Ravage

by Lacey Carter Andersen

  “Sorry,” I say, but keep my walls firmly in place.

  After a second, her smile finally completely fades. “Can I sit with you?”

  I don’t really want her to, but I also know I can’t find all my information from ghosts, so I nod. She pulls out the chair, then holds her skirts and sits down in the most ladylike way I can imagine. As I study her, she reaches for the necklace again, and I see a familiar etching along the silver that surrounds the stone.

  Sitting up straighter, I suddenly can’t look away from her. “That’s a Blood Stone.” And not just any Blood Stone.

  Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

  “Where did you get that?” And I know there’s a threat in my voice. My powers sweep out, reaching for her mind. It’s so fragile. It’d be so easy to end her this moment. “Where did you get it?” I ask again, and she jumps a little.

  “Esmeray--”

  “Blood Stones are found only on our lands. It’s where we got our surname from. And that stone is large, flawless, precious, and…not yours.”

  “I know,” she says, lowering her voice. “Rayne gave it to me.”

  I jerk. He would never. Stones as rare as that one would be kept in our family lines, not given to some common fae woman. “I don’t believe that.”

  Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness spills out from her, so intense that it makes me gasp for breath. Her eyes fill with tears, and I can see her throat working. “I was…dating your brother. He was my mate.”

  I stand, my chair scraping the floor, and more than a few eyes turn my way. “I don’t believe you. If my brother had found a mate, he would’ve told me.”

  “He was going to. He just wanted to do it face-to-face.”

  “No!” I grab his bag and rush from the cafeteria, my thoughts spinning.

  My brother was my best friend. We told each other everything. If he found his mate, I’d be the first one to know. It was true he might feel bad with how lonely I was, but… No, he’d still tell me. He’d never hide something that important.

  I don’t even care that it’s so early. I head to my first class, then sit in the empty hallway outside the door. I’m angry beyond words when I feel a tear slide down my face. I’m not sad because I think my brother was hiding the truth from me. I don’t know why I’m crying.

  In my mind, I replay the moment she told me. I’d felt her...sadness. Overwhelming sadness. Not deception. Not anger. But still, maybe Mary Ann was able to conceal the emotions she didn’t want others to be aware of. All fae could learn the skill, even though light fae rarely needed it.

  “She’s on my list,” I tell myself. Maybe the bitch stole the necklace from his throat when she stabbed him.

  The thought makes my teeth clench together so hard I’m afraid they might snap. A part of me wants to seek the woman out and use my powers to kill her. But the logical part of me whispers that I came here to know the truth, no matter how twisted in might be, and I couldn’t learn the truth if I went around killing every lead I found.

  Time spins away and a few more students enter the hall. I check the time and realize that class will be starting soon, so I stand and try the handle. To my surprise, the door opens with ease. I walk into the dark room and don’t bother turning on the lights. I like the dark.

  The classroom looks different than I imagined. All my schooling had been done by tutors in our home, so all I knew was what I’d seen on TV. At the front of the room was a massive green chalkboard, but on both sides of the chalkboard were ominous-looking cabinets. Windows lined one wall, allowing the early morning light to illuminate the space and casting rays along the wooden desks spread out in the room.

  I move between the rows of chairs, letting my hand graze the wooden surface. When I come to a desk in the back, I’m surprised to find Rayne’s name carved into it. My fingers run along the lines that had been crudely etched into it, and it’s like my brain can’t make sense of it. Rayne was the star pupil, representing two powerful families. Wouldn’t he have sat in the front of the class? Would he have ever carved his name into school property?

  Tossing my bag over the back of the chair, I sit down, my knees shaking a little. Maybe I didn’t know my brother as well as I imagined. The thought guts me, almost like I’m reliving his death all over again. But then I push the thought aside. I knew Rayne. Someone else must have carved the name.

  “Your brother sat there.”

