12. Noah
12
NOAH
I shoved open the door to Isaac’s study with a bang.
He was harsh with people who interrupted him without permission. Isaac had a thing about respect. But I was in no mood to humor him.
“What the fuck was that about?” I asked, the door bouncing off the study wall. It swung shut with a crash that reverberated through the room.
Isaac looked up from his desk, holding a crinkled, yellowing scroll delicately with his fingertips. Against my expectations, he smiled pleasantly.
“I’m afraid I’m lost, Noah. Would you care to enlighten me?”
He knew exactly what I was talking about, and that smile said he’d predicted my reaction. I balled my hands into fists, not to punch him so much as to keep from strangling him. Or attempting to, anyway.
“Enlighten you? Try enlightening me. Did you think it was clever, not telling me we had a new student? Not telling me he’s a fucking incubus ? Did you think it would be fun, springing that on me when he showed up in my class today?”
Isaac’s smile faded. “I thought you were enough of an adult to be able to control your emotions, both in front of the students and in front of me. Was I mistaken?”
The truth was, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I noticed the kid from the Balsam Inn in my class an hour ago. Years of practice kept me from displaying that shock for more than a moment, but the fact that I’d let it show at all bothered me. I’d turned that anger on the kid, hoping I might drive him out of the class, hoping none of the other students had noticed my surprise. But inside, I’d been dumbfounded.
Not just because I recognized him, but because of what he was. An incubus. How had I missed that, back at the Balsam Inn? I cringed, thinking back to the bolt of energy that tore through me when I saw him for the first time. I’d thought I was just turned on. Thought it was attraction, nothing more. God, I’d been wrong. And now I was paying the price for it.
An incubus. At Vesperwood. One I’d never heard of, never seen before two nights ago. One who seemed innocent, in every sense of the word.
Half-human incubi were rare, and finding one who hadn’t been turned was rarer still. But this kid didn’t seem to know his right foot from his left. He barely looked old enough to be out of high school. There was no way he’d been turned.
Unless Argus got to him even younger than he managed with you.
Argus excelled at manipulating the truth and he spread that skill to his followers like a contagion. But I didn’t think so. Something in the kid’s face made me sure. His eyes were guileless, and not a little fearful. I believed the dumbstruck, deer-in-headlights look on his face.
Which was good. That fear might mean I could drive him away.
“Don’t sit there looking smug,” I said. “You could have warned me, and you didn’t, and I want to know why.”
“It’s not obvious?”
I glared at him. “No, it’s not fucking obvious.”
“I didn’t tell you about him because I was counting on your restraint to keep you teaching. If you knew about him ahead of time, I wouldn’t have put it past you to leave. Or to insist he had to leave Vesperwood. Neither of which would be desirable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that dramatic.”
“No?” Isaac arched an eyebrow.
I scowled but didn’t say anything.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he continued. “Because Cory needs a teacher.”
So that was it. That was what was behind this little charade. An incubus at Vesperwood who I was supposed to somehow teach.
“No.”
It was as simple as that. There were a million reasons why I couldn’t do it—wouldn’t do it—but I didn’t need to say them out loud. Isaac knew most of them already, and the others, I wouldn’t admit on my deathbed.
Still… Cory . That was his name. I’d never bothered to ask back in the gym. Hadn’t wanted to know. Now that I had a name to match the face, it would be even harder to get him out of my head.
“You’re the one best positioned to do it,” Isaac said. “You’re the only other incubus at the academy.”
“I’m not an incubus.”
“You may not have all your powers, but losing access to them doesn’t change what you are. And even without your powers, you have something that boy needs.”
“Bullshit. I can’t teach him anything.”
“Not even combat?” Isaac’s eyebrow was really getting a workout today.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know that incubi are incredibly rare. I know it’s especially uncommon to find one who hasn’t already been converted. And I know that unless that boy learns to control his powers, he’ll die. Even here.”
“Just put him in a trance,” I said stubbornly.
I knew as well as Isaac did that a trance was a terrible choice, if there were any other option. An incubus could subsist off of trances, but never do anything greater. And it tied the incubus to the trancecaster for life, something I couldn’t recommend. But still.
“Why would I do that, when he has the potential to be so much more? To do so much more?”
It was a perfectly reasonable point, which only made me angrier.
“Teaching a half-human incubus to use a power innate to his being is difficult even for another incubus,” Isaac pointed out. “It’s a nigh impossible task for someone who doesn’t share that fundamental understanding. The need that exists inside.”
“And you don’t think my being powerless would make it just as impossible?”
