Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2)

by Emilia Zeeland

  He rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingertips for a moment. “That’s what I’m afraid of. If she’s like me, led by a strong hunter’s instinct, she won’t drop this.”

  The sight of him bleary-eyed with worry crushes me. “What are you going to do?”

  He laughs a mirthless laugh. “I tried convincing her you guys are all in a secret society she should stay away from.”

  I smile and burst into a breathy laugh myself. “Well, that does border on the truth.”

  As soon as I’ve allowed myself that frivolous reaction, though, guilt seeps into me again. I’m out here, stealing precious moments with Mason, letting his presence heal the deep wound I’m nursing now that I’ve felt Jean’s pain and the threat of the link disappearing.

  And my best friend? She’s alone out there with no one to turn to.

  “Cami?” Mason pushes himself back into a crouch, his eyebrows drawing close together.

  It’s only then that I become aware of the tears that have pooled into my eyes anew. “I’m fine.” But my voice comes out muffled and hoarse.

  Mason hesitates. For a fraction of a second I think I know what his instinct calls out for him to do—to jump inside, landing on the windowsill next to me, to wipe the tears slowly creeping down my cheeks with wide, gentle brushes.

  To kiss me.

  He stops himself, causing a temporary cut of airflow inside my lungs. Then, he reaches out a hand, palm up. I place my shaking hand in his. The comfort of it makes my tears run faster.

  Too many emotions are vying for attention inside me—the pain of the distance between us, the memory of Jean’s loneliness, the promise I made to her, which will only make this—Mason and I—more impossible.

  I heave a sigh, savoring the little squeeze he gives my hand.

  “Cami...” His husky voice sends a current of electricity right into my core. “Even though we can’t...” A frown crosses his features, but he chases it off. “If something is bothering you, you can tell me.”

  I purse my lips and feel them grow wet. “Thanks.”

  Even as I say it, I know I never could reveal to him that I’ve broken the promise I made him before my Claiming. The promise he believed deeply enough to save me from the hunters. In a wicked way, I owe my powers to Mason. And I broke his trust in me almost immediately after my Claiming. It hardly matters that he doesn’t yet know it.

  We remain like that for a while, the warmth of his hand spilling into mine. Mason doesn’t push me for the reason behind my tears. Perhaps he senses I can’t tell him or that being here with me is the only thing I need from him right now.

  I’m not sure I deserve this after what happened to Collin. It’s as much my fault as it is Jean’s. I fed her, gave her the very power that smacked him dead against the tree.

  “About Bryar,” I whisper at last, reaching for a distraction. “Perhaps you should ask Charity for help.”

  A retort seems to die on Mason’s lips as they part.

  “I know it didn’t exactly work out great when I solicited her help in masking my abilities in front of you, but it could be different this time.” I shrug.

  “I don’t know.” Mason looks out into the distance without seeming to focus his gaze on anything in particular. “Is a hunter allowed to use the powers of the legacies? To ask for their help?”

  “He’s allowed to ask his friends to help protect his sister.”

  Mason’s eyes lock onto mine. “We’re friends now, are we?”

  My gaze drops to my hand in his. No, whatever still lingers between us, thrashing to escape the confines we’ve stuffed it into, is no friendship. It’s wild, raw, and out of control.

  I don’t answer. I rest my head, my temple touching the cold glass of the window again.

  Early spring birds chirp in the distance. My head grows heavy. Through the web of my eyelashes, I faintly make out Mason as he rests his head against the window too.

  In spite of myself, I relax. Despite the sensation that my link to Jean is fading with every breath I take, I calm enough to accept that I’ll come up with of a solution. Tomorrow. It’s a premonition and a promise at the same time.

  Chapter 4. Mason

  I WAKE UP FROM THE cold draft making my shoulders stiff. Cami sleeps peacefully, her head rested gently against the window and her hands close to her chest. She shivers slightly. I reach inside her room and grab the blanket that covers only her feet.

