Chapter Thirty
Bechora
“Repeat that last part, please,” Miles spoke, his pen scribbling across a page in his notebook, rapidly filling with notes about my day.
“We ran into each other, and she got kind of bitchy when she realized who I was.” I sighed, pacing in front of the coffee table.
“She was pissed about me being with Zypher and acted like me touching her to help her up was the worst thing in the world as soon as she found out. I’m not really sure what else there is to say about it. ”
“Hmm.” Miles hummed, pausing to study his notes.
Shadrie sat next to him, skimming what he’d written over his shoulder.
A smile broke across Miles’ face, and he bolted from his seat.
“I have a theory, but I need to check something in the library.” His words tumbled out in a rush, his chair screeching back as he grabbed his bag. “Meet me there before dinner!”
He darted from the room, leaving Shadrie and me staring after him.
“What the hell was that about?” she asked, brows furrowed.
I shook my head, still processing how fast he’d moved. “No idea. I was hoping you might have one since you were paying attention to what he was writing.”
Shadrie gave a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’ve been helping him dig through books to figure this out for weeks now, and have never seen him act like this.
Half the time it ends with stacks of books taller than me and him muttering about some obscure magical theory until he drives himself in circles.
” She tilted her head toward the door he’d bolted through.
“If he’s running off like that, he must think he’s finally onto something big. ”
A knot formed in my chest. Miles had thrown himself into my mystery like it was personal, and though I appreciated the effort—more than I could ever say—I didn’t dare let myself believe this sudden breakthrough would actually be one. Hope had teeth, and it bit hard when it snapped shut on nothing.
“Maybe,” I murmured. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. Thrackborne’s had plenty of theories that haven’t panned out. What could any of us possibly figure out that he can’t?”
Shadrie shrugged. “He’s told me a little about his coven back in the human realm.
They have stories and myths I’d never heard before.
Just because Professor Thrackborne couldn’t find the answers doesn’t mean Miles isn’t onto something.
” I opened my mouth to retort, but the look she shot me had me snapping it shut with an audible click.
“If he’s wrong, he’s wrong. I’m just saying you can’t discount us because we’re not some two-hundred-something-year-old dragon. ”
I shifted on my feet, guilt pricking at me.
I was grateful to her and Miles for the lengths they’d been going to, looking for anything that could help uncover the answers I needed.
I’d only ever had one person in my life that had my back like that, and Geordie had turned out to have secrets so deep they’d landed me here.
The thought of him drew my dream to the front of my mind.
Geordie was insistent that I uncover the truth of what I am and claim my bonds.
There was something in the way he’d told me to hurry that had desperation and fear coiling in my gut and tightening the knot in my chest. If whatever theory had sent Miles flying from the room didn’t pan out, where would that leave us?
Would it even be possible to figure this out?
“I can see the wheels turning, B. Your head is practically smoking with how hard you’re overthinking this.
” Shadrie spoke, pulling me from my spiral.
“Your seer said to trust me, do you remember?” She paused long enough for me to nod.
“So, trust me now. Miles hasn’t gotten that worked up the entire time we’ve been combing through the library.
My gut is telling me he’s onto something, so let’s let this play out and see before we freak too much, okay? ”
I blew out a puff of air, forcing the panic trying to claw up my throat back where it belonged. “Okay. I can try to do that.”
“Good, and B,” Shadrie hesitated. “You should probably run across campus.”
My brows furrowed, and I shook my head in confusion. “What?”
“Yeeaaahhh, if you don’t run, you’re going to be late to class.” She grimaced. “You kind of spent too long spiraling out before you snapped out of it.”
“Shit,” I hissed, my eyes seeking out the clock in our kitchen area and snatching my messenger bag from the recliner where I’d left it while I’d gone over the day before in detail with my friends. “You couldn’t have warned me before I spiraled.”
“Sorry, B,” Shadrie laughed. “I wasn’t exactly watching the time, so I only just noticed.”
I groaned, slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder and bolting for the door.
The hallway outside was empty, students already in their last class of the day or tucked away in their dorm rooms. My footsteps pounded against the carpets as I sprinted toward the front doors.
The academy felt different without bodies crowding the corridors—too quiet, as if the whole place were holding its breath.
I shoved through the heavy doors and into the courtyard, the chill of the fading afternoon air biting at my cheeks.
The quad stretched out before me, eerily still, the usual clusters of students replaced by empty benches and silent walkways.
I ran harder, bag thumping against my hip, the rhythm of my breathing ragged in my ears.
By the time the training pitch loomed ahead, my chest burned, and sweat dampened the back of my neck, pooling between my breasts.
Faint shouts and the crack of magic against magic crackled through the air, as if the pitch itself were alive.
I slowed only long enough to drag in a steadying breath before stepping through the arched opening in the walls surