I make it up to the tower in about five minutes flat, which pretty much has to be some kind of record, considering it’s all the way at the other end of the castle. But when I rush through the alcove to pound on Jaxon’s door, there’s no answer.
I keep pounding, and when that doesn’t work, I text him. And call him. And then pound some more. Because this can’t be happening right now. He can’t really not be here when I most need answers from him.
Except apparently he can. Damn it.
Frustrated, pissed off, and more worried than I’d like to admit, I drop down on one of the overstuffed chairs in his reading alcove and stare at the now-boarded-up window that started all this so I can pretend not to notice that the rug that was here yesterday is now gone.
Then I lean back and prepare to wait Jaxon Vega out.
Fifteen minutes later and I’m pretty much climbing the walls. Half an hour later and I’m firing off more than a few obnoxious texts to the raging jackass. And forty-five minutes later, I’m contemplating burning down the whole freaking tower…at least until Mekhi walks in, sleepy-eyed and amused.
“What are you smiling at?” I demand none too politely.
“You look cute when you’re grumpy.”
“I am not grumpy.”
“Oh, right. You’re pissed off beyond belief and more than capable of ripping Jaxon’s fat black heart out of his chest and stomping on it?” He quotes my most outrageous text back to me, I assume to embarrass me. But I am beyond being embarrassed. I mean, I have fang marks in my neck. Fang marks.
“Exactly,” I answer with a glare. “Not to paraphrase Sylvia Plath or anything.”
“Not to paraphrase her badly, don’t you mean?”
“Keep it up and I’m going to get pissed off at you, too,” I add. He smiles, but before he can say something that makes me want to punch him in his ridiculously pretty face, I demand, “Where’s Jaxon? And why is he hiding from me? Or showing you my texts?”
“He’s not hiding from you.”
“Oh, really?” I walk over and ceremoniously knock on his door. Once again, there’s no answer. “Pretty sure he is.”
“Really? And why would he be hiding from you exactly?” Mekhi crosses his arms over his chest and grins at me, brows raised and head tilted.
“Because of this.” I reach up and rip the bandage off my throat, turning my head so Mekhi can see what I saw.
I take a perverse kind of satisfaction in watching the grin drop from his face. In watching his eyes widen and his face go slack with shock. “What the hell! Who bit you?”
Oh God. My stomach revolts, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up as nausea washes through me. He didn’t deny someone bit me. He just asked who bit me, like it’s perfectly normal that I have two puncture wounds on my neck.
Like it’s perfectly normal that there might be someone or, judging by his question, a lot of someones at this school who walk around biting people.
Fear skitters up my spine at the implication, has the hair on my arms and the back of my neck standing straight up.
“Grace?” Mekhi prompts when I’m too busy trying not to hyperventilate to answer him. “Who bit you?”
“What do you mean, who?” I nearly choke on the words. “Jaxon bit me. Obviously.”
“Jaxon?” He shakes his head, a little wild-eyed. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s not how that went down.”
“What do you mean? Of course it is. I was up here, got cut by glass, and Jaxon bit me. I’m sure of it.”
“You remember that happening? Just like that? You remember him biting you?”
“Well, no.” I’m pretty sure I’m as wild-eyed as he is at this point. “But if it wasn’t him, then who the hell was it?”
“I have no idea.” He pulls out his phone and fires off a series of texts.
My head is swimming. Because of everything he’s said and everything he hasn’t. The only things that bite people are animals and— No. I’m not ready to go there yet. Not ready to actually think the word. My brain might explode.
“I swear to God, if you’re messing with me, Mekhi… If this is all just some great, big practical joke you guys cooked up, I’m going to murder you all. Like, disembowel you while you’re still alive and feed your entrails to whatever poor, starving polar bear I can find. We’re clear about that, right?”
“Crystal.” His phone vibrates with several return texts, and his face gets even more grim as he reads them. “It definitely wasn’t Jaxon.”