  She moves a little in her sleep but doesn’t wake. When I reach to cover her shoulders, I’m so close to her that I can smell the faint scent of flowers wafting from her hair.

  I’m dying to kiss her.

  Hoping that I won’t wake up her father, I tiptoe around the windows and lower myself back to the railing and then down to the ground.

  Once I’m out of the O’Briens’ yard and about to enter ours, I spot Father’s car in the driveway. Not a good sign. He’s already back from his night shift. If I’m out of luck, he’s already found out I didn’t spend the night at home.

  I sneak into my room, climbing up the window. I don’t have time for even a quick stretch in my bed, not if he’s on to me. So I go directly into the bathroom for a quick shower. The mere fact that Bryar doesn’t knock on the door, screaming at me to hurry so she can have enough time under the shower, is odd enough. It takes a lot for my sister to be so mad that she doesn’t even do her usual complaining.

  When I’m done showering, I walk past her room, spying for any sign of the mood she’s woken up in. Music plays so loud that it’s shaking the entire corridor. So she’s woken up in a fit of rage.

  I knock on the door as loud as I dare, hoping she’ll deign to speak to me. But only the blaring music answers me. It doesn’t even seem like the girly pop she usually listens to. It’s almost as if its purpose is to make her presence as obvious as it can be.

  “Bryar?” I call out. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

  It’s an olive branch I’m sure she’ll recognize. But the door doesn’t open, and no response comes. I guess she’s still mad.

  I get dressed and dry my hair under the constant blaring of that same song. Father comes to check on me and informs me that there’s breakfast. Before I go downstairs, I try talking to Bryar again, knocking harder this time.

  “Bryar, come on. You’re going to be late for school, and you know how much Andreev hates us being late.”

  But I’m greeted with no response other than the blaring music.

  DOWNSTAIRS, MY CONVERSATION with Father is as tepid as any we’ve had since New Year’s Eve. I almost inhale my breakfast and share my worry that Bryar is going to be late.

  “Let her,” is all Father says. “Skipping one of Andreev’s trainings is nothing. She’ll get to class later.”

  It’s hard to argue with him, especially when I know what he’s trying to do. He wants to keep her out of Andreev’s grasp, just like he tried to keep me out of this whole mess.

  I head to school, leaving him to deal with my sister. He’s better at figuring out how to brighten up her day, anyway.

  Bryar doesn’t show for Andreev’s early morning drill. Father must be pleased about that. I’ll be lucky if he’s also figured out a way to distract her.

  But that hope dwindles when Mrs. Parkinson approaches me after third period. “Mason, where is Bryar today? She wasn’t in my English Literature class.”

  That stops me in my tracks. Missing training with the elites is one thing, but Father wouldn’t have let Bryar skip school entirely. The somber realization that something more is happening hits me all at once. I assure the teacher I wasn’t aware she didn’t come to school and walk off, having spotted Cami down the corridor.

  I meet her ocean-blue eyes and her expectant expression. She seems absent-minded after last night.

  “Hey.” Lame greeting, I know. “Has my sister come to talk to you again today?”

  “No,” Cami says. “Have you thought some more about asking Charity for help?”

  I shake my head slowl
y, then spot Awan down the corridor, and another idea sparks inside me. I’ve missed him these three months too, but same as Cami and I, the two of us have kept our distance.

  “Okay.” I nod to Cami. “Let me know if she comes by and reaches out to you.”

  “Sure,” she says.

  I’m not good at deciphering girl talk, so the thought that I should have started the conversation with an apology about leaving before she woke up crosses my mind too late. When I glance back, she’s entered the History classroom.

  Awan is shuffling through his locker when I catch up to him. I clap him on the shoulder, so he turns around to face me.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Awan’s dark eyebrows arch in suspicion. “What do you want?”

  The words are hard to force out. “I need your help. It’s about Bryar.”

  His eyebrows bounce higher in surprise. “I thought you had other friends to go to these days.”

