by Eva Chase
A lump rose in my throat. He sounded so sincere, but at the same time I didn’t know how to wrap my head around the perspective he was offering.
“It still hurt,” I said. “You still hurt me. I didn’t ask you to put me through hell so I’d learn how to be ‘fucking brilliant.’ You can’t pat yourself on the back for that and not take responsibility for every other part. And don’t tell me that’s just how fearmancers do things or whatever other excuse.”
“I wasn’t—” Jude’s lips twisted. He lowered his head for a moment and swiped his hand through his hair as he raised his eyes again. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it that way, and I should have. I’m sorry for the pain you went through because of anything I did.”
The resistance inside me softened. I hadn’t really thought he’d apologize at all. But then, how much did he even mean it?
“Malcolm is still trying to come down on me,” I said. “Do you know anything about that?”
When push comes to shove, will you be throwing me under the bus to make him happy?
Jude shrugged. “Malcolm’s going to Malcolm. He’s said some stuff about going for an indirect approach and finding more subtle ways to shake you up, but nothing specific I could tell you to watch out for. I think he’s waiting to make sure whatever he’s planning works before he starts bragging about it. I’m pretty sure you already know to watch out for him in general.”
“If he did say something specific, would you tell me?”
“Would you want me to, even if I knew you could handle it on your own?”
“I might be able to handle it more easily with a heads up, so yeah.”
Jude made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Then consider it done.”
I wasn’t quite satisfied yet. Another question spilled out. “What does he think about you taking me on picnics and all this?”
“I haven’t seen any point in giving him a play-by-play of our time together,” Jude said. “He probably assumes I’m working voodoo on you for the cause. Easier for both of us if he keeps thinking that.”
That might be true. If Jude was being sincere in wanting to make amends and separating himself from Malcolm’s campaign against me, I couldn’t imagine how furious the Nightwood scion would be when he found out, and he’d definitely take it out on me at least as much as his supposed friend. But only if Jude didn’t have any sway at all there. Only if he assumed nothing he said would make any difference to what Malcolm did anyway.
Or if he couldn’t be bothered to find out whether he could stop Malcolm, with all the trouble that the attempt would stir up.
Exhaustion washed over me just thinking about it. Maybe what he’d just said was all the answer I needed.
I started clearing the blanket, sticking the dishes back in the basket. Jude joined in with glances my way as he grabbed the last few things. He lifted his chin toward the plate by the edge of the sheet. “You still have your tart.”
My stomach tightened in resistance. “You know,” I said, “I’m not really hungry anymore. You can have it.”
Jude didn’t look particularly happy to have won that battle. Instead of eating it himself, he tucked the tart into the basket with the rest of the picnic remains. He set the basket on the grass and moved to shake off the sheet as I stepped to the side. His gaze stayed on me as he folded it up.
“I think I should be clear about something,” he said abruptly. “The other girls—there aren’t any other girls now. That I’m kissing. Or whatever else. There never was anyone else I really wanted anyway. I didn’t know what I wanted until you. So I’m in this just for you as long as there’s any chance at all. I can make up for what happened before. I will. However long it takes.”
I stared at him. “Why? What’s so special about me?” What could possibly have prompted the desperation he’d acknowledged that first day in the garage?
He dropped the folded sheet onto the basket and gave me a crooked smile. “Weren’t you just lecturing me not that long ago about how you’re not like us?” He waved in the general direction of the university. “Everyone in that place is so busy fighting over who’s got the biggest dick—or whatever it is the girls fight over—that they haven’t got room in their heads to think about anything else. You don’t give a shit about any of it. You rise up above it all like an angel over the battlefield.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you wanted an angel.”
“One who can go head to head with me, mouth off right back at me, sure.” He took a step closer to me. “You know what you want. You say what you mean. You don’t let anyone shake you. You’re going to have assholes lining up around the block trying to get with you just because of your last name, and none of them will have a clue what really matters about you, and that’s a fucking disgrace. You should at least know it.”
He said every word so emphatically, his eyes holding mine, that the dizziness I’d felt earlier tingled through me again. He took another step, close enough to touch my cheek now. A jolt of fear ran alongside the heat it provoked, but he didn’t go in for a kiss like I’d expected. At least, not that kind of kiss. He eased up on his feet just slightly and brushed his lips to my forehead.
My breath caught, my whole body flushing as if it’d been a much more intimate gesture. Jude dropped his hand. “However long it takes,” he repeated. “I’ll wait. You’re more than worth it, Rory.”
Part of me wanted to follow him, to grab him by the collar and find out what those lips would feel like pressed against mine. I held myself in check.
I’d rushed in with Connar. I’d let myself get swept up too quickly, and I’d obviously missed the warnings I should have noticed before. I was not going to let another of these guys rip my heart out like that.
“Okay,” I said. “I—I guess we should get back to campus.”
Jude didn’t argue, just carried the picnic stuff back to the car. He sank into the passenger seat with every appearance of serene patience. I inhaled and exhaled slowly before starting the engine, willing the chaotic mess of emotions inside me to chill out.
