Immortal Consequences(85)
“Because…you want this.” He walked forward and sat beside her on the bed. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he grabbed her hand and gently pried her fingers open. The shadows curling around his fingers drifted into her open palm. “Whether or not you admit it right now, you know that whatever Blackwood intends to offer you if you win the Decennial will never suffice. You are a fighter, Irene. A survivor.”
He looked around her room, brows furrowed. “You expect me to believe this will be enough for you?”
Irene couldn’t bring herself to answer.
Mateo sighed, and the shadows vanished. He slid his gaze back toward her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The surprising tenderness in his touch nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
“It wasn’t me”—his voice was barely audible as the words left his lips—“if that’s what you’re asking.”
Irene blinked.
“What?”
“The shadow creature,” Mateo explained, slowly dropping his hand. “I didn’t bring it into Blackwood.”
“Then who did?”
He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, he chuckled, slowly standing as he shook his head. He wandered over to the windowsill, peering out at the students bustling below.
“You were remarkable, by the way.” His eyes snaked back toward her. When the meaning behind his words sank in, Irene couldn’t help but shudder. “I didn’t send the shadow creature, but I was watching. The way you fought back…your technique. It was merciless.” He smiled as he spoke the word. “Beautiful.”
Irene rolled her eyes.
“Compliments will get you everywhere.”
Mateo smirked.
“That’s my hope.”
There was more to say…unspoken words that neither of them was prepared to admit to the other. And though Irene knew that the nagging voice in the back of her mind wasn’t going anywhere, the one telling her to say yes, to join them, she also wasn’t ready to turn her back on Blackwood.
Not yet.
“You should go…” Irene cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from him. “Masika is bound to come back soon to get ready.”
Mateo nodded. “Of course. The Decennial Ball…how could I forget?”
“I’ll call you again,” she said, fidgeting with the locket. “After the third trial.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
A chill ran up and down her spine. Even once he had left, disappearing from one blink to the next, she could feel his presence lingering in her room. That overwhelming, unmistakable power radiating in the air, trailing after her like a second shadow. She felt it crawling against her skin, burrowing into her mind, an insatiable parasite.
She knew what the power wanted. What it demanded of her.
It wanted to be beckoned. To be claimed.
It wanted to be used.
38
Masika
Masika scurried down the stairs of Ivory House, passing the horde of frantic students getting ready, and took off into the night. The evening mist curled beneath her feet, swirling in thin wisps. The fog obscured her vision, so she summoned a twirling flame at the base of her palm, illuminating the path in front of her.
Her conversation with Irene hadn’t been all that surprising. Irene was a brick wall, a thick and impenetrable fortress of isolation, unwavering in her opinions once she had solidified them. Not to mention that she seemed even more distant than usual. A guard surrounding her like an iron cage. If Masika was honest with herself—it worried her.
But she didn’t have time to dissect Irene’s strange behavior.
There was something she needed to do.
Her conversation with Irene had been a reminder that sometimes, working solo was for the best. And if Irene didn’t want to investigate Louise further—then Masika would do it on her own.
Masika came to a halt just outside Litterman House. The doors to the building were locked at this hour, enchanted with a barrier that only the Housemasters and those living inside could walk through.
So…she took an alternative route.
She wandered over to the wall adjacent to the common room and cast a gust of wind beneath her feet that sent her soaring up through the air, straight onto the wraparound balcony on the second floor.
She dusted her skirt off and glanced through the glass doors.
And that was when she spotted Emilio.
He was inside, crouched against the balcony railing, glancing down at something on the first floor. He had discarded his usual lumpy wool sweater for something far more formal—a sleek black three-piece suit with an emerald cravat. But what Masika was really interested in was the notepad he was scribbling in.
She flung the doors open without warning.
“Emilio.”
He practically jumped out of his skin, turning around with a bewildered look on his face. He looked painfully like a lost puppy dog, all wide-eyed and panicked.
“Masika—” He placed his hand on his chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She stepped closer and glanced through the railing. Louise had fallen asleep on the common room couch. She lay sprawled in front of the fire, hands tucked beneath her head.
Which meant that Emilio, interestingly enough, had been watching her.
“Are you spying on her?”