Sage nodded. “I’m not shocked by the way—” She stopped talking when Mason raised his eyebrows. “Okay, just a little. I’m glad you took the initiative. It makes me a bit more relaxed about things.”
“Good.” Mason took a few steps to his bike and held out a helmet. “You ready?”
She stared at the offering, then at the bike, then at him.
“What? You’ve never been on one before?” Mason asked before starting the engine.
“I usually fly.”
“Right.” He cocked his head toward the girls’ dorm. “Does this Nadya girl have white hair and a resting bitch face?”
Sage darted her eyes to the entrance of the girls’ dorm. Nadya was sitting on the front steps, talking with Caspar. As Nadya shifted her gaze, Sage grabbed the helmet and shoved it on her head. Mason held his hand to help her on, but she didn’t have time for that. She leapt on behind him and yelled, “Go!”
And as she glanced back, her eyes wandered to the place where Mason was scraping with his claws. A small carving had been etched into the clay-like wall—the face of a barn owl.
Chapter Sixteen
The ride wasn’t very long but it was uphill and winding. Trees became a blur as they drove deeper into the forest. And Sage couldn’t have loved it more. She sat behind Mason pressed up to his back, hands gripping his waist. She threw her head back and closed her eyes.
It almost felt as free as when she flew, but different somehow. Giving up control and putting her life in someone else’s hands went against all she stood for. Yet, the thrill of it zipped through her being as though something dormant inside was awakening.
As the bike rolled to a stop and Mason climbed off, Sage fell to earth with a thud. Her mother’s last words rang inside her mind, banging on the cages she’d built for herself. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Why aren’t we at the studio?” she asked, removing the helmet. “I thought you said Wednesday was your brother’s day off.”
“It is. But he’s sick. And he gets cranky when he’s sick. Besides, what’s wrong with this place?” Mason took the helmet from Sage and clasped it to the back of his bike with a clip. Without waiting for her answer, he walked to the end of the path and into the forest.
Sage ran to catch up, stepping over twigs and old leaves and pushing herself through branches that seemed to reach for her. As the trees gave way, a small clearing appeared. Sage found Mason standing at a cliff edge, a valley of rolling hills and scattered cabins beyond him.
“This is beautiful,” she gasped.
Mason turned around—his eyes glowed red and fangs popped from between his lips. He studied her, eyes tracing her body. “I know.”
She stared back at him. At his earnest face. And for one moment she allowed herself to acknowledge that he was growing on her.
But how could the face that looked at her like that also be the same face that scowled at AJ as though he was the scum of the earth? It didn’t add up. There was something she didn’t know about him.
The thought hit her all at once. He was pretending. But with her or with AJ? Makoto had always said that the Fallen were great at deception.
Could Mason be a Fallen? The thought made her stomach churn. She blurted, “Why were you teasing AJ?”
“What?” Mason’s face dropped.
“In the library. You were bullying him.”
“Oh that.” He grinned and pointed to himself. “C’mon, look at this face. Is this the face of a bully?”
Sage glared.
“Fine,” Mason sighed, defeated. “I just wanted to bring attention to myself. AJ seemed to be an easy target. And that boy in the corridor? I saw you close by and just grabbed him.”
Sage was horrified. “You used those poor boys to get the society’s attention?”
Mason shrugged. “It worked didn’t it? For you, at least.”
“Yes, but if you knew I was a Guardian why didn’t you ask for help instead of playing games?”
Mason wondered to a boulder at the edge of the clearing. He sat down and ran his hands down his thighs. Staring at his knees, he said, “I was scared. I didn’t know who to trust. It could have been a society member that marked me. The last thing I wanted was to be turned.”
“Why?”
Looking up, Mason winced. “It’s a lot, you know? That was Ben’s dream. But after Dad told him his personality was too unstable… I just. I couldn’t want it. Out of solidarity.”
Sage recalled Mason telling her that he changed his mind about being a Guardian because of his brother. “Is that why Ben was mad and hit you? Because you’d been marked and he hadn’t?”
Mason lifted his eyes to the clouded sky. “You know, I’ve carried this guilt for a long time. My dad always went on about how I’d make the perfect Guardian. In front of Ben, too. So, I told Ben not to be jealous, that it wasn’t the life for me… that I didn’t want it anyway.”
“But you did want it?” Sage asked, creeping toward him.
Mason’s tongue rolled around inside his mouth. As a gust of air danced through the forest behind them, Mason sighed and whispered, “Maybe.”
“And now?” She knew the answer to that question already. He loved it, she could tell.
He let his gaze drop, his eyes bypassed Sage and fell to the ground. “I feel invincible.”
“You kind of are.” Sage tapped the end of his shoe with her boot.
A smile crept across his face. With his eyes still low, he returned the toe tap and asked, “Do you still think I’m a bully?”
“You want to know the truth?” Sage took a seat beside him. “I never really believed you were.”
Mason’s head shot up. Grinning, he nudged her with his elbow. “I knew you cared about me.” Before she had a chance to protest, he leapt to his feet. “Well, I hope I didn’t scar AJ for life.”
Sage felt all color leave face.
