Chapter 5
My mind is still buzzing, but I register Professor Byrne droning on even before we walk inside. The Dining Hall anteroom is dimly lit and filled with professors standing around in groups with drinks in their hands, all turned in Byrne’s direction. That man is standing right next to him, looking over his shoulder to watch Serra and I enter as this slight but charismatic smile slides off his face. This time, I don’t let my eyes linger on him.
In fact, I don’t let myself linger on anything in particular, following Serra as she weaves her way to the refreshments table. There’s something not quite right with me. It”s just too much — the details on the faces of people around me, the sounds they’re making while breathing, the smells wafting up to me from their hair, their skin, their clothes. The same goes for everything around me. What’s surprising me most is how fast I am at registering movement — bringing of glasses to lips, shifting from foot to foot, leaning to whisper something in someone’s ear. It’s so fast, it feels like predicting it before it even happens.
Trying to fight the overwhelming feeling, I grab a drink and give Serra a nod. She leaves to stand with Lorcan and I find Carrel and Nolan by the wall with the tapestry of the War of the Elements hung to the right of the closed door leading into the Dining Hall.
We exchange smiles, but to my relief, everyone’s attention is still on Professor Byrne. I don’t think I’m capable of small talk right now.
When I turn to Byrne myself, I finally let my gaze fix on the man standing next to him with a drink in his hand.
Gods, I’m seriously distraught. Because it’s only then that it starts dawning on me, what his presence in this room must mean.
He’s the new professor. He is Jericho Bane. And the fact is very confusing. Because he looks nothing like the image of the shriveled-up asshole from my head.
For starters, he’s around my age, maybe a couple of years older.
Then there’s the fact that he looks more like a movie star gazing at you from a billboard than someone you’d expect to see in your workplace — tall, athletic, his defined jaw cleanly shaven, and his thick, short brown hair swept back, with a defiant strand still falling out of rank here and there. He’s dressed in perfectly tailored dark gray pants and a crisp white shirt that only draws the eye to the slight tan of his radiant skin.
Then there’s his demeanor, which becomes more contradictory the more you look at him. It’s so easy and confident, yet there’s this tension and discipline in his every movement. Whenever Byrne glances at him, Bane gives a nod, his lips stretching to show off a set of perfect teeth in a smile that’s easy and charismatic, yet undeniably bored.
“With that, I hope we will make you feel welcome here,” Byrne finally concludes his little speech.
Anticipation builds inside me before Bane’s voice fills the room with a deep, smoky timbre with a touch of something sharp, “Thank you, I’m sure you will.”
It makes my eyebrows pull down, that thing inside me stirring.
His eyes sweep over us all with such knowing intensity, lingering on my frown as he says, “And I hope to justify the welcome.”
This time, his gaze is like a wave crashing into and rolling over me, making my frown grow deeper.
The next thing I know, everyone around me is raising their glasses in a toast and breaking into a loud chatter.
I tear my eyes away from Bane, only then noticing how divided his presence has made us.
While my own group and a couple of others remain where we’re standing, throwing suspicious or judgmental looks in the direction of the big shot who’s come to exert his dubious influence over our students, other groups don’t waste time closing in on him, creating a circle of sycophants fighting for his attention, the women more so than the men.
It all makes me sick to my stomach, but at least I seem to be slowly going back to normal. The sights, sounds and smells around me are getting duller, my mental focus is sharpening and I don’t feel as distraught as I did a moment ago.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe now the effects of all that magic will finally wear off. I lean against the tapestry, lift the sole of my boot onto the wall under its edge and take the very first sip of the drink in my hand and turn my attention onto my colleagues.
It makes my eyebrows shoot up, when I realize they’re searching the web for info on Bane.
Then again, it’s with a comment about him that I interrupt them, so who am I to talk? “He doesn’t exactly strike me as a businessman,” I say.
Without looking up from his phone, Carrel says, “He’s ex-military. Then he went into the sportsbooks business and expanded the empire from there.”
Ex-military? It does sound like an actual qualification at least, but… “Yeah, he doesn’t exactly strike me as a soldier either,” I protest, but it feels stupid admitting it’s because of the movie-star quality.
Nolan shrugs and Carrel just shoots me a confused look.
It’s at that moment that Nolan’s phone pings, he checks the message and then looks up at us with a victorious smile on his face, motioning at Professor Ahearn, one of the Academy’s most prolific gossips. “I know why it was him they hired.”
We both nudge him to go on.
“He’s here to teach Finn.”
