CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
Right then, James understood why Perseus had patted his shoulder the night before. None of this is personal, you know that, right? It’s unfortunate when these tragedies happen, but it’s for the best. Callum, Valeria, and the rest were outvoted. You understand these matters.
Mistakenly, James had thought Perseus had voted for him.
James had made an impassioned speech for Perseus to convince the electors to vote for him.
He’d even shaken hands with Perseus afterward, his smile charismatic and grateful.
You have my thanks, truly, Perseus. I’ve wanted the end of my life for a long time now.
Of course, James. You are the only soul I care about in the College. You will be missed.
He ran his thumb across Elliott’s soft lashes. “You won’t die. I won’t let you. You have my word, Elliott.”
Elliott couldn’t hear him any longer; he was shivery with the powerful, agonizing pain of the end of his life. James gripped onto him harder. If Elliott was adrift at sea–then James would be the life preserver jacket, the rope, the rescue boat, the seaman.
His vocal chords tightened. “I won’t ever let you die. You will live for a century if I can help it, Elliott.”
Can you hear me? Tell me you can hear me. James only wanted Elliott to tell him he believed him, to vow that he would not despair, and to swear to him that he wouldn’t surrender himself. Least of all to Lucien Claude Montclair.
Lucien would torture Elliott, if he was left alone with him.
However, Elliott wasn’t thinking of himself. Elliott choked out, “Keep Kitty safe for me. Vow to look out for her. Please.”
“You don’t need to even ask, Elliott.” Tell me you believe in me.
James grasped his face in his hand, pressing their foreheads ever closer together.
Tell me. James held his face with all his strength, the intensity of his eyes heightened.
Tell me you haven’t given in, Elliott. “I care deeply for that soul of yours. Anima tua anima mea est. You understand that I will protect it? I will protect what is mine.”
Elliott always needed to hear it, it soothed him. However, James needed to hear from him that time.
Elliott smiled heartbreakingly. “Of course. You’re the best friend I ever had. I love you past the stars, James.”
A million words arose in the depths of James’s chest, roaring, flashing, like the rise of fiery thunderbolts prepared to blaze everyone around him. He felt the tenderest feelings for Elliott as his best friend, but now wasn’t the time for sentimentality. “Hold on for me.”
James intended to leave as the theater students were starting to trickle out, still rehearsing their lines and stage directions. There were a few stragglers that were picking at the winter harvest, sneaking in a few nibbles of the berries, beef, and goat cheeses.
As Elliott’s eyes began to water at the corners, James refused to leave him. He rested Elliott’s head against his rigid shoulder until Elliott could gather himself. It was important that Elliott paid attention to everything. That his eyes were cleared. That his mind was prepared.
Elliott would never kill anyone, not even in self defense.
If James was fast enough, he’d do the killing for him.
Entertained by the sight of them, the vile serpent approached with a falsely empathetic inflection. “Do you need a moment?”
James was proud of Elliott for the bite in his voice. “Not at all.”
A light dusting of snow began to fall as the temperature lowered before the dawn. Lucien licked the snow from the edge of his lip, satisfied.
“I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” Lucien said, and James didn’t comprehend what he meant. “James Wilde is safe like I agreed to you.”
James’s mouth parted open in disbelief. It was impossible that Elliott was na?ve enough to strike a deal with him. “Elliott, you didn’t…Tell me that you didn’t barter a deal with him?”
By the vengeful contortion of Lucien’s mouth, drinking in the sight of James’s distress, James knew he was telling the truth. However, James refused to believe it from anyone except Elliott.
“Tell me he’s lying, Elliott.” Elliott couldn’t be that idealistic and unaware. He couldn’t be that trusting, therefore James growled at Lucien. “You are a damned liar.”
“Do you really think I’m lying?” Lucien gleamed with gratification. “Ask Elliott, when he came to me on your behalf, out of the goodness of my heart, I agreed. Didn’t I, Elliott?”
Lucien departed with Elliott without another word.
James remained with slaughterous hatred broiled in his chest.
He concentrated as Elliott was taken from him. James checked his wristwatch, and he blew out a sharp profanity. It was 2:21 AM.
What felt like seconds had been over in twenty minutes.
Thysdrus was a twenty-five minute walk itself into the hearth of campus. The grand amphitheater domineered over the gothic architecture structures in the circlet of academic property.
If James sprinted, he would be there by 2:35 AM.
Instead, he committed himself to keeping pace with the rest of the theater students, accepting their condolences and sympathy.
He even held hands with one of the actresses, who squeezed his hand for comfort.
He’d slept with her last year, and he always confused her with her twin sister, who he’d also slept with last year, so he only nodded instead of risking her name. “Thank you for your condolences.”
“Death is natural.” She was mindless with platitudes. “Don’t linger the loss, linger on the memories. It could’ve been anyone.”
He was so sightless in loathe that he couldn’t see them, he couldn’t decipher any of their words after that. He heard the words, but none of them registered.
One of them assured him, “Everything’s fine. It’s over now.”
Another actor said, “Think of it this way, after this performance, the year ends soon. All of it will be behind you.”
James didn’t want Elliott behind him, he wanted him beside him.
All in bright spirits, one of them quoted The Crucible, and they all began to re-enact the famed scenes. “‘It’s winter in here yet. On Sunday let you come with me, and we’ll walk the farm together…’”
The theater students walked torturously slow, bantering incessantly, and it only served to remind James why he was grateful that he was a philosophy student. Even tech week with them had been insufferable.
Their promenade was so leisurely that they didn’t arrive until 2:57 AM.
James wanted more than anything to quit the theater right then and there.
However, Wulfram had lured him into the theater department.
If James ever had a splotch of blood on his shirt, or he had a shard of cartilage stuck beneath his nail beds, everyone would think it was due to theater props. The alchemy tomes were merely theater research books, if anyone questioned him.
Wulfram had been convinced by one of the theater professors to allow her to mentor James. She’d won over syllogistic Helmut Wulfram by pointing out all the best politicians were liars and performative actors.
Perseus Swann had teased him. Old Hellmouth stuck you in theater, didn’t he? Best of luck.
Hellmouth is convinced I’ll become her protégé. She’s…persistent.
Perseus’s mouth curled in distaste. A protégé to a woman sounds like a punishment. Hellmouth said she was Toxicodendron radicans–an irritant. You’re lucky, though, she’s leagues younger than the old man. Wulfram was physically young, an ox of a man, but his mindset and methods were of antiquity.
Perseus had to use ostraka inscriptions, potsherds, and wax tablets for his examinations. James had erroneously assumed he’d gotten the better deal of the matter.
Every part of James’s life had been orchestrated by AEscwulf College.
Now, James was going to orchestrate his life on his own.