Immortal Consequences(116)

“They…they can’t! These injuries can’t heal!” Olivier bellowed. The despair in his voice made Irene’s skin crawl. “We need medical supplies, or—or a healer. He won’t be able to compete in the last trial unless we help him!”

But Silas only shook his head, uncaring. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

Olivier’s entire body seemed to shake with rage, his jaw clenched, his chest rattling with every panicked breath. But he didn’t move from his spot on the floor, hands firmly clamped over Emilio’s bloodied torso.

Irene cleared her throat, careful to keep her voice even. “Where is Masika? Did she make it?”

“Ms. Sallow’s condition is…uncertain. Her last known location was beneath the base of a mountain near the outskirts of purgatory, but…” Silas inhaled a slow breath, as though composing himself. “We have been unable to find her.”

A tremor erupted in Irene’s fingers. “You can’t…find her?”

“The Council has begun to investigate the matter,” Headmaster Silas explained calmly, though there was something about the tone of his voice that led her to believe he was far more concerned about the situation than he was letting on. “As of right now, she will be considered eliminated.”

“But how is that possible?” Wren choked out, a bewildered look in her eyes.

“I assure you we are doing everything in our power to locate Ms. Sallow.” His eyes darkened with a veiled threat. “My suggestion is to enjoy the time you have left with your fellow nominees. Tomorrow is the final trial. Sleep well.”

He stalked back toward the doors, a phantom cloaked in darkness, disappearing without another word.

And that was that. Two more students gone. Eliminated. Wiped from the memories of others. A sweltering hopelessness rose within Irene, threatening to pull her under. She was trapped, locked inside a speeding train that showed no signs of slowing down.

Irene looked among the others. They were silent, eyes flickering with doubt.

She knew they were all thinking the same thing. That they’d all come to the same realization.

They weren’t in control. They had never been in control. Blackwood had always been one step ahead of them, planning their fate, slowly unraveling the pieces like a loose thread, and now all they could do was watch it come undone.

53

Olivier

He was so heavy.

For as small as Emilio appeared to be, the full weight of his limp body was enough to knock the breath out of Olivier’s lungs. But Olivier would carry him through hell and back if it meant finding a way to save him.

They hurtled into his room like a blood-soaked tornado. Olivier gently placed Emilio on his bed and instantly began ransacking his room for something to heal him. A sewing needle. A pin. Christ, he’d use a stapler if it would work.

He was elbow-deep in his closet when he heard Emilio make a noise behind him. A whispered word muffled by a soft whimper.

Olivier whirled around, frantic. “What is it? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“Just—” Emilio strained to look at him. His face was so pale. “Come lie with me.”

“I have to keep looking. There has to be something—”

“The cut is too deep. You can’t fix it.”

“Shut up.” Olivier kept looking. His hands trembled. His tears blurred his vision. “I’m going to fix you.”

“Please.”

No. He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t just let Emilio fade away. He couldn’t. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Emilio was the best of them, the only one worth a damn in this godforsaken place. If anybody needed to make it, it was him. Olivier would make sure of it.

He just needed more time.

“Hold on. Please. Just give me a second.” Olivier wasn’t sure who he was speaking to anymore. Emilio. The universe. God. Anybody who was listening. Anybody who could help. He dug through the cabinets, his clothes falling around him. “There has to be something in here…anything…”

“Olivier.”

The sound of his own name snapped him back to his senses. He froze with his hands buried in a pile of clothes. He shut his eyes, grimacing. But he couldn’t ignore Emilio’s call. He summoned the courage he had left and turned around.

Emilio was lying on his bed, clutching his wound, blood leaking from between his fingers. His lips trembled through a soft smile.

“Lie down with me.”

Olivier’s legs moved beneath him. When he reached the bed, he slumped down next to Emilio. He didn’t care about the blood soaking his sheets. The blood staining his shirt and his skin.

He just needed to be near him.

“You have to fight,” Olivier whispered, cradling Emilio’s shoulders. He gently guided Emilio’s head onto his chest. “For me. Please.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Emilio let out a breath, but the sound was wrong. “I tried to—to run. But I wasn’t…I wasn’t fast enough.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m sorry I failed.”

Olivier shook his head and placed a hand against Emilio’s forehead. He brushed his damp hair away from his eyes.

“Don’t be silly. You’re here. You did it. And now you just have to hold on—”