Chapter 18 Elle
ELLE
When I finally make it back to campus, I’m grumbling to myself about how much I despise Sutton Dupont. I even make a mental note to consider withdrawing from his ridiculous class entirely, although that would throw a wrench in my academic plans.
It’s not even him I’m really mad at but myself for being so needy. Of course he wouldn’t want to get caught with a student. The consequences for him far outweigh anything that would happen to me if people saw us together, and I shouldn’t be pushing the boundaries like I have been.
That doesn’t make the rejection sting any less, but it does make me the clear asshole here.
Even if he is lying and making excuses. His half-hearted rejections when he leans in for more of me and his refusal to deny it make that much obvious.
I recognize the signs of distraction and self-denial.
I’m guilty of them myself, even now as I consider Sutton’s reasoning for hiding.
He said he’d done it to keep us from being discovered, but I can’t erase the memory of the cloaked figures or rid myself of the images they embedded in my skull eight years prior.
But if we’d been in danger, a founding family member like Sutton would know about it. He certainly wouldn’t have kept me out there if that were the case.
Right?
As I pass beneath the broken gate, I nearly smack right into the dean and a tall, gangly man he’s chatting with.
My heart feels like it stops beating inside my chest.
A tall, gangly man I’ve definitely met before.
More than that even.
At his side, a third guy—the spitting image of the ganglier fellow, with the same jet-black locks and glacial blue eyes—gives me a dirty look when I’m steadied by the dean.
“Ms. Anderson, how lovely it is to run into you. We’ve not had a chance to chat since you started classes,” Dean Bauer says, his beady little rat eyes raking over me.
His smile is tight, and I wonder for a moment if he knows what we did to his house.
But he doesn’t say anything—just like Asher and Quincy predicted. Nobody online mentioned it either, so I assume this is just another thing they’ll pretend never happened.
“How are you finding Avernia?” he continues. “Excellent, I hope. We’ve really poured our hearts and souls into the quality of education at our institution.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, twisting away from his grip. I avoid meeting the older man’s gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get to my dorm before—”
“Anderson, hmm?” the older one drawls, and as he turns his focus toward me more fully, I notice his cheeks are gaunt, adding to the sallow look of his facial muscles.
Like the life’s been slowly bled out of him for years.
Decades even. He looks like a vampire, and though I don’t necessarily believe in the paranormal, I do believe in scary white men who want to devour young girls.
And I know better than to get close to this one again.
“Ah, yes, this is Noelle.” Dean Bauer claps his hand onto my shoulder, pulling me forward a little. “Our newest addition to the Avernia College roster.”
The older man glances between us. “So the Anderson boy dropped out?”
“Oh, well…um. No.” Dean Bauer’s face falls. “Asher is still enrolled.”
“I see.” The older man sniffles, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief, which he then proceeds to cough a lung into.
That cough echoes between my ears like an incessant drum. My fingers grow numb, my limbs taut as I wait to see if he mentions it.
Mentions me.
A sickly man sits behind a glass desk with a metal name plate that reads Jean-Louis.
The entire office is glass, revealing West Washington Boulevard and a smattering of other businesses up and down the street.
If you look hard enough, you can see the domed roof of the Grandeur Playhouse, where my acting troupe has been putting on a highly anticipated production of The Glass Menagerie.
I bombed my audition for Laura, but nobody knows except me and the director.
And now this stranger.
His eyes are like twin lakes frozen over, and as he slides a tablet across the desk, I see myself on the screen.
Naked. Vulnerable. Writhing beneath assistant director Aaron Buckley and his girlfriend, Thalia, who both promised secrecy if I could get them off at the same time.
They swore it was a stepping stone, and stupidly, I thought…
I believed them.
Fuck. I’ve been at this for so long with so little to show, and I just gave up.
Sold out. Wanted to prove to my family what I’m capable of and to myself that I’m not just a screwup of epic proportions.
I wanted to be more than the terrified girl who aided in the demise of some faceless stranger years ago, whose memory has been haunting me ever since.
Wanted too much.
“I’m sure you’re aware this type of behavior raises questions about your ethics and talent, Elle.”
I hate how he says my name. Like he’s earned the right to.
Still, I bite my tongue, hoping for a warning. Or a second chance.
Instead, Jean-Louis—the owner of the Grandeur Playhouse, some hotshot from the East Coast with a long family history in the industry—sits back in his chair and waits for an apology.
If I was a man, he’d have congratulated me on working a loophole in the system. In doing whatever I needed to to make my dreams a reality.
But since I’m a woman, he undoes his belt buckle and cocks an eyebrow.
“This will ruin your career if it gets out,” he says, scrubbing a bony hand over his chin. “You’re a nobody, and I can make it stay that way. Or…”
He trails off, his jaw shifting as his impatience seems to mount.
I get up from my chair and walk out.
Less than twenty-four hours later, my spot in the production was given to the understudy and my face smeared on every third-rate gossip rag in the county. Nothing big enough really to leave LA since I was a nobody, but still.
The damage was done. I spent weeks talking to my agent—who wound up dropping me—and trying to get even basic stage work, but no one wanted me. Not even for free.
So I left.
And now it seems my past is catching up.
The man clears his throat, turning back to me, and extends his free hand. It’s long and skeletal, and I blink at it without taking the offering.