“Finn who?” I ask with a frown.
Nolan smiles with a spark in his eyes. “The hopeless son of King Brennan.”
“So it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” I say with a shrug, “and he’s here on some kind of duty. Sounds better than I thought it would be.”
Nolan looks at me like I’m crazy. “This is an obscenely rich man who’s so in cahoots with the elite that kings are arranging hard-to-get positions at famous Academies for him to teach their sons.” He frowns. “In short, he’s someone who doesn’t need to care what others think of him.”
“Yeah, and he’ll be influencing an entire generation of our shifters,” Carrel adds with vigor.
It’s not like I don’t agree. Still, all this hostility is flooding my mouth with bitterness, and it’s bothering me that everyone’s making this whole evening about the newcomer, especially because I myself have to fight the urge to stare at him.
“So will Professors Ahearn, O’Connor and MacArthur,” I argue. “But not if they’re all focusing on sharpening their pitchforks instead of teaching the students.”
Nolan squints at me. “I thought you’d be the first to pull out the protest signs.”
“If we’re protesting his business,” I say with a frown, “sure, I already have some lying around. But I’m not too eager to start vying for someone getting fired before I actually see them in action.”
Before I can respond, Carrel leans a little forward with a look of surprise in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you did it. You’re taking the Archivist seat.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Nolan says with a knowing smile.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I demand.
“With you playing politics all of a sudden?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d say it’s got everything to do with it.”
“It’s not a political role.”
“Not much of a role in general,” Carrel snaps.
“Beats having to scrape gum off the desks in the Library,” I quip with a grin.
They both laugh and Carrel changes the subject. I keep chatting with the two of them about this and that, but I’m tense, my mind lingering on the comment about my new role.
What snaps me out of it is this feeling of being watched. I let my gaze sweep over the crowd, making sure it doesn’t linger on Bane.
I expel a pent-up breath and take another sip of my drink. I guess I should’ve known it would be this way — that the Archivist role would lose all respectability as soon as ”the Scion” took it on. Still, it stings, just like it does whenever I achieve something only for everyone to act as if it’s nothing.
Gods, I can’t wait for this night to be over. Not even the honor of having the Pied Piper introduce me as the Archivist seems to be something to look forward to.
Something nudges me to look to my left, my eyes locking with Bane’s for a brief moment before I tear them away, refusing to keep making tonight all about some ‘random man’, as Lorcan put it so nicely.
Then again, there’s this overwhelming urge to study him some more. It takes all I have not to indulge it, especially whenever his voice reaches me, switching from serious to joking in a way that makes me wonder what he’s talking about.
While everyone else is moving on, his presence seems to at least be keeping his sycophants enthralled.
It lingers in my mind, the way I reacted when I first locked eyes with him. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
So is this entire day. I mean, gods, the presence inside me.
What the hell was that?
I don’t have time to ponder it. Carrel, Nolan and I keep chatting, but now the current of the crowd is taking us straight towards the door into the Dining Hall.
We step inside and I let my eyes sweep over the grandeur.
There’s the sea of students below the podium we’re filing onto, the echo of their chatter tapering off long before it reaches the vaulted ceiling high above. I don’t have to look to know they’re buzzing around the three vertically placed tables, one for each of the three Houses. It all looks so magical — the food on the tables, the chandeliers above everyone’s heads, the tapestries, flags and upholstery all in rich green and gold — the colors of the Academy.
I don’t linger on it. As we approach the professors’ table — the one placed at the edge of the podium to face the students’ — my gaze fixes on my new seat, third to the left from the Pied Piper’s wood-and-bone one.
My lips curl into a smile, the excitement returning with a vengeance.
I see Bane appear in the crowd in front of me, his back turned.
Then my smile slides right off and I stop midstep, this surge of unexpected anger flooding my veins as I watch him pull a chair out and take a seat.
My chair.
***
Frozen in place, I watch Professor Ahearn take the seat to the newcomer’s left as she tries to keep their conversation going. He cuts her efforts short, seemingly taking a moment to survey the Hall before him.
For a second, I work on shoving the unexpected anger aside, contemplating just taking the empty seat to his right. I sure as hell don’t need any more drama tonight.
Then again, why would it be a thing? There’s still that tension in his body, but it’s so laid-back, the way he’s sitting in my chair. Besides, I’ll only be asking him to switch seats with me.