  “It’s important, I promise.” Despite his hostile words, I still think of him as my best friend. “I wouldn’t be asking, but it’s Bryar. She isn’t safe.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be safe?”

  I lower my voice, although the crowd of rowdy students is enough to keep our conversation private. “She’s been asking about Jean. Relentlessly.”

  The bell rings, but I don’t mind being five minutes late if this is going to help my sister. By the look in Awan’s eyes, I think he isn’t bothered either.

  He leans in closer to me. “Wait for the corridors to clear and find me again.”

  Before I can change my mind, I add, “Bring Charity as well.”

  He nods and throws looks left and right to make sure none of the hunters spotted us talking.

  I sift through the crowd of rushing students, each fighting to get to their assigned classroom on time. I hold by the Math classroom, closing the door after the last student enters.

  At the other end of the corridor, Charity and Awan argue in whispers. They register me and stop immediately.

  In absolute silence, the three of us take the stairs at opposite ends of the corridor and make our way downstairs. The lobby is empty. The janitor is probably tending to the garden.

  Charity stiffens a little but holds her head high and her back straight as she and Awan stride toward me. “What’s this about?”

  “My sister,” I say. “She’s following in my footsteps.”

  “I bet that’s a pain,” Awan mocks me.

  “Listen, I don’t want her in the position I find myself in. Given that you guys are the ones at risk of exposure, can’t we work together to make sure she never finds out about you?”

  Charity sighs and looks at me as if I’m dim. “There are spells in place to prevent her finding out. I know you understand little of how these things work, but I can tell you it’s pretty reliable.”

  I frown at her. “Yes, so reliable that I was able to figure out all of your supernatural talents in less than a month.”

  “Some hunters have stronger instincts than others.” Charity continues to lecture me as if this is a lesson. It rubs me the wrong way.

  “She’s my sister, my blood. If I have stronger instincts, then so does she. Isn’t that how it works?”

  Charity’s expression sours, her glossy lips forming a frown. “Maybe. So what do you want us to do? I would have thought your hunting buddies would be thrilled to add another person into their ranks.”

  “They would, but Father doesn’t want Bryar becoming a part of this. You trust him, don’t you?” It’s getting tiring, being looked at as the enemy all the time. The only one who doesn’t do this to me is Cami.

  “Of course I trust your father,” Charity says. “He forged the peace. We all owe him our deepest gratitude.”

  “Cami’s mother forged the peace right there with him.” I’m not sure why I go on this tangent. I regret it almost immediately when Charity looks ready to snap back at me.

  “Oh, yes, she did.” Her voice is bitter in a way I’ve never heard before. “After the first victims fell, after the chaos she created killed people... It’s easy to be remorseful when things have gone that way.”

  Awan drapes an arm over her shoulders, pulling her to him. I feel like I’ve missed a step.

  “Charity’s mom died when she and Rosy were little,” he whispers. “Well, what you don’t know is that it was because of the hunters. They were on the offense once the circle was bound.”

  Charity looks away, and I grow nervous that her beetle-black eyes will pool with tears much like Cami’s did last night.

  Awan holds her a little tighter.

  “I’m sorry.” It comes short, but it’s the only thing I have.

  She doesn’t respond, only breathes out as if fighting tears.

  “But if you trust my father, can you please keep Bryar out of this? Cami said you would help.”

  “Wow, easy there, Romeo. When did you talk to Cami?” Awan drops the last remains of his hostile pretense, returning to the friend I’ve missed.

  “Last night,” I say but don’t dive into an explanation. “Listen, it doesn’t matter. Can you do something, anything that will make her drop this?”

  Charity considers this, but then her eyes flicker to Awan, who nods. She heaves a demonstrative sigh. “All right. I’ll do it, but I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Bryar, to keep her out of this and to protect the legacies. I have the herbs at home. Come over after school today, before six pm or my grandma will be back.”