“I think it’s worth a try.”
“How can I teach him to do something I can’t do myself?” I fumed.
“I’m not sure.” Isaac set the scroll down and held his hands up in the semblance of a shrug. “How could you? I’m truly asking.”
“And I’m telling you I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
I didn’t bother dignifying that with a response.
After a moment, Isaac sighed. “Don’t you care about what we’re doing here? About the mission? Cory could help us destroy Argus for good.”
“Don’t put that on me.”
“I’ll put whatever I want on you. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up.”
“Yeah. Being joined to you for the rest of my earthly existence. Tied to this place as long as you’re here, unable to go more than a week without running back to you like a dog.”
“And that’s the life to which you would condemn Cory?”
A growl built in the back of my throat. I hated that Isaac had made a reasonable point. Hated that the longer we talked, the more unreasonable I looked—and felt. I hated losing control.
“Aren’t we trying to help people?” I said. “For all we know, I’d fuck it up if I tried to teach him. Then your precious incubus would end up worse than I am. How would that help your mission?”
“ My mission?”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for this—for any of it. Isaac was quiet for a long moment. He looked down, scrutinizing the scroll in front of him. It was written in a language I didn’t recognize, and certainly couldn’t decipher upside down. He traced a finger along a line of script, then looked back at me.
“Is it really him you’re trying to protect? Or yourself?”
His voice was quiet, almost gentle. But there was nothing gentle about the man in front of me, and the edges of his words cut like knives.
“I know it’s hard, Noah. I know what you’ve been through would kill a lesser man. And I know there are places inside you that are still tender, after all these years. I wish I could cosset your feelings. I wish that were the kind of world we lived in. But it’s not.”
“You know nothing about what I’ve been through,” I spat.
“Are you so sure of that?” Isaac’s voice was cold. He didn’t need to add the unspoken implication. The weight of it filled my head on its own.
How could I know what he’d been through, in his centuries-long life? I didn’t even know how old he truly was. I’d had enough loss for one lifetime. How much loss had Isaac faced in his?
“I know more than most,” he said, taking pity on me by speaking first.
I supposed he did. But I still couldn’t do it. Couldn’t teach that kid.
Cory. His name is Cory.
I could barely stand to be near him. It would be hard enough, getting through combat lessons with him in my class. I’d tried to humiliate him into leaving today. Tried to enrage Sean enough that he, in turn, intimidated Cory into leaving. He’d left class early, and Sean had followed after him. Maybe it had worked.
If it hadn’t, I’d have to find a way to get through classes with him present. Isaac couldn’t ask more of me than that.
The problem wasn’t just attraction. If that were all it was, I’d be uncomfortable, but I could control it. I had nothing left in my life but control, and I had years of practice in denying myself. Physical attraction to Cory was an annoyance, nothing more.
Though there was the question of Cory’s parentage. All the half-incubi I knew had been sired by my father. Was it possible that Cory had been, too? My stomach twisted at that thought. It didn’t seem likely—Cory was so much younger than I was, and as far as I knew, I was my father’s youngest son. But which incubus had sired him, if not my father?
I tried to push the question away. It didn’t matter, because I was never going to get close enough to find out. I couldn’t bear to see someone else experience the wonder of the dreamworld while I remained cut off forever. To be reminded of everything—and everyone—that I’d lost.
That was a hurt I couldn’t handle.
“I’m sorry,” I told Isaac. “Genuinely, I am. But I can’t do it.”
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Isaac said. “I’d hoped that with him here, we might be able to find a solution for you, too. Find a way that you could—”
“No. Just—no.”
“You’re not even willing to try? Knowing what’s at stake?”
He knew just where to dig. Where my weak spots were. But I wasn’t falling for it.
“Find someone else,” I growled.
“Do you understand the seriousness of the situation? One of the seers sensed Cory months ago, just days after his eighteenth birthday. More than just his existence—they sensed he was vital to the cause, and that he was in danger. Tenelkiri have been stalking him, Noah.”
Shit. That was never a good sign. Things had been quiet at Vesperwood, quiet through most of the country, for a few years. If Isaac were telling the truth—and I had no reason to believe he would lie about this—Cory was in trouble. Maybe we all were.
“Argus may have gone to ground,” Isaac continued. “But I know you’re not fool enough to believe he’s dead, or that he’s given up his dreams of dominion. If he can turn Cory to his cause, then it’s not just the boy who’s in danger. It’s the entire world.”
