Immortal Consequences(14)

Annoying her was entertaining enough.

“Look who’s wasting time now,” Wren sneered, chin lifted high. “Go on. If you’re that bored. But all it’s going to do is ruin both of our shoes.”

“You’re the one who started it,” he replied coolly.

“And I’ll be the one to end it,” she snapped. “The second my skin stitches back together, I’ll jam this blade straight into your back.”

“If this is you trying to flirt with me,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “then I have to admit…it’s working.”

A wave of goose bumps rippled across her shoulder, and August couldn’t help but chuckle.

Wren swallowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just…interesting, isn’t it?” He dragged his fingertips over her collarbone and watched in satisfaction as her eyelids fluttered open and closed. “We can’t feel pain, yet we can feel…so much more.”

Her eyes raked up and down his face and something in his chest tightened. He found himself stepping closer. Too close. Crossing the boundary both of them had secretly vowed never to cross. Wren tensed but didn’t move. In fact, she leaned in toward him, the slightest shift in her stance.

Time froze. The two of them suspended in darkness. A flurry of twisted anticipation humming in their bones.

But the moment didn’t last.

Wren shoved August out of the way, using the momentary distraction to snatch the dagger right out of his hand before he could stop her.

“Seems you’re not that tired after all.” She waltzed past him and twirled the dagger between her fingers. “Good. I was beginning to think the notorious Augustine Hughes was going soft on me.”

An unavoidable thrill ran through him. “I wouldn’t dare.” He bowed his head and motioned up the stairs. “After you, darling.”

“Thank you. Always such a gentleman.”

A sharp wind greeted them as they opened the door at the top of the staircase and stepped out onto the rooftop. The air smelled smoky, with the faintest hint of vanilla and amber, the familiar scent that clung to Wren wherever she went. He found himself leaning in closer, drawn to her like a reluctant moth to a deeply infuriating flame.

Blackwood Academy lay sprawled out to the north of them. A landscape of pointed towers and vaulted ribs, of arched rose-tinted windows and ornate buttresses. Oak trees covered in gnarled branches and burnt-sienna leaves dotted nearly every inch of open space, adorning the buildings with opaque shadows.

To the south was the forest. The uncharted outskirts of purgatory that loomed menacingly in the distance, whispering enticing promises of power to those foolish enough to listen. The Demien Order could attempt to lure students out with their false claims, but August would not be one of them. He understood that there was truly no escaping their eternal punishment. No freedom to be found.

No deliverance for the damned.

“Now what?” Wren peered over the edge. “We just stare at each other until somebody falls through the sky?”

August cleared his throat.

“Something like that.”

She frowned. “I should have brought a book.”

“Am I not entertaining enough for you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

A noise rattled in the distance, interrupting them. They lifted their eyes in unison. Wren narrowed her gaze toward August, and he instantly knew they were thinking the same thing.

We’re not alone.

August released a fresh wave of flames from his palms, readying his stance. The fire blazed from his skin, lapping up his forearms. Elemental magic was his strong suit, but fire had always been his vice.

Wren, on the other hand, opted for something more elegant and subtle. Golden threads erupted from her palm as she prepared an energetic barrier around them. Something that would more than likely save their skin if whoever was on the other side tried to knock them off the rooftop.

More sounds echoed beyond the door. Boots against hardwood. The creak of weight.

And then the door swung open.

August didn’t hesitate. A wave of flames surged from his palms and soared straight toward the figure standing by the doorway. It wasn’t until the fire escaped his fingertips that he spotted Olivier’s familiar face looking back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Despite August’s infallible aim, Olivier was annoyingly nimble and managed to duck out of the way just in time, causing the newbie behind him to suffer the brunt of the blow.

“Relax!” Olivier exclaimed, raising his hands in the air. “It’s only us!”

“What are you doing here?” August bristled. “Did you follow us?”

“It was his idea!” shouted the newbie, who August now recognized as Emilio. He frantically blew out the flames, grimacing as the charred skin around his collarbones began to heal. “I’m just a victim of his stubborn curiosity.”

“Oh, you were just as curious as me,” Olivier said. “Admit it.”

“I was not!” Emilio huffed, nervous eyes shifting among the group.

“Snuff your flames,” Wren muttered behind him. “They’re harmless.”

August tensed. “He didn’t answer my question.”

“All right.” Olivier leaned against the doorway, annoyingly smug as always. “Yes. We followed you. But can you really blame us?”