My heartbeat had evened out by the time I’d gotten the car back onto the highway. Gazing down the empty road ahead of me, I eased my foot down on the gas pedal, inching us faster and then a little faster still. Jude made no comment, but a smile crossed his lips.
His words echoed in my head, though maybe not the ones he’d have expected to stick the most. I knew what I wanted. I didn’t let anyone shake me.
I couldn’t let myself be scared.
I made it into my spot in the garage without any scraped paint. Jude bobbed his head to me after he got out. “Until next time?”
“Until next time.” I could agree to that much.
Outside, he set off toward our dorms, and I turned toward Killbrook Hall. There were answers I wanted, answers I needed, and I hadn’t pushed for them because I’d been conscious of my mentor’s recovery—and the fact that he might have been targeted because of me. Imogen’s comment about feeling his fear had lingered with me.
He was perfectly fine now, though. He’d been going to tell me something, whether it’d been feverish nonsense or not. I had to find out what.
I’d have been willing to wait if it’d turned out Banefield was in a seminar, but he answered my first knock on his office door. “Rory,” he said with a bemused expression. “You look like a girl with a mission. What can I help you with?”
I waited until he’d shut the door behind me, and then turned to him with my arms crossed. “That’s what I need to ask you. What can you help me with? You were about to say something important right before you got sick. Something you were worried would happen—someone you think I should watch out for…?”
His mouth pressed flat before he answered. “That’s not— I don’t know how much I can tell you. I want to help in every way I can. But maybe that’s not it.”
So there was something real. I caught a flicker of fear from him now too, sharp and quavering. It made my throat close up.
“I don’t want to put you in danger over this,” I said. “I just want to keep myself out of danger too. Did someone make you sick?”
Banefield waved his hand dismissively, but he didn’t look startled by the suggestion. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”
“Of course I do, if it’s because of me—because you tried to help me.” My heart sank. “But you aren’t, not really, are you? In case it happens again.”
Could I blame him for not taking the risk? Maybe not. But as the realization washed over me, I felt completely alone even with him standing right there in front of me.
Watching me, a resolute expression came over Banefield’s face. “I’m so sorry, Rory. This is ridiculous. I’ll try—I should at least be able to warn you that the—"
He choked on the next word. “Professor!” I yelped.
His body was already doubling over like it had before with the same sputtering retching sound. I tried to grasp his shoulder, but he fell to his hands and knees before I got a grip. With a shudder, he vomited onto the carpet. His arms gave.
I managed to catch my mentor before his face smacked right into the puddle of puke, my arms straining at his slack weight. I eased him down onto his side, my gut twisting at the smell and the sight of the sweat already dappling his lolling head. Then I scrambled to the door to call for help.
The certainty chased me there, digging deep into my chest. The health center could try to call this a regular relapse if they wanted, but they’d be wrong—or lying. It wasn’t some virus or bacteria making him sick. It was me. Somehow my presence and his attempt to talk to me about that particular subject was setting off a magical bomb inside him.
What the hell did he know? And who had gone to these lengths to stop him from sharing it with me?
Chapter Fourteen
Rory
There were a lot of places I’d rather have been than in one of the Stormhurst Building’s gyms while the rest of the members of the Insight league mingled and muttered around me. Unfortunately, league meetings were compulsory even if you didn’t give a damn who won the term competition. I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long for them to hash out whatever they wanted to hash out.
Declan had turned up a few minutes ago, giving me a slight nod but going to stand at the other end of the room. Keeping everything professional. That was fine. I preferred his distance to the glare Victory’s friend Sinclair was shooting at me every time my gaze happened to pass over her. You’d have thought she was offended I’d shown up at all, as if I had any choice in the matter.
It was hard to pay much attention to either of them when my mind kept returning to yesterday’s meeting with Banefield. Every time I remembered his collapse, my gut twisted with a queasy mix of guilt and apprehension.
He’d known he’d get sick again if he tried to tell me… whatever he’d been trying to tell me. That was why he’d balked. But he’d tried anyway, done his best to spit out his warning before the spell grabbed him.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed for answers. But considering how viciously someone was punishing him for talking, I had to think whatever he knew could make the difference between my surviving here and becoming a victim myself.
I had to figure out the spell that was targeting him and how to stop it, for both our sakes. It was my fault he was sick. The staff at the health center hadn’t been able to give me even vague reassurances about his recovery when I’d stopped by this afternoon. Would whoever was targeting him go even farther this time?
What if they killed him?
A bellowing voice cut through my worries. A big guy with bristly brown hair had gotten up on a chair at one end of the room so he could see over the entire crowd that had gathered—some fifty or so of us. “Insight League!” he said. “Let’s get down to strategy. We’ve only got one month left in the term, and we’re behind all the other leagues.”
“As usual,” a girl near me said under her breath.
“We’ve got two scions on our team now,” someone near the front of the group said, pitching his voice to carry. “That’s got to give us some advantage.”
“Sure, let’s hear what they have to say about it.” The guy who seemed to have appointed himself leader of the league scanned the crowd.
