22. Serafina
TWENTY-TWO
There is a heartbeat of complete silence before Atlas breaks it. “You like him!” he accuses, not mad. More curious as he stares at me in shock.
“What? Don”t be ridiculous,” I snap, moving back over to his desk and slumping in the chair next to him. My body aches, and my magic is somehow controlled enough not to need the pain for added control, which makes me feel weird. “I just threw him on his ass and kicked him out. How do you get me liking him from that?”
Atlas snorts and holds out a finger. “Firstly, he’s alive. Secondly, he”s alive, and thirdly,” Atlas shrugs and looks at me, a small smile curving on his lips. “You warned him to let you go before attacking. I’ve never seen you give the same courtesy to anyone, including Gabriel.”
“I can”t kill Gabe. I can Teos,” I point out, and Atlas shrugs.
“He’s a Phoenix. Honestly, he’s probably the best option for a booty call.” I grimace and glare at my brother as I shake my head.
“I wasn’t lying, Atlas. Teos and I never have and never will be like that. So drop it.” Atlas studies me as I stare him down.
“How did he get your attention so quickly? That”s my only concern. You’ve got yourself locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”
“I’ve known Teos since high school. And honestly, he’s not the problem here. Well, I mean, he”s obviously an issue. The boy has stalker tendencies I wasn”t aware of, but I can handle that later.”
“Stalker tendencies?” Atlas snaps, looking alarmed. “Fina?—”
“Not like that.” I stop him mid-sentence. Already knowing who he’s thinking about. My sister-in-law had a stalker that wouldn”t leave her alone. It got so bad one of her husbands was almost killed. “Teos is a little intense in his desire to rekindle our friendship. But he’s not dangerous,” I say, calming the worry glinting in his dark brown eyes.
“Hmm,” Atlas grunts, looking unconvinced.
“Listen. I have something I need to talk to you about, and I need you to promise not to lose your shit until I tell you everything,” I say quickly, already not liking how his face has darkened at my words. Atlas nods, and I take a breath to gather my thoughts. “Is there a creature that can walk into your dreams? Or maybe take you into theirs?”
Atlas’ eyebrows dart up, my question taking him by surprise. “Yes. There are a few. Why?”
“I think I had someone in my dreams. Or maybe a couple of people,” I add, thinking back on my first dream. The voice in that one was different, but I had the same feeling of being watched as I did when I met the Reaper in the red cloak. “Oh, and I need to know everything you know about another Reaper line existing,” I add, and this time, Atlas frowns.
“There is only one Reaper line in existence, Fina. And you’re a part of it.” I sigh and nod, already knowing that information but hoping that, by some miracle, Atlas would know of one that’s hidden away like the Ractori Elementalists were. As fucked up as it sounds, the man in the red cloak excited me. I’ve never been so challenged in magic and strength, and the broken side of me wants to know what it would be like to lose. To finally give in and not worry about mundane life anymore. He was also incredibly good-looking. I may not want a relationship for obvious reasons, but that doesn”t mean I’m blind. And the fact that I found a man I’m probably related to attractive. Yeah. That”s a whole new level of fucked up. It’s probably best if I kill him the next time I see him.
“Yeah. Well, I met one in my dreams. At least, I think he’s a Reaper. I thought he was a Demon, but then he pulled out a scythe and had a cloak—it was red,” I toss in as I replay everything running through my mind.
“Wait. Back up. You met another Reaper?” Atlas asks, shock clear on his face. I see his fingers twitch towards his phone as I nod.
“Yeah. He’s a real prick too.”
“And you thought he was a Demon. Reapers don”t have red cloaks,” he adds, looking as confused as I feel. “Shit, Fina, when did this happen and where?” Atlas asks, grabbing his phone and tapping at it furiously before bringing it to his ear.
