by AR Colbert
“You okay?” Professor Brossard’s fuzzy brows gathered in the middle like one long caterpillar.
“Yeah, sorry. I just thought I saw someone.” I shook it off. Time to focus.
“Did you bring the artifact?”
“I did!” I fumbled around in my bag and carefully laid the stone tablet in front of him. It looked almost fake in this modern setting. It still hadn’t shown any life since I dropped it that night in the gallery, but I knew it was special.
“Fascinating.” The professor leaned in close. “May I?” He gestured toward the object.
“Of course.” My blood rushed in loud waves through my ears as I waited with bated breath for his interpretation.
He picked up the tablet, cradling it in his hands with great care. I watched several different expressions transition across his face, awe and wonder followed by surprise and then frustration.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to wait any longer.
“Well,” he rubbed his wrinkled forehead, “I’m not exactly sure.”
My lungs deflated. “Do you have any guesses?”
He shook his head. “It looks a bit like cuneiform, but I don’t recognize any of the symbols. And from the looks of it, it’s much older than the cuneiform tablets I used to translate back in the middle east. Where did you get this?”
“Oh, uh…” Shoot. Why did I not think up an answer to this earlier? “It was passed on to me from an old family friend.” More like stolen from an old family enemy, but potato potahto.
“Well it must be very special to your family, even if there is no way to know what it says.” He laughed and handed the tablet back to me.
I forced a friendly giggle, but the situation was not funny to me at all. “Surely someone would be able to translate it, right?”
Professor Brossard frowned. “I used to know someone who might’ve been able to make something out of it, but he’s long gone. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.”
No. I refused to accept that as an answer. “What about overseas? Back in Egypt? There must be more people who learned alongside you. Perhaps one of your old classmates would know.”
“There aren’t many of my old classmates left, I’m afraid. And the ancient languages aren’t exactly a hot topic for modern day studies. People just don’t care anymore.”
“I care!” Whoops. That was too loud. I noticed several faces from the surrounding tables turn to look in our direction.
The professor pulled back with raised brows. “Well, Ms. Gordon, I’m sorry. But I suggest you rethink your approach. Especially considering your mortal condition, you won’t gain any favors with demands.” He stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner meeting to attend.”
He shuffled past me in a hurry, leaving me at the table to myself. I shoved the tablet back into my bag and rested my forehead on the cool tabletop. What was I supposed to do now?
“You have a habit of causing scenes, don’t you?”
Crap. I lifted my gaze to find Osborne now sitting in the professor’s chair across from me.
Where was Sean? Wasn’t he supposed to be saving me from moments like this? I glanced over my shoulder to find him on a barstool near the front door, nose buried in a textbook while he sipped some frozen drink with a mountain of whipped cream on top.
“Care to tell me why you’re shouting at professors?” Osborne grinned like he’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.
“No. Care to tell me why you care? Pretty sure we established you’re not supposed to come around another hunter’s case.”
That wiped the smile from his face real fast. “I happen to be on another case here on campus. And I can’t help but notice how all these fractured souls seem to be popping up in your vicinity.” His eyes glowed and the energy shifted between us. The back of my brain seemed to hum with anticipation. Glamour. “So tell me, mortal. What do you know about Rasputin?”
“Ras who?” I wanted to please him. I didn’t want to come up short for his request. But I had no idea who he was talking about.
“Rasputin,” he repeated. “The mastermind who taught your fractured friend how to poison with dark magic.”
“I know nothing about him,” I replied honestly.
Osborne cursed loudly, once again drawing attention to my table. I wouldn’t be surprised if they never let me into the Honey Pot again after this.
“Is something wrong over here?” Thankfully Osborne’s filthy mouth drew Sean’s attention as well. He stood at the edge of our table, a vein popping from his neck as he glared at the hunter.
“It’s fine. Right Osborne?” I lifted my brows. The glamour was gone, snapped by Osborne’s angry outburst. But I wanted to drive home the fact that I still was not the person he was looking for, and he knew it.
He grunted and waved his hand in a gesture that said be gone. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER 9
“What the heck, Ev?” Sean walked backwards in front of me, his hands splayed to the sides. “I swear, I can’t leave you alone for five seconds without something dramatic happening. Why were you talking to Osborne?”
“Not by choice, that’s for sure!” I spat back. Now was not the time for a condescending lecture from Sean. “Maybe if my guardian had been paying better attention, he wouldn’t have ever gotten to me!”
“Your guardian was under the assumption that you were meeting with your professor. Not a hunter.”
“I did. And it was useless. Professor Brossard can’t help. And according to him, nobody can.”
“That’s not possible,” he muttered.
“Obviously. But I don’t know what else to do.”
“Well, you could start by staying away from Agarthians.”
“Really? You want to keep going with this? I don’t go around looking for trouble, okay? Trouble finds me. Just like it found my mom. But it’s fine, if you don’t want to stick around and help protect me, I am happy to find someone else who does. You need to fix your own problems, anyway.”
“My problems? And what would those be?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe being in love with a mortal? How was that kiss, Sean? Good enough to break Abby’s heart? Because she sure thinks you hate her right now.”