I start moving straight towards him. I stop right in front of the chair to his right with other faculty members still settling in around us. I see his body tense up and I expect him to turn to me, but he just takes his phone out of his pocket and starts typing. I can”t help but notice what beautiful hands he has — big, with long, deft fingers.
I lean a little forward, opening my mouth and finding myself blurting the following out, “Um, sorry, but that’s not your seat.”
Slowly — as if he’s not surprised by my presence — he turns to lock eyes with me. My heart starts pounding, and I spot his nostrils flaring and his features twisting in this pained expression before he smooths them out.
Great, he seems to be one of those who don’t exactly like the human scent. Still, at least he’s polite enough to try not to show it. It feels like an eternity before he finally puts the phone away and says, in a tense, serious voice, “Pity. I like the view from here.”
The confusion makes me squint, but I shrug it off and let out a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” I lilt, “but you see, we have these traditions here. Everyone has their own spot at the table.”
He quirks an eyebrow. Gods, the eyes. I watch him glance at the chair below him. “Ah, so it’s your seat that I’m taking?” he asks. There’s still tension in his voice, but it’s a little softer now.
I squint at him. Then I smile. “It doesn’t matter whose it is, it’s not yours.”
A corner of his lips tugs into a slight smirk. “I’m sure I’ll find a way around that,” he says and then pulls the chair in front of me out a little, motioning for me to take a seat.
I laugh. “You know, this isn’t one of those things you can just buy.”
“I believe that’s what they say about love, not chairs,” he snaps flatly.
“Love is overrated, chairs are not,” I snap back.
He blows a soft laugh through his nose, his eyes zeroing in on me. Then he leans back in my seat, stretching a little and splaying his legs. “I’m starting to see your point.”
I just look at him for a second, my eyes narrowing. I open my mouth to directly tell him to switch seats with me and be done with it, but it’s at that very moment that the Dining Hall goes silent.
I throw a look over my shoulder to see the Pied Piper walk in, and when I look back at Bane, I see him smirking at me, once again motioning at the empty seat next to him.
He knows I’m forced to take it now.
And I do, avoiding his lingering gaze as I drag the chair as far away from him as possible. I hear a low chuckle that makes a sting of defeat burn through my skin and the anger flare up deep inside me again.
“Welcome, everyone,” the Pied Piper’s bored drawl booms and echoes as she comes to stand next to her chair, “to yet another year here at the Academy.”
The room breaks into thunderous clapping. I join in, my lips pressing tight as I refuse to look to my left, where I can sense the asshole getting even more comfortable in my chair.
“Now, I’ll address you all again a little later,” the Pied Piper continues, “but right now, let’s hear from the head housekeeper, who’ll be notifying you of all changes regarding our regulations and restrictions.”
The head housekeeper gets up and starts droning on like he does every single year, but I’m too busy contemplating what to do about the asshole.
I notice the way some of the front-row students are gawking at him as he opens a bottle of scotch and pours himself a drink.
He himself seems to be busy glancing at me every couple of seconds, making my self-consciousness and my anger keep spiking all at once.
How is he managing to get me this worked up? And more importantly, will I really let him take my seat?
Before I can make up my mind, I sense him lean a little closer to me, his eyes fixing on my profile.
I turn to look at him just as he says, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” He holds his hand out for a shake. “I’m Jericho—”
“I know who you are,” I cut him off and turn to face the Hall again.
I was the one practically defending you, I think with bitterness flooding my mouth.
He pulls his hand back. “Right,” he sneers, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “So, what’s with the chair, Miss Novak?”
This makes me freeze.
“I thought Librarians didn’t care where they sat,” I hear him go on, “as long as there were dusty books lying around.” He seems to take a second to glance around. “Oh, I see the conundrum.”
I force myself to calm down and turn to look at him. I guess the question is in my eyes, because almost as soon as they land on him, he shrugs, leaning back in the chair a little.
“I’ve been briefed,” he says simply.
I smile. “The brief didn’t include where you’re sitting tonight?”
He blows a laugh through his nose. “So you are the human.”
I frown. Is he really not sure?
It’s at that moment that one of the professors behind him gets up to go to the bathroom and I realize what I could do about the chair. I start looking around for Serra. “You’re doubting what they told you?” I ask Bane, a little absent-mindedly. “I knew money couldn’t buy love or chairs, but properly vetted information at least?”
Serra’s a stickler about these things, she’ll be coming to fix it without me even asking for it.
The next thing I know, the chair I”m in is moving with a scrape against the floor, and my head is snapping to my left to see he’s dragged me closer to him with this pissed-off look on his face.
