Chapter 36 Nyx #2
My head is spinning by the time Brandt calls it quits just before midnight.
Butthead is waiting for me when I exit the Admin building and leads me through campus back to the dorms, yowling the whole way, bitching me out for taking so long to feed him, probably.
After appeasing his majesty with an entire can of tuna, I don’t have the energy to spare a thought at seeing Roth and Luther tomorrow.
“Nyx.”
Maybe if I keep ignoring him, he’ll leave me alone.
Unfortunately, he’s not taking it as well as Thane did yesterday.
“Oh, this is precious.”
Nope. Not doing it.
“Pretty bird.” His warm breath makes the hair on my neck rise when he whispers in my ear. “There is nowhere you could fly I couldn’t catch you. Be a good girl and answer me, hm?”
I turn and glare at Roth in the seat next to mine, startled to find him close enough that our lips almost brush. “I’m not a fucking bird,” I seethe. “If anything, dick, I’m a cat.
“Perhaps you’re right, pretty pussycat. Fitting, then, to have one as your familiar.”
Fuck me, that’s even worse. “What would you even know about familiars?” I grumble, turning back to the diagram we’re supposed to be replicating.
“My familiar is a hellhound.”
I scoff and whisper, “A demon dog from Hell? That’s very on brand.”
He tsks. “Careful, pussycat, he’s not the only one who likes to chase.”
“You’re a psychopath.”
“You say that as if it’s an insult.”
“That’s exactly what a psychopath would say.” His low, menacing chuckle sends shivers down my spine.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoy playing with me.”
“About as much as I’d enjoy playing Polish Roulette.”
“I’ll play with you anytime, pussycat.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You’re praying to the wrong god if you think he can save you.”
I turn and glare at him again, gritting out, “What do you want, Roth?”
He merely stares at me, and not for the first time do I hope there’s no such thing as telepathy, because with my luck he’d be the one person to have it. “Your diagram is wrong. Here—he taps my paper, “and here. If you’re going to learn runes properly now, it should be correct.”
When I look at my paper and realize he’s correct, I have to close my eyes and control my breathing like Brandt taught me during last night’s practice.
The good part about practicing with my power is that it’s now easier to reach for it.
The bad part is that it’s now easier to reach for it when I’m sorely tempted to blow up another building just to escape.
I’m kidding, I would never blow up another building again. On purpose.
Maybe.
We’ll see.
The chances are low, but never zero.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
After another torturous hour of Roth taking great pleasure in correcting every single mistake I make, I’m desperate to get away. So of course he blocks me from leaving class until we’re the last ones left.
“Shall I inform Thane and Killian that you will no longer be studying with them?”
I stiffen and clench my jaw, which I’m sure he notices, just like he notices everything. “Tell them whatever you want, Roth, I don’t care.”
“Why.”
“I have my own shit to deal with.”
“Such as?”
“You’re not entitled to that information, Roth.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He looks at me again with those black eyes, like a kid wondering what button he has to press to make me talk.
Without a word, he steps to the side and I do my best to walk calmly instead of what I want to do, which is run away from him like my ass is on fire—just like the first day I met him.
What an ironically shitty full circle moment.
Just like when I walk into Physical Training and Luther’s there for the first time in nearly three weeks.
And unfortunately, so is Cyrus for “on the job training”.
Luther tries to stay as far away from me as possible.
Cyrus tries to stay as close to me as he can get away with.
Throughout the class, where Carrick has one group conditioning and another switching between drilling and sparring, I eventually notice a pattern: Cyrus shows up when I least want him to with useless pointers that Luther, for all his faults, has already taught me in addition to everything Ramsey—
Nope.
We’re not doing that today either. I’ve managed to ignore him this long, and I’m not going to ruin it.
As Cyrus looks for any excuse to correct my form and touch me, Luther slowly follows him like a hulking shadow, eventually chasing him away with a menacing glare that Killian called his—
Nope.
I’m going to do the very mature thing and pretend like it didn’t happen until my brain blocks out the memories, just like most of my childhood.
I haven’t spoken to Luther since my epiphaneia, aside from one stilted question and answer at the Gala.
And yet, our eyes meet multiple times. I can see his lingering discomfort with every step.
He can see my growing disgust towards his brother every time the idiot opens his mouth.
It’s the world’s most awkward Mexican standoff, and when it finally ends, I don’t bother showering before meeting Brandt in his office.