Mason frowned. “I haven’t traumatized him, have I?”
“No. It’s just.” Sage stood, giving herself a moment to decide whether to tell him or not. But before she’d finished mulling it over, the words were already out of her mouth. “He’s been marked.”
“What?” Mason gaped, eyebrows rising. “Are you serious?”
Sage nodded, giving a sad smile. “We’re keeping a vigil outside his dorm, to look for any suspicious activity. But Mason… Maybe the person who marked him, marked you, too. Do you remember anything about what they looked like?”
Mason was quiet for a while. Thinking. He walked to a low branch and broke off a hanging twig.
Rolling the pencil-like piece between fingers, he mused, “There’s a club in Burrville. A kind of secret dive bar underneath the old brewery. Apparently, it’s a hot spot for Guardians—a place where they meet to relax and talk about the Veil and assignments. Last week, Ben wanted to go and find someone to mark him. Knowing what Dad said about him not being right for a Guardian, I freaked out. So, I told him I’d go instead, to check it out.”
“And that’s where you got marked?”
Mason dropped the twig and stepped toward Sage.
“It was crowded.” He moved beside her, both of them facing a different direction. He took hold of her wrist, placing his fingers on her skin, one-by-one. “I felt someone do this.” Sage looked down. “I saw delicate fingers with red painted nails and a mood ring on their thumb. Then, as quick as she touched me, she let me go.” He whipped his hand away. “And by the time I thought to look at her face, all I saw was brown wavy hair flaunting toward the exit.”
Sage ran her own fingers over the place that Mason had held, and said, “I wonder if it was the same person who marked AJ. Did she seem like a teenager?”
“I don’t know.” Mason shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t even realize I’d been marked.”
It seemed like such a brazen act to Sage, for someone to mark another person so boldly in a place meant for sanctuary. She watched a darkened cloud make way for the sun. Squinting at the brightness, she mused,
“A Fallen at a place for a True.”
“They are good at deception,” Mason said.
Another cloud rushed in, replacing the one before it—the brief moment of sunshine gone. “So I’ve heard.”
Mason moved next to her and let his eyes follow the same direction she was gazing. He bumped her with his elbow. “So, Floss. You’d better get teaching before we miss dinner again. You say there are rules?”
“Right.” Sage blinked a few times, snapping out of her daze. They were there to make sure Mason got a handle on the shift, not hang out and chat about other things. He distracted her so easily. She faced him and held up her index finger. “Rule one is not to show your true self to civilians. So, no shifting in broad daylight or on campus.”
Mason’s lips twitched into a lop-sided smirk. “Like you did in the library… and locker hall… and outside the studio?”
Sage pressed her pointed finger onto his chest. Seeing his cheeky grin, she sighed. “Correct. Not like that.”
“And rule two?”
“The second rule is: don’t kill anyone unless they’re… no, you know what, just don’t kill anyone.”
“Sounds easy enough. And the third?”
“The last one is.” Sage paused. Grimacing, she said, “Never turn anyone until after graduation…” She held up her hand in surrender. “Don’t even.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything.” Mason ran his finger over his mouth and threw an invisible key over his shoulder. He pursed his lips as though fighting to contain his amusement, but a smile crept into his eyes and gave him away.
“Don’t!” Sage warned, trying not to laugh.
Mason cleared his throat and smoothed his hands down his hooded sweater. Then, with eyes turning into rubies, he said, “Can you teach me how to do the full shift now?”
Mason pulled the motorbike to a stop at the bottom gates of the school. The gates were made of old stone, older than the academy itself. Curved walls reached toward a gothic arch with a lion’s head in the middle. A lantern hung beside the opening.
Mason helped Sage with her helmet and said, “I thought it might be a good idea to get back on campus separately. You know, so we don’t raise suspicion.”
Sage climbed off the bike. “Well, aren’t you becoming a responsible human being? I’m so proud.”
“Ha. Ha.” Mason jeered. “Very funny, Grandma.”
Shaking her head, Sage turned toward the forest edge. She’d decided to avoid the gates altogether by walking up the hill through the trees and making her way casually out near the dorms. As she took a step, Mason’s hand cupped her shoulder.
“Actually,” he said, urging her to turn around. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up later?”
“Oh.” Sage glanced through the arch and up the hill to the lights of the rec hall. Students bustled in and out, serving themselves spaghetti or lasagna or fried rice. Her stomach rumbled.
“After dinner,” Mason confirmed, as though sensing her hesitation. He quickly added, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
Stay out of trouble. There were her mother’s words again. She lifted her hand, fingers moving for the old leather necklace. Before she could touch it though, she snapped her hand to her side. The more time she spent with Mason, the less she felt inclined to heed her mother’s final words.
Still looking out to campus Sage rolled her eyes at her growing likeness for this boy. “What did you want to meet up for?”
“Well, now I’m a Guardian it’s my job to protect innocents from Fallen right?”
Sage fell back down to earth. He’d done a full shift twice during practice and now he’s an expert? Slowly facing him, Sage cautiously said, “Right, but there’s more to it than—”
Without letting her finish, Mason interjected, “I need to find this person who marked me and AJ. I need to take them down before they turn AJ. Or we do, together.”
