Chapter Thirty-One
F rom the window to the door, I paced, shocked to find that the cream-colored rug did not catch fire from the friction of my goddamn feet.
My ceremony started in thirty minutes, and I threw most of my clothes out of the closet onto my bed, hating everything I owned. Having zero idea of what was appropriate to wear and almost giving up, I took one last look in my half-empty closet and found a gray garment bag shoved all the way to the left, hiding behind two heavy winter jackets. Inside, a black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and sheer shoulder straps screamed my mother.
She would stash something this form-fitting in my closet.
I had just slipped on the black dress when a rough knock came on the door.
“Come in,” I replied, attempting to zip the back of my dress.
“You look ridiculous,” said Josh.
I rolled my eyes, trying to grasp the stupid zipper at the bottom. “Shut up.” So far, I’d tried to hold back my anger and unrelenting inappropriate thoughts about him.
He swatted my hands away and glided the zipper up my back while the tips of his fingers brushed against my too hot skin from the summer heat. Goosebumps rose from his touch, but thankfully, he wasn’t paying attention.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to create some distance between us. Josh wore his black fighting leathers and a black jacket zipped up to his neck. At first, I wondered what kind of lunatic would wear sleeves in this heat, but it dawned on me that he had his Saints uniform on underneath, and the jacket concealed it from the world.
“Don’t you have that nifty stone to hide yourself? You look crazy all zipped up like a snowstorm is about to hit.”
“You won’t be able to see me until you get your own, so I will have to make do.”
“How miserable.”
He shrugged in response. “Judging by your tone, you sound utterly excited to attend tonight’s events.”
“Is a cape ceremony necessary?” Opening the closet door, I gave myself a once-over in the full-length mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles, adjusting the sheer sleeves, and ensuring the girls were secured.
The goofiest smirk erupted on his face just as I peeked at him through the mirror. “It’s not that bad.”
“My roommate is in a coma,” I reminded him, snagging my heels at the bottom of the closet and balancing on each foot as I strapped them in place.
His lips were set in a hard line. “I’m aware of how bad it is.”
“Really? Because the others are walking around as if her life means nothing to them.” A whole week had passed, and no news on Heather’s frozen condition came. It left me up most nights, tossing and turning, uncertain of her future, and left an ache in my chest because I felt hopeless. I wouldn’t know where to begin to help her. This was all new to me too, and that tore me up inside.
Josh took it upon himself to sit at the edge of my bed, pushing a pile of discarded clothes aside. “No news is good news, but I won’t lie and say I haven’t been worried about her too.”
I looked him up and down. “Since when do you care about Heather?”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Remi, when will you stop painting me like some villain?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I slammed the closet door shut, the mirror rattling from the impact. “Excuse me for having a hard time believing anything that comes out of your mouth.”
Josh shrugged nonchalantly. “Fair enough, but I only lied once.”
I took a deep breath through my nose, taming the anger within. “If you care, then why haven’t you done anything to help?”
“This has never happened before. Nobody knows what to do. The Aces have been researching—”
“It’s still not good enough.” Fixing my curls, I applied one more coat of red lipstick and clasped a simple silver necklace around my neck.
Without warning, Josh grasped my arm until we faced each other. The sincerity he projected left a doubtful cloud hanging over my head. Josh’s eyes searched mine, a silent plea to understand the truth, but what was the truth anymore? Between my family and Josh, who could I even trust? Nickie was out of the question. I thought about talking to Jeremy, but how much could I say to him? When all I had now was serious doubt about him too.
“I’m sorry. I know my apology seems empty, but I am sorry for your friend.” Honesty reflected in his eyes, but he was right, his apology wasn’t enough to ease the anger I felt simmering under my skin.
I slipped my arm out of his hold. “I’m ready.”
He flexed his empty hand and nodded, leading the way without another word.
Our walk to the church was quiet, other than the other students on campus walking past us, laughing or chatting excitedly about the party at one of the junior dorm rooms tonight. For the first time, I envied how simple their life was. To only worry about what outfit I wanted to wear and how drunk I wanted to get rather than officiating and sealing the deal with my future that involved demons and possible death.