That’s how it goes for the next two weeks: I hide from everyone, despite the increasingly concerned texts from Milo and the girls.
I ignore everything, including my hunger by avoiding the Great Hall for all my meals.
I build back every brick in the walls I let down for people who didn’t deserve them. And I practice magic whenever I can.
No one’s surprised when I ace every final written exam. Even Runic Studies, begrudgingly thanks to Roth. In Physical Training, I’m partnered up with Prosper—the same dickwad who sent me to the Medical Center the first time—while Luther, Cyrus, and Carrick evaluate and judge each sparring match.
I break Prosper’s jaw.
Luther gives me full marks.
Brandt gives me the night off after that, saying that rest was more important than trying to cram in any more practice before the Crypteia tomorrow.
And I almost get away with it too, until someone starts incessantly banging on my door.
Butthead perks up from where he’s currently nuzzling his cold nose in my ear. Maybe if I just stay quiet long enough—
“Mrow.”
“Butthead? Is she in there?” Milo’s stern voice comes through the door, and the furry little shit yowls again right in my ear. “Give it up, Nyx, your creepy cat narc’d on you.”
“He’s not creepy!”
“Ah HA. Come one, get up. We’re celebrating.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You absolutely are, Ms. Top-of-the-President’s-List.”
Butthead jumps off my head when I sit up and follows me to the door where Milo’s waiting very impatiently. “Wait—what?”
“They just posted grades. Congratulations! Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“The beach. This school seems to have an obsession with bonfires for some reason, have you ever noticed that? Everyone’s there.
Including Tori—who, by the way—can be very scary when she wants to be.
She promised to introduce me to her friend Danica if I came and got you and threatened to do it herself if you didn’t listen.
So, please will you be my wingwoman and save us both from her vengeance?
Just one drink and then I’ll help sneak you out. Pinky promise.”
The guilt of ignoring the few friends I had—have—in this place for the last few weeks hits me then. As much as I really, really don’t to be around other people right now or ever, honestly… if they’re making this much of an effort, I owe them at much, at least.
“Fine. One drink.”
“Great—I already texted Tori that we’re on our way so hurry up and get dressed.”
“You already texted her? You dick.”
“Come ooonnnnnnn,” he whines pitifully, and I shut the door in his face. Five minutes later I am unfortunately dressed in a pair of short shorts that fit looser than they did when I last wore them thanks to not eating three square meals a day in the effort of avoiding—
Nope.
Not doing this tonight.
Tonight is about fun, I sneer as I pull on my black cropped sweatshirt and favorite ratty high tops.
When I pull the door open again, Milo gestures to me.
“Uh you’re going to have to fix your face before we get there.
” I roll my eyes, locking the door behind me.
Like a good friend, he does all the talking as we walk through campus towards the beach down by the cliffs where the witches celebrated Ostara earlier this year.
He catches me up on the latest gossip, where our friends and enemies ended up on the grade list. Milo’s dead middle of the pack—his words—the Hektreia sisters, Heirs, and Legacies are all near the top with me, excluding Tori who’s salutatorian and Roth who’s managed to cinch the valedictorian spot, to no one’s surprise.
I doubt anyone who’s given him a bad grade is still teaching. Or breathing, for that matter.
When we get to the beach, it’s not just one bonfire, it’s three.
“Milo—”
“Tori!” he cries out. In the distance, she stands and waves us over to a smaller bonfire in the distance where, I’m dismayed to discover, the Heirs and their Legacy lackeys are also sitting.
“I’m going to kill you.” I mutter.
“At least wait until after I’ve asked Danica out.”
God damnit.
“Nyx!” Tori jumps up and races over, hugging me tightly, drawing everyone’s attention to me.
Killian is casually leaning against one of three fallen logs between Lyra and Cynthia, who’s next to Luther, while Thane and Roth are sitting opposite them with Calanthe on his left.
On the last log, Danica’s next to Tori’s empty spot, then Brynne, and Evie.
Tori pulls back and smooshes my face between her hands.
“One drink,” I mumble and scowl.
“Thank you for coming.” She smiles warmly, and it thaws my death glare. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, and just for a moment, I let my touch-starved self give in and return her hug. Brynne comes up behind Tori and gives me a hug too.
“Missed you, stranger,” she whispers, and my eyes burn.