by G. Bailey
Instinctively, I reach out and take his big hands in my own, looking up into his dark eyes. “We’re not going to let them,” I tell him, even though I know there’s no way I can really promise something like that. “They’re not going to pull that shit again, Silas. I swear. I’m in your corner on this - we all are.”
“That makes me feel better than you would believe,” he tells me, a small smile creeping onto his face.
“That’s what I’m here for,” I joke, my voice chipper. “Now if I could just find the bright side to this wolf shifting exam…”
Silas laughs. “You’ll do fine, Boots.”
“I’m glad at least one person thinks so,” I say.
He takes a step closer to me, his eyes meeting mine, and my stomach floods with warmth. “That’s what I’m here for,” he says quietly, echoing my earlier words, and then he leans forward and kisses me. It’s gentle and brief, but sweet enough to leave me swaying on my feet when he pulls away and flashes me his crooked grin. “Goodnight, Boots,” he says, before turning and heading up the stairs towards the boys’ dorms.
I’m left to watch him, my insides like jelly. But a small part of me feels conflicted. How can a kiss feel guilty and perfect at the same time? A scoffing sound is the only thing that’s able to pull my attention away, and I turn to see Amelia Ash watching me from the opposite corner of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and an unimpressed look on her face. Our eyes meet for a moment and she raises an eyebrow, but before I can say anything, she’s turning on her heel and disappearing into the downstairs bathroom.
I sigh—she’s got eyes like a hawk, and I’ll no doubt have to deal with more of her snark sooner or later. There’s no winning, it seems. Running a hand through my hair, I make my way in the direction of the girls’ rooms. It’s getting late, and by the sounds of it, we have a big week ahead of us.
A very big week.
Chapter 4
“What’s the weather like in Boston, anyway?” asks Landon, scratching his arm as he looks around my room from his seat on my bed. He’s kicking his feet, leaning back as he watches me pack; my meagre possessions are all strewn about, littering the floor around my still-empty duffel bag. Who would have thought packing would be this difficult when we wear uniforms, for god’s sake? But I’m having trouble figuring out what’s important. I left home in such a hurry last time that I wasn’t really even thinking about what I brought, but this is a different situation. We’re talking about an international conference here, and I’ve never felt so woefully unprepared.
It’s been a couple days since Hawthorne’s announcement, and the student body has been abuzz with excitement about the trip. Even the professors seem to be in a better mood than usual, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’ve started to ease up on the workload just a little. My wolf shifting practical was yesterday—it went okay, but the knowledge of the upcoming conference has been looming in the back of my mind, bringing with it equal parts excitement and nervousness. In spite of my reassurances, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that Silas was right—that this all feels a little too sudden, in the aftermath of the disappearances. I guess time will tell if I end up having to repeat the class or not. Shade’s not going to let me hear the end of it, either way.
“I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year,” I reply, although what they mean when they say “nice,” I have no idea. “I just don’t know if I should even bother with normal clothes. We’re still going to be wearing our uniforms, right?”
Landon shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe they’ll give us new ones.” He grins, lifting his head and meeting my eyes. “That’s why I came in here to watch you. I figure I’ll just copy whatever you pack.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ll make sure to stick with the girliest stuff I can find, then.”
“Hey, who says I can’t pull off girly?” Landon retorts. “I bet I could rock one of those skirts.”
“It’s an interesting image, that’s for sure.” I sigh, shaking my head, and then throw my hands up. “You know what? Screw it. I’m just going to pack one of everything and hope for the best.”
Landon laughs. “You’re starting to sound like me.”
“Thanks for the company,” I tell him as I begin to fold my clothes and stuff them into my bag. “It’s kind of a weird time right now.”
“My pleasure,” Landon replies, giving me a mock bow. “It wouldn’t be right to leave the lovely Millie Brix to do the packing all on her own.”
I raise an eyebrow. “‘Lovely,’ is it?”
“Sure,” he responds gamely, without missing a beat. “Lovely, ravishing, gorgeous, noble… Give me a thesaurus, and I can come up with even more.”
I snort. “I can guarantee that’s not necessary.”
“Maybe,” Landon replies thoughtfully. “But you can humour me, can’t you?”
I meet his eyes again from where I’m kneeling on the floor, and my heart skips a beat. I’m struck with the same pang of guilt and confusion that I felt in the forest with Hunter the other day. An image of Silas pops into my mind, but Landon’s presence in this moment is damn near overwhelming, and I find my reply sticking in my throat. As if reading my mind, Landon clears his throat and begins to examine his fingernails, saying, “I don’t want to step on any toes, though. You and Silas seem… close. If I’m making you uncomfortable, just tell me.”
“You’re not,” I assure him, getting to my feet and rubbing the back of my neck. The scattered clothes suddenly don’t seem as important as they did a few minutes ago. I feel the words threatening to spill out even before I can stop them. “I mean… close? Yeah, I’d say we are. But I don’t know how, exactly, you know?” I frown. “He hides it well, but I think he’s still struggling to get over what happened with Samantha.”
“Yeah.” Landon sighs. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. He’s strong to even have survived as long as he did. I’m glad you’ve been there for him.”
