Chapter 18
After the hideous Fateball-fitness morning, things get a little better.
By that, I mean I’m mostly ignored in the advanced classes.
At least my own worries keep the thoughts of my classmates at bay.
Finally, the bell rings for the end of class.
“Food!” Duncan snaps out of his resting position and springs to his feet. “It’s pie day. Savory and sweet. I’m going to start with chicken, wait, no, turkey pot pie. Then go on to…hmm…peach for dessert. What about you gals?” —Pie or pi?/3.141/can’t remember/is it five?/definitely peaches—
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Willow grins. “Could you be a little more pie-cific?” —haha, I out-punned Duncan—
The joke goes over Duncan’s head as he starts listing out his favorite pies in order. I don’t have it in me to join the banter. The message from Simon hangs heavily over my head. “Sorry, guys. I’m out. See you later.”
Cosmo’s mark on my neck burns hot, reminding me that even if I wanted to be late, it’s impossible.
Just the thought of not obeying Cosmo’s command sends a flash of searing pain through my body.
The entrance to the cafeteria has a fridge full of grab-and-go items: yogurt, sandwiches, etc, so I pull the nearest sandwich off the shelf and chew hurriedly as I drag my stiff body towards Electis.
When I enter the Tower, finally, one thing works in my favor. The elevator door opens when I press the button. Thank Gods. My poor legs were dreading those circular stairs.
My lucky streak quickly ends when the elevator stops on the second floor and Jordan Singleton-Smith walks in. She does a cartoonish double-take. “What the fuck, dud? What are you doing in here—get out!” Her voice quavers as she tries to exert Elite control over me, but it doesn’t work.
“What the fuck? I said, GET OUT!”
The fact that I’m still standing here only makes her madder, but I have no choice. I think the mark on my neck is overpowering anything Jordan is trying to do.
Her fingers start to weave, and I try to defuse the situation before she goes full psycho on me. “I can’t leave,” I say meekly. “Cosmo’s expecting me any minute. He compelled me to go to him.”
Her pretty eyes narrow. As she’s Elite, I can’t hear the thoughts tumbling in her head, but I can get a sense of the tone, the very dark tone.
When Jordan’s lips turn into a smirk, I know that trouble is coming. A twitch of her fingers, and suddenly it’s like I’ve been plunged into an ice bath. My extremities are numb in an instant.
"A little chilly, are you, dud?" she snickers, as my breath comes out in little icy puffs. I shiver uncontrollably and thank the stars when the elevator stops on the fourth floor and she steps out. “Hope you don’t catch a cold,” she singsongs as the doors close again.
Once I reach the fifth floor, I quickly move my icy body into the penthouse corridor.
The cold sensation is leaving my bones, but slowly, too slowly.
Outside Cosmo’s door, I lean my head against the wall and wonder how my life has come to this.
A couple of weeks ago, I was delivering paninis in a British heatwave; now I’m the chewed-up dog toy of two blonde, psycho Elites.
Tick tock, tick tock. My body knows it’s almost six, so I knock my painfully chilled knuckles on the door.
“Dud!” Troy yells, swinging it open. “Ready for some more laps?”
The only reaction I give him is a tight smile as I walk into the huge penthouse space.
The floor-length windows are letting in the last orange streaks of the setting sun.
Cosmo is leaning against the kitchen island on the far side of the massive room.
He turns as I enter, and his arctic-blue eyes stare me down. “Here,” he commands after a beat.
I step within a couple of feet of him, and his gaze continues to travel over me. I wonder what I look like in his eyes—probably a huge mess. My teeth are chattering, my nose is dripping, and probably blue with cold.
His cruel mouth twists, and a smirk spreads across his face. “Hmm, I can smell the spellwork from here. Has someone been playing a game with you, little dud?”
“I’ll play a game with her,” Manu chuckles, and I twist my head to see him watching me from the doorway, like a fox in a henhouse.
Cosmo’s head snaps towards his roommate. “Manu, leave.”
“This is my apartment too, I’m fucking done with this shit,” Manu snarls, snatching a beer from the fridge, then slamming a door as he exits. I find myself breathing a little easier in his absence. Cosmo leans over the counter, picking up a small brown glass bottle.
“Catch,” he says, tossing it in my direction.
I fumble with frozen hands and then pick it off the floor. Huh? Muscle rub.
