by Rachel Jonas
“No,” she asserted. As pissed as she was at me, she wouldn’t go.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
She plopped down on the edge of her bed, an act of defiance. “I mean I’m not leaving you out here to fend for yourself. I mean I’m not gonna sit at home beating myself up for not sticking it out just ‘cause it’s not easy, wondering if you’re still alive.”
I stared at her as she stared out the window.
I hadn’t quite figured her out completely, but what I did know about Rozalind Chadwick was that she was stubborn as a mule, the smartest person I’d ever known, and she was loyal almost to a fault. Like now, she could hardly stand to look at me, but it was still evident that she cared.
I took a seat beside her and stared out the window, too. With a heavy sigh I accepted that I’d never change her mind.
“Well, what next?”
She shrugged and it never ceased to amaze me that, even when she was visibly worried, she kept her head.
“We’ve got fifty bucks left. That’s enough to grab a tent and a couple sleeping bags from the secondhand store. Maybe a few cans of beans from the market,” she suggested.
Apparently, we were about to take ‘roughing it’ to a whole new level.
There had been a knot in my gut for the last several weeks. One that grew and grew with each passing day, every time I dared to think back on my mistake.
“I’m sorry.” The words fell from my lips and landed at Roz’s feet. There were many I owed an apology, but I’d start with her. She put everything on the line for me. Not because she agreed with my choices or thought I deserved saving.
But because she was a good friend.
Her eyes strained red as she continued to fight back tears. However, instead of saying she forgave me or even that she didn’t … she simply nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the paved lot outside.
The knot swelled again as I wondered if I’d lost her forever; if I crossed a line with her I couldn’t recover from.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” I said quietly, “please … just say it out loud.” She might not have known this, but I was begging, desperate for her to speak her mind so there might be a chance for us to move on. If she kept it bottled up, we’d never make any progress.
It didn’t matter that we sat hip to hip, breathing the same air. She felt so far away.
“Roz … please.” Now it was clear I begged.
A quiet breath entered through her mouth and exited through slightly flared nostrils before she spoke.
“I’m angry,” she fumed, breathing deep as a lone tear spilled over her lashes. “At you. At myself.”
My hands ached when the inclination to hold hers came over me, but I held back, refusing to interrupt while she vented.
“I’m pissed that you’re so blind.” Frustration marked her expression as she went on. “All this time, you’ve been so worried about becoming a monster, that you’d become the thing that would eventually hurt Evie, but somehow you managed to miss the fact that hers isn’t the only life that counts, the only one that matters.”
I lowered my head, letting that sink in, imagining how weak I must seem to her.
“And, okay, you hate Liam. Big friggin deal. There’s still zero excuse for what you did.” She paused and I held my breath when a fresh wave of disappointment swept over her. “I had no idea you had it in you to do something like that. But I guess that’s my fault because you tried to warn me. I just …” Her voice trailed off and I felt sick.
Kind of like a guy who’d just let his friend down.
“You’re forgetting he’s wanted me dead since the first time he laid eyes on me,” I reasoned.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have made excuses, but I was desperate to justify what I’d done. Not for me. For Roz. So she wouldn’t always look at me like she did now.
“And yet … you’re still here. He’s never actually tried to take you out, Nick.” The tone she took made me feel small. “But this isn’t about Liam.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “This is about me knowing you’re better than this.”
I let that settle in, really gave her analysis some thought. And the conclusion I reached was that I definitely wasn’t as good as she thought I was. If I had been, we wouldn’t be hiding out, jumping from motel to motel, begging her father for money. But I couldn’t take back the things I’d done. The only thing in my power was to try living up to the standard Roz once thought I met.
I guess what it came down to was … I wanted to be better.
For her.
—Chapter Four—
Liam
Word spread quickly. Within a few days of news coming down from the Council to the Elders about the facilities closing indefinitely, all staff and students had been brought up to speed.
The concern was that, with such high concentrations of young shifters packed into these places, and with security now being an issue, they were sitting ducks. If someone, the Sovereign, were to find out where even one facility was located, the outcome would be tragic.
Whereas I’d once been sure leaving was in everyone’s best interest, I wasn’t so sure now. The uncertainty was starting to get to me.
I wasn’t the only one. I’d seen a wide range of emotions pass through my lecture hall. Some were relieved to return to their hometowns, their families. Then, there were those who were content to be here, saw the value in learning how to defend themselves, and understanding the history of their species.
Most of the staff saw the mass exodus as a huge mistake. Did I think this place was Fort Knox? Absolutely not, but scattering all the shifters back across the map wasn’t ideal either. There’d be no way to rally everyone together quickly when and if trouble came, but the decision had been made.
The young shifters weren’t much more prepared for what was to come than they were when they first arrived nearly six months ago. Sure, most could shift and use basic defense moves, but we’d only begun to scratch the surface. Despite my mixed feelings throughout our time here, despite wanting Evangeline to be better protected, it was hard to deny what was best for the majority.
