22. Polaris
22
POLARIS
M y mind stirs awake, but all I can settle on is the back of my eyelids. Darkness floods my body and it feels like my head weighs one hundred pounds. There’s an ache in my shoulders that lingers as I try to shake the stiffness from my body.
Confusion crawls through my veins as a subtle shake rattles my arm.
“Polaris? Polaris?”
My eyelids flicker at the sound of Bryony’s voice, drawing me back to the present, and I slowly manage to lift my head and turn my attention to her. It takes an extra moment for my eyes to fully pry open, but the moment they do, the confusion and concern I see etched into her face is startling.
“Where have you been?” she asks, dropping down into the seat beside me with a heavy sigh.
Glancing around the room, the sudden onslaught of sound penetrates my ears as I find myself in the dining hall.
I…
What the…
“For real, Polaris. Where have you been?”
I gape at her, my mouth falling slack and slamming shut a few times before I shake my head in disbelief, disorientation getting the better of me. I can’t make sense of…anything. My concern grows as I watch her eyebrows furrow together.
“What do you mean? You don't know?”
I wipe a hand down my face, willing my mind to give me an answer, but I come up empty. Maybe if I can walk through the last things I remember, it will help me understand what I’m missing.
“I left Professor Juniper’s and headed toward where I thought our next class was, but once the next bell rang, I was completely lost. I remember turning left, hoping to find something familiar, and then…then I wound up here.” I can hear the distress in my voice, the panic clawing at me, enhanced by the confusion rippling through my veins as I try to understand what the hell is going on.
I look back to Bryony, searching for answers I know she can't give, when I note her nostrils flaring in anger.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she answers way too quickly for my liking. So I press on, grabbing her arm.
“Bryony,” I plead, and she rubs her lips together, nervously avoiding my gaze as her eyes dart around the room. When she finally finds my stare, I feel like she might be relenting.
“Can I…”
Her eyes crinkle, but she doesn't finish her sentence. Desperate for anything, I push her along.
“Can you what?”
She clears her throat, lacing her fingers together in her lap as she tries again. “Can I look at your neck?”
“My neck?” I breathe, confused, but she seems to take that as a yes because she leans in close, tilting my chin back with the tip of her finger before she runs her gaze over my throat. Around the back and the front before she traces my skin with her fingers, following the same trail, but her brows continue to gather.
“Can I look at your arms?” she asks, and even though worry boils beneath the surface, I slip my arms out of my jacket one at a time so she can see my arms. I have no idea what she's looking for, but it doesn't seem like she’s finding it. Once she's sure, she releases her hold on me and nods for me to put my jacket back on. “Are you hurting anywhere?”
It's impossible to hide the concern that she's building inside of me.
“No, but can you please tell me what's going on?” I beg as the rest of the dining hall continues with their life like mine isn’t falling apart again.
“Do you usually forget periods of time, Polaris?” she asks, offering me a tight, reassuring smile as I shake my head.
“No. Well, not unless we're counting the two years at Florentine’s that were erased from my memory and any parts of my life before that,” I grumble, my head scrambling even as I press at my temples, willing the frustration away.
“That's sad,” she says, tilting her head at me, her eyes crinkling from the emotion she speaks, but all I can do is shrug.
“We're getting off track. That's my fault. I’m sorry. Please keep your train of thought,” I beg.
She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Nothing, I just can’t think of any other reason for you to black out like that unless you were attacked by a vampire,” she admits, eyes peering in their direction at the next table along, and I follow her line of sight.
“A vampire?” I repeat, and she hums.
“Yeah, compulsion is a trait they love to use,” she states, and a shudder runs down my spine.
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around myself, squeezing them tight, as if the barrier I'm creating will protect me from any further danger. I’ve heard that word before. I rack my brain and quickly recall it. Last night, with Dean, before he met his untimely death.
“Why would they do that?” I ask, already aware that she doesn't have the answer, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
“I don't know, but more than that, who would want to?” she presses, her gaze peering down the line of vampires and back up again. My heart lurches as I find the familiar face of my apparent sworn vampire enemy at the far end of their table.
“He wouldn’t,” I breathe, wheezing internally.
“You're right, he wouldn’t. I don’t think. What about those two?” I cock a brow at her, confusion continuing to run through me. “The two you're familiar with,” she clarifies, and I shake my head instinctively, but the movement slows as I consider how much has changed since we got here.
“No, well, they wouldn't have before, but now I can't say for sure. Wait, they have sigils, like mine,” I murmur and she hums.
She purses her lips, casting an intense glare around the room before she fixes her stare back on me. “We stick together from now on.”
“You don't have to do that,” I mutter, hating how much I seem to be relying on her after such a short time.
“I want to,” she insists. “We're going to survive this together. We've promised each other that. That means if we have to be with each other to make sure no one's blacking out, then that's what we must do.”
I smile at my friend.
My friend.
I have a freaking friend.
“Thank you, Bryony.”
“No problem. If you happen to have any more blackouts, we'll get to the bottom of it, because nobody messes with my friend and gets away with it.”