“Put it on my back,” he tells me, stripping his shirt off. When he turns, to my surprise, I see a lot of bruises. One particularly large mark disappears down beneath the waistband of his slim uniform pants.
What the? He’s an Elite. How come he hasn’t just gone to a healer about his injuries? Magical healing costs mega-bucks, but that’s not a problem for Cosmo Drakeward.
I don’t understand. Though, honestly, I don’t care that much. Good job, whoever beat him up. It takes away from the sting of having to oil him.
My hands tremble as I uncap the bottle, and the smell of wintergreen fills my nose. I squeeze a dollop of the cream onto my hands as I stare at Cosmo’s shoulders. There are shadows of blue, green, and yellow mottling his skin. He’s been hit a lot, sometime recently.
“What are you waiting for?” he barks. I tentatively put my fingers on his flesh, and he immediately flinches.
“Gods,” Cosmo mutters, turning around and looking at me like I’m the most annoying thing on the whole planet.
He flicks his fingers, and just like that, my body is back to a normal temperature.
Then he swings around a dining chair and straddles it, leaving an expanse of muscled back to me. “Get on with it.”
I stare at the mottled bruises, and my mind flicks to Ludo. When the janitor had helped me in the gymnasium, fresh injuries had littered his surprisingly young face.
“Some hold up back there, dud?” Cosmo snarls.
Stifling a sigh, I gingerly start to move my hands around Cosmo’s body. His muscles feel hard and stressed when I press either side of his spine. Good. I hope they really hurt. I dig in a thumb as hard as I can, and he groans.
Unfortunately, in pleasure.
“Keep doing that.”
Just great. My hands are small, but reasonably strong, so I continue up the spine and onto his shoulders.
He lets out another moan, and a confusing thrill of achievement runs through me.
I don’t want to give him pleasure, so why did I like hearing him respond to my touch? Must be Stockholm Syndrome.
I keep my hands moving until Cosmo abruptly stands, knocking me backwards. “That’s enough,” he says, pulling his shirt back on. “Pour me a whisky.”
After shaking out my stiff hands, I do what I’m told, filling a glass with liquor that probably costs more than a month's rent. Cosmo sinks back into an armchair as I remain standing. “Now, dud, I want you to tell me exactly what happened on your last day here. From the top…”
Again? “Fine. It was the day after the Halloween party. We decided to ditch the party last minute, and had stayed in all night fucking our brains out instead.” Cosmo frowns, but I’m on a roll now.
“I woke up with Donovan kissing my neck, and with Wes’ face between my legs—you want more details on that?
” I snap, kinda enjoying winding him up.
Cosmo looks back at me, a little nauseated. “Gods, no. Fast the fuck forward.”
“Fine. We stayed in the apartment for breakfast,” I tell him. “Then the guys and I went to the lottery lodgings, and they helped me pack. Actually, they were no help with the packing of my suitcase, but Wes did fully pack my pussy with…”
“Do not talk to me about sex with Donovan and Wes ever again.”
Pfff.
“While we ‘packed’ we discussed when we’d see each other next.” My momentary second of humor evaporates immediately.
“And that was going to be when, exactly?” Cosmo’s eyes never leave my face, and I squirm under the gaze.
“They were going to fly into London on December 13th.” Gods. The heaviness of parting had been awful, but the twins' plan to come to the UK for winter break meant we’d only be separated for a few weeks. “After that, Wes borrowed a car and they drove me to the airport,” I continue.
“Actually, they didn’t borrow a car,” Cosmo grumbles. “The assholes took my keys without permission.”
Oh, I didn’t know that. I can add it to my investigation notes. I stumble a little as exhaustion sweeps over me again. I put out a hand to steady my spinning head. Cosmo sighs. “You can rest.”
Thank Gods. I head towards the soft, squishy sofa, but he stops me. “Nope, not there. On your knees, in front of me.”
Fuck my life. Is he serious? Stupid arrogant wanker. Of course, he’s serious.
I get onto my knees, unable to do anything else. “Now, go on,” he barks.
Just grit your teeth and get on with it, I tell myself. “They stayed with me until it was time to go through security and,”
“And what? Don’t leave anything out.” Cosmo is looming over me now; I’m kneeling face-to-crotch. Wintergreen scent and hot musk fill my nose, and I watch a bead of sweat trickle down the rippling abs, into the small trail of golden hair that leads below his waistband.