“The forest last night. I thought it was a dream. It felt like one. But he talked as if it wasn”t, and I’ve never been hurt in a dream before, so?—”
“Hurt!?” Atlas snarls, eyes moving back over my body. Shit. I shouldn”t have dropped that on him like that. I feel his magic brush up against me, making me shift away from it as Atlas leans forward in his chair. “You have a glamour spell over you,” he accuses, and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah. I didn”t want you or anyone else freaking out on my way through campus this morning. Figured glamour was the way to go,” I mutter just as I hear a deep voice grumble something from Atlas” phone. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t planning on telling Atlas I was hurt at all. Then Teos had to open his big mouth and that plan is now firmly out the window.
“Boris. I need you in my office. I have some questions about the guy you think is behind the killings,” Atlas demands as he mouths ‘drop the glamour’. I wince and shake my head. Probably not the best thing to do when he’s talking on the phone.
“Now. I need to know if he needs to bring a healer with him,” Atlas demands, no longer caring about being quiet.
“Jesus, you”re dramatic,” I complain, flicking my wrist and letting the glamour hiding the bruises on my neck and back drop but careful to keep the one hiding my scars still in place. It”s not like he can see my back anyway, so why bother hiding it when a healer knows about their presence the moment they touch me? Atlas’ eyes bug out of his head as his hand fists his phone so hard I’m worried it”s about to crumble in his strong grip.
“Bring a healer with you,” Atlas demands into the phone. I hear Boris say something back and Atlas’ face starts turning a weird shade of purple. “I don”t give a fuck what the healer is doing right now. Bring her with you!” Atlas demands before hanging the phone up, not letting Boris say anything more.
“That was mean,” I say with a grin, loving when he gets all angry. It makes me feel a little better about my temper.
“Start talking, now,” Atlas snarls, his rings gleaming, the small desk lamp next to him flickering slightly as he stares me down. Oh shit. He’s really pissed.
“Attie. They’re bruises. All superficial shit. You need to chill out,” I whisper, not liking the anger I see in his face. My words only seem to anger him more, and I can feel sweat dot on the top of my lip as a chill sweeps over me. He’s not just angry but pissed.
“I told you to be careful while you”re here, but we are just one week in, and you”re already hurt!” Atlas bellows, startling me enough that I jump in my chair. His words ring in my ears as I stare at his angry brown eyes. Brown eyes. Not gray… brown, not gray. I repeat over and over as my throat tightens, my head ducking instinctively.
“Why do you always mess things up? It”s your fault your brother doesn”t want to come home,” my father bellows at me, as my small hands press to the cold marble floor beneath me. I can taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue, my eye already starting to swell from the slap I just received that sent me flying across the floor.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I whisper, keeping my head ducked so he doesn”t have another excuse to hit me again.
“Call for the maid. Tell her the clumsy girl has fallen again and needs to be patched up,” Father yells at the doorman, who nods and immediately races from the ornate library. Father turns on me as I try to step back, pressing against the wall, curling in on myself as I wait for another blow. Now that he’s started, he won”t stop until his anger has leveled.
“This is your fault!” he roars, striding forward with the leather belt in his hand. I tremble as I wait for the strike, keeping my eyes shut. “I told you to be careful while you were here, and you already managed to break a priceless vase gifted to me by the Siren representative!”
“I’m sorry!” I whisper, ducking my head enough that my chin touches my chest. “I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!” I scream, raising a hand when he pulls the belt back over his head.
“Fina!”Atlas shouts, making me jerk and look up at him, swallowing the lump in my throat as I brace for his anger. Atlas watches me, his eyes moving from my clenched hands to my face, then to my neck, where I know he can see the bruises. He sighs and closes his eyes before shaking his head. “You’re scared,” he whispers, guilt filling his tone.
“No,” I rasp, my voice cracking as I try to shove the memories away, the cold sweat that’s encompassed my body making me shiver. Atlas’ shoulders sag right before he curses, his hand flying across his desk, taking the cup full of pencils and pens and sending it crashing to the ground at our sides. I suppress the urge to jump in my seat again, knowing Atlas can read me better than anyone else. With Gabe, I may have gotten away with my lie, but not Attie.