They needed this place.
I paced the carpet between my desk and the front row of seats. Right there, in the middle of the room, were two empty chairs, symbolizing the fall of this facility. Nick and his accomplice, Roz, were the sparks that ignited this firestorm, and now they were long gone, leaving the rest of us to deal with the fallout.
At the thought, I glanced toward the one who’d taken the hardest hit—Evangeline.
The closer our return to Seaton Falls came, the more she seemed to drown in her own sadness. I understood. Being so close to her parents and yet, unable to be with them. I couldn’t imagine.
Elise had been sympathetic, too, going out of her way to include Evangeline in the moving process—getting her opinion on furniture and paint choices before making final decisions with the designer. She wanted her to know this home would belong to all of us, but there was no lifting Evangeline’s mood. She’d never been one to care about material things. All she wanted was her parents.
The one thing I couldn’t give her.
She wasn’t the only one with mixed feelings. They all seemed to have them. The class was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. I wouldn’t lecture today because there was no point. This place would be in our rearview mirror in a few short days, so I had other plans for how today’s class would be structured. These kids had been silenced enough, forced to pretend they weren’t at the epicenter of this entire fiasco, but they were. It was their lives being shifted back and forth. So, I offered them the only thing I could.
Honesty.
A hand shot up the moment I opened the floor for questions. I pointed to a girl in the back row.
“None of our other teachers will tell us anything,” she began. “But what happens now? Are we just supposed to go home and pretend nothing’s changed? None of our towns were strictly lycans and dragons, so w
here do our teachers and friends think we’ve been?”
I stopped in front of my desk and rested against it.
“Many towns used their witches to cast mass spells to cover their tracks. Others, like Seaton Falls where a few of you are from, have shifters planted in high positions within the school board, local government, law enforcement. Within that network, they cover one another’s tracks whenever anyone gets suspicious. It works.”
Another hand went up and, before calling on them, I glanced over at Evangeline. She’d been distracted the last few days, seeming to have checked out mentally, emotionally. I looked away and pointed.
“Yes?”
The kid cleared his throat before asking, “Is it true all this is happening because a couple kids went missing.”
In my peripheral, I saw Evangeline’s eyes lift from the paper she’d been scribbling on since she first took her seat. It would have been so easy to lie, but I’d grown tired of all the secrecy, and if I had to guess, the kids were tired of it, too.
“That’s a big part of it.”
Low chatter picked up all around the room as speculation had just been confirmed. There might be a hell-storm of backlash for telling the truth, but I didn’t care. There was no sense in hiding it.
“Were they taken?” came from the left side of the room.
“Was it the Sovereign?” came from the right.
I shook my head, easing their minds. “No, they weren’t taken. They left on their own and video footage proves it. As far as we know, all of the facilities are still operating in secret.”
As far as we know …
“And what about when this war finally comes?”
“I’m still not sure I even believe there will be a war.”
“Maybe this was all the Council’s way of pushing their own agenda.”
Questions and comments flew at me faster than I could address them. Despite what the Elders thought, these kids weren’t stupid. They weren’t satisfied being moved from place to place without explanation and this latest decision was the final straw.
“Settle down.” At the sound of my voice, the volume in the room lowered to a hushed whisper and then it was quiet. “I know we’re all a little confused about what’s happening, but we have to face the facts. We’ll all be leaving here in a couple days whether we like the idea or not. From this point forward, my only advice to you is that you continue to put what you learned here into practice. Starting with the concept responsible for the first brick of this facility ever being laid.”
I looked around to make sure I had everyone’s attention before explaining. “Stand up for yourself. Ask the hard questions even when they try to shut you up. Fight back when you’re treated unjustly. And never let anyone make you powerless; you’re only as weak as you allow yourself to be.”
No one said a word.
“If you take nothing else from this experience, the one thing you should’ve all learned is that your differences don’t have to divide you. Each species has their strengths, their weaknesses. Bring your best to the table and band together when it counts … against your real enemy.”
When we first arrived, there was immeasurable tension in this room. Being in mixed company had most of these kids on edge without fully understanding why. They knew they sensed each other’s differences and some had even been taught not to trust anyone of another species. However, as I stood before them today, that segregation had vanished. They’d come to trust one another, which was a huge part of what this course was about.
My only hope was that it’d been enough.
After dismissal, Evangeline stayed behind, standing beside me in the empty lecture hall. We leaned against my desk, both staring out at the now vacant seats, maybe sharing the same unsettlingly pessimistic energy.
She hadn’t said a single word yet, just … lingered. Maybe she just needed to be close, needed to breathe. Uncrossing my arms, I reached for her hand and she laced her fingers with mine. Right after, she released a breath she’d been holding, and let her head fall to my shoulder.
“I’m scared for them,” she said, speaking about her peers just above a whisper. “For their future,” she added. “Maybe a little scared for ours.”
