by Imogen Rose
Octavia arrived moments later. She walked straight over to the bed as soon as I let her in. “What happened?”
“Don’t ask. It’s her hand; it’s worn through to the bone. Can you help? Does vamp blood work on demons?”
“No, not on demons. But it works on humans, so let’s hope for the best.” She exposed her sharp incisors and sank them into her own wrist, gnawing at it until blood flowed. Then she put her arm up against Faustine’s mouth. “Drink.”
“Blech! What is that?” Faustine shook her mouth off Octavia’s wrist, opening her eyes and glaring in disgust.
“Don’t be silly, Faustine! Drink. It’ll make you better.” Octavia pinned Faustine’s head back with one hand and then shoved her wrist back onto Faustine’s mouth.
Faustine’s eyes widened in horror, and she struggled to free herself from Octavia’s grip, unsuccessfully, until she transformed. Her transformation was almost instantaneous, and she sent Octavia flying into the wall. Octavia slid down the wall and fell flat on the floor, writhing in agony. I couldn’t help but smile. Karma. But then I shook myself. Octavia had only been trying to help. I pulled Octavia up and helped her to a chair, while Faustine—in her full demon form—looked around, bewildered.
“Faustine, stay like that. Don’t transform back.” I walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed the selection of steaks Ryker had thoughtfully brought with him. “Here, eat, and then go back to slee—”
She practically yanked my arms out their sockets grabbing the meat from me. Sheesh. She proceeded to gulp them down, drooling while she did so. This from the princess who complained about a bit of pus? Ha!
I watched her chomp, chew, and swallow, wondering how she’d react when she got to the last piece. I felt a warm breath by my ear.
“In the kitchen,” Ryker mumbled.
I got up and went to find out what he wanted from the kitchen. Lying on the counter was a fresh selection of meats. Good boy. He must have popped over for more. I got back to Faustine just in time to see her gulp down her last piece. She eyed my hand hungrily, and I practically threw the tray at her before she got any ideas of devouring me.
Two cows later, she seemed to have calmed down and put away the tray. I was concerned she’d revert to her human form. “Faustine, I hope you’re feeling better. Stay in your demon form. You’re too injured to turn back into your human form just yet. Lie down and sleep.” I held my breath, hoping that I had gotten through to her.
I was relieved when she lay back and closed her eyes.
“Oh, my,” Octavia muttered.
I had completely forgotten about her. I turned and glared at her. Just because Octavia tried to help heal Faustine didn’t mean I had to like her any better. She’d better not be dissing my friend.
Octavia returned my look and topped it with an eye roll. She got up and walked out the door.
I didn’t feel the least bit remorseful; she totally deserved my anger. However, I was happy that Faustine had been so disgusted by the vampire blood that she’d transformed.
I turned to tuck her in, but Ryker beat me to it. He stood over her, looking down at the sleeping demon with the same love and concern as he had when she’d been the beautiful human version. Any fears that she might have had that he’d be grossed out by her were completely unfounded. I wondered if he was frightened by her powers, though. He should’ve been; even I was.
“Hey! What’s going on? I just ran into Octavia on the way up, and she is fuming.” Jagger crossed the room and peered down at Faustine. “Transformed during her session? Hey, Ryker.”
I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to tell me, or are you evoking the confidentiality thing?”
“Of course not, like I’d do that with you. I’ll tell you later. First, tell me if you found Quinn.”
“That’s what I was coming to talk to you about. I’ve looked everywhere; I even went to the skydiving facility. No one has seen him. Any ideas?”
I rubbed my neck.
“Let me do that,” Jagger offered, moving behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Your back is in knots.” He gently massaged my muscles, relieving some of the tension.
“No, I’ve got no idea. If it weren’t for the fact that he missed picking up Faustine, I wouldn’t be the least bit worried. It’s just so unlike him to miss something like that without letting anyone know. He didn’t even send me a text or anything. I hope he’s okay, that Mason—”
“Mason has been with me all morning. And he’s at classes now. Plus Mason is no contest for Quinn,” Jagger said.
“I know, but he may have people working with him. That haiku was left by someone else,” I reminded him.
He moved around to face me. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Can you stay here with Faustine? I want to go look for him.”
“Where? If you tell me, I can do it.”
“Please. I need to do it. I may be able to pick up his scent or something. I don’t know. I just feel that I know him better.”
“That you do.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “Okay. Go. I’ll stay here with Faustine until you get back. Is there anything I need to know?”
“I’ll fill you in,” Ryker offered.
“Thanks, Ryk.” I turned to leave, but Jagger grabbed my arm and turned me around.
“Cordelia, be careful.”
The day had begun with a looming dark cloud hanging over me because I had promised myself that I would come clean to Quinn about Jagger. While I’d envisioned a hundred different ways of breaking the news to him, the end result was always the same. The cloud descended over us both and closed in around my neck, squeezing every last breath out of me.