“This is Jean-Louis Dupont,” Bauer tells me in a low voice. “Chairman of the Avernia trustee board, founding family member, and esteemed town councilman. When he asks for a handshake, you do it, little girl.”
The ice in my veins runs cold.
Dupont?
My gaze shifts to the younger man slightly behind him, who’s been staring at me with a blank expression since I stumbled through the gate. They’re almost clones, save for the shape of his nose, lips, and ears beneath the mop of black hair.
All features that resemble the handsome professor I’ve been lusting after for weeks.
No, no, no. This isn’t possible.
The universe isn’t this cruel, right?
Jean-Louis cannot be Sutton’s father.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I lift my hands for them to see, forcing myself to remain calm on the outside even though my world feels like it’s shattering. My palms are scraped from when I ran into Sutton. “Sorry, but I had a nasty fall in the forest. I’d like to avoid making the cuts worse.”
“That explains the dried blood,” Jean-Louis states, leaning in as if to inspect my face. “Thought maybe you’d been attacked by some vigilante mob. They’re rumored to hang out there, you know.”
“Is that something you’d expect a little girl like me to walk away from?” I stare right back. “I hear those mobs can get violent pretty quickly.”
His blue eyes narrow. Behind him, the younger guy slinks away a step, as if trying to disappear into the background.
What if Jean-Louis tells Sutton about me?
The only thing worse than those LA rumors being true is me lying about them, even if they’re blown out of proportion. I didn’t sleep with everyone: Aaron and his girlfriend were a one-time thing, and I paid the price for it.
But most people won’t care about reality. They’ll pick which part of the truth they want to be disgusted by and go from there.
A man wouldn’t have to care. His value would increase to the general public, probably. God forbid a woman takes a page out of his playbook.
“Yes, well, it is true that a group of maybe-vigilantes have been causing issues for some time on campus,” Dean Bauer chimes in.
“That’s why Jean-Louis likes to come check on things, make sure they haven’t overrun us.
He hasn’t been able to get out here for a while, you see, due to illness and travel, but—”
“Justin,” Jean-Louis says sharply. “We needn’t fill the girl in on such trivial matters.”
I shrug. “Maybe I like trivia.”
“You seem like the type to be entertained by nonsense.” He pockets both hands, giving me a long look that makes me feel sticky all over. “How are you enjoying my campus, Ms. Noelle?”
“It’s just Elle, actually.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to use your legal name. At least until we’ve established a relationship.”
So this is the game we’re playing. “I don’t see that happening.”
Jean-Louis’s eyebrows hike up. “Pardon?”
Dean Bauer and the younger guy stare at me, and a beat of unease bears down on the four of us.
“What sort of relationship were you hoping for?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “Most professional ones don’t require the use of a first name at all.”
Hatred bleeds through Jean-Louis’s pores. “You’re quite chatty. When I was a student, we didn’t speak so freely with our elders.”
“Well, I didn’t grow up in Fury Hill,” I reply. “Must be a difference in parentage.”
“Must be.” He sneers at me, then turns to the younger man, grabbing the guy’s bony shoulder. “Not everyone can have such strong, important genes, I suppose. Right, son?”
“Beckett,” the dean interrupts, running the backs of his fingers over his forehead, “maybe we should escort your father to the Apollodorus for his meeting?”
Beckett. Where have I heard that name before?
The younger guy nods, casting a sideways look at me, before turning elsewhere. “Sure. Father?”
Jean-Louis hesitates, clearly still interested in me as he glances at the forest before settling on me once more. “Were you traveling alone, Ms. Noelle?”
“Yes, I was.”
He hums, nodding curtly, though I can’t tell if he believes me. “I’d advise against doing so in the future. You never know what sort of nefarious creatures are lying in wait near the lake. There’ve been instances where students came back mutilated…or not at all.”
I slide my gaze to Beckett, who shifts on his feet. Guilt riddles his face, but I’m not exactly sure why.
“The Primordial Forest is off-limits,” Dean Bauer interjects, pulling at his tie. “I can only hope Ms. Anderson takes heed of the numerous warnings before venturing back out.”
“I’m sure you’ll discipline her properly,” Jean-Louis replies, turning away and pushing his son ahead of him.
Dean Bauer exhales loudly as they begin walking in the direction of the Lyceum. He looks at me like I’m a bug on the bottom of his shoe. “Antagonizing Jean-Louis is not a smart idea.”
“Why, because I’m an Anderson? Doesn’t seem like you cared too much about that curse when you let me enroll, now does it?”
“Perhaps a bit of an oversight on my part, but it isn’t as if…” He trails off, glancing in the direction the other two disappeared in. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here, and I’m not in the business of expulsion except in extreme cases. And even then…well. You met Beckett.”
“What does he have to do with anything?” I ask, voice tight.
The dean gives me a strange look. “Well, he nearly killed your brother on school property, but things happened and now he’s back.”
I blink, my throat closing in on itself as the realization of why his name sounded so familiar slams into me.
My parents hadn’t told me who’d been in the cave last semester or who had abducted the students. Just that it’d been a group of Curators, and most of them hadn’t left alive. One had been beaten so badly by Asher that they were surprised he made it at all.
That one—Beckett Dupont.
I must have been so distracted when I met Sutton that I never put their relation together, and I certainly didn’t think he’d be allowed back on campus. Not so soon, at least.
Which just furthers my assertion of the Duponts being Fury Hill royalty. They really can get away with murder.