  Grateful, I nod and rush back up the stairs. I don’t want to linger. Whatever happened between us, I still want Awan to have this moment with Charity—a chance to be there for her like I was there for Cami last night.

  I’m restless until last period and leave the school walking as fast as I can without raising suspicion.

  When I enter our house, I call out for Bryar, but she doesn’t answer. An uncomfortable feeling unfurls in my stomach, refusing to be silenced. I hurry upstairs only to hear the outrageously loud music from this morning. The same song has been set on replay.

  I’ve been so stupid. I don’t even knock on the door but burst into Bryar’s room. To no one’s surprise, the bed is made and my sister is nowhere to be seen.

  Gone.

  And I think I know where. After Jean.

  Chapter 5. Cami

  PERHAPS IT’S BECAUSE of what I have planned for this weekend that Friday seems to drag out endlessly. We receive a copious amount of homework from Mrs. Gianni when she gathers us in the Elmwick Academy library before dodgeball.

  She is enveloped in loose black lace as usual. Her chignon is a tight lump of fine blond hair. She looks normal, yet her face is tired and emotionless. I take savage pleasure in knowing she still suffers from Jean’s loss, that I’m not alone in hating the gap my friend left behind.

  “From next week,” Mrs. Gianni says, “We’ll be starting a new domain, so to say. We’ll learn about the extended powers of the legacies. As you should know by now, the banshee acts as a beacon for the other legacies’ powers. If linked into a circle with them, she transforms them into much more powerful legacies.”

  Her eyes land on me, but I quickly look down at my heeled ankle boots. The tiny holes in the leather don’t just give them a gorgeous look, but let some breeze in. Today is the first day that brings about the warmth of spring we’ve awaited for so long.

  Mrs. Hatchet, the librarian, distributes our reading assignments for next week. “All juniors will get a set of six new diaries, which have previously belonged to legacies bound to a banshee’s circle.”

  Even though the Valtyk twins are all the way back in the line, I hear their excited murmurs.

  “I urge you to read each booklet very carefully.” Mrs. Gianni’s stern look lands on the wolf twins. They cut their whispered conversation and grin.

  Of course, Seff and Fillan would be most obliged to complete this bit of homework. I roll my eyes, thinking of the comments I’ll have to endure from Seff from now on. Likely, learning ev
en more about the extended powers he’d have in a circle would only fuel his determination to become a part of mine.

  My only weapon remains the same—insisting that I don’t intend to start my own banshee’s circle, even if it’s too late for that. A small, cynical voice in my head reminds me that I could always break the link that binds me to Jean. I wouldn’t even have to act—only to wait for it to crumble on its own.

  Mrs. Hatchet hands booklets of the first type down the line of students. Everyone takes one from the stack. Many start to peruse greedily. I snatch my copy, chasing those feeble, nasty thoughts away. I won’t leave Jean, not when I know how terribly she’s suffering right now.

  Besides, we’ve been bound for months now, and while I can’t speak for Jean, I’m definitely not growing aggressive. To be safe, I’ll have to refrain from adding anyone else to my circle, but I should be able to control this, right?

  With a small smile, I accept the second booklet Mrs. Hatchet now hands me.

  I have to hope so.

  SEFF SEEMS TO HAVE convinced Fillan to wait for me so we can head to the gym for the dodgeball game together. Perfect. I won’t even be able to talk freely, to ask Seff if he’ll join me on the gut-wrenching excursion, which I can’t seem to think of a way around.

  “There’s our banshee,” Seff says with a wicked smirk. “Are you ready?”

  “Not in the least,” I croak. On top of everything else, I’ll have to play today.

  Fillan cuts me a curt look. “You can’t put it off forever, or we’ll start thinking you’re afraid.”

  I scoff at him, although he’s perfectly summed up my situation. The brash newcomer I was a few months ago wanted to form her own team, despite the numbers disadvantage. Under Mrs. Gianni’s direction, no doubt, the other teams were matched against each other until every possible combination was exhausted.