  I look up in surprise and find the ghost from the night before sitting at the desk next to me. She’s a little more transparent in the light, but otherwise she has the same light blonde hair braided and tossed over one shoulder, and the same almost-pink gown.

  “I find it hard to imagine my brother sitting back here,” I confess to her. Because, really, who would she tell? Another random dark fae?

  “Why’s that?” she asks, curiosity on her face.

  “He was always the golden boy. He was the best at everything he did, and everyone liked him. I would’ve thought he’d sit in the front of the class.”

  Her brows draw together. “Rayne was beloved by many, but not all. He challenged a lot of what they taught. And although the lessons seemed easy for him, his ideas weren’t always popular.”

  “What ideas?”

  She looks surprised. “That the dark fae shouldn’t be treated as less than by the light fae.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses. No, Rayne had to be smarter than that. With a father as a dark fae, he had to know that saying such blasphemy would only get him into trouble.

  “Why would he ever do something like that?”

  She runs her fingers over a few stray hairs, and the pieces seem to float for a minute before she answers. “I thought you’d know better than me.”

  “I should know,” I say, my voice strangely bitter, “but apparently I didn’t know my brother half as well as I--”

  I hear the door open and stop talking a second too late. A man enters the room. His hair is golden and flows down his shoulders in a way most women would envy. His cheekbones are high, and his forehead is high. All things that should make him handsome, by traditional standards, and yet he feels too feminine for some reason. Almost delicate.

  When his gaze meets mine, he looks startled. “Who are you?”

  “Esmeray.”

  His eyes narrow. “A Bloodmore.”

  “Yes.”

  “And who were you talking to, alone, Lady Bloodmore?”

  “Myself,” I answer without hesitation.

  He leaves the door open and enters the room, setting some folders and papers down on a desk. Every movement he makes is irritated. Unable to help myself, I reach out with my powers. Within this man, I taste anger, resentment, and even jealousy. I start to feast on his negative emotions, drawing them in slowly. Sometimes powerful fae can feel when they’re being fed on, and the last thing I wanted was for this professor to know I could feed on his dark emotions.

  Then hiding the fact that I was a dark fae would be impossible.

  He looks up again, his gaze meeting mine, and suddenly all his emotions are sealed away. “Why do you hide your emotions from me?”

  “Why do you hide yours from me?” I counter right back.

  His lip curls, and he plants his hands firmly on the top of his desk. “Listen here, Bloodmore, your brother was a troublemaker, and you saw where that behavior got him. If you want to do better, I suggest you don’t follow in his footsteps.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  He smirks and turns away, grabbing a piece of chalk and starting to write on the board. “No, my dear, light fae don’t threaten people.”

  I don’t miss the way he says light fae, like he doesn’t believe for one second that I am one. Not that he isn’t right, but I don’t exactly appreciate his arrogance, or his tone.

  I’m about to say more, when a group of fae women enter the room, giggling and chatting. They don’t even notice me as they walk in, but one woman flips on the light, and they all sit a
t the four seats near the door. Two men enter next, and they look tired as hell, but when their gazes land on me, they freeze.

  Lifting a brow, I dare them to approach me. Smartly so, they pick two seats in the front and sit down. But both glance back at me several times, not exactly subtly either.

  Spreading my senses out, I sense only positivity radiating from all of them. I sigh and close myself off again. All this happiness and excitement makes my stomach turn.

  The room fills up, and I stare out the window, finding it hard to care. Outside I see part of the courtyard, the big trees, the neatly trimmed grass, and wildflowers. All the brightness and cheer makes me miss my monsters, my graveyard, and my home even more.

  “Hey.”

  I stiffen and turn at the sound of the deep, familiar voice. A big man sits down in the chair beside me, and it can be only Bron. His presence beside me overwhelms my senses, namely because I stretch them out and find that wall of his firmly in place. Which is kind of nice with all the gushing emotions from around the room. He runs his fingers through his messy, light brown hair, and those hazel eyes of his seem to pin me to the chair. An urge to stroke my hands down the hard lines of his chest overwhelms me, and I have to turn away, so he can’t see the desire I know must be written so plainly on my face.

  “I didn’t know you were in Fae Weaknesses with me.”

  It takes me a minute to swallow around the lump in my throat. “Yeah, well, we haven’t exactly chatted a lot lately.”

  He lets out a rush of breath. “Sorry. We wanted to stay longer at the funeral, but--”

  “And before the funeral?” I challenge, locking gazes with him again.

  He looks away, grabbing a notebook and a pencil from his bag. “We got busy at the academy.”

  “Too busy for a call?”

  “Esmeray…”

  “Got it,” I say, then cross my arms in front of my chest and glance at the front.

  “That’s not…there was a lot--”

  A bell rings, echoing through the room. The professor goes to the door, locks it, and closes it. A second later a student stands at the door. I can see their desperate face in the window. The professor turns away from the door, ignoring him like the pompous ass he’s already proved himself to be.

  “Welcome to Fae Weaknesses. For our one new student, my name is Professor Ericson. Important things to note. Class begins when the bell rings. Not five minutes later. Not two minutes later. Right when the bell rings. If you’re late, don’t bother coming at all.”

  I almost salute him as he glares in my direction, but instead I slump back in my chair, giving my best I don’t give a shit what your pompous ass has to say about anything attitude. And even though I have a wall around my emotions, the bastard’s glare deepens, as if my body language is loud enough for both of us to know what I’m feeling.

  “Today’s lesson was going to be on magic spells, but I have a better idea.” He’s still looking in my direction, causing half the class to look back at me. “We’re going to learn about iron.”

  I keep my reaction carefully hidden. Iron hurts all but the Iron Fae, but especially the dark fae. All of this screamed of a man who knew exactly what I am and was determined to prove it. I just hoped that I was wrong.

  “I’ll need a volunteer.”

  Bron’s hand goes up slowly beside me, and when I look in his direction, his gaze is on me, not the professor. Does he know that the bastard was going to call on me? I hoped not. I hated the idea that Bron might be trying to protect me.

  “Alright, Lord Drake, come up.”

  Bron slides out of his desk, and I notice way too many female eyes following him as he makes his way to the front. Despite myself, I glance down at his tight ass and then take too long to tear my gaze away. Bron’s just one of those guys who has an ass you want to take a bite out of, or to lick your way down his thigh. That was all this feeling was.

  The problem was that he damned well knew it, along with every other woman here. Which was fucking irritating. No one should be as good looking as he is and know it.

  At the front of the room, the professor has Bron sit in a seat facing the class. Then he goes to one of the cabinets and puts on a pair of gloves. He mutters a spell in front of the doors, and the cabinet opens on its own. Which is interesting in itself. A witch spell at a fae academy? I guess they really didn’t want the students to get into the contents of that cabinet.

  He reaches inside and pulls out something, but instantly I feel my skin start to tingle. Even if today’s lesson wasn’t on iron, I’d know that was what he held. What I didn’t know is how sensitive the light fae were to it in the room. It was their weakness too, but how much did it affect them?

  Professor Ericson turns around. In his gloved hands he holds a large iron cross, about the size of his palm. “This is made of iron. How many of you can feel it from where you sit?”

  I keep my hand down but notice that only Bron and the first row of students raise their hands. Interesting.

  “Iron is one of only a handful of things known to the fae that are capable of killing our kind. There are many theories as to why. Some people believe it’s because the fae came long before the use of iron in battle. Others believe it’s because the fae come from a realm outside of earth, although that’s never been proven.

  “Now, Lord Drake, can you hold the cross?”

  I almost stand but force myself to remain still. The smell of the iron has begun to permeate the air. The intense metallic tang assaults my senses until I feel as if I’m licking the damn stuff. And the tingle on my skin, it’s uncomfortable, like ants moving across my flesh. But Bron was going to hold the thing? Hell. I wanted to stop him, but clenched my teeth together to remain silent as he took the thing from the professor.

  In my head, I started to count the seconds that ticked by, all the while holding my breath. I was pissed at Bron. He and Lucian and Dwade were supposed to be my friends, but then they went to the academy and forgot all about me. And then there was my brother’s death, which they didn’t seem to give a shit about. So why the hell did it feel like I was the one holding that iron? Why the hell did I want to tear the professor's heart from his chest?

  “Twenty seconds. Very good, Lord Drake,” Professor Ericson says, then takes it back. “Now, show your palms to the class.”

  He lifts his hands, and I let out the breath I was holding as I stare at the pink mark in the shape of the cross burned into his hand. I had no doubt that the spot would be tender for a couple of hours, but I was relieved there wasn’t more damage.

  “You may take your seat,” the professor says.

  Bron stands and heads back toward me, and I look away from his searching gaze. Maybe I cared about him. Even if I did want to punch him in the nuts. But I wasn’t about to let him know that.

  As Bron sits beside me, the professor calls my name.

  Bron and I both tense.

  “Yes?” I ask, raising a brow.

  “Your turn.”

  Every head in the class swivels to look back at me, and I silently curse. If I refuse to do this, the professor may use it to prove that I’m a dark fae. Then I’ll be kicked out of the academy so fast I’ll never get the chance to find out who was responsible for my brother’s death.

  So I stand, and I see surprise in several people’s faces.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I hear Bron whisper.

  I ignore him and head for the front of the class, but I don’t sit down. Instead, I stare at the professor, daring him to act against me. Daring him to see what happens when you anger a dark fae.

  “Here,” he says, stretching the cross out before me.

  For a second I want to recoil. The tingling on my skin has turned into a burning, and the sight of the iron makes me want to turn and run. And there’s the scent in the air, the crushing scent of metal that hums all around me.

  Swallowing, I reach out and take it, pressing the metal between my hands to conceal the damage to the students.
Instantly, I feel my skin begin to sizzle. I clench my teeth together and hold the professor’s gaze as he oh so slowly counts to thirty. My legs begin to shake. My vision grows cloudy and my head grows light, but I picture my brother in my mind, and the pain of my body fades away.

  I’m a Bloodmore. I have two powerful houses running through my blood. A piece of iron can’t stop me on my quest to find the truth. Nothing can.

  “Thirty,” he says.

  I blink and realize he’s reaching for the cross.

  I hand it to him, then turn and head for my desk.

  “Was it painful?” the professor calls after me.

  I look back at him. “Only for the weak.”

  He smirks and turns back toward the cabinet.

  Unable to help myself, I reach out with my mind and find his legs. With little more than a thought, I squeeze, and the professor falls over, hitting the ground hard. A second later, he starts screaming, but I hold his body for one second, then two, before releasing him.

  He climbs to his feet, and turns back toward us. I see the slight pink outline of the cross on his face. He picks it off the ground, then shoves the iron cross back into the cabinet. When he turns around, his gaze sweeps to me.

  I try my best to look innocent.

  “Are you okay?” a fae woman says, half-standing.

  “I’m fine,” he says, still not looking away from me. “Just tripped.”

  I keep the innocent look painted on my face. The professor takes off his gloves and closes the cabinet. Then he circles the board and starts to talk about the history of iron, even though there’s anger in his voice as he does so.

  Next to me, Bron whispers, “Are your hands okay?”

  I fold them in my lap and bite down on a hiss of pain. They’re definitely not okay, but I don’t tell him that.

  I’m shocked when he snatches my wrist and drags my hand over to him.

  “Open it,” he commands.

  The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself or my hands, but I’ve seen that look on Bron’s face before. He’s not going to let this go, so the easiest thing to do is obey him and shut him up. So, slowly, I open my hand.