Chapter 7 #2
His answering smirk was unbearably smug. “I suggest wearing trousers for the foreseeable future, unless you want people asking about your new tattoo. Goodnight, Arden.” And without sparing a second glance at my outraged expression, he departed from the library.
I slept fitfully that night, my dreams ebbing into twilight nightmares.
A strangled yelp wrenched me back to wakefulness—my yelp, I realized.
My legs were tangled in the sheets, my face and neck slick with sweat.
I tried to regulate my breathing while I listened to Gwen’s soft snores and the gentle pattering of rain against the window.
I dreamt that a mysterious boy with dark hair and bottomless eyes had tricked me into a magical bargain that left me branded with his name embedded into my skin.
With my heart thudding against my ribcage, I slowly unwound my limbs from the sheets, flicked on the lamp and—
There it was, glaring back at me. Making a mockery of my flesh. Casimir. The proof that nothing about this nightmare had been imagined.
I stared at the tattoo until the rain stopped and a warm glow suffused the cream-colored walls.
A glance at the clock on my desk told me I had thirty minutes to change, find coffee, and make my way over to the West side of campus for class.
Despite the lack of sleep, I felt jittery, rather than weary.
“Hey, we’ve got class in a few,” I called to the lump of blankets that was Gwen Riordan. “Unless you were planning on skipping today?”
The lump groaned in response. I smirked, relishing the rare opportunity to tease my supremely studious roommate, who typically accomplished half her day in a single morning, usually several hours before I dragged myself out of bed.
The bulge of blankets suddenly burst open, revealing a tangled mess of short pink hair.
“What?!” Gwen cried in alarm, nearly toppling to the floor in her scramble to get out of bed.
“But my cat alarm didn’t go off!” She uttered this as if it was a perfectly reasonable sentence and then hurled the fuzzy-eared monstrosity that was her alarm clock against a pile of pillows, where it landed with a soft squeak.
“Maybe that’ll teach you not to rely on furry timepieces shaped like kittens,” I teased.
“It’s not just furry,” she snapped. “It also plays the “I Love Unicorns” by Luna Star!”
“My mistake.” I suppressed a laugh at the scowl etched on her face, and at the comical thunk of her feet as they collided with the floor. She harrumphed as she tried, and failed, to pull on a wool sock while simultaneously tugging a sweatshirt over her head.
“Where are my glasses?” she moaned.
I sighed before plucking the wire rimmed glasses off of her nightstand and handing them to her.
She accepted them with a grunt of acknowledgment. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she complained, eliciting an involuntary giggle from my lips. “You suck, Arden Farrow!”
I dodged the pink fuzzy slipper she aimed at my head.
“Slow down!” I laughed as she yanked on a denim jacket and sneakers, already reaching for the door.
“Gwen—!” I halted her with an arm across the doorway.
“Your shoes.” I pointed to the mismatched sneakers on her feet, earning a slurry of foul curses from her lips.
When she’d found her yellow sneaker’s mate from the pile in our closet, she nodded her readiness.
I grimaced. “Don’t hate me, but I need to make a quick stop on our way to class.”
As Gwen and I hurried through the throng of students, sharing sips from a thermos of coffee I’d looted from the faculty lounge (which was fortunately Casimir-free), I scanned the crowds of bustling students.
Devereaux, Evren, Veronika, and the other Daemons were missing from the faces in the throng. There was no sign of Casimir, either.
Gwen and I headed down another corridor and into the breezeway that connected the East and West wings, luxuriating in the daylight that filtered through the warped blue-glass windows, tinting the faces of all who wandered past.
“You got in late again last night,” Gwen observed for the second time this week.
“You’d make a great dormitory monitor, you know,” I grumbled.
“I’m not scolding,” she replied patiently. “Just curious about what you’ve been up to.”
My irritation warped into chagrin at the look on Gwen’s face.
There was worry in her warm hazel eyes. She wanted to know where I’d gone, not because she’d disapprove, but because she was worried I might be spiraling after losing August and my father within the span of a year.
I grimaced. If she only knew how much trouble I was really in.
The guilt mingling with my gratitude threatened to overwhelm me as Gwen offered me a warm smile, her concern palpable in the slight crease that appeared between her brows.
