Strength of Desire (Vesperwood Academy: Incubus #2)

11. Noah

11

NOAH

T he problem with snooping is that if you don’t have the right temperament for it, you either drive yourself crazy or you get caught. Or, in my case, probably both.

I talked to Sheridan and Teresa after talking with Autumn and Hans, though my attempts at ‘ subtle ’ communication didn’t net anything useful. Sheridan was an old bore, pompous and puffed up and in love with the sound of his voice. It was impossible to get out of any conversation with him in under thirty minutes, and equally impossible to direct it to anything helpful. Teresa was perfectly polite—and as hard and unyielding as a brick wall. It was impossible to get any information out of her that she didn’t want to give.

The only way I could have gotten something useful out of either of them would have been to provoke them directly, letting them know Hans had thrown them under the bus. But I didn’t want to start a chain of accusations among the faculty. Isaac had asked me to be discreet, after all.

So I decided the next best thing would be searching their rooms. Back in my bounty-hunting days, I’d learned that even the best liars in the world often left evidence lying around in quarters they thought were secure. But getting into everyone’s rooms presented challenges of its own.

Most student rooms at Vesperwood had no locks—at least, not the ones in the main parts of the manor. I wasn’t sure about the ones inside the havens. But faculty rooms always had locks, even if the faculty member didn’t live in their haven’s official quarters. My own cabin had two stout locks on the outside, and a bar I could slide into place across the door from the inside. You could never be too careful.

A lot of professors warded their rooms in addition to locking them. What they were afraid of, exactly, was beyond me. Most of them didn’t have the kind of past that I had. Maybe they just worried about the prying eyes of the more adventurous upperclassman.

I couldn’t be sure if any of the wardkeepers had warded their own rooms, but it would be safest to assume they had, which was going to make this even more difficult. To make matters worse, Hans and Autumn lived in Harvest and Hearth’s headquarters respectively, and both those havens could only be entered with an affiliated student or faculty member.

The same was true for Hunt Haven, which was located on the lower level of the manor. You could only gain access if a Hunter let you in. Heal and Hex, the other two havens in the manor, were open admittance. Heal let anyone enter because they wanted to project an aura of welcome and safety. I wasn’t sure why Hex was open access. Maybe they just thought they were invulnerable.

Hex Haven was on the third floor of the manor. They had an entire wing to themselves, and you couldn’t miss the entrance. The arched opening was worked in silver and gold, with the crossed wands and stars of Hex inlaid in rubies every foot or so.

The hallway beyond was laid with a thick silk carpet, with gold thread woven in to pick out the Hex logo in between scrollwork, vines, and flowers. It looked incredibly expensive, and incredibly delicate. The spell they used to maintain it must have required a lot of power. I almost felt bad stepping on it.

Outsiders weren’t forbidden in Hex Haven, but they were noticed. I was grateful that Teresa’s rooms were somewhat close to the entrance. It meant I could loiter nearby without arousing too much suspicion, which helped me formulate my plan. And thank God for that—Isaac was getting impatient with weeks of no news from me.

One Thursday, not a minute after Teresa left her room for lunch, Ron Carson, one of the staff cleaners came around the corner pushing a cart full of supplies. I ducked behind a decorative column and watched as he stopped in front of Teresa’s door.

He was whistling, his head bobbing in time to his offkey tune, and he pressed a palm-sized gold seal carved with Vesperwood’s moon and tree against a small silver panel above the doorknob. A white light enveloped his hand, and a moment later, the door opened without him even needing to turn the knob.

He pushed the door all the way open with his cart. I had a split second to choose. I frowned at his retreating back and decided to take my chances. As the door swung shut, I leapt forward and caught it.

No alarm sounded. I felt no tingle, no pain to indicate that a ward had been crossed. Either there wasn’t one to begin with, or Ron’s seal had temporarily deactivated it. Ron pushed his cart straight across the room to a far wall of windows, still whistling and unaware of my presence. I darted over to a door on the right, opened it, and slipped inside.

Teresa’s rooms had the same layout as Sebastian’s, which was how I’d known the door led to a coat closet. Unfortunately, this particular door didn’t close all the way. But that should be fine, as long as I stayed out of the small bar of light that entered from the sitting room.

It took Ron half an hour to clean Teresa’s rooms. That still left a fair bit of the lunch period to go, but I couldn’t assume she’d be gone the whole time. I held my breath as Ron approached the door to the hallway, but he didn’t look towards the closet once. He also didn’t use his card to get back out. If there was a ward, it only cared about people entering, not exiting.

As soon as he was gone, I stepped out of the closet and surveyed the sitting room I was standing in. Most professors’ quarters included a room like this, a bedroom, and a third room to be used as a library or office. If I were Teresa, and hoarding incriminating evidence of my attempts to destroy Vesperwood from within, where would I put it?

