Immortal Consequences(99)

She looked more like a pageant queen than a Demien.

“I can’t believe she harnessed shadow magic,” grumbled Olivier. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I mean…look at her.”

“But she did,” muttered Masika. “We all saw it.”

Olivier sighed. He went to take another sip from his glass, groaning in frustration when he saw that it was empty.

“Ugh. I’ll be back. I need another one.”

Emilio placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “Isn’t that your sixth?”

“So?” Olivier snapped, ripping his arm away and stumbling slightly. “Am I not allowed to have a goddamn drink in peace?”

Silence engulfed the three of them. There was only a second between the moment the words left Olivier’s lips and the regret washing over his face, but Emilio still found himself wincing at the harshness in his tone.

Olivier closed his eyes and grimaced. “Emilio. Shit. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” Emilio said. “Go.”

Olivier blinked. He opened his mouth and then closed it, clearly deciding that whatever he had to say wasn’t worth it, and walked back into the crowd.

Next to him, Masika sighed. She placed her hand on Emilio’s elbow.

“Hey.”

Emilio couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “If you’re going to tell me to stop being a coward, I really would appreciate it if you didn’t.”

“I’m not.” She gently angled him closer. “What I was going to say was…don’t let his attitude get to you. We both know Olivier adores you. He’s just…” She let out a ragged breath. “Look. Whatever Olivier is going through right now, I guarantee it has nothing to do with you.”

“He seemed fine earlier,” Emilio whispered, defeated.

“Have you tried to talk to him about it?”

It sounded so simple. Just try. But despite knowing it was the rational thing to do, Emilio couldn’t help but listen to the little voice in the back of his head, the one that instilled fear in his heart and doubt in his mind.

“I just…” He let out a shuddering breath. “I need more time.”

Masika sighed, looping her arm over his shoulder.

“Don’t we all.”

44

Wren

As one of the top students at Blackwood, Wren had grown accustomed to curious stares, some even laced with jealousy. But the eyes that bored into her now made her want to sink into her skin and disappear. She felt claustrophobic despite standing in the middle of a grand hall, as though the towering walls surrounding her had begun to slowly capsize, trapping her in a cage of lies and deceit.

They’d all seen them dance together. August and Wren gliding across the ballroom like a pair of ghosts. And worst of all, they’d seen him charge out of the room, leaving her behind to suffer the rest of the evening on her own.

Her head pounded—like a million stones relentlessly ricocheting against the base of her skull. She could hear August’s thoughts. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t even possible. But how could she deny what she had experienced herself?

And there was still the matter of the eliminated nominees. It was evident that someone had been erasing the memory of them from the minds of other students, but who would do something so horrific? Or even have the ability to?

With a surge of panic, she recalled the shadow creature that had slipped into Blackwood after the second trial—and Silas’s subsequent warnings about the Demiens. Were they the ones behind this?

Had they infiltrated Blackwood? Were they already here?

She scanned the room for a familiar face, but there were too many bodies. A sea of students spinning around her, a nauseating blur of iridescent colors. The pain in her head traveled down her spine, and she found herself gasping for air, pressing her hands against her knees as she doubled over. She was seconds away from sprinting out of the hall when a soft voice drifted in front of her.

“Are you all right?” It was Masika. She took Wren gently by the shoulders and lifted Wren’s chin toward her. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“No…I…I think something is wrong.” Wren glanced nervously around the room. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like the Ascended were watching her. Like they were listening in on the conversation, their glowing eyes locked on her and Masika from across the hall. “Can we go talk somewhere? In private?”

“What is this about?”

Wren grabbed her by the wrist. “Please. Just trust me.”

Masika nodded in response, allowing herself to be led out of the hall.

They walked out into the nearest corridor. A few students lingered in the distance, sneaking sips of enchanted liquors from silver flasks and making out in stairwells, but otherwise, the corridor was fairly quiet. Wren pulled them farther away from the ballroom, pausing beneath a lantern.

Masika sighed in exasperation. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“The eliminated nominees,” Wren blurted out.

“What about them?”

“I went to the infirmary. They weren’t there.”

“What do you mean they weren’t—”

“They weren’t there.” Wren struggled to get the words out, a frantic edge clipping her voice. “No bodies. No trace of them. Nick. Liza. Georgia. Tristan. All of them. They’re all gone.”