His face grew red and he turned around to stomp on ahead of me. Then he looked back over his shoulder with a scowl. “Abby is none of your business. And you know what? I don’t think you need to talk to her anymore, either. I don’t need you stirring the pot.”
“Well, someone has to talk to her since you ditched her.”
He stopped and threw his hands in the air. “You want me gone? Fine! I am happy to step down from my current assignment. And I wish the best of luck to anyone else who thinks they can possibly keep you under control.” He gave a sarcastic salute and stomped off into the darkness.
I was left standing just outside my apartment building. I could feel the pressure of a hundred gallons building up behind my eyes, threatening to break down the dam. Choking down a sob, I pulled open the door and made my way up to our unit.
“Hey girl,” Gayla called out lazily from her spot on the couch. She was binge-watching something on TV, barely noticing what kind of shape I was in. Thank goodness it was Gayla and not Dom. I didn’t need some mind-reader watching the hot mess playing out in my brain right now.
I cut straight for my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Somehow, I managed to hold in all the tears until I crashed onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow to muffle the sound of my cries.
And even at eighteen years old, as a college student living in New York City, the only thing I wanted in that moment was my mom. Where was she, and how would I ever find her now? I didn’t have Sean’s help anymore, that was for sure. And I wouldn’t request another guardian. I stood out enough as it was, being the only mortal in my Keeper classes. Some Atlantean guardian hovering over me at all times would only draw more attention and fan the Agarthian flame.
A new guardian
would also prevent me from the only other option I had left. If interpreting the tablet was officially off the table, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. It was time to experiment with dark magic.
***
I kept my chin down for the next few days. Gayla and Dom traded off escorting me to class, and the only time I saw Sean on campus, he quickly looked the other way. The girls begged me to call him so we could make up and all hang out again, but I refused. Anyone who could bail on me so quickly just because I pointed out his own issues wasn’t someone I wanted to beg to come back into my life. Sean was stubborn, but he had nothing on me.
Thankfully, with my Olympian friends by my side at all times, the mean girls on campus didn’t make any more moves on me either. Life was almost… simple. Or it was on the outside anyway.
Inside, my mind was still a mess. Every waking moment that I wasn’t in class or walking to or from campus, I was holed up in my room, poring over various old manuscripts I found at Millie’s shop.
She didn’t have much information about dark magic, unsurprisingly. I’d attempted a couple of the incantations I found tucked into old pharmaceutical books here and there, but nothing worked. Or maybe I just wasn’t pronouncing them correctly. I certainly wasn’t about to ask the girls for help with that.
By Thursday afternoon, I was about ready to throw in the towel. I’d even considered calling Osborne to see if I could get some info about that Rasputin guy, but I enjoyed staying alive too much to attempt that. Blowing the hair out of my face, I pulled out the last book in the pile I’d borrowed from Millie.
Calling it a book was being generous. It was more like a dirty old pamphlet. A cornflower blue cover was rolled at the corners and bore brown stains of various sizes. The yellowed pages smelled a bit like cigarette smoke and the spine was barely held together by two staples. The third staple had fallen out long ago.
Small, simple letters spelled, “Adverse Effects of Dream Waltzing and How to Remedy Them, a Personal Account, by Crisanna Vadim.” Dream Waltzing. That didn’t sound like it would be particularly useful in finding my mom, but it was an awfully romantic sounding power. I flipped open the worn cover to scan the table of contents and see if I might find anything useful inside.
There was an introduction, standard practices, adverse effects, the victim, the perpetrator, and the treatment. Ooh, now we were getting somewhere good. I read on, chewing off a loose hangnail as I committed every word to memory.
It seemed that dream waltzing was a fancy way of describing the act of entering another’s mind. Not like a telepath, like Dom. But to actually interact with the other person within their mind, typically while they slept. Hence, the name dream waltzing. In this case, a fractured soul abused the ability and tortured a human victim in her sleep, trying to force her to later murder his enemy during her waking hours.
The perpetrator was a man by the name of Renard Soule, a fractured soul. Raised in Saint-Amand, it is believed he learned the dark arts with a clan in the forests of Felletin, though he refused to reveal the name of his teacher.
It is believed that he was born from an Olympian mother and a mortal father. As such, he was naturally capable of powers of the mind. A search of his home after his elimination revealed a book of spells, including the incantation used on the victim: almacansia, descansan, nitardariel.
I mouthed the words silently to myself. Could this be it? If I could somehow find a way to dream waltz into my mother’s mind while she slept, maybe she could tell me where she was. It was definitely worth a shot. The worst case scenario would be that I might fail again. Well, either that or it would work and I’d be caught and killed by Tate for practicing dark magic with a fractured soul.
No risk, no reward though, right?
Two knocks sounded at the door, and it swung open before I could even ask who was there. Slamming the pamphlet closed, I pushed it under a school textbook and turned to see who my uninvited guest was.
Gayla. And right behind her was Dom. Shoot! I immediately thought back to our lecture earlier that day in my Politics of the Keepers class. If she tried to get into my brain, hopefully she’d be just as bored as I had been during that lecture and decide not to stick around long.