I decided to go through each room methodically, and started in the bathroom that led off her bedroom. It was swanky, with marble floors and dark wood walls, with thick, soft towels in a dusky rose hanging next to the marble-topped vanity. The mirror above the vanity was surrounded by an elaborate, scrolling frame. Gold, unless I missed my guess. Nice digs, but none of it looked the least bit evil.

Her bedroom was the same. There was a large four-poster bed draped in blue and maroon brocade, thick silk curtains embroidered with more gold thread, and the kind of hand-woven carpet I suspected cost more than my yearly salary. The only incongruous detail was a small, stuffed koala sitting against the pillows in the center of her bed. A cheap child’s plaything in the midst of all this luxury, but that didn’t make it nefarious. Teresa was from Puerto Rico, not Australia, but maybe she just liked koalas.

The problem was that I didn’t know what I was looking for. ‘ Anything suspicious, or out of place ,’ Isaac had said. Sure, it was possible such evidence existed, and would maybe even be lying around in plain sight. But would I recognize it if I saw it?

I pulled out various drawers of the dresser, checked under the mattress, looked behind picture frames, and rifled through the contents of the nightstand. I even inspected the koala, but as far as I could tell, it contained fluff and nothing more.

The sitting room was the same. Ron had tidied it as well as cleaned, so everything was straightened and stacked nicely. Three books sat on the coffee table in front of Teresa’s caramel leather sofa. A pen perched neatly atop a manila folder that contained receipts for hen’s teeth, unicorn horn power, and seven smoking salamanders. Spell supplies, I assumed. Nothing odd there.

For a brief moment, I got excited when I saw a piece of paper that seemed to be hiding under a couch cushion. But when I pulled it out, it was nothing more than an invitation to tea with some upperclassmen. It had probably slipped beneath the cushion by accident.

Tea dates. Who knew those were still a thing? I put the invitation back where I’d found it and moved on to the next room, Teresa’s study.

This one was interesting.

A large work table was covered with stacks of papers, jars and flagons of glimmering liquids, and what appeared to be jewelry making supplies—coils of silver and gold chain, rubies gleaming in the afternoon light, and delicate tools for working with metal. At least, I assumed they were rubies—those were the official stone of Hex, and Teresa wasn’t the kind of person to settle for costume jewelry.

But why was she making jewelry in the first place? She was the head Hex, not Hearth. It was the Hands who created artifacts using precious or unusual materials. Hexers concentrated on pure spellwork. So that was odd.

There was a large bowl on her desk, next to a leather-covered notebook. It was filled with deep purple liquid. I knew better than to touch it, but I bent down and gave it a sniff. Burnt rubber laced with tangerines. I wrinkled my nose and pulled back.

I flicked through the notebook next to it, but all it contained were spell notes. The other papers on her desk and table contained magical equations and rune interpretations. Most of the books on her bookcases were magical theory, with a heavy focus on charms.

I pulled open the drawers of the desk, not expecting to see anything, and stopped in surprise. The bottom-right drawer was set up to hold file folders, and it was bursting at the seams. I pulled a bunch of stapled papers out of the first folder and frowned.

I was staring at student academic records. Rekha Bakshi, Izzy Amberg, and Erika Martinez. All of them were freshmen and female, but I wasn’t sure what else they had in common. I had them all in Combat, of course, but none of them had distinguished themselves particularly. About all I could say was that none of them were idiots, and none of them were budding Hunters.

But seeing Erika’s file unsettled me. Was it just chance that the student who’d suffered the worst during the moraghin attack was included in this stack of papers? I shoved those files back into their folder and took out another sheaf from farther back in the drawer. More student records, though these were for students who were seniors now.

Xander Conant was a Hand who I’d taught in Combat for four years. He was one of the top students in his class, from what I heard. Next came Haley Marx, a Hexer. She had quick reflexes but startled easily. I knew little else about her. Then Kevin Gomez, another Hexer. He disdained combat unless it involved battle magic.

Not that you’d know any of that from these files, since they showed each student as a freshman. I put those papers away and pulled out another handful of files, these from the very back of the drawer. Freshmen student records again, but from the first students we’d ever had, back when Isaac had reopened Vesperwood.

What the hell was Teresa doing with all of these? As head of Hex, she chose which classes to teach, and she worked mostly with upperclassmen and graduate students. It wasn’t sinister, exactly. Faculty had every right to access student records. But why hoard seven years of freshmen files?

It wasn’t evidence of wrongdoing. I wasn’t even sure it was evidence of something odd. But seeing Erika’s file made me uneasy. I’d mention it to Isaac and see what he thought. That was the best I could do, for now.

After leaving Teresa’s rooms, I still had a bit of time before lunch ended. I decided to swing past Autumn’s classroom. The teaching rooms didn’t lock, and I doubted she would have left anything there, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

Most of the students were still down in the refectory, along with the majority of the faculty. The east wing of the second floor was empty, save Orlando, taking his turn at guard duty. Most of the faculty had been slacking off at this, as the weeks progressed and no repeat attack occurred. But Orlando was serious, and he gave me a brief nod before continuing his patrol along the corridors of the second floor.

