Chapter 11
Lochan
Callen lounges against a wall near Dean Charling's office, looking as if he owns the place. The sight of him eases some of the pressure in my shoulders, but I can't quite shake the irritation gnawing at my gut.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite misanthrope," Callen drawls, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "What's got your panties in a twist this fine morning?"
I grunt, crossing my arms over my chest. "This damn place. Can't even walk down a hallway without it trying to turn you around."
Callen chuckles, pushing off the wall with fluid grace. "Come now, Lochan. Where's your sense of adventure? A little unpredictability keeps life interesting."
"I prefer my adventures to be of my own choosing," I mutter.
"And that, my friend, is why you always look like you've been sucking on lemons," Callen says, clapping me on the shoulder. His touch is light, but I can feel the strength behind it. "You know, a smile wouldn't kill you. Might even make you more approachable to the ladies."
I roll my eyes, shrugging off his hand. "I'm not here to be approachable."
"No, you're here to brood and glower at innocent walls," Callen retorts, his eyes dancing with amusement.
I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension. "What are you doing hanging around the Dean’s office?”
Callen runs his hand through his deliberately tousled black hair. “Brigid’s in there. I escorted her.”
"We should be careful of her, not coddling her like a small child."
"What's she done to you?"
"Existed," I mutter, then louder, "She's hiding something. I can feel it."
Callen's brow furrows. "Come on, Lochan. She's just trying to find her footing here. What's got you so worked up?"
I clench my jaw, irritation flaring. Callen's always been too casual, too dismissive of a threat. It's going to get him killed one day.
"You're not seeing the whole picture," I can’t understand why Callen refuses to see it. He’s smarter than that. "She's playing the helpless new girl. But you saw those shadows too. You know what that was as well as I do. There’s more to her than she's letting on."
"Maybe you're just upset she's not falling for your brooding charm?"
I bristle, heat rising to my face. "This isn't a joke, Callen. While you and Rory are busy trying to screw her, she could be plotting gods know what."
His smile fades completely now. "Lochan, what’s really going on here?"
“Just keep your guard up. Stop thinking with your dick," I mutter. "That's all I'm saying."
Callen's eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before his usual wide smile returns. "Look, I get it. Shadow magic shouldn’t exist anymore. It was supposed to be gone, and good riddance. But Brigid? She had no idea what was happening to her. And she's barely been here a minute. The poor girl's probably terrified."
I snort, shaking my head. "Terrified? Please. After what she did to that thing in the woods?”
"And that's a bad thing?" Callen raises an eyebrow, his tone playful but with an edge. "I find her, shall we say, intriguing. There's something interesting there, underneath all that oversized knitwear."
My stomach churns at the look in his eyes. "You would.”
"Like you wouldn’t, " Callen scoffs. “I know you better than you think, Lochie-boy.”
"Trust me on this. Shadow magic? There's no way she’s just realizing she has it. I've seen what that kind of power can do."
I tense as I remember the darkness I've witnessed, the destruction shadow magic can cause. Brigid might look harmless, but I know better. That kind of power... it changes people. Corrupts them.
"She's dangerous," I say, more to myself than to Callen. "Whether she knows it yet or not."
Callen's eyes narrow, shifting to something more serious. "Well, regardless of your suspicions, we can't just leave her to fend for herself." He glances at his wrist, a golden filigree timepiece glinting in the light. "Shit. I've got to run. Business to attend to."
I arch an eyebrow. "Business?"
"Nothing for you to worry about," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "But I need you to make sure Brigid gets back to her room."
I whip my head around, narrowing my eyes. "What?"
He's already backing away, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "Sorry, mate. Duty calls.
"Callen—" I start, but he's already turning the corner, the prick.
I take his place, leaning against the wall outside the office. The corridor seems to shift in my peripheral vision. It sets my teeth on edge, much like the task I've been handed.
Protect Brigid or protect everyone else from her?
The door creaks open, and Brigid emerges from Dean Charling's office. Her eyes widen as they land on me, surprise flickering across her face before her features harden into a guarded mask.
"Where's Callen?" she asks, her voice quiet but edged with suspicion.
I push off the wall, crossing my arms. "Busy. You're stuck with me."
Brigid's jaw tightens, her fingers toying with the hem of her sweater. "I don't need an escort."
"Not up for debate," I snap, my patience already wearing thin. "Let's go."
She doesn't move, those light gray eyes of hers flashing with defiance. "I said I don't need—"
"And I said it's not up for debate," I cut her off, taking a step closer.
Brigid's lips press into a thin line. "You don't intimidate me, Lochan."
I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. The look in her eyes says otherwise. That makes her a liar, but I already knew that. ”Never said I was trying to."
"Fine," she finally says, her voice dripping with disdain. "Lead the way, oh gallant protector."
I gesture for her to start walking, falling into step beside her. The silence between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
As we navigate the shifting corridors, I watch the girl from the corner of my eye. Her posture is rigid, eyes darting to the shadows that seem to dance at the edges of our vision. I wonder if she's aware of how her own shadow stretches and sways unnaturally behind her.
"You know," I say, "these halls are the least of what Grimstone will throw at you."
Brigid's step falters for a moment, but she quickly regains her composure. "I can handle myself."
I snort. "Right. Because you've got such a great track record so far."
She whirls on me, eyes blazing. "Listen here, you arrogant prick. I didn't ask for your help, and I certainly don't need your condescension."
I cross my arms, meeting her glare head-on.
"Didn’t look like that to me last night."
"You don't know anything about me," she hisses, her fiery intensity at odds with her delicately pale skin and eyes.
"I know enough," I snap back. The corridor seems to pulse around us, feeding off our mutual animosity. "Now, are we going to stand here all night, or can I get on with my babysitting duty?"
Brigid's jaw clenches. "I can get back to my room on my own. Now fuck off and leave me the hell alone."
"Suit yourself," I say. Let her find her own way back. Something tells me she's more than capable of handling whatever Grimstone throws at her. And if not— then that’s one less problem around.