Immortal Consequences(18)
“Well, this is a goddamn mess.”
* * *
Olivier bounced his leg up and down and considered throwing himself out of the window. He’d rather wait for his broken legs to mend than deal with the suffocating tension currently permeating the air.
After the six of them had explained what they’d seen, Birdie had demanded they follow her to Memorium. Olivier immediately felt a sense of unease at hearing the name. It was a dreary church-style building made of granite, with stained-glass windows. Heavy wooden doors were carved into the bottom of a tower, the right side of the building stretching up toward the sky in a sharp point.
Olivier avoided it like the plague. Memorium existed for one sole purpose—for students to pay tribute to those they’d lost to the Demien Order. The inside of the building was mostly empty, a row of pews adorning the center of the main hall. A large stone monument inscribed with hundreds of names sat at the far end, flanked by towering piles of tearstained letters. Mementos left behind by students who had fled Blackwood in search of the Demien Order.
It was meant to be a place for students to process their grief.
But Olivier found it wholly depressing.
“How long have they been in there?” Emilio whispered next to him. He sat with his legs tucked into his chest and his chin resting atop his knees.
It had only been fifteen minutes. Give or take. Olivier had stopped counting.
They had called each student into the office one at a time. Wren had been first, and when she’d finally walked out, her face had been pallid, as though she was seconds away from being sick. August had been second. Then Irene. And now—Masika. Olivier had no idea what they were telling them in there, but he assumed they weren’t having them over for tea.
“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Olivier yawned, making a show of stretching his long legs in front of him. He drummed his fingers against his thighs. “Don’t know about you, but I’m having a wonderful time. We got some fresh air. Had some friendly chitchat. Witnessed a terrifying display of shadow magic that will more than likely leave us traumatized for the rest of our eternal existence.” He shrugged and shut his eyes. “I’ve had worse nights.”
“No talking,” snapped a nasally voice. Olivier peeked one eye open.
Everly Hawthorne. She stood in front of the office door, arms crossed and face pinched into a scowl. Though Everly looked harmless—barely five foot two, with strawberry-blond hair fashioned into two pigtails—she also happened to be part of the Ascended. Which meant Everly got the privilege of spending the rest of her existence bossing other students around and reveling in her upgraded magical abilities. And, more importantly, she was spared from the immortal consequences of the Forgetting.
Olivier shut his eyes and scoured through his memories.
The small cottage sitting atop a mossy hill. His father tending to the stables. His mother sewing in the sitting room. The lavender wallpaper—no. It wasn’t lavender. It was blue. Or was it?
“You okay?” Emilio whispered softly.
Olivier’s eyes shot open. He glanced down and realized he had dug his fingernails so hard into his palms that tiny crescent indents had appeared on his skin. He quickly tucked his hands beneath his legs.
“Oh, just peachy.”
He’d been noticing the memories slipping away from him for a few weeks now. At first he thought it might just be his imagination. The paranoia of knowing he’d been around longer than most. But then one blurred memory became two. And two became three. And then the memories began not only to blur but to disappear completely. A dark nothingness taking root in his brain, slowly devouring everything that made him him.
There was no escaping the inevitable.
He was running out of time.
“Everly, sweetheart.” Olivier cleared his throat. “Do you think you could be a dear and fetch me some water? I’m quite parched.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I said no talking.”
Ugh. There was nothing worse than an Ascended on a power trip. Olivier carefully inspected the golden band adorning her ring finger—it was given to every Ascended, a way of marking their “elevated” status. But there was one more thing that made Everly stand out as an Ascended, a peculiar detail that was hard not to notice.
Her eyes glowed.
It was like her irises were constantly catching light—a predator’s eyes glinting in the darkness. Currently, those feline eyes were locked on Olivier, staring at him with utter contempt.
“Do you think we’re banned from the Decennial?” Emilio whispered.
Olivier shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” He did his best to seem nonchalant, though truthfully…he was devastated. It wasn’t that he had been particularly confident in his chances for the nomination, per se, but he had been secretly hopeful. If he could secure the nomination, he could stop the transition in its tracks.
He could save himself.
Emilio whimpered and pressed his forehead against his knees. “I’m never listening to you again.”
“Oh, hush.” Olivier playfully nudged him. “You were just as curious as I was.”
Emilio groaned, his voice muffled by his pants.
“You’re a horrible influence.”
Olivier smirked. “Thank you.”
The door swung open and they shot their heads up in unison. Masika walked out, arms wrapped around her chest and eyes lowered to the floor. Olivier was considering calling after her when Housemaster Wesley popped his head out of the room and waved him over.