My footsteps sounded uncomfortably loud. In the bigger hallways, Vesperwood dispensed with carpets, and countless feet had worn the wooden floorboards white in places. I slowed my pace and made my steps silent. It was harder to do in boots than sneakers, but years of practice had taught me how, and I still felt the desire, even when I wasn’t trying to sneak up on anyone.

Room 207 was at the end of the hall, and sure enough, it was as empty and uninteresting as I’d predicted. I rifled through the papers on Autumn’s desk, pulled out some drawers, but the search revealed nothing useful. I’d wasted my time.

The hall felt even quieter when I stepped back into it. There were dim, muted sounds coming up from the main staircase in the center of the building, but they were far away, and Orlando hadn’t returned from whatever circuit he was making.

I padded back down the hall on silent feet and froze when I heard a noise in one of the other classrooms. Room 204, the one Nat used.

I shifted into hunting mode without thought. My body felt electrified, all my senses straining to catch stray information as I stalked closer to the room. The door was open, and I hadn’t heard anything when I’d walked by it the first time. But now…

Treading lightly, I drew up next to the open door and peered inside.

Cory stood at the front of the room, in front of Nat’s big desk, staring out at nothing. A slim, moth-eaten book rested on the desk behind him, splayed open to its middle and held down with a paperweight.

Cory’s eyes were narrowed, his jaw set. He was concentrating on something, but what?

I watched him, fascinated. I’d never had the chance to really look at him before. Sure, I’d had him in class, but there, I was too busy not looking. And that night at the Balsam Inn, I’d been so turned on by his presence, I hadn’t really taken in the details.

Now, though. Now, he couldn’t see me watching, and my eyes drank him in. Looking at him from the side, he seemed almost frail, like he might disappear in a gust of wind, or a flash of light. He still needed a haircut. His hair was starting to curl down onto his neck, and my hand actually started to move, aching to run through it.

I caught myself at the last second, balling my hand into a fist and forcing it to my side. Cory didn’t notice, still focused as he was on the empty air in front of him.

It was interesting, watching him this way. Not just because I could stare as long as I liked, but because I could see what he looked like when he thought he was alone.

He didn’t look scared, or nervous, or even hesitant. He looked…resolute. That was the word for it. Like he stood at the foot of a mountain, and was determined to make it to the top.

There was a strength in him, a quiet purpose, that took my breath away. Yeah, he was still gorgeous. His brows arched down over his serious blue-gray eyes. Freckles kissed his cheeks, which were haloed by the afternoon sun. His lips could have been sculpted from marble for all their perfection. But it was the unwavering resolve radiating from his body that froze me in place.

As I watched, he lifted his right hand, bringing it to his chest, palm up. He looked down at it, pressing his lips together.

“ Light ,” he whispered, his eyes fixed.

Nothing happened.

He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together again. When he opened his eyes, he shifted his hand a little closer to his body.

“ Light ,” he said again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Was he trying to do magic? I’d been at Vesperwood long enough to know that this was one of the first spells students learned. But Cory was paranormal. An incubus. He shouldn’t be able to do magic. Hadn’t anyone told him?

Maybe not. Seb was giving him lessons, and he ought to know that from his books. But he couldn’t know from experience, and that might make a difference.

My stomach twisted. I didn’t owe Cory anything, just because we had that experience in common. In fact, we didn’t. I hadn’t been an incubus in ages, not really. I couldn’t give him anything more than Seb could.

And I wasn’t going to let him any closer to me than he already was.

Cory closed his eyes and shook his head. His cheeks were growing pink. From anger, or embarrassment? I couldn’t tell.

It shouldn’t have been the latter. He was all alone. But you don’t know him , whispered the voice in the back of my mind. You can’t know what he feels.

He opened his eyes and adjusted his hand again, this time bringing it a foot from his chest. When he spoke, his voice was louder than I’d ever heard it, commanding, “ Light !”

Nothing happened, and Cory groaned, a noise of pure frustration. He turned and slapped his hands down on Nat’s desk, a growl rising deep in his throat. I’d never seen him mad before. I hadn’t known he had it in him.

“Stupid, fucking idiot,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. “What were you expecting?”

He stood there for another moment, then grabbed his book, flipping it closed. With a start, I realized he was about to leave the classroom and find me standing in the hall, watching him.

I backed away from the door, then darted into Room 206, flattening myself against the wall. My heart pounded. I quieted my breath and waited. Finally, I heard his footsteps receding down the hall.

I sighed in relief, but made myself wait another couple minutes just in case. My pulse was still racing, and I shook my head in disbelief.

Look at me. Hiding from an eighteen-year-old, like he had the power to hurt me.

The problem was, I feared very much that he did.