I knew it was unfair to take advantage of Gwen’s trust when I possessed the means to demand honesty from everyone—with the exception of Casimir—but regardless, I had promised not to speak about the Order to anyone.
I decided to give Gwen an abridged version of the events of the last few days.
I said I’d met Casimir in the library (which was true), and that he’d commented on a book I’d been reading (which was a lie).
I told her about my run in with August and his new “friends,” careful to leave out any details regarding Devereaux Graves or his magic.
The most alarming news I let slip was that August was rushing an exclusive society on campus and undergoing hazing as part of his indoctrination.
Gwen absorbed my story with quiet interest as we approached the bottom of the staircase that led to the musty, windowless crypt occupied by its resident rodent, Professor Skinner.
“As if we needed another reason to ban elite societies at this school,” Gwen said darkly, pushing her glasses back against the bridge of her nose. “I wondered why August was looking so peaky lately. Honestly, I can’t believe the administration just allows this kind of behavior!”
If she only knew.
“Well, I think the members having deep pockets doesn’t hurt.
For the right price, Dean Winthrop is more than happy to look the other way.
” I tried to laugh, but it came out like a cough.
At the look on Gwen’s face, I added reassuringly, “Don’t worry.
I’m in no hurry to cross paths with them again. And as for the hazing...”
“August signed up for it,” Gwen said with a sigh, her expression resigned. But her hazel eyes glinted with mischief as she added, “You’re going to tell me more about this mysterious Casimir guy later, right? I need details.”
“Um, yeah. Later. We’d better go inside, I don’t want to give Skinner a new reason to write us up,” I said quickly, wanting more than anything to end this particular conversation.
Tugging my sleeve to hold me back, Gwen whispered, “Do you think Neha will be in class today?”
I gave her a conspiratorial smile. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Gwen had long harbored a crush on Neha Iyer, a quiet, bookish girl with large brown eyes and a secretive smile. I’d spoken to her maybe a handful of times, but always found her to be polite and intelligent. Like Gwen, Neha ranked among the top students in our year.
When we entered, the rest of the students were already seated. A hush swept over the room as we hurried to find our desks.
“Late again, are we ladies?” came Professor Skinner’s indolent hiss. He stood at the lectern, presiding over the room with an unbearable air of superiority.
He made a tutting noise of disapproval as Gwen and I took our seats.
I glared up at him, daring him to write us up for being two minutes late, the absolute tyrant.
Gwen’s cheeks were tinged a bright shade of pink as she mumbled an apology.
Her record at this school was stellar, and she was on track to become Valedictorian in two years.
I felt a pang of regret for my role in her lateness.
“As I was saying before Miss Riordan and Miss Farrow rudely interrupted—we will be pausing our discussion of Rome and Julius Caesar today—”
The class gave a collective sigh of relief. We’d been in the trenches with Caesar for so long last term I’d begun to wish the Roman Empire would’ve collapsed sooner.
“—In favor of examining a tragic tale of love and betrayal.” He surveyed us beadily. “I believe you were meant to read it over winter break? It was listed on your reading assignments…”
An uncomfortable murmuring broke out among the students. Most of us hadn’t bothered to read a single page over the holiday, with the exception of Gwen, who was currently gazing around the room with a forlorn expression, as her crush, Neha Iyer, was absent.
Skinner gave a weary sigh and muttered something incoherent under his breath. “In any case, today we will be discussing the Tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, a tale of everlasting love dashed by tragedy.”
At the front of the room, Margot Penbury and Bryce Yu-Ri sat up a little straighter.
I shot Gwen a weary glance, which she returned with a grimace.
In the aftermath of my recent heartbreak, I didn’t have much of an appetite for love stories.
Skinner surveyed the room with an irritated expression at our collective recalcitrance before plowing on with his lecture.
“As I feared, most of you approach your education with a disregard bordering on negligence.” He slammed his heavy tome onto his desk, making the first row jump in their seats. “I shall summarize the tale for you, otherwise this exercise will be utterly pointless.”
The whirr of the old slide projector filled the room, and our attention was directed towards the blackboard as the rough image came into view. A painting of two lovers, a handsome young man with golden blonde hair, and a svelte woman with dark cascading curls.