Immortal Consequences(11)
Little did Masika know, that was precisely the reason why Irene wanted to join them.
“I was just drunk.” Irene sighed. “Saying that was…a mistake.”
“You promise?” Masika’s voice wavered. The question was a moment of weakness. She knew that. And yet…here she was. Exposing her vulnerabilities to Irene. Handing over her heart on a silver platter.
Irene swallowed her remorse. “I promise.”
She didn’t want to lie to her only friend, but she had no other choice. Masika had lost someone to the Demien Order, long ago, before Irene had ever arrived at Blackwood. Irene knew little of what had happened between them, tidbits of information she had managed to coax out of Masika over the years, but the details were blurry. All Irene knew was that Masika had once cared for someone and the Demien Order had taken them away.
Which meant that if Masika ever found out Irene was considering joining them…she’d never forgive her.
Luckily for Irene, Masika didn’t stay on the topic long. She leaned forward abruptly, as if something had caught her by surprise. “Where on earth are they going?”
“Who?”
Masika scurried toward the window. “It’s Olivier. He’s running toward the main gates with that newbie.”
Irene shrugged. “So?”
“What do you mean so? You’re going to tell me you’re not the least bit curious as to where they’re heading off to this late at night?”
“I don’t really bother concerning myself with Olivier’s late-night escapades.”
“Right.” Masika chuckled. “Because you prefer breaking into offices and stealing confidential files.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay…but what if it is something that concerns you?”
Something sparked within Irene. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Masika slid open the window and hoisted one leg over to the other side, amber eyes gleaming under the silver glow of the sky. “Only one way to find out.”
4
August
Augustine Hughes was not to be trusted. He was cruel. Cold. People avoided his gaze. The other students scattered out of his path like cockroaches, hunched over their textbooks as they whispered about him in the corridors. The rumors said his soul was practically embedded in the walls of Blackwood Academy. That he’d been around long enough to completely lose himself, trapped within the underbelly of purgatory.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Being feared had its perks. And it was always better to be feared than pitied. So, even though most of the rumors running rampant throughout the veins of Blackwood weren’t true, August didn’t bother correcting them. If anything, he encouraged them. He wanted people to leave him alone. To avoid getting too close. Hell, he wouldn’t mind if they thought he was the Devil himself. He was fairly certain he’d cemented this belief in everybody at Blackwood.
Well, nearly everybody.
There was still the matter of Wren Loughty.
Self-righteous, exasperating, pedantic Wren, who waltzed through the halls with that seraphic glow of hers. No matter how hard he’d initially tried to diminish her perpetual confidence, her opinion of herself was nearly as unshakable as her morals. And though their bickering and homicidal games kept him entertained, he was beginning to realize she might actually have a chance of securing the nomination for the Decennial.
Which would really be a problem.
It wasn’t that he wanted her to fail. He’d grown to…tolerate her. And he knew, despite never wanting to admit it out loud, that nobody would be a better Ascended than Wren. She would thrive among the academic elite. She’d be their bloody saint. But it didn’t change the fact that her mere presence was an unavoidable threat to everything he’d been working toward.
The truth was, August didn’t care about becoming an Ascended. And he certainly didn’t give a damn about academic glory. But pestering Wren with their silly rivalry was the only way to keep her distracted. To keep her from discovering what he really wanted. And he knew, now more than ever, that he should be keeping her at a distance. Solidifying that wall between them for her own good.
So…why the hell had he asked her to go with him?
It had been a foolish decision. A selfish one. He could admit that to himself. He could recognize the twisted codependence the two of them now shared, that strange magnetism driving them closer together. But he just couldn’t help himself. He felt inexplicably drawn to her. It was maddening.
“Can you quit stomping?” Wren hissed as they trekked through the dense mist. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
August didn’t bother glancing back at her. “Perhaps if you stopped nagging for a second, you’d notice the sound barrier around us.”
“The sound—” Her breath hitched in her throat. “Oh.”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?” He reached his hand out and brushed the edge of the barrier, a shield of blue light rippling in the air. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours…nobody can hear us.”
“You know,” Wren muttered, fingers fussing with the end of her braid, “that’s the second time you’ve called me pretty tonight. Careful, August. Someone might accuse you of having a bit of a crush on me.”