Since a young age, he’s been able to tell when I’m lying more often than not. It”s one of the reasons we’ve gotten along as well as we do. Attie calls me on my bullshit. I call him on his. It”s been a long, somewhat angry road we’ve traveled together, but I wouldn”t change it, even if it”s annoying at times like this.
“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I wish I could do more to help out here and now you”re hurt. Gabe is going to roast me for this,” Atlas mutters, running a hand over his face.
“What Gabe doesn”t know won’t hurt him,” I whisper. Making Atlas crack a smile and look at me between his fingers before his hand drops back to his desk.
“He is technically our boss. We’re here on Fae Council orders,” Atlas points out, and I shrug.
“I’m not concerned. What’s he going to do? Fire us?” I snort, and Atlas laughs.
“Uhh, yeah. That”s exactly what he’ll do.” I shrug.
“I heard you complaining to Gabe about coming here. It”s not like you’ll care if you get taken off the job,” I point out.
“It was this or go to New York,” Atlas explains, and I wince. When Atlas decided to shove everyone away all those years ago, that included the man and woman he was in love with. Sol and Alice haven’t seen him in years and I know Atlas now has a lot of guilt over the situation.
“Oh,” I mutter, and Atlas nods.
“Yeah,” he grumbles and takes a deep breath. “Are you in pain? I can spell it away until the healer gets here. It won’t do anything physically, but you won”t be uncomfortable as you wait?” he whispers, and I shake my head. Yeah, I’m sore as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.
“I’m fine.”
“Alright, now that I’ve made a fool of myself. Could you please start at the beginning and tell me in detail what happened?” he asks, and I nod, leaning back in the chair to get more comfortable. It puts pressure on my back, but it helps relieve some of the pain in my right hip that I’m just starting to notice. Ten minutes of talking later, I reach across Atlas’ desk and grab the water bottle sitting there, taking several deep drinks to soothe my raw throat. Atlas is staring at me like I’ve gone insane, and I can’t stop the small smirk I give him.
“I swear I’m not lying,” I add, just to make sure he knows I’m not trying to pull a joke on him or something.
“I know,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning back in his wheelchair. I can practically see the wheels in his mind working overtime trying to figure out who and what this guy is.
“And when you came back to yourself… you were in your bed?” he asks in confusion, and I nod. “You’re certain it wasn”t a dream?” I shake my head.
“No. I thought it was. It felt off, like a really vivid dream. But when talking to this man, he implied it wasn’t. I’m not sure if we should believe that or not. But as far as I’m aware, there is no way for someone to get physically injured during dreams.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Atlas agrees and sighs, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Did you get his name by chance?”
I scoff and shake my head. “Didn”t have time to exchange personal information between all the dead girls and fighting him off. His scythe was black,” I add, slightly jealous over his fancy blade. Lifting my hand in front of me I call on my magic, watching as the black swirls between my fingertips and the cold, heavy handle of my scythe materializes in my palm. The shining silver metal gleams, my magic casting a dark glow around the sharpened blade as I stare down at it.
“I’ve only seen you use it once before,” Atlas whispers, and I glance up, watching as my brother leans over his desk and stares at my weapon with keen interest. “It”s different than Gabe’s.” I nod.
My Reaper brother’s scythe has a wider blade, sharpened in a traditional way with the ability to form a secondary blade on the other end. My scythe is longer, the blade thin and deadly sharp. Instead of a heavy design, mine holds a simple, more feminine design. I can’t produce a two-bladed scythe the way my brother can, but I do possess the magic to conjure not only a scythe, but an entire arsenal of weapons. I favor my sword, finding it easier to wield, but there’s something about carrying the scythe that just feels right.
“There hasn”t really been a need for it. I only use it during training with Gabriel,” I admit, looking at the curved blade once more before letting it go, watching as the silver gleams and vanishes into thin air.