Gods! I give myself a mental slap. I loathe this man. Finding his body at all attractive makes me want to poke my eyes out. I’m so ashamed of myself.
“I’m waiting,” he snarls.
I hate you, Cosmo Drakeward.
“Donovan brought a little box out of his jacket, it had a bracelet in it,” I tell him, picturing the delicate bracelet of chain link and golden stars. “He put it around my wrist.”
I’d worn it for months, even after I realized they were never coming for me. Finally, I’d taken it off, tucked it in an envelope, and it was now stowed with my socks and underwear. I take it out every now and then when I want another top-up of heartbreak.
“And you never heard from them again,” Cosmo says, as a statement, not a question. He flicks a finger to switch on the fireplace and several lamps. The solid wall around his thoughts flickers for a moment, and I get hints of pain emanating from his brain.
I don’t care one bit.
“Correct, I never heard from them again,” I confirm. As I rub my stiff palms together, Cosmo gets himself some water from the huge fridge, then throws himself into a deep, overstuffed armchair, looking the picture of despair. Good. I hope he’s tormented until the day he dies.
“Pass my phone, it’s on the counter,” he tells me. “Then get me a refill.”
I obediently push myself to stand, thighs protesting, and do as he asks before returning to the humiliating position. Cosmo presses something on the cellphone and holds it up to his ear. “Striker? I’ve talked to the dud; she’s got nothing new. What have you found?”
I don’t hear the reply from whoever Striker is, but Cosmo scowls. “Send me the file,” then hangs up.
What file? For once, I actually do want to read someone’s mind, but Cosmo’s brain is a fuzzy white noise to me.
I watch as he studies his phone for several minutes, then puts it down and stares off into the middle distance, his expression blank.
“They never got onto a flight to Heathrow,” he says eventually.
“Striker has the flight manifesto for all Havengard to London flights for several weeks around the time of their disappearance.”
“So, they flew somewhere else?” I say. That’s my working theory.
“Maybe,” he says slowly, “or maybe not. Striker also got the security footage from cameras around the school. We have a time-stamped video of them leaving Electis Tower, but there is no footage of them after that. Nothing. No record of them going through either the main gate or the facilities exit. The wards around the school grounds weren’t breached.
Nothing. It’s as if Wes and Donovan Hart never left the academy compound at all. ”
“Um, what about a helicopter or something?” I ask.
“Right, because no one would notice that at all,” he sneers, giving me a withering look.
I don’t shrink back; at least I’m trying to think laterally. “What about actually spell-flight? Some people can do that, can’t they? Could they have levitated over the walls?”
Cosmo swallows down the whisky and shakes his head. “The wards would still activate. They’re a dome around the whole property. Anyway, you think those dumbasses could levitate and I wouldn’t know about it?”
“But none of it makes sense. If there is no record of them leaving,” I whisper, “that would mean they’re still here.”
Cosmo looks up, “It would, wouldn’t it?” he replies, glancing at the bulky gold watch on his wrist. “Alright, dud. Fuck off, this is now out of your hands. And understand me when I say this. Wes and Donovan are no longer any of your business.”
Never! He doesn’t get to do that to me. I won’t let him, not on this topic. “N-n-no,” I stutter out, trying my best to fight the command.
“No? And why’s that?” Cosmo’s voice is cruel, but at least his question allows me to answer.
“B-because of… of… l-l-love…” Cosmo is trying to shut me up again, but, giving everything I’ve got, I manage to bring myself to standing.
“I-I thought they dumped me. I spent months sulking and feeling heartbroken instead of following my gut. I-I knew they wouldn’t just ghost me.
So, with or without your help, I’m going to find them.
They disappeared nearly a year ago; we should have been searching from day one. ”
“Know your place, dud,” Cosmo hisses. “Know your fucking place. Fuck.” He flaps a hand at me. “Fuck off back to Defectivum, and remember, I forbid you to talk to anyone in authority about the twins.”
My feet start moving towards the door, and even though I’m desperate to leave, I’m also desperate to stay. I need to find my guys—and it would be easier with Cosmo than without him.
“GO!” Cosmo roars.
My chest burns with anguish, and I’m out the door.
I may be a powerless dud, but my twins are somewhere out there. I’m going to find them.
Or die trying.