Sauter (Ironside Academy, #3)(103)

“Naturally” was all Mikel said.

Isobel sighed, glimpsing students along the path ahead of them. She needed to wrap this up.

“What did you mean you’re still picking up the tab for … for her. Are you talking about my mother?”

“Caran Hoity-Toity Baker?” Buddy was trying to lean into her sight, his thick brows jumping as he deliberately used her mother’s maiden name instead of the name she shared with him.

“Carter,” Isobel inserted. “Caran Isobella Carter. You already know her name, so use it.”

“My mistake,” her grandfather stated blandly. “Must have forgotten. It’s hard being dead.”

“So you are dead? And what, now you’re a ghost? A figment of my imagination?”

Buddy tsked, wagging his finger in her face. “Those are the questions that got you banned from your mama, girl.” He pulled back, suddenly pensive. “Actually … go ahead and ask them. Then I’ll be banned too.”

“Um.” She was struggling to stay focussed on Mikel. “W-What are you?”

“A remnant,” he answered, looking a little confused himself.

“Are you real?”

“As real as remnants can be.”

“Where do you go when you aren’t here?”

“Elsewhere, nowhere.” He waved a hand like she was asking stupid questions. “I rest. I sleep. I’ve earned it. This is the first time my rest has been broken.”

“Have you seen my mom?” she whispered hurriedly, hearing the group of students drawing closer.

“Nah.” Buddy looked up to the sky, like checking what time of day it was. “Don’t know how I know I took her place today. I just know it. This really isn’t working—oh, never mind. Yes, I can feel him calling me back no—”

Isobel turned her head as he disappeared, searching along the path for any sign of him.

“Gone?” Mikel guessed, after the students had passed by them, shooting Mikel wary glances. They were probably skipping classes.

Isobel nodded, and he started walking again, his pace deliberately slow. Above them, the sky was growing dark, clouds gathering fat and heavy, the wind picking up speed. She was grateful for his pace because her steps were growing shorter and stiffer, a sharp pain shooting up through her ribs. Her face pinching with confusion at his continued silence. “You’re not acting at all weirded out by the fact that I’m seeing dead people.”

“I’d be more surprised if there was nothing more to our abilities than what the officials tell us,” he responded lowly. “There was some quiet chatter back in the San Bernadino Settlement around five years ago about a Sigma. Apparently, she was seeing visions of her dead husband, but then the visions changed into other people, and she never saw him again, so she finally killed herself to be with him, thinking he was alive somewhere in some sort of afterworld.”

“Do the Gifted believe in an afterworld?”

“Not from what I recall.”

“Oh.” She tried not to sound disappointed. That would have been convenient.

“They believe in fragments.” Mikel shot her a guarded look. “Like memories. Kept alive by the people who knew them and kept safe by one of their gods. They believe that lighting a candle can bring back one of the fragments on loan from the god who protects it. You can speak to the dead that way. They just don’t speak back.”

“What do you believe?” she dared to ask, shooting him a quick, timid look.

As much as standing up to her father had given her a wobbly boost of confidence, having Mikel belittle him and toss him around like a rag doll made the stoic professor far more terrifying than he had ever been before.

“I believe it’s going to rain,” he responded shortly. “And this is where I leave you.”

They were standing by the doors to the fitness centre. “Go straight to Kalen. No detours.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” One dark brow twitched up.

“Professor.” She swallowed.

A flash of lightning and the sudden crack of thunder had her flinching violently, but Mikel didn’t look furious. He didn’t even feel furious. She had gained enough distance from her father to be able to tell where all the rage was coming from, and none of it was originating from Mikel.

It was almost like he was directing it all into the sky instead.

She reached out like she was going to catch him when he turned away, but he smoothly slid his hands into his pockets, looking at her hand. She pulled it up, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear just to give it something to do. He didn’t say anything, but he was clearly waiting for her to explain why she had almost stopped him.

“Is it happening so that I don’t have to feel it?” she asked quietly.

His gaze flickered upward for just a moment, and the rain started to lightly pitter-patter around them. A short melodious few notes rang out over hidden speakers all over the academy, signalling the end of the third period.

“Yes,” Mikel admitted, sighing slightly. “But don’t feel bad. The lake could use a top-up.” Then he turned again and stalked off without waiting for her response.

“Thank you,” she whispered anyway, wishing he had stuck around to accept it.