Immortal Consequences(55)

If Irene was going to be eliminated, she would at least hope for the reason to be something a bit more exciting.

She lowered her dress with a sigh, smoothing down the creases and tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. She molded her lips into a rigid smile, taking on that iron mask she wore so well, fighting back the urge to wallow in self-pity.

You’re stronger than that, she reminded herself before turning toward the door and exiting the bathroom.

But when she stepped back into the corridor, something moved in her periphery, instantly catching her attention. It was a shadow—the faintest glimmer of movement. She turned, catching sight of a supply room door swinging closed, the muffled sound of footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty corridor.

Irene wasn’t entirely sure what prompted her to go look. It was this gut feeling—this invisible thread pulling her closer and closer.

She approached the supply room door and opened it slowly. There appeared to be nothing inside, just cleaning supplies dusted with shadows.

She stepped inside, peering left and right, allowing the door to slam behind her. It was silent. Eerily quiet. She waited for some sign, some indication that she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. She held her breath, waiting…

“Are you following me?”

Irene masked her surprise with a calculated smile, turning around slowly until she came face to face with the boy standing behind her.

The same boy she had bumped into after her duel the previous week.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was leaning against the closet door, arms crossed and lips twisted in amusement. He appeared to be less disheveled than the last time she saw him, his dark blond hair slicked back and a rosy hue adorning his sharp cheekbones. He wore a black button-down and dark jeans, a long coat obscuring his broad shoulders.

But the one thing Irene couldn’t stop mulling over was how he had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, materializing in the darkness without a single sound.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were stalking me.”

He laughed, and the sound of it caught Irene by surprise. It wasn’t some sardonic half-assed chuckle. It was warm and inviting, a contagious sort of laughter.

“Stalking might be a stretch.” The boy grinned, eyes roaming over Irene’s face. “I prefer the term…admiring.”

Irene blinked. “You’re…admiring me?”

“Irene Manette Bamford.” He spoke her name as though he were tasting it. “How could I not admire somebody with a name like that? That’s the kind of name that demands attention. That requires respect.”

Irene sighed. “All right. Cut the shit. What do you want?”

His eyes latched onto hers with unwavering intensity. For a moment, the teasing glint seemed to vanish, replaced by something far darker.

“What if I told you not everybody can see me?” He stepped closer, and it was as if the darkness were parting for him, the shadows shifting. “That only a select few can. A select few who crave more. Who desire something more…meaningful.”

“I’d say you’re insane.”

He smiled, but this time, an edge cut through his words. “You’re limited here. Restricted. But I can show you how to tap into all that magic inside you—the magic begging to be released. To be used.”

Irene took a step back as the realization struck her hard in the chest.

“You’re a Demien.”

He bowed his head. When he glanced back up, the whites of his eyes flicked to black, nothing but two swirling pools of darkness staring back at her.

“At your service.”

“How—” She couldn’t find the right words. Her voice trembled as she tried to regain her composure. “How is that possible? There are protective wards around the school. You shouldn’t be able to—”

“Come and go as I please?” He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. “I’m afraid Blackwood isn’t what it used to be. We’re getting stronger. And your defenses are…weakened. People have gotten lazy. Comfortable.”

The boy had somehow crossed the space between them without her noticing. He even moved like a shadow, dipping in and out of her vision before she could register his motions.

“All right,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s say I believe you…what do you want from me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She shook her head.

“I want you to join us.”

Irene’s hands went numb beneath her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing—an invitation to join the Demien Order. It was something she had dreamt about…something she had secretly wished for.

“Prove it.” The words left her lips before she could stop them. “If you’re part of the Demien Order…then prove it.”

If her distrust offended him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he broke out into a warm smile, stepped closer, and lifted his sleeve.

Irene couldn’t contain the gasp that sprang out of her.

Shadows.

They traveled through his veins like ink, swimming up and down his arms in a mesmerizing pattern. The shadows weren’t etched into his skin—they were alive. Moving and breathing beneath the surface.