Chapter 33
Spring settled over Kilbride with a gentleness that felt almost unreal.
It was as if the city and campus were aware of the fragile peace forged in the cavern beneath its foundations and were at long last breathing a sigh of relief without the chokehold of Moloch and his apostles.
Kilbride could finally combat the plague of corruption threaded through the streets and politics since its conception.
Luther and I didn’t get much time together in those days. The aftermath of what we experienced had threads tangled around our lives that needed to be unraveled. But I was glad to have him beside me in the dark of the night, falling into exhausted sleep securely in his arms.
Most of the daylight hours were spent apart.
In the immediate wake, Luther had the last of Moloch’s loyal followers to root out.
All the ones who couldn’t transform but still had influence.
In the end, I didn’t ask who he found or what he did with them.
I knew I would despair at his methods of interrogation and preferred not to think about it.
Not even when he returned to me with blood stained in the lines of his palms.
He wanted to keep me safe, so I submitted to his desire.
Hours, days, weeks, and months were spent recovering from the trauma and throwing myself into the busywork of school.
Without monsters watching from the shadows or lurking on my trail, I could finally power through my final year of university as intended.
I had a thesis to finish and finals to study for.
The chaos eventually calmed. Life settled into a measured routine. My wounds scarred over, beginning the long, arduous process of healing. But the scar tissue would remain as a reminder of what transpired forever.
One night when I was drifting off to sleep, Luther asked what I wanted to do after graduation. Even in the dark, he looked concerned. Like the wrong answer would separate us. But I’d fallen hard, deeply enough to know that what we had was too profound to lose.
“Well,” I started, “I wanted to go back to England to study archives. That was always my goal while attending Oxford.”
I waited for him to stiffen, to frown, to plead with me not to leave.
But he grinned, ocean eyes glittering in the moonlight.
“Alright, then we’re going to England.”
I tried to bolt upright, but his brawny arm kept me caged to the bed. He merely chuckled as I squirmed in his hold.
“Wait, wait, but what about the school and your position? How can you be so cavalier about leaving it all behind?”
“With my qualifications, I could find work anywhere,” Luther bragged. Then he shrugged before pulling me back into his chest and resting his chin on my head.
The warmth of him and that sweet tobacco scent smothered me into compliance.
“I only stayed in Kilbride out of a sense of obligation and revenge. That’s over now.” His throat bobbed on a rough swallow. “We’re free.”
I kissed him, lips crashing and tongues wrestling. I told him I loved him and threw a leg over his hip. He made promises for the future while I rode him to mutual completion.
We fell asleep tangled together, wearing optimistic smiles.
Warm spring air teased the trees surrounding the Kilbride courtyard. Fresh green had erupted, and now trembling leaves were catching sunlight as if starved for it after months of endless gloom.
Despite the sun shining spectacularly bright, the West Belltower cast a long, reaching shadow that stretched almost to my feet, darkening the stone like a stain. I stopped just out of reach of that darkness, tipping my head back to the sunshine with my diploma tucked under my arm.
Dead girls didn’t get to attend classes or graduate from Ivy League universities.
They didn’t get to fall in love and relish the thought of the future.
Dead girls didn’t have to worry about their scandalous father showing up at their graduation or their bereft mother drinking too much wine at the after party.
They were dead and didn’t get to fuck their hot former professor in his office for the last time right before crossing the stage.
It struck me that for the first time in ages I wasn’t envious of the dead.
Commencement Day arrived, loudly and livelier than I’d expected.
Everywhere I turned, I saw students in black robes clustered in small celebratory groups.
It was invigorating to watch friends and family embracing, graduates crying yet smiling at cameras, the crowds laughing with the jubilation of people realizing a chapter of their life had closed behind them and on this day another one was beginning.
People streamed around me in bright, chaotic eddies.
The energy of the crowd was riveting and intoxicating.
I watched proud parents hoisting oversized bouquets into their child’s arms, and professors who had once scowled at students during lectures now smiling with near-parental pride.
I observed them with a strange sense of distance and wonder.
Even after everything that had burned, the world kept moving.
It astonished me how different the world seemed that morning.
Like a veil had been ripped away to reveal clear skies and a golden sun to eyes that had only ever known the night.
And the weight carried by that tormenting darkness had slipped off my shoulders at last. The inheritance of a broken vow was finally behind me, and I could spend the rest of my life focusing on the aspects of history I adored.
A crisp gust of wind scurried across the courtyard, and I shivered until a familiar warmth pressed into my side.
His strong, lean fingers brushed a fluttering strand of my hair behind my ear.
I turned into his body heat and tipped my face skyward.
His presence and touch grounded me in a way nothing else ever could.
“I am so proud of you, Ophelia.” Luther leaned down until his exhale skimmed my cheek.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” I said.
We both glanced down at the embossed front of the diploma in my hands, and the healing burn scars on my palm. He cupped one hand beneath mine, and the other held my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Oh, you could have. Trust me.” His eyes softened, ruthless oceanic depths tempering to gentle waters. “I know what you’re capable of, my little god killer.”
I giggled before shaking my head at him.
“Thank you, Luther. For everything.” For seeing me, finding me, saving me.
For loving me.
Unconcerned about the crowd and onlookers, Luther pressed a heart-melting kiss to my lips.
He took my hand in his, and I beamed at him as our fingers wove together.
For the last time, we walked across the courtyard of Kilbride University, effortlessly maneuvering through the sea of cheering graduates.
A deep, resonant chime rolled out from the West Belltower.
We were too busy living to look back.