“Hey,” I protest with a frown.
I try to drag myself back, but the grip of his hand around the armrest seems to be enough to keep me locked in. Before my reflexes can kick in, the asshole leans in and takes a whiff of me.
He fucking smells me.
There’s a moment of silence as his features twist like they did the first time, only this time it looks as if he’s going to grab me.
He doesn’t. He just keeps staring at me, his nostrils flaring.
Still, the audacity is rendering me speechless.
He seems to snap out of it. “What?” he demands, his eyes challenging me and his voice carrying a touch of aggression even as he leans back in his chair as if nothing’s happened. “You’re refusing to answer my question, smartass. What do you expect?”
I guess this particular bully I’ll have to try to intimidate. “How about basic manners?” I demand, staring him down as I lean back and splay my legs to mirror his own posture.
To that, he just blows a laugh, a little louder this time. But he does let me move the chair back, so I guess it’s a victory. Sort of. Still, it doesn’t make me any less sore.
“Yeah, I guess I was being naive,” I mumble through gritted teeth.
“Past tense? Really?” he demands.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lets out a scoff. “A human working at an academy for Originals? It’s like coming to dinner as…” His eyes drag down my body, making my blood boil. “Well, steak.”
I throw him a flat glare. “In case you haven”t noticed, I”m a woman. It”s not just when I”m surrounded by Originals that I”m in danger.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“And besides, eighteen forty-seven?” I continue, referring to the year of the Treaty between humans and Originals, “it was over a hundred and fifty years ago.”
He leans forward, once again pinning me with his stare. “Newsflash, little miss, the world is just as fucked up as it was before we signed a flimsy piece of paper and forever locked it out of our sight.”
“That’s rich, coming from someone like you.”
“You wound me,” he purrs, not breaking eye contact. “But when you’re ‘someone like me,’ you quickly learn something. People who are loudest in their anger with you? They’re usually just bitter they don’t have the guts to be you.”
I close my eyes. I think I’ve had it with this arrogant man. I take a deep breath. “Are you going to switch seats with me or not?” I demand as I open my eyes.
“No,” he says as he leans back in the chair, spreading his legs and stroking the armrest. “There’s this human girl getting her panties in a bunch over it. Must be a good chair.”
And I don’t know why I’m letting him keep dragging me into this, but before I know it, I’m gritting out, “The ‘human girl’ is the Grimm Academy Archivist. I suggest you treat her with the respect she deserves.”
Something flashes through his eyes. Surprise? “Archivist? I thought Jaeger was the Archivist.”
He really knows his shit.
“Not any longer.”
“Wow, how’d you manage to pull that off?”
It renders me speechless for a second, his reaction. Is he… It almost sounds like this asshole is taking me seriously.
I dismiss it. I lean a little forward, locking eyes with him. “You know, I’m starting to understand this all must be a joke to you. To some of us, it’s anything but.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “You keep doing that, Miss Archivist.”
“What?”
“Not answering my questions.”
“And you’re still in my seat, so I guess we’re even.”
“Yeah,” he drawls, “I have a feeling, even if I gave the chair up, I wouldn’t get any answers in return.” He pauses for a second, his eyes narrowing right before a chuckle escapes him. “Ah…”
“What?”
“You know,” he says with this insufferable smirk, “you all have a tendency to think you’re being unique, playing hard to get with the handsome rich bachelor. When, in fact, you’ve all been watching the very same movies growing up.”
I’m frowning as he leans in, dropping his voice a little, but not wiping the smirk off his face. “Let me give you a piece of advice. Just scoffing at the most desirable man in the room doesn’t automatically make him head over heels for you.”
The goddamn arrogance. I have to take another deep breath to calm down. I fail.
“You know what?” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll play whatever role I need to play to get you out of my fucking seat. So if this is not working for you, why don’t you do me a favor and tell me what would?”
This only makes his mouth crack into a self-satisfied grin. “Well, that’s more interesting, offering to fuck me straight off the bat.”
I have to fight not to roll my eyes at him.
He doesn’t let me respond. “Come on, Miss Archivist, there are impressionable children around. Besides, I’m not sure I’m that into you.”
I give him a flat glare. “If you think there’s anything you can do or say that can shock me—”
I break off because the next thing I know, his smirk grows wider as the whites of his eyes turn pitch black, the pupils seeming to catch on fire.
Fuck. These are not human eyes.