I blink, surprised. “Really?”
“Well… yeah.” He shrugs. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought…” Shit. My words are getting away from me. I didn’t think we would end up here. “You were saying all that stuff just now… I kind of figured you were…”
Landon raises his eyebrows. “Jealous?” A grin spreads across his face, and he hops down from my bed. “Come on, Boots. Give me some credit. I’m pretty good at picking up on these things. I’m a siren, you know? We have a nose for romance.”
“I…” I clear my throat. “I guess that’s true.” Meeting his eyes, I bite my lip. “So that doesn’t bother you, then? Me and Silas?”
He shrugs. “Should it? I mean, it would be a little weird if you guys weren’t close, considering everything that’s happened. And as for the flirting…” The corner of his mouth twitches, setting off another rush of adrenaline in the pit of my stomach. “Like I said, I don’t want to make things weird for you. If it bothers you, tell me.”
“It doesn’t,” I reply honestly. “I… like it.”
“Good,” he says, taking a step closer to me, and the tension mounts even further. It dawns on me that we’re alone together in my room, with nothing to stop something from happening, if we wanted it to… But that familiar confusion is threatening to rear its ugly head. God, why is it so hard for me to talk about my feelings all of a sudden? “You know, I meant what I said,” he adds in a husky voice, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “None of those adjectives really does you justice.”
“Sweet talker,” I say, unable to pull my gaze away from his eyes, like chips of onyx gleaming against his dark skin.
He leans forward, and my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Thoughts of Silas seem to flit away in the face of this gorgeous siren, and it’s all I can do not to swoon at the waves of sensuality that I feel coming off of Landon. He moves closer st
ill, his hand lingering on my cheek, and I feel my eyelids flutter - this feels so dangerous, so complicated… Am I really about to go there with another one of my friends? His face is inches from mine, and I can make out the dusting of freckles on his nose. Landon pulls me close, closer still…
And then he flicks my nose. “Gotcha.”
I shove him playfully. “God, you’re starting to sound just like Shade.”
“Hey, hey, easy,” he laughs, rubbing his chest. “I can’t help it that I’m sexy. I’m a siren.”
I groan. “You use that line much, Landon?”
“All the time.” He grins. “Is it working?”
“You know,” I tell him, crossing my arms, “I think it just might be.”
Damn. I’m in so much trouble.
Lunch break is over, and Landon and I have gone our separate ways for the next classes of the day. I’m still reeling from what happened—what almost happened—but I can’t help but chuckle when I think about it; this is what I like about these guys. Even in the most awkward of situations, they’re able to make me feel comfortable, and that’s a feeling that’s more foreign to me than I can describe.
I guess now’s not the time to try to sort out my feelings for them all, anyway. We’ve got bigger things to worry about, and from the sounds of it, this conference isn’t going to be the kind of thing I can just push to the background, anyway. Better to keep my eyes peeled for more shenanigans from the school administration—not that I’m sure I’ll even be able to do anything to stop them if they pull something, but that’s beside the point.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t even realise Amelia Ash is waiting for me at the end of the hall until I bump into her, taking a few stumbling steps back as I’m brought reeling back to the present. My heart sinks as soon as I see her; I’ve done a decent job of avoiding her ever since Silas’ kidnapping, but I should have figured I would run into her sooner or later. I suppose I at least owe her for indirectly leading me to the group of guys; if we hadn’t gotten into a fight with her in the schoolyard that day a couple months ago, we wouldn’t have bonded during our time in detention. But that’s all beside the point, and it doesn’t make my current situation any less uncomfortable.
Running into her is like running into a brick wall, and she doesn’t seem fazed in the least by the collision, standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a put off expression on her face. “Where are you headed now, hybrid?” she asks. Her voice is cool and steady, but there’s a note of barely disguised contempt in it that sets my teeth on edge.
“Class,” I reply, struggling to keep my unease from creeping through in my tone. “Last I checked, I don’t have an off period right now.”
“Sure, sure,” she says. “What form is it this time? Actually, never mind - I just remembered I don’t care.”
“Great,” I mutter, moving to the left in an attempt to sidestep her. “In that case, I think I’m going to go. Excuse me.”
She moves along with me, blocking my path, her blue eyes flashing. “We need to talk, Brix.”
I sigh. “I’m kind of busy, Amelia. I need to get to class.”
“Class can wait.” She stares me down, her pale skin lending her an inhuman quality in the low afternoon light that streams in through the hallway windows.
Clenching my hands into fists at my sides, I say, “Fine. What is it?”
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, “and with the field trip coming up, it’s high time we talked about my brother.” Ah. Of course. What else would it freaking be? It wasn’t enough for her to retake the elementary vampire shifting class with Hunter and I; now she needs to harass me in the hallways. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him lately,” she observes, putting a hand on her waist and tilting her head to one side.
“I guess that’s true,” I admit. “Hunter’s a big boy, Amelia. If he wants to hang out with me, that’s his call.”
She sniffs. “Maybe. But what’s not his call is getting dragged into conflicts with the school faculty.”