That was an unsettling thought. Argus was an incubus who wasn’t content with life in the dreamworld. He wanted more power, more freedom, and he was willing to kill humans and witches to get it. He wanted to enslave humanity, wanted to turn them into eternally sleeping batteries for incubi to drain.
I’d prevented Argus from reaching his goal seven years ago, but Isaac was right. I knew he hadn’t given up. And if he could use Cory instead of me as the missing piece of his puzzle, he’d stop at nothing until he had Cory under his control.
“It’s not safe for him to leave Vesperwood’s grounds,” Isaac said. “Not unless he gains control of his powers. Maybe not even then. And we need his help in our fight.”
“For what? Isaac, the kid looks like he gets pushed into lockers as a hobby. I doubt he’s thrown a punch in his life.”
“Not all fights are physical. Besides, what are your classes for, if not to make sure our students can handle the physical ones that come their way?” Isaac tapped a finger on the scroll, the equivalent of a lesser man pounding his fist. “I did not go to the trouble of bringing him all the way here, just to fail now.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t have a fallback option. You wouldn’t have brought him here if you didn’t have a Plan B.”
Isaac sighed again, but I just looked at him, making my mouth a firm line. Finally, he waved a hand.
“Sebastian, perhaps.” He didn’t sound like he was admitting defeat, but this was as close to a win as I was ever going to get from him.
“Seb’s a good choice,” I said.
Isaac tsked . “Not my first.”
“He’ll throw himself into it.”
“And if it’s not enough?”
“Then you’ll move on to Plan C.” I made my voice callous. “It’s not my problem.”
“Cory is everyone’s problem, Noah. Everyone’s. But we’ll speak no more of that for now. I have another question.” That pleasant smile was back. “How are you feeling?”
God, I hated this question. Because it wasn’t, How are you feeling ? Not really. It was, How weak are you right now ? How much longer can you go before admitting you need me ? How long until you have to face everything you’ve lost all over again ?
I was weak, and I did need him, and I hated it.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t. I had a day left, tops, before I needed Isaac’s help. I could feel it already. The hunger. The need . It had sucked the marrow from my bones and was snarling for more. But I was in no state of mind to say that right now.
“You don’t look it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Would you like that?” Now Isaac looked amused, which only pissed me off more. “It can certainly be arranged.”
To tell the truth, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t fucked him already. Not physically, of course, but the fact that I relied on Isaac to put me into a trance akin to the incubus’s dreamworld—the dreamworld I couldn’t reach on my own anymore—meant that on some level, we’d been fucking every week for the past seven years now.
I didn’t like to dwell on that fact too much. Isaac was a friend, perhaps, but he never let a person forget the power he held over them.
He had, in some senses, saved my life.
I just wasn’t always sure it was a life worth saving.
“I’m fine ,” I repeated.
“And I don’t believe you. Now, I can call Cinda in here and have her check your vitality levels, which would be embarrassing for you and a waste of time for me, or you could admit that you’re on your last legs and ask me for help.”
“I’m teaching a Fifth Hour class,” I said, knowing I sounded petulant and unable to help it.
“Then we’ll just have to be quick. I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.” He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”
I could never get comfortable in those chairs, but I sat anyway. Seven years, and I still had trouble relaxing enough to enter the trance Isaac offered. Seven years, and we still hadn’t found a better workaround.
He ran through the same old litany anyway. Close your eyes. Take deep breaths. Imagine yourself floating somewhere calm, somewhere peaceful. Feel warmth radiating down on you, up from below you, emanating from within you. Feel your entire body suffused with warmth and peace and the knowledge that you’re just where you’re meant to be.
I’d seen it work on other people, his voice turning into a hypnotic drone as they gently slipped under his spell. I could never manage it, though.
I opened my eyes after about thirty seconds. “Seriously, Isaac?”
He shrugged. “It never hurts to try. And I’m sure it would be more pleasant than—”
“Come on.” I thrust my hand out, palm up. “Just do it.”
“If you insist.”
His hand closed around mine, and the entire world shifted sideways. I could feel a force bigger than I was pulling me under. Every muscle in my body fought against it. I knew I needed to surrender, but a stubborn part of me always refused. My view of his office was going dark around the edges, my lungs contracting from lack of air.
Just let go. Let me in. The words floated through my mind, voiceless but present nonetheless. I knew it was Isaac, trying to make this easier for me, but I’d never mastered that trick. Let go? Give in? I’d rather die.
My vision narrowed to pinpricks. My lungs screamed for oxygen. The world shifted again, this time upside down, and I was thrown from my chair, falling, falling, falling into darkness.