer that question, and went towards the door while brushing down my jumper, ridding them of the crinkles. Gail didn’t pressure me to stay or anything and let me go without another word.
When I closed the door behind me, I heard a cold, venomous voice not that far from Gail’s office. “You should know better than to be around them… those Lowborn mutts.”
Spencer had his head lowered, shoulders hunched forward, and with every word Headmage spat out, in a hiss-like voice, Spencer flinched and shrunk lower down, like a snail wanting to hide in its shell. The angered look Headmage gave told me that this wasn’t the first time Spencer has been scolded by his father.
Also, I am quite surprised by Headmage’s words. Since our first meeting, he seemed like the type of mage that didn’t care for Lowborn or Highborn status or any power rankings. To hear him scold Spencer for being around Lowborn mages was - quite frankly – rude.
“Sorry,” Spencer murmured, his voice incredibly soft and weak in the presence of his own father.
“I understand you want to spend time with Eileen Frost, but invite her to your circle of friends. You don’t go sit at the table with… it is… degrading.”
“They seem cool, you know.”
Headmage straightened up and glared down at his son. It was like what Spencer said was the worst thing he could have said. A sneer curled on the corner of his mouth, and he hissed, “You are nothing like your brother,” before he stormed off, down the hallway and out of sight.
Spencer looked angry. The closer I got to him, the more I noticed his hands clenched into a shaking fist, trembling as he glared at Headmage’s door, where Headmage stood once before.
Then, dark eyes flickered to me, and he straightened up and grew red in the face. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there, Eileen.” I didn’t say a word. If I could smile weakly and look sympathetic, I would.
Spencer sighed and shook his head. “How much did you overhear?”
“Nothing, if that is what you want,” I answered.
Spencer laughed softly. “Thanks, Eileen. You are good… good friend.”
“You are welcome.”
“We should head to class now. The warning bell already went off. What do you have now?”
“English,” I answered.
“My class is in the same direction. Let me walk you there.”
“Thank you.”
Spencer is another one of my
buddy systems now, even knowing he doesn’t know so himself.
City Skylights.
TODAY, in English and rune crafting, my teacher has told me that next term I will be moving up to Standard English and Standard crystal theory work and crafting. I wasn’t the only one that also got called up. Charlie was coming with me to English, and Donte and Nixon were going straight to the Masters Class in potions.
Unfortunately, someone else also levelled up in English, and that was Rebecca. She couldn’t help but curl her lip in disdain while the three of us stood before the teacher's desk while Miss Smith told us the good news. It would have been good if Rebecca wasn’t also levelling up with us. However, it didn’t dampen my mood. Excitement bubbled when I thought of seeing Lawliet after crafting class.
I left Charlie, Donte and Nixon at the stairs. While they went down to the cafeteria at Recess, I went up the long, spiralled flight of stone steps to the tower was Lawliet resides. Opening the door and stepping inside of the room, there he was, leaning up against the window, golden eyes glistening, waiting for me.
I sat down beside him and took out a pen, paper and an envelope. Interested himself, Lawliet leaned further over, hot charcoal breath tickling my cheek. As he watched on, I pressed the ballpoint of the pen onto the parchment and thought how formal I needed to be with this letter. I should go as formal as I could so that they didn’t deem this some sort of prank, or half-assed, poorly executed attempt for them to notice me – but I do want them to notice and respond positively to the letter.
To Macbeth – Kumar – Orjan – Nysa – Hannan.
Organisations Leaders and Ruler.
Emotionless (The Emotionless Book 1) Page 30