Faustine’s session had been a welcome relief, postponing the inevitable, allowing me a few extra moments of calm. As I walked through the quiet stone-clad corridors toward Quinn’s room, I wondered if it would be better if I found him, so I could finally get to what I absolutely had to do. Or would it be better if I didn’t, giving me more time? Time to procrastinate and worry. In fact, I’d probably go nuts with worry because, no matter what, I cared deeply for Quinn. I always would. The thought of him being in danger because of Mason’s issues with Faustine and me was unbearable. I kicked myself for having postponed telling him about Jagger and me for so long. If I had, he’d have dumped me and had nothing further to do with the whole Mason mess anymore.
I was suddenly filled with angst, imagining him dead, shredded to pieces by a rabid bird. I practically ran to his room and knocked on the door. As expected—Jagger had already told me he’d checked his room—there was no answer. I rapped on the wooden door again just to make sure then I put my ear to it, straining to hear any sounds. I didn’t hear any noise at all, so I put the spare key he’d given me into the lock and turned it as quietly as I could, listening for the clicking noise. Holding my breath, I turned the knob and gently pushed the door ajar. I stood for a minute, waiting to see if anyone was on the other side. I pushed the door a bit more and kept going until it was fully open. The room was empty, so I walked in and closed the door behind me. I still had to check the bathroom.
His room was spotless; even his bed was made. The pillows were plumped and stood against the headboard the way Quinn always insisted—even when he stayed over with me. I walked to the bathroom door and, holding my breath, pushed it open with one finger. I relaxed when all that greeted me was the smell of bleach. The bathroom was neat, but not spotless. The shower had been used, and a rumpled towel lay on the floor outside the stall. I knelt to feel it; the towel was dry.
I walked back out into the bedroom and sat down on Quinn’s bed. There were no signs that he’d left the room in a hurry or had been forced out of it—no broken furniture, no signs of a struggle. I ran my hand over the stretched sheet, frustration washing over me. It was strange and annoying that he’d taken the time to make his bed, yet not bothered to call to let me know that he wouldn’t be abl
e to pick up Faustine. Had he simply forgotten? Or had he gotten up, made his bed, and then been called away on urgent business? Had something happened to his family? Whatever had happened, he’d left the room of his own free will.
I got up and walked into his closet. I pulled the cord to switch on the overhead light and immediately noticed that his lime green suitcase was missing. It always stood in the same place, under his tux. The tux still hung on the rod, but the bag was gone. I scanned his clothes. There was no way for me to tell what he’d actually packed because his closet was in its usual messy state. Quinn hadn’t quite worked out the purpose of hangers, preferring to throw his clothes into various designated piles on the floor—one for his shirts, one for pants, and so on.
I picked up one of his shirts and smelled it, almost feeling his presence as I did so. His aroma immediately relaxed me and, closing my eyes, I imagined him grinning at me, his perfect white teeth twinkling.
I smiled as I remembered the first time I’d met Quinn, at school in Paris. We were both six years old and ready to learn to mingle with the human kids. Quinn’s family had just arrived in Paris and moved in a few blocks away from my house on the Avenue Foch. During our orientation at the school, our mothers told us to be friends. We stuck our tongues out at each other, silently vowing to be enemies, no matter what our parents demanded. As if reading my mind, my mom pulled me aside and, in no uncertain terms, let me know that she expected me to respect her request unless I wanted to forgo new clothes for the next decade. I had relented, still swearing inwardly that I would hate Quinn in private. I couldn’t be friends with a silly boy when I needed to get in with the popular girls! I tried to get him to leave me alone at school, but he just wouldn’t, seeming hell-bent on making my life miserable. We spent most of our first week goading and annoying each other, each aiming to get the other into trouble with the teacher. But we quickly worked out that it was more fun to create mischief together. We discovered how alike we were and figured out that we could cause twice as much trouble working together.
I giggled when I remembered all the pranks we’d pulled and never gotten caught, mostly because we always had each other’s backs. We forged a deep, loyal friendship that had been impossible for anyone to break.
As we got older, the transition from friends to lovers had been seamless, with none of those awkward moments the human teens seemed to experience. We had no spates of angst or drama. Our union felt comfortable and familiar, almost predetermined. And we didn’t even need to formally tell our parents; they had just seemed to know and accept us as a couple. A couple, now broken.
I shook myself out of my reverie. I had to find him. Picking up a hanger from the container on the floor, I hung up his shirt and then looked through his drawers, not sure what I was looking for, just any clue as to where he might have gone. Coming up empty, I walked over to his desk and did the same.
I gave up after half an hour of rummaging. I sat down on his bed, defeated. Where else could I look for him? Jagger had already checked all the obvious places, including the new skydiving complex where Quinn had an office. Plus Quinn had taken his suitcase, so it was pretty obvious he’d gone off campus. The most likely reason he’d have left campus was to see his family. Maybe something had happened to them. Still, why wasn’t he picking up his phone? I considered calling his mother, but I shelved the idea right away. I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily, especially if he’d taken off for an assignment of some sort. If he’d indeed gone off campus, he would have asked The Smelt’s permission. She’d know. I got up and headed over to her office.
I didn’t feel any more relaxed walking into The Smelt’s office as a member of her staff than I had as a student. One look from The Smelt still left me feeling small and insignificant. I was slightly taken aback. I’d given her no cause for the hostile glare she was throwing my way.