“Why didn”t you tell me about all this the first time it happened?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Why didn’t you tell me Ryland was here?” I ask, and Atlas sighs, sitting back up in his chair. “We’ve been busy. Shit happened. We both now know better.”
“Fair,” Atlas nods. “Though my excuse is I didn”t want to deal with his tantrums. Plus, I wanted a moment alone with you to explain he was back at the school.”
“When did he come back?” I ask, curious. Atlas frowns as he thinks about it.
“He wasn”t away for long. He came back with one of the Dragon Princes and is keeping an eye on him.”
“He’s babysitting a spoiled Prince?” I snicker at that thought, knowing Ryland has less patience than I do. Atlas grins and nods just as a loud pounding knock sounds at his door. Before Atlas can invite the person in, Boris tosses open the door, looking red faced and flustered as he glares at Atlas.
“Hawkins, I don’t have time for your—shit!” he growls when he sees me, his sneer shifting to a wince as he pivots on his heels facing the man who is entering the room behind him. I immediately recognize the man. Stern brown eyes with golden rings around the edges, long black hair pulled back into a bun on the top of his head, showcasing the faded, shaved sides of his head and a short-cropped beard that frames his jaw. A small gold hoop earring glimmers in the light, and I arch a brow in surprise when I notice the newest addition of tattoos that seem to roll over the golden exposed skin of his arms.
When did he get all those? My heart skips a beat as my stomach plummets to my feet at the sight of him. But before I have time to panic about being in the same room with him again Boris stretches his hand out, facepalming Ryland before he can fully cross into Atlas’ office, catching him off guard enough that Boris is able to shove him back into the tiny hallway and slam the door shut.
“What the hell, Boris?” I hear Ryland growl, his deep voice so familiar that I smile, chuckling at the big Dragon who shoots me a panicked look. “You said you needed me to help handle Atlas so you can get back to the chapel.”
“I’ve changed my mind! I can handle this on my own. Go help Andrei,” the older Dragon Shifter shouts, turning and pressing his back against the door as he stills, waiting for Ryland’s reply. I strain my ears, watching Boris sweat a little before I hear a deep inhale and growl from Ryland.
“Boris,” he warns as the Dragon shoots Atlas a death glare.
“It’s not been twenty-four hours, Ry. Get your ass off my doorstep,” Atlas calls out. Twenty-four hours? I eye my brother, who mouths, ‘I’ll tell you later’ at me. Ryland curses and I can hear something crack and break on the other side of the door before heavy footsteps move away, and Boris sags against it in relief.
“You need to tell me if she’s here! I wouldn’t have brought him if I knew,” Boris snaps, standing up straight and stalking over to the free chair in front of Atlas’ desk.
“Yes. Well, I didn’t tell you to bring Ryland,” Atlas grinds out. “I told you to bring a damned healer!”
“I did! The school”s healer is cleaning up a mess from a Wolf Shifter and Succubus—uh, party. She quite literally threw me out of her medical wing when I told her I needed her to come with me. So I got the next best thing,” he mutters, swiping a hand down his face as he looks back at me and freezes, his gaze dipping to my neck where it stays. A low growl breaks loose from his chest, and Atlas huffs in annoyance. “Who the fuck did that!? All attacks or injuries to students are supposed to be reported!” Boris snarls, eyes sparking gold as his Dragon leaps forward.
That”s one thing about Dragons. Well, actually, shifters in general. They’re all subject to their primal instincts. The stronger the shifter, the worse those instincts become. Dragons, in particular, are very protective, which makes it challenging to handle them when someone gets hurt. But it does make them ideal guards, hence why Silverwood has the Balaur Patrol.
“Healer, Boris. Where is the damned healer?!” Atlas grinds out, and I chuckle, gesturing for Boris to take his seat.
“How about you sit? Atlas has some questions for you,” I offer, soothing both angry men just as a light tap sounds on Atlas’ door.
“Aw, that should be him,” Boris says, looking less than excited as the door to Atlas’ classroom opens. I stiffen the moment I see the long golden hair of Amell Ambrose.