A surge of air swelled my chest when she shared her thoughts. In the moment, I wished I had the ability to look into the future, wished I could assure her there was nothing to fear.
But I couldn’t.
The only thing I had was the truth—mine.
Squeezing her fingers gently, she rubbed her cheek against the fabric of my shirt. There was never a time I didn’t feel like my reason for breathing was to protect her, but, right now, that feeling was like a life source coursing through my veins.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Some might say this was a foolish vow to make, assuring someone with definite certainty something will never happen, but, to me, this wasn’t an empty promise. It was a fact. As long as there was breath in my body, I’d make sure Evangeline was safe. If I had to lay down my own life to make sure of it, I’d do so without question.
A short laugh puffed between her lips and the sound of it was a relief.
“I know I’m safe with you,” she replied. “But not everyone has their own personal warrior. What if …” she paused, thinking of the other shifters I was sure. “What if things get bad for them? Are their clans equipped to fight?”
Again, I wished I had all the answers, but the only one I could give was steeped in more speculation, more uncertainty.
“We just have to trust the Council knows what they’re doing.” It was an answer, but more than that, it was a gamble.
One I’d never take with her life.
My shoulder went cold when she lifted her head. “Shoot, I have to get to Hilda.”
This was her routine—rushing to eat an apple or granola bar to take the place of an actual lunch so she could study with her aunt.
“I’ll see you at the end of the day,” she said in a rush, pressing her lips to mine before attempting to run for the door.
It truly was only an attempt, because I caught her wrist before she could get away. She gasped as I yanked her to my chest, holding her by the waist now. She did her best not to smile, but it didn’t work.
“You’re gonna make me late,” she protested weakly. “And we both know how Hilda gets when I’m late.”
She was right, I did, but a few stolen seconds would be worth the glare and lengthy lecture. I just wanted a little more of her time.
The world seemed to slow as she gave in, surrendering her lips. Her weight rested against me, pressing her body flush against mine, no real distinction between where one ended and the other began.
Smiling, she pulled away. “Okay, I have to go. For real this time.”
I heard the words leave her mouth, but then she swallowed them down again when she came in for a second kiss.
This time, she braced her hands against my chest. “You’re a terrible influence and I won’t let you corrupt me,” she teased, managing to put significant distance between us.
I tilted my head, enjoying the view as she walked away, glancing over her shoulder several times with longing in her eyes. She wanted to come back to me as badly as I wanted her to. She had the soft flesh of her bottom lip clamped between her teeth as she pushed the door open, and then I was alone.
My eyes went to the band I wore, the one that matched hers, and I could only smile. She’d always had a way of making me ache for her, and even after centuries apart, that hadn’t changed.
*****
Evie
“You’re late.”
There was always a bit of a scowl on Hilda’s face, but it deepened whenever I skated in after our agreed upon time. I swallowed the bite I’d taken of my apple before apologizing.
“I’m sorry, I had a … a thing after class and …”
A dark, slender hand lifted into the air, silencing me as silver bracelets clanged on her wrist.
“Tell Liam, from now on, his … groping … can wait until day’s end. Not on my time. Not when we have serious business to tend to,” she glowered, flipping through pages of a book that looked about as old as she was.
I lowered my gaze and took a seat at Elise’s dining room table—our makeshift workspace.
“Understood.”
She peered over the frame of her glasses and then focused on the page for a moment before shoving it across the table to my chest.
“Start there,” was her grumbled command.
Little effort went into these sessions anymore, mostly because Hilda had given up hope that we’d ever make progress. It went like this nearly every day—she’d shove a book at me, then she’d wander around Elise’s quarters doing whatever suited her until time was up. Almost daily, I thought about throwing my hands up of the entire thing—giving up on her, giving up on me. The only thing that stopped me was remembering that hollow look Elise held when we last discussed it being pointless.
If I could avoid having her lose hope by coming here for an hour a day, then I’d do it.
Even if it did prove to be fruitless.
A shadow loomed above me and I peered up. Hilda stared as a vile of red liquid dangled from a chain just above her blouse’s neckline—lycan blood. She always kept one close by and I could only guess the supply she must have brought with her considering how long she’d already been here, how long she’d have to stay if her date of departure matched the date I finally got this spell right. Once, in class, Liam shared that lycan blood was what kept a witch a life beyond their ‘natural end’. The same held true for Hilda. No matter how powerful she was, she was still at the mercy of the lycans she was allied with in Ethiopia.
“You’re not focusing,” she snapped, her gruff voice stabbing my senses.
“I was, um …”
“Daydreaming,” she interjected.
I lowered my head, knowing there was no sense in arguing with her. We’d been at this a while, several weeks, and during that time I’d gotten used to her short fuse and inability to sugarcoat, well … anything. So, when she took the seat across from me, I could only guess what would come out of her mouth. She’d surprised me on many occasions, so I braced myself now.