Funny, the one thing I fought against was something I craved the most.
How fucking ironic.
Instead of going through the front doors, Josh had us enter through one of the side exits, a faint light illuminating the small hallway just before the main room. The chapel, or what everyone else liked to call it, the nave, was blasted with cool air from the AC, leaving an unrelenting chill on my body. I shivered, not used to the arctic air compared to my dorm room, which felt muggy most days.
We walked silently the entire way to the bottom floor, which was probably for the best. I could hear chatter just outside the double doors to the dining hall, my nerves twisting deep in my stomach, swallowing back overproduced saliva. The doors opened independently, Josh strolling ahead, utterly at ease, while I spiraled internally.
All the Aces stood on the dais, talking to Father Benedict and Collin. None of them paid attention to me or the other Scarlets and Saints.
Josh left me to fend for myself, and thankfully, I spotted the refreshment table, beelining it toward the punch bowl and pouring myself a cup, surprised to not find any wine bottles displayed; they wanted their members sober tonight. Then again, Josh probably took it upon himself to have any trace of alcohol removed from the room.
I quickly walked around, debating on a finger sandwich stuffed with meat and lettuce.
Chloe also wore a simple black dress, only she’d added a ruby necklace and bracelet to her ensemble. Her usual dark, tight curls hung loose around her shoulders; her wide brown eyes dazzled with sharp, winged eyeliner.
“Are you ready for tonight?” she asked.
My nerves zigzagged inside my stomach. “Is it anything like the Blessing?”
Chloe’s face softened. “No, but all eyes will be on you… again.” She then surprised me by pulling out a tiny flask between her cleavage. “He will kill me if I give you some, and I would be a shitty person in allowing you to partake in my alcoholic stupor, but, girl, you’re shaking.”
Taking my cup without my consent, she poured a decent amount of golden brown liquid almost to the brim. “Cheers.”
She left me with the overflowing cup, my eyes watching some of the liquid dripping down the side, onto my hands. It would be so easy to dive back into old, bad habits, to let the alcohol calm my never-ending episodes of intense panic attacks.
Before I moved or even had the chance to decide, Josh grabbed my elbow and then the cup, tossing the whole drink in the trash. “She’s already drunk, so I’ll yell at her later for her stupidity.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” I confessed.
His lips barely an inch from my ear, he encouraged, “The hardest part of the ceremony is choosing your dagger. Do not choose because of its look; choose because your heart calls to it.”
“What if nothing sings to me?” I asked worriedly. Would they cast me out if a dagger didn’t call to me? My biggest fear wasn’t receiving a weapon but facing gruesome demons on the streets of New York City.
“You’ll know.” He stepped back and offered me his arm. Taking it for support, I let him guide us to the second row of seats. All the Aces occupied the first row, dressed in their standard white robes.
Smoothing down my dress again, I made my way over to the middle seat, the only one left, between Josh and Chloe, I shimmied past Josh, who stood to let me by. His hands brushed against mine, sending a sizzle of heat through my body, and we briefly locked eyes. Whirlpools of the ocean swirled in the depths of his, and I had to refrain from reaching toward his face just to hold him still a little longer to get lost in them.
“You have to sit,” he reminded me. His voice was somewhat husky, breathless even. Did he feel the pull too? I was too lost in the idea of what could’ve been instead of accepting what never would be.
I pulled myself together just in time for Father Benedict to arrive at the altar, with Collin at his heels and a few Saints carrying a long, oak table. The Aces came out next, each carrying a dagger, to then place them strategically on the table. Anxiety crept in like an unwanted guest, making my palms sweaty and my stomach uneasy. Even though Josh verified that it would be nothing like the Blessing, my mind couldn’t help but wonder in fear.
Father Benedict lifted his hands in the air, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. His golden robe, bedecked with red roses and intricate swirls, made him look elegant, powerful even, while the Aces remained in their stark white attire. Collin matched Father, except his robe lacked the stunning red roses.
Taking his place up on the dais, a brown leather book tucked securely under his arm, he saw my anxious expression and smiled in encouragement.
The lights dimmed when everyone took their places around the room.
All of us waited, ready for the ceremony to begin.