Immortal Consequences(20)

A coldness spread through Olivier’s limbs. Chaos in the afterlife. It was a chilling thought.

“What happens now?”

Silas hesitated, the tension in his dark brows easing. He offered Olivier a somber smile.

“Now…I only ask for your cooperation.”

Olivier faltered. “My…cooperation?”

“If the six of you keep what you saw tonight from the other students, I will pardon all of your infractions. You will not have to serve any time in reformatory, nor will you be barred from consideration for the Decennial.”

Under any other circumstances, a list of infractions as egregious as the ones they’d committed tonight would have landed them in reformatory, scrubbing floors and organizing files until their eyes dried out. But now, all Silas wanted from them was their cooperation?

It all seemed too…simple. Too straightforward.

But who was Olivier to deny a miracle?

“Of course,” he replied with a nod. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good. Very good.” Silas clasped his hands in approval. As Olivier stood up from his chair, relief washing over him, he heard Silas clear his throat. “One more thing, Mr. Dupont.”

Olivier glanced up. “Yes?”

“Though I trust you are a man of your word…I must remind you that breaking this promise would have serious repercussions…ones you would not be too fond of.” Silas leaned forward, the earthy scent of ancient magic radiating in the air. A strange breeze ruffled the curtains and sent a blanket of goose bumps up and down Olivier’s arms. “Do I make myself clear?”

A weighted silence flooded the room. Olivier’s eyes skated over to the Housemasters. They all seemed equally stoic, watching him with unnerving stillness. He knew there was no way out of this. That even if he did try to say something about the shadow magic, if he tried to warn the other students, he was being monitored. Always watched.

Olivier swallowed back his hesitance. “Crystalline.”

Silas nodded once more, motioning toward the door with an authoritative wave.

“Good. Now send the last one in.”

6

Masika

Masika Sallow hurled herself out of the building and gasped in a strangled breath. She gripped her knees and shut her eyes, willing the bile rising in her throat to stay down. She shouldn’t be having this reaction, not after all the work she’d put in, not after all the years she’d spent eradicating the memories from her consciousness.

Yet there she was.

All it had taken was one lousy trip to Memorium for everything to come crashing down around her. It was infuriating. She wished she could strangle Catherine with her bare hands for making her feel so weak. So pathetically human. Nobody in her old life had ever been able to sink their claws into her heart the way Catherine had. Sure, she’d had her string of summer flings and secret lovers—but nothing concrete. Nothing lasting.

Well, Catherine hadn’t lasted either.

“Oh, please don’t throw up.” Irene was leaning against an oak tree, her heeled boots propped up against the trunk. “I’m serious. If you do it…I’ll do it. I’m a sympathy puker.”

“I’m fine.” Masika inhaled a sharp breath and shut her eyes. “Though whoever decided dead people can still feel nauseous should be tortured.”

“I’m assuming your conversation with Silas was just as delightful as mine?”

Masika pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. It was lovely.”

It was true her conversation with Silas hadn’t quelled the tornado wreaking havoc in her chest, but it wasn’t the main reason for her…reaction. She wasn’t sure what to call it. A panic attack, maybe. But she refused to say those two words out loud. She refused to acknowledge their presence.

Her father had suffered with panic attacks his entire life, a product of unresolved trauma and bad luck. And though she’d spent most of her childhood free from the paralyzing thoughts that seemed to run in her family, she’d always known it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out.

Even when she was alive, Masika would spend her days anticipating the inevitable breakdown. Waiting for the moment she’d feel the switch inside her snap. She would sit on the fire escape of her redbrick apartment nestled in the heart of Toronto, watching the traffic rush below her, the sound of sirens in the distance and the murmur of voices melting with the wind. She would close her eyes and search for that lingering anxiety inside her, the darkness lying dormant, and pray that it would never wake up.

But what she hadn’t known, what she hadn’t thought to anticipate, was that there was something worse waiting for her. Something far more sinister. And before she could even recognize the hands of death slithering around her heart, she had been met with this wretched fate.

“Do you need something?” Irene crossed the distance between them. “We could swing by Ezra’s dorm. I’m sure he’s got something to mellow you out…a bit of enchanted wine might do the trick?”

Masika shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

Irene sighed. “Suit yourself.”

She gave Masika a firm pat on the back before turning to face the gravel path and sauntering toward the main grounds. Despite the persistent flurry of bees rattling around in her chest, Masika straightened herself and followed after her.