Chapter 19
I'm on my way to the edge of the grounds when I see Wilson hustling down the pathway from the dining hall.
It looks like she’s headed to Electis Tower—what’s up with that?
The Elites are not exactly welcoming when it comes to Defectivum kids, but maybe she’s just looking for several inches of kyrp?. I hadn’t pegged her as an Elite-groupie, but I’m often disappointed by people; why should she be any different?
For a split second, I consider tailing her, but then give myself a mental smack. Just leave her alone, you idiootti. It’s not your business, even if she is trolling for Elite cock.
And anyway, I’ve got work to do.
Leaving Wilson behind, I jog through the grounds dressed in my customary black sweats—nothing to see here, people.
After fifteen minutes, I veer off into the woods that surround the campus.
Not many students wander around these parts, but occasionally I’ll run into some alfresco sex party or kids smoking weed.
I leave them to it—it’s not like I’m a real teacher, why should I give a shit?
At the southernmost edge of the grounds is a collection of buildings and an area of blacktop. Maintenance ATVs, mowers, that sort of thing. I’ve no reason to believe Maximus would have come this way, but it’s a part of the grounds I’ve still to search.
First things first, I make sure there’s no one nearby; my military training included detecting power signatures from a distance.
No one, at least, no witches, are in the vicinity, so now the search begins. It’s a painstakingly slow process. I push my senses to their extreme, desperately trying to find another hint of that strange energy echo.
My first sweep takes me to the fifteen-foot barricade that surrounds Validus Vale.
The wall is marble-smooth. Anything that could be used as a toehold has been sanded away.
The school says it’s for student safety, to keep danger out, but in my mind, it looks more designed to keep students here, inside the walls.
With that and the wards, the only way out is through the heavily guarded gates.
I’ve only just started my second sweep when the scent of gasoline wafts my way. Focusing my hearing, I realize a human is driving an ATV and headed in this direction. Goddamn it. I toss up whether to stay or go and end up calling it quits.
These nightly hunts are dispiriting and probably worthless, but if I’m honest, I keep them up to at least do something.
And a bonus, now that it’s dark, I can get back to my lodgings faster than I arrived here. The other reason I do these evening searches? To indulge myself.
Casting this specific spell produces a sensation like a thousand fizzing bubbles moving through my veins. The sensation travels right to the end of my fingertips—even the fucked-up side—and after an intense swell of my inner flame, I begin to rise.
Gods, this never gets old.
Flying, through manipulating air, takes a fuck-ton of complicated spellwork, and it’s not a skill I can flaunt—especially as it’s another highly WMO-regulated practice. Levitation and flying are for licensed Elites only.
I’m not even officially an Elite; the potency of my magic is increased by having an IQ of 198. My gray matter works out the kinks in spell-casting that my magic spark alone cannot.
As I move through the air, a childhood memory flashes into my brain. I was three grades ahead in school, and the other kids called me apila vuohi. It translates roughly to ‘a goat fed on clover’. Goats fed on clover produce more milk, but also get bloated.
Clever Kormovians were called out for having inflated egos, bloated with knowledge. The constant teasing taught me to downplay my intelligence.
That habit has definitely worked out for the best, as here I am, flying, without a government looking over my shoulder. When I fly, the ever-present ache in my arm disappears, and I can block out the pounding frustration of my situation. It’s just pure pleasure.
Towards the edge of the forest, an impulse I can’t understand detours away from my lodgings and towards the Elite tower. A low light shines through the penthouse suite windows, and a silhouetted figure draws my attention.
Hovering in the dark, a few feet from the balcony, I look through the glass and see a tall, blonde Elite with his back to me.
By the arrogant set to his shoulders, it’s all too fucking obvious it’s Cosmo Drakeward.
When he shifts to one side, I see a girl on her knees.
Drakeward getting his dick sucked is not something I need to witness.
I’m about to move on when the girl lifts her head.
Wait, what the fuck? It’s Theo Wilson.
Huh, so she is a power-chaser. That’s disappointing. Wilson needs to be careful, though. Cosmo Drakeward is the fucking epitome of Elite privilege, with a wicked family, to boot. His father was integral in founding The Conclave, and is now its Imperator.
The fucking Conclave. Picture the Masons, but replace the handshakes and networking with vile sorcery, and a full and utter embrace of corruption. They don't just think they're above all laws; it's become apparent they are the law, with police and politicians alike at their bidding.
I’m about to leave, disgusted with them both, when I can’t help but look one more time.
Paska. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.
Wilson’s silver eyes are enormous and filled with tears. She does not look like a girl willingly on her knees. Fury instantly fills my veins. He must have compelled her into that position. An intense desire to protect her fills me.
What to do? I can’t let them know I’m magically hovering outside the window. I take a breath to calculate my next move as Cosmo looms over her. Frown lines crease her forehead, and her expression changes to one of pure fury.
That’s unexpected. Ha! Something like pride floods through me. That’s my girl.
My girl?
Cosmo turns away. As he runs a hand through his hair, a look of frustration and almost despair appears on his face.
I shift closer to the window and cast a sound-spell. Finally, I can hear their voices. Wilson is speaking. “Where are they, Cosmo? What’s happened to them?” Her voice is desperate. I wonder who the ‘they’ are to cause such anguish.
That prick, Cosmo, strides over to the counter and picks up a glass, throwing the contents down his throat in one go, playing like he’s a big man. “That’s not your concern, dud,” he says to Wilson. “Understand me when I say this,” he continues. “Wes and Donovan are no longer any of your business.”
I know the sound of an Elite command when I hear it.
Color me impressed when Wilson staggers off her knees, eyes filled with determination, and she talks back to him. “N-n-no,” I hear her say, voice weak and shaky.
Drakeward snarls back. “No? And why’s that?”
“B-because of… of… l-l-love…” she stutters, her words getting stronger. Drakeward starts to say something, but Wilson interrupts. It’s fucking fascinating. How is this AUA managing to hold her own with Validus Vale’s number one Elite? I could watch this all night.
“...They disappeared nearly a year ago; we should have been searching from day one.”
I concentrate on her words. ‘Disappeared nearly a year ago?’
Do I believe in coincidences? Yes.
Is this a coincidence? Fuck no.
What do Wilson and Drakeward have in common, aside from attending the Academy? Are they talking about more missing Validus Vale students?
“Know your place, dud,” Cosmo hisses. He’s close to losing his shit completely, and I’m finding it increasingly hard to keep quiet in the shadows.
“Fuck off back to Defectivum,” he snaps at the girl, “and remember, I forbid you to talk to anyone in authority about the twins.”
Wilson’s trying to fight the Elite command once more, but has run out of whatever power she was using.
“GO!” Cosmo roars.
She hightails it out of there. Seconds later, Drakeward collapses into an armchair, buries his head in his hands, and mutters to himself. “Fuck. Fuck. What should I do?”
Below me, the front door of Electis tower slams open, and the small body of Wilson races out, flying down the pathway that leads back to her dorm. I watch her go, then turn back to the Elite in the tower. Does he have any more information to spill?
I spend ten minutes watching him mumble and down Irish whisky.
I’m getting no more information from Cosmo Drakeward tonight.
I should really get out of here. I’m far too close to the school to be flying, but a scratch in the animal part of my brain won’t let go of the idea that I need to check in on Wilson.
I should make sure the little Defectivum girl got back to her dorm safely.
Big brother and all that.