It comes as a shock, how hot in my skin they make me. Something stirs inside me, that presence, and the light in the room becomes brighter, the sounds louder and the smells stronger. There’s one in particular that makes me want to sniff like crazy. It’s so much information all at once that I have to avert my eyes despite not wanting to show him he’s managed to get to me.
I fix them ahead, frowning and breathing heavily.
There’s a moment of silence before I hear him say, “You’re wrong, you know? I’m sure there’s at least one thing I can do that will shock you.”
His voice is a little softer, and before I know it, I’m turning to see him getting out of my chair. “Here, all yours.”
***
I switch seats with him, but I make a point of not even looking at him. This is all getting me too worked up, so I fix my eyes ahead, praying for him to just leave me alone.
He doesn’t. Not five seconds go by before he’s leaning to say, “Maybe we could start over. I don’t really want to get off on the wrong foot with my new colleagues, now do I?”
Without turning to look at him, and in an ice-cold voice, I say, “I’m sure you’ll find a way around it. Enjoy the dinner.”
I feel his eyes linger on me and I want to punch him in the face.
For crying out loud, Anna, I tell myself, there’s something seriously wrong with you today. You weren’t this childish when you were a goddamn child.
It’s at that moment that the housekeeper finally finishes the proclamation and the Pied Piper rises from her chair, making the asshole stop staring at me. “Now, one last thing before we can start enjoying the food. I’d like to inform you of the changes in our faculty.”
I throw a glance in her direction, a smile creeping up on me. I may not get my chair, but at least I’ll get this moment.
“It is my honor to present to you your new Archivist—”
Before she can even say my name, I hear Bane get up. My eyes snap to him to see the devious smirk on his face as he throws a knowing glance at me.
“And your new professor,” he says, his voice booming and capturing the attention of everyone in the Hall.
It all makes me hold my breath in expectation of trouble. He did just interrupt Johanna de Groot herself.
“I hope you don’t mind, veneranda.” He turns to the Pied Piper, but she just sits down with a shrug. “I guess this is turning out to be… even more exciting for me than I thought it would be, watching this generation of young minds ready to be shaped.”
He throws another self-satisfied glance at me. Well, I guess this manipulative asshole really can do whatever he wants.
And everyone seems to be eating it up. There’s such violent clapping as I swallow an angry groan.
“Now now, I’m a humble man and you’re all giving me way too much attention right now.”
Yeah right.
“I’ll see you in class, Shapeshifting Studies, right?”
He doesn’t even know which class he’s teaching.
“And until then, why don’t you enjoy this little present I brought for you tonight?” And with a snap of his fingers, servers appear with trolleys stacked with champagne bottles.
Must be fancy champagne, at least judging by the reactions.
The Pied Piper won’t forget about me, right?
“Well,” she says as she stands up again just as a server places a glass in front of me, “this seems to be as good a moment as any to raise our glasses to another year at Grimm Academy.”
She nods for the performers to come in.
Goddamnit.
I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t even want to throw a glance in the asshole’s direction. And I’m not touching the drink.
“What, you don’t like champagne?” I hear him say with feigned innocence in his voice.
I don’t say anything, choosing to ignore him.
“You know,” he says with such smugness in his voice, “I’mstarting to really look forward to working alongside you, Little Miss Archivist.”
I grab the glass to try to contain my anger. I hold it in my hand so tight, I feel it’s going to break. It’s through gritted teeth that I say, “I assure you, you won’t have anything to do with me whatsoever.”
The anger makes my vision blur for a second, after which there’s that presence inside me again, turning the volume on all my senses up.
This time, the presence speaks.
Get him, it tells me, in an old female growl that sends shivers down my spine.
Then there’s this intense warmth spreading through my body, and the sound of glass breaking, and the smile sliding off Bane’s face.
I shock myself so much that I just keep sitting there in dumbstruck silence.
The very next moment, someone is coming over to tell Bane the Pied Piper wants him to sit next to her, and I’m snapping out of the blur of anger only to find Lorcan leaning in his chair to stare at me intently.
The performers are already starting to come out, but now my mind is buzzing relentlessly.
What just happened? What was that voice? Why do I feel so much anger all of a sudden?
It all goes by in a blur, making me crave going to my room to rest, but as soon as the Pied Piper gets tired of the whole parade and ends the Opening Ceremony, Lorcan appears next to me.
I watch him rummage through his pocket to produce the keys, the device we use only when we want to summon all faculty members for an urgent meeting. it’s in a pissed-off voice that he tells me, “You’re coming with me, Miss Novak.”