My stomach drops. I guess I should have figured she would hear about what happened sooner or later. I have been banking on later, though. I clear my throat. “I needed his help,” I tell her. “There were students going missing. He was the only one who could get us into the-”
“By breaking and entering,” she snaps. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to him? Did you even care?”
“Look,” I say, putting my hands up, “I didn’t want to put him in danger. And I don’t plan on doing it again.”
“You’d better not,” Amelia warns me, her voice taking on a new edge. “Especially now that we’re all going to Boston. You heard Hawthorne—things are dangerous out there right now. I don’t want my brother getting caught up in any more of your bullshit.”
“Language, Ms. Ash,” comes a new voice from behind us, sending a fresh pang of dread through my chest. I turn around to see Hawthorne approaching us from the other end of the hallway, his footsteps eerily quiet. “I heard my name mentioned,” he adds, coming to a stop next to us and crossing his arms. “Is everything all right?”
Amelia clears her throat and looks away, while I remain frozen to the spot.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Chapter 5
Something about President Hawthorne has put me off since long before he started making veiled threats and sweeping the faculty's experiments under the rug. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's human, and everything to do with the fact that there's nothing behind his eyes. His face is like a mask of kind expressions and soothing words, but his character doesn't match up. Mollie, the one foster mom I actually loved, always told me that you shouldn't look at a person's mouth when they speak if you want to know what they're really thinking- you should look at their eyes. And Hawthorne's eyes display nothing but cold calculation and secret plans. Whether he's picked up on my suspicions is another story, though.
"Shouldn't you ladies be in class right now?" he asks pleasantly. "Just because we're having a school trip doesn't mean you can stop taking your lessons seriously."
"Er, yes," I reply, standing stiffly. "We were just-"
"I was just explaining to Millie here that she can't go stirring up trouble when we're in Boston," Amelia cuts in. "Especially when my brother is involved. You know Hunter has been having some trouble mastering his form—he's not cut out for rule breaking and wild conspiracy theories." Her face has taken on an angelic cast, and I have to admire her ability to change tones on a dime, even if she is a manipulative snake.
"Well, I'd say you're quite right, Ms. Ash," Hawthorne agrees, nodding. "In times like these, we need to focus on supporting each other in our studies, not in stirring up trouble. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Brix?"
I look down at my shoes. "I guess."
"Good," he says, clapping his hands together. "I'm glad we're all on the same page. Now, Ms. Ash, feel free to head to class. Ms. Brix - a word, if you don't mind."
My stomach drops as I watch Amelia saunter away, looking like the cat that ate the canary. And here I was thinking that school bullies didn't exist in university. Slowly I turn my gaze back to Hawthorne, pasting an accommodating smile on my face. "Yes, President?"
He puts his hands behind his back, looking thoughtfully out the window. "Ms. Ash is a good student," he says. "A little preoccupied, maybe, but bright. Her head is in the right place. I think you could learn a thing or two from her."
"I..." I clear my throat. "I'm not sure I follow, Sir."
"I realise you haven't had the easiest go of it in the months you've been here," Hawthorne replies. "Part of that's on me, I think—it's always difficult to integrate students whose parents weren't shifters, and I understand that it's difficult to find a community here—especially when, like Hunter, you've been having such a hard time mastering your abilities." I grit my teeth at the subtle dig, keeping my expression neutral. "I can understand wanting to know more about your p
ast," he continues, still not meeting my eyes. "It makes sense that you would fall in with someone as paranoid as Mr. Aconite."
"Paranoid?" I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't think Silas is paranoid. He..." I catch myself, stopping abruptly mid-sentence.
"Yes?" Hawthorne raises an eyebrow. "You can speak freely, Ms. Brix."
There's a long pause. "I know he shouldn't have broken into the registrar's office," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "But imprisoning him and torturing him?" I shake my head. "It's not right."
"As we've discussed, what happened with Ms. Goldstein was an isolated incident," Hawthorne replies coolly. "You know she is—was—a witch shifter. They have a history of meddling in magical genetics—they were, after all, the ones to pioneer hybrids. I have no doubt that her intentions were good, and that she wanted to make sure Mr. Aconite was punished for what he did, but she was misguided. These kinds of experiments are forbidden, and there was no excuse for performing them on one of our own students. That's why we've... dealt with Ms. Goldstein."
So that's the story he's sticking with. Part of me does want to believe him, to let him lead me to think this really was just a faculty member gone rogue, but another, saner part is railing against it. Samantha was a patsy, and now that the rest of the students know what happened, she makes a convenient scapegoat. It blew up in their faces, and now they're doing damage control.
It really is the same no matter where you go.
"And Silas?" I ask, afraid to know the answer. "What happens to him?"
"I think Mr. Aconite has learned his lesson about prying into school records - don't you?" Hawthorne gives me a thin smile. "To be perfectly honest, it's you who I'm most concerned about. Don't let what happened with Ms. Goldstein fill your head with strange ideas."
"You don't have to worry about me, Sir." I meet his gaze, staring up at him as defiantly as I dare. "I'm going to be fine - on this trip, and afterward."