“Get up,” Gayla said with her hands on her hips. “We’re busting you outta here.”
“Excuse me?”
“We know you’ve had a rough first week, sweetie.” Dom made her way over to my desk, glancing only briefly at the stack of books before resting her focus back on me. “But we want to help you try to bounce back.”
“Yep,” Gayla slid into place beside her. “So get your nose out of the books, girl. It’s time to have some fun. We’re taking you to your first college party.”
CHAPTER 10
“A party? On a Thursday? I don’t think so.” I risked a glance back to the pile of books on my desk. I was kind of in the middle of something way more interesting than a party.
Dom followed my gaze to the books and frowned. Get out of my head! She blinked hard, hearing me loud and clear. I thought she might object, but her shoulders loosened and she took a step back. I felt a tad guilty, but honestly it was a little invasive to have someone reading your thoughts all the time. I knew she was concerned, but it would be safer for her not to know what was going through my mind. I wasn’t worried about getting myself into trouble—I wouldn’t be able to avoid it if I was fractured, anyway. But I definitely didn’t want to drag my friends down with me.
“Yep! A party on a Thursday. And any other day of the week. Welcome to college.” Mischief glinted in Gayla’s heavily made-up eyes. She marched over to my closet and began shifting through my clothes. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow something of mine,” she added, obviously unimpressed by my Oklahoman wardrobe.
Objecting would be futile. I could tell by the way Gayla moved that they weren’t going to let me skip out on this. “Fine,” I conceded. “But promise me we won’t be out too late. I still have class in the morning.”
Gayla crossed her heart. “Scout’s honor.” But her wink at the end did little to convince me she would stay true to her word.
An hour later we stood on Riverside Drive in front of a tall, Parisian-looking building adorned with windows and private latticed balconies. The building seemed alive, laughter trailing out through the windows, which glowed faintly in the twilight hour.
I glanced at my friends. “Are you sure we’re not overdressed?” We stood on the sidewalk fully decked out in cocktail dresses and the highest of heels. Gayla looked like a model, her platinum blond hair falling in perfectly coiffed waves over her bare shoulders. She had more perfectly toned leg displayed than I knew was possible without being completely naked, and she left every girl within a three mile radius feeling completely inadequate. Dom, of course, looked just as good in a slightly more modest dress, more sassy than sexy. And I stood awkwardly between them in one of Gayla’s less revealing numbers.
“Saint A’s won’t let you in if you’re not dressed to the nines." Gayla dipped her chin toward the entrance. “Shall we?”
I followed them to the door, where a Freshman in a literal tuxedo stood as a doorman. He nodded at Gayla and Dom, but promptly extended his arm in front of me before I could step inside.
Gayla sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let her in. She’s one of us.”
The boy frowned, squinting at me like he was missing something. “I don’t think so. I was given strict orders—”
“Move,” a deep voice rumbled from over the boy’s shoulder. I looked up to see Clayton grinning down at me. “You came.” His voice was lighter now, and despite what was good for me, it sent a warm feeling through my belly.
Dom shot me a look of clear warning, but if they dragged me all the way here to get my mind off of school, then I might as well do it with the hottest young star in North America.
"She came with us, actor-boy." Gayla pushed Clayton out of the way, unimpressed by his fame and good looks. None of it was anything new or sp
ecial to Gayla. She didn't care about Clayton; she was here for the party.
With a playful half-grin, I shrugged and followed the girls deeper into the building. This was nothing like the college parties they showed on TV. It looked more like an upscale fundraising gala, but instead of wealthy oil tycoons and their trophy wives, the elegantly designed interior was full of drunken rich twenty year olds.
"Be right back," Gayla said with a wink.
"I don't know if ambrosia is really a good idea tonight."
"Relax, Mama Dom. I'll only have one." Gayla dashed off through the crowd before Dom or anyone else could object.
"She'll be okay," I said, trying to reassure my friend. "We'll keep an eye on her."
Dom and I moved cautiously through the crowd of Keepers, many of whom had already succumbed to the blissful embrace of ambrosia. It was obvious who had consumed the sweet nectar and who had not. Those under the influence almost appeared to glow with a new kind of life. They were full of joy and free of care, practically floating through the room like the unearthly creatures they really were.
"Have you been to the Hall before?" Clayton's voice caught me off guard. I swung around to find him looking like a god, with his hands in the pockets of his snug fitting charcoal suit pants. His white button up was undone at the top, revealing just enough of his golden tan chest to leave me wishing I could see more. Whew, was it getting hot in here?
"Nope, never even heard of the place." I slapped a demure grin on my face and yanked my attention back up to his eyes and away from the muscles under his shirt.
"Saint A's is kind of like Columbia's version of a secret society. But it's less a secret than just an elitist group. Most people think you can only get in if you come from a really wealthy family. But the truth is you can only get in if you've got the right kind of soul."
"It's a Keeper society, then?"
Clayton nodded.
“Well, I guess it’s good that Keepers and extreme wealth kind of go hand-in-hand then, huh?”