“What is it, Cordelia?” she asked sharply, peering over her computer.
“I can’t find Quinn.” I stayed in the doorway.
She remained silent, her face a blank mask.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Quinn.” What the hell was she on?
She pressed down on the intercom button. “I am sending Cordelia out to you.”
Her secretary coughed into the mic. “Okay?”
The Smelt pursed her lips. “I’m busy. Deal with her.”
“Sure, but—”
“I’ll send her through.” She turned off the intercom and looked back up at me. “You’re dismissed.”
Her stern look left me with no other choice but to turn around and leave her office. I felt a shiver run down my spine. As I walked out, something wafted up my nose, just a whiff, but a familiar one. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The aroma triggered alarm bells in my mind. But why? I couldn’t think where I had come across the scent before; it was so subtle, I could have been imagining it. I cast a glance back at her. The Smelt had immersed herself in some paperwork, her eyes not burning a hole through me anymore, but she still managed to raise the hairs on my arms.
“Hey, Cordelia.” The friendly voice of The Smelt’s assistant was a nice change. “How are you settling in? Enjoying being part of the staff?”
“Yes, loving it, though I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet, obviously.”
“No? Anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t know. Did I do something wrong there? Frau Schmelder told me that I could come talk to her anytime, that I didn’t need an appointment or anything, but…” I shrugged.
Mrs. Stone nodded. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s been a bit…off today. I don’t know what’s up with her at all. Anyhow, can I help?”
“I’m looking for Quinn. Have you seen him?”
“Yes, he was here earlier.”
“Oh. Did he say where he was going?”
“Not exactly, I wasn’t privy to the conversation Quinn had with Frau Schmelder, other than being asked to get the school helicopter ready for him.”
“The helicopter? Why?”
“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Frau Schmelder that, but I suggest you wait until later. She seems to be in a strange mood at the moment, very unlike herself.”
“No kidding! Well, is there any way to find out where the helicopter took Quinn?”
She looked uncertain, but nodded. “I shouldn’t really, but I suppose that’ll be okay. You are his girlfriend after all.”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. Hang on.” She picked up the phone and walked out into the corridor with it.
I waited as patiently as I could, wondering why on earth Quinn hadn’t told me he was going on a trip, in a helicopter! The school wouldn’t have arranged to transport him in one of those if it wasn’t important. Had he been sent to pick up an important dignitary? Now that I knew he hadn’t been abducted by aliens or pesky birds, I was furious. He’d better have one heck of an excuse.
“New York,” Mrs. Stone said as she came back into the office.
“New York?” As far as I knew, Quinn didn’t know anyone in New York.
“That’s what the heli pilot said, though he just dropped him off at Zurich airport. So I guess he doesn’t know for sure, just what Quinn told him.”
“And he said he was going to New York? Is he on an assignment for the Academy or a personal one?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Did he share anything else at all with the pilot? Like when he was coming back? Where in New York he was going?”
“Cordelia, not that I know. You know the school rules; I’m not allowed to pry any more than you are. The main thing is that he’s fine, and that was your worry, right? You’ll have to ask him for the details when he returns.”
“And when is that?”
“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Frau Schmelder.”
“But not now?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. I can call you when she seems in a more rece
ptive frame of mind. Would you like me to do that?”
“Please.”
I left the office, feeling unsatisfied and really angry with Quinn. By the time I got back to my room, only Jagger was there. Both Faustine and Ryker were gone.
“What happened?” Jagger asked, his eyes clouded with concern. “You look…lost.”
“I guess that’s right; that’s how I feel. Lost.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “How’s Faustine?”
“She woke half an hour or so ago, fully recovered.”
“Really? Wow, that was fast. Did you get her to transform back to her human form so you could check out her hand?”
“Yes, not even a scratch or any evidence whatsoever that anything ever happened to it.”
“Great, I’m relieved to hear that she heals like a demon. So, where is she now?”
“Martha stopped by to see if she wanted to go down to dinner with her and Chun. I didn’t see any reason not to let her go. I assume Ryker followed her. Now tell me what’s up with you. I assume you didn’t find Quinn?”
I kept standing where I was and updated him, telling him everything, not leaving out even the smallest detail. I needed to get it all out, and as I did, I felt myself relax. I let out a deep breath, blowing my anger out, then walked over and buried my face in his neck. He held me, letting me gather my emotions and helping me regulate my heartbeat.
Once I got hold of myself, I was overcome with hunger. I hadn’t eaten for ages and wondered if Faustine had left any of the steak.
“I need to eat,” I whispered.
He laughed. “You demons. Sit. I’ll get you something.” I lay down on my bed while he went into the kitchen and busied himself. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t need any frills and that even raw meat would do, so I waited patiently, drooling at the aromas emanating from the kitchenette. After what seemed like hours—but must have just been minutes—he came back out with a sizzling rack of lamb.
I moved over to the table, and he bowed and placed the plate in front of me. “There you go, Princess, lamb with mushrooms in a red wine sauce.”