Chapter 20 Elle #2
Gripping her arms, I pull away, giving her an incredulous look. “That’s not what’s happening here.”
Her eyebrows quirk, and she withdraws with a shrug. “If you say so.”
“Ash-tree’s always been like this anyway,” Aurora notes, stepping toward my sister. “If Foxe is a golden retriever, Asher’s a Doberman, and he’s only gotten worse since everything last semester.”
My stomach churns at the reminder.
Lucy grabs Aurora’s wrist and pulls her toward the stairs. “Swing by the apartment this weekend. I’ll tell you everything I know about…” She trails off, pausing as she glances between Sutton and Quincy. “The subject at hand.”
Seconds later, the sound of their feet pounding against the steps as they head up echoes through the corridor.
I cross my arms, defiant.
Sabrina’s eyes narrow into slits. “Hello? The exit order goes for the wannabe actress and her puppet too.”
“Real nice, Sabrina,” Lexington says under his breath.
“What? Is it untrue? Did she not come crawling back to the East Coast because she couldn’t hack it—”
“Hey—” Quincy starts.
“Enough,” Sutton says at the same time. My throat burns as they exchange a look, and he drags a hand through his hair, mussing it as he shakes his head. “Name-calling is unnecessary and more than a little childish, Ms. Taylor. I expect better from the Visio Aternae treasurer.”
Heat blossoms on Sabrina’s cheeks, but her face just grows angrier. She turns to Percy, pointing toward the stairs. “Whatever. Let’s go set up for the philanthropy mixer.”
He hesitates, tossing Lexington an apologetic look. As she stomps away, genuine pain colors his features, making his pale skin glow with a greenish sheen. Like he’s powerless against denying her.
Lexington rolls his eyes. “Just go, man. I get it.”
Percy blows him a dramatic, wet-sounding kiss, then takes off after Sabrina, tripping and nearly falling over a couple of steps before disappearing. A door slams shut, and the sound carries all the way down here, making everything feel emptier than before.
I pretend not to notice how dejected Lexington looks.
Sutton lets out a long breath as he turns toward my sister. “What do you think?”
She lifts a shoulder, adjusting her glasses. “Knowledge is power.”
I clench my fists tighter, feeling the indentation of each individual nail as it cuts into my palm.
They look at us, and Quincy pushes past, flipping on another set of lights in the storage room. “You have ten minutes.”
My face breaks out into a small smile, and I squeal, moving to sprint inside. Quincy grabs my arm, halting me.
“This counts as causing trouble, you know.”
“But you’re letting me in.”
Her expression flattens. “Noelle, come on. Don’t be obtuse. Breaking and entering into the school’s archives is garnering unnecessary attention. Do you want more of a target painted on your back?”
“I’m still not entirely sure what the initial one entails,” I admit.
Sighing, she slides her hand down, wrapping her fingers around mine as she drags me into the room. I grunt, disliking the force even if the physical contact makes my insides warm.
How long has it been since she led me around like this, inviting me into a world she knows better than I do? Decades, I’d bet. Certainly not since she left home for Avernia and all but stopped speaking to me.
And when she did speak, her comments were biting. As if she were hiding things behind ire.
When we were kids, I begged her to let me in. To take me where she went. Now I can’t help wondering if that drove her away.
She deposits me in front of a long bookcase, its shelves filled with notebooks, some tattered and some newer.
“This row starts with journals from last year and goes backward chronologically. The other side is past the 1900s. You want to learn more about your place at Avernia, take it from the primary sources.”
I slip the last book from its slot, reading the cursive scribbled on the front. “This is last fall.”
“The journals are a Fury Hill tradition aimed at preserving history in real time,” she says.
“How do we know it’s a primary source?”
Flipping to the inside front flap, she points at the name inscribed there and the familiar handwriting. “You can trust me,” she says, though it’s hard to tell if it’s only because that’s her name written here or if she means in general.
A part of me wishes that were true—that I could confide in her the way I did when we were young, even if I was bad at keeping her secrets myself. She didn’t hold it against me back then, preferring to maintain silence instead of retaliating, but Quincy’s not the same girl she used to be.
And neither am I.
So instead I nod, pretending I don’t hear a double meaning at all as I tuck the journal beneath my arm. I feel her stare at me for a few more beats, and then she lets out a sigh, turning on her heel and heading for the open door.
I watch as she pauses, just long enough to say something to Sutton, who stands guard at the exit as if someone could come down at any moment.
Though I haven’t spent much time in the Apollodorus, I’d be willing to bet this area doesn’t get much foot traffic.
My throat burns at their interaction, and I force my attention elsewhere. It doesn’t matter who he talks to or is interested in, because he’s made it clear I can’t have him.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it if it’s my fucking sister.
Lexington appears at my side, the sleeves of his skintight athletic shirt pushed up, revealing thick muscles in his forearms. He reaches for the journal I’m holding, turning it in his hands.
“What exactly are you looking for?” he asks.
“I’m not sure.”
And I’m not, really. If Death’s Teeth is as elusive an organization as everyone says, I doubt even the most detailed journals will have much data on them.