“You know I can’t make recommendations while I’m a teacher’s aide,” Declan said from his spot near the wall.
“Where’s our Bloodstone?” The guy on the chair spotted me and beckoned me over. “If you’ve got a fresh perspective, we’d love to hear it.”
As I hesitated, the gathering parted to make way for me. Sinclair let out a not-quite-surreptitious snort. Everyone was watching me now. Shit. I’d come because I had to, not because I had any interest in leading the discussion.
Now that the guy had put me on the spot, I couldn’t get out of contributing without looking like a total ass. I forced myself to walk over to join him. He went as far as to hop off the chair to offer it to me. Wonderful.
I climbed up and looked uncertainly over the crowd of figures who, other than Sinclair with her sour expression, were looking at me as if I’d shown up at Villain Academy to lead them to victory. It wasn’t as if my assessment results had come with a league competition strategy guide.
“Ah, as I guess everyone knows, I haven’t been here at the university very long,” I said. “I’m not sure what our not-so-fresh perspectives on the league competition are. When was the last time Insight won?”
A murmur that sounded half disgruntled, half amused rippled through the gathering. The leader guy beside me let out a dry chuckle. “Can anyone here remember us ever winning?”
Heads shook all around the room. Declan spoke up with a pained smile. “It’s happened a few times, but very rarely—the last time was almost a decade ago. Insight can give us an advantage over the other skill areas in all sorts of ways, but it’s not particularly flashy. It’s difficult to use it in ways that are both effective and grab the professors’ notice. I don’t think we should fault ourselves for that.”
“We’ve got to at least try to win,” a girl in the middle of the crowd said.
“Okay.” I resisted the urge to bite my lip. “I guess no one here knows how we managed to win those times before, then…”
“Why are we listening to her?” Sinclair’s crisp voice cut through the continuing murmurs. “She can hardly figure out how to use her magic for herself.”
My hackles rose. I hadn’t asked to be looked to as some kind of advisor. And I had used my magic pretty effectively in the last few weeks, thank you very much. As the murmurs rose, my mind leapt to the other day when I’d managed to get one over on Malcolm Nightwood himself. A spark of inspiration lit in my mind.
“I might still be getting the hang of things, but I’m a fast learner.” I didn’t give Sinclair my direct attention, focusing on the less familiar faces around me instead. “Maybe we can’t do flashy tricks, but we can catch on to the tricks the other leagues are planning before they can go ahead with them. Call them out so people around will be on guard and they won’t be able to pull it off. I’ve already gotten credit for using Insight like that.”
“Go around acting like a bunch of narcs?” a guy said. “I don’t know.”
No, it was perfect. For the first time since I’d watched Professor Banefield crumple yesterday, the sense of control I’d had racing my car along that country highway came back to me. I’d earn a little more faith from my league while stopping some of the chaos the other leagues were spreading around campus. I just had to frame it in a fearmancer-appealing way.
“We won’t be narcing on them.” I let a slow smile cross my face, thinking of Jude’s smirk for inspiration. “We’ll be getting the jump on them. Showing we know them too well for them to get away with any crap. Reminding them that even what’s in their head isn’t safe while we’re around.”
Putting it that way made me feel a little sick, but matching smiles sprang up throughout my audience.
“W
e could give it a shot,” the leader guy said. “Scan everyone around you, looking for schemes. If we’re all keeping watch, they won’t be able to get much by us.”
“Yeah!” a girl said. “Take away the element of surprise, and anything they’re plotting falls flat. How’re they going to fight back when we can see all their plans?”
I’d done enough here, right? I stepped down off the chair, and after some more enthusiastic conversation, another guy got up to make suggestions about watching for gaps in the professors’ mental walls so we could find the best ways to butter them up. No one seemed to mind when I drifted toward the back of the group without commenting on any other strategies.
“We’ve got a month to turn this around,” the leader guy reminded us before we left. “Not a word about any of the ideas we’ve discussed once we leave this room! You know the other leagues are always hanging around hoping to get a jump on us.”
I slipped out of the gym ahead of most of the crowd. Outside the Stormhurst Building, the lights mounted over the door cut through the thickening dusk. Several figures were hanging around just outside the building, making an effort to look casual. Spies for the other leagues? They weren’t hearing anything from me, anyway.
In California, it would have stayed warm all through the night by this time in May, but here in northern New York, a chill had already crept into the air. I hurried toward the glowing windows of Ashgrave Hall.
I hadn’t made my escape quite fast enough. I’d just reached the main green between the halls and the tower when Sinclair caught up with me. “You really think you’re so smart, huh, Bloodstone?”
I paused and turned to look at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, the ends of her black bob swinging along her jaw as she raised it at a haughty angle.
What the hell was her particular problem with me today? I hadn’t seen her offering any useful comments during the meeting.
Most of the other students had been heading in the same direction as us. A bunch of them came to a halt rather than continuing on, watching the confrontation. My skin prickled. I just wanted to go up to my room and get away from all these people for a while, but I didn’t think it’d be wise to turn my back on Sinclair while she was fuming like this.