“No, no, no.” Sage bristled. “Not so fast, Bucko.”
“Bucko? Find something original, Fairy Floss. Besides, we know the location, where they hang out. All we have to do is just look at hands and hair. How hard can it be?”
Sage couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You want to go to this bar? Where swarms of Guardians sit and drink? Guardians that could be True or Fallen? And imagine, seriously, just imagine that this Fallen who marked you is there and sees you. That’s asking for trouble.”
Mason nodded. “Yep.”
Sage gawked at him. She waited for him to start laughing at tell her it was a joke. But he didn’t.
“So,” Mason asked. “What’s your answer?”
“You’re absolutely crazy. We can’t just march into this place. My answer is no.” Sage swiveled on her heels and as she headed for the forest, she muttered to herself, “The nerve of him. Thinks he’s king shi—”
“Okay,” Mason called after her. “I’ll let you know how I go.”
Sage skidded to a halt and spun around. The last rays of sun flickered across the ends of his hair, giving him a golden halo. “What does that mean?”
Mason gave his signature arrogant smirk and started the engine. “It means that I’m going anyway. Whether you come or not is up to you. Nine o-clock, outside the boys’ dorms.”
He sped through the archway. As she heard the sound of his motorbike wind up the driveway toward the dormitories, Sage stormed into the forest. Infuriated, she shifted with her owl. How dare he manipulate her like that. He wasn’t going to win that one, there was no way she could agree to going to that place.
Chapter Seventeen
The soft bed should have been comfortable, but it wasn’t. Sage let her head sink into the pillow as she stared at the ceiling, thinking about Mason’s ridiculous idea. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t relax.
She didn’t know him, not really. If she played her cards wrong, she could upset him and who knew how he’d react? The last thing she wanted to do was push him away and send him into rogue status. And knowing that living without a clan could turn a True into a Fallen, it was even more dangerous to let him go unchecked.
Sighing, Sage rolled off her bed and shuffled to her window. She pulled the drapes across and looked out to the boy’s dorms. When they were practicing the shift, Mason had told her which room was his, so she counted the windows of the boys’ second floor to find it. The lights were out.
A small flutter buzzed in her chest. She pressed her face to the window, reaching to see his bike in the parking lot. There was Mason, leaning against it. His legs were crossed at his ankles, the top one shaking. He glanced at his watch.
Sage pulled her phone out to check the time. Nine forty. By the time she looked back, Mason was on his bike.
“Stupid boy,” she muttered, watching him drive off.
As soon as the bike turned the corner, Sage’s heart lurched. It fell to her stomach and sat there fizzing away. Every second that passed brought a deeper pang with it.
“Dammit!” Sage yelled, grabbing her jacket.
There was no time to creep through the corridor or worry about who could have been watching her. Sage tore through the girls’ dorm and burst out into the cold night air. She’d barely hit the tree line when she shifted. It didn’t take long to catch up to him. She flew in front of his bike at the intersection, where the long school driveway met the road to Burrville.
Mason screeched his bike to a halt, tire marks blackening the bitumen behind him. He lifted his helmet, displaying an irritating grin. “Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sage said, unhooking the spare helmet from the back of the bike. “That’s exactly it.”
Her tone reeked of sarcasm, but the words were truth. That nagging tug in the pit of her stomach warned her not to leave him alone. Being a Guardian on call sucked.
The old brewery was all but abandoned. Black mold splayed from the roof like wet paint, wooden slates were cracking, and cobwebs lined all the boarded up windows. The only thing that gave away some
kind of occupancy, were a few cars parked along the road.
Mason led her around the back of the building to a basement entrance. He creaked the door open, revealing a dark downward staircase. Sage followed him down, her hand reaching for his back.
She didn’t touch him, she would never do that. It was only in case, you know, a Fallen appeared and she needed to protect him.
Mason glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“We shouldn’t be here,” she warned.
A hint of concern flashed across Mason’s face. It didn’t last long. He blew a raspberry and waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine.”
A closed door waited at the bottom of the stairs. Mason wrapped his fingers around an out-of-place, shiny, bronze handle and pushed the door open.
They walked into a small and crowded space. Wooden walls, like a rustic log cabin, lined the window-less room. Dim light shone from lamps that sat on walls and pendants that hung from the ceiling. Sage let out a small breath, relaxing a little. It was homey, in an earthy welcoming sort of way.
One lone snooker table hidden in a nook to the right was surrounded by loud burly men and a tall woman with tattoos covering both her arms. They laughed boisterously above the soft country music that wafted from a small speaker on the end of the bar. And on the left, a line of booths were occupied by an eclectic mix of people with many shapes and sizes and ethnicities.
A varnished tree trunk centered the room like a beam of light. It was circled by stools and a sweet wooden shelf. Beside it, three women in their early twenties danced without a care in the world.
The bar held the length between the snooker nook and the booths. It was manned by a bartender with long black hair, tanned skin, and “old soul” eyes. Sage stayed close to Mason as he strode across the room.
“We’d like a drink,” Mason said, sounding way too much like a teenager.
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