Still, I’d like to try and understand why the school—and town—seems to hate us so much. What kind of brainwashing you need to convince an entire population that a singular bloodline is to blame for everything terrible that’s ever happened and any terrible thing to come.
I suppose scapegoats are as much a part of the country’s history as anything else though. Really, the practice is as old as the air itself: Where there is power to be kept, there are people to be exploited.
My question is how do the student organizations come into play here, and what is with the cloaked figures I keep stumbling upon in the forest? Are they conducting rituals like Lexington suggested that I simply happen upon, or are they orchestrated to make me feel like I’m losing my mind?
To keep me quiet.
And what was that about Cronus marrying the Dupont widow?
A woman’s voice returns, softly vibrating through the room; Lexington and I glance at the door, spotting Sabrina with her hands on her hips as she leans in, her lips moving quickly with each word she utters to Sutton.
The tendons in my heart grow hot, and I snap the next journal shut, slotting it back into place with more force than necessary.
He doesn’t even bother looking away from her.
“You think she’ll get a big part in the class play?” Lexington asks. “For the final.”
“What, like the female lead?” I scoff, snatching a different book and cracking it open to a random page. “Only if Sutton has no taste.”
Lexington cocks a brow. “Didn’t know we were on a first-name basis with the professor.”
Sweat beads along my hairline, and I look up at him, attempting to school my features. “We’re not, but you are, right? Isn’t that a perk of being a respected founding family member?”
His expression flattens. “Not sure he’d be thrilled if I called him by his name on school grounds. Avernia’s real weird about interpersonal relationships between staff and students. Even students like me.”
“Why is that?” I focus my attention back on the shelves even as my gaze burns with the effort.
“I mean, I know it’s taboo in general for students and professors to have, like, sexual encounters and stuff, but Avernia seems particularly strict.
The school handbook names every punishment short of a public execution should an unreported friendship or family tie be discovered. ”
“Dunno. I suspect they had problems with power dynamics and shit at some point. My mom went to school with the dean, and she said he was a repeat offender when it came to fucking students as a TA.”
I shudder. “Of course he was.”
“He does have that vibe, doesn’t he?” Lexington stacks a second and third journal for me. “Only reason he never got into trouble was because he was so tight with the Duponts and Blackwaters.”
“Blackwaters? As in the state prosecutor?”
“One and the same.” He juts his chin at Sabrina and Sutton.
“Word on the street is Sabrina has some sort of ties to him, but no one really knows what. The threat, though, is clear enough. Normally, Professor Dupont dismisses anyone who tries to get clingy, which happens probably more than you’d think.
Yet he’s with her all the time it seems.”
Malevolence churns in my chest, setting the cavity ablaze.
“She’ll probably make a good lead,” he says thoughtfully.
I shoot him a glare. “I’m starting to not like you very much.”
“What?” He grins, flashing his straight white teeth. “I’ve yet to see you really act outside of class exercises. If you’re as talented as you say, then let’s see it.”
“You want me to break into a soliloquy in the middle of this basement?”
“Any actor worth their salt would be able to take on a role no matter the location.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I realize how similar he and Percy actually are. That must be why they’re so close.
Turning back to the shelves, I shake my head. “Quincy said I had ten minutes. I need to grab everything I can before she kicks me out.”
“She’s not here,” he says, leaning against the bookcase. “Come on, Elle, I can tell you’re good. Let me see those skills in action.”
“Mr. Abbott.” Sutton’s voice is a quiet thunder as it strikes the air, rippling through the aisles. “Could you assist Ms. Taylor with something, please?”
Lexington frowns. “Right now? What happened to Percy?”
“Mr. Whitmore had an evening voice training class.”
“Which he could have told me about when I recruited him.” Sabrina groans. “Ugh, I didn’t want Lexington helping. He’ll get his slacker dust all over my project.”
“You can’t very well move three dozen metal chairs on your own before the mixer starts,” Sutton says. “Besides, Mr. Abbott currently holds the highest grade in the class. I’m not sure ‘slacker’ is the appropriate term for him.”
My eyebrows lift.
Lexington snorts, bending to place the journals on the floor next to me. “Don’t look so shocked. You’re not the only talent in the room, m’lady.”
“Can’t you just help, Professor? It’s your meeting after all.”
“Ms. Anderson’s presence in the archives requires staff supervision. So no. I can’t leave until she does.”
“So make her leave.”
My nose scrunches up. When I turn my head, I see her glaring at me through the shelves.
Sutton’s expression matches hers, though I’m not sure why. He could make me leave if he really wanted to, but he was the one who agreed to let me in. Maybe he’s trying to save face for it or hoping I’ll forget our encounter in the forest.
Maybe my existence disturbs him, the way his has me since the day we met.
“Mr. Abbott,” Sutton repeats, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument—and my knees wobbly.
Lexington grumbles something under his breath but heads for the door anyway.
“Are you serious?” Sabrina whines.
“Keep irritating me, and I’ll revoke your status as treasurer,” Sutton says.
She lets out a loud huff, turning as Lexington walks past her. Each stomp is audible as she ascends the stairs, rattling the lights dangling from the ceiling between exposed wooden rafters.
Leaving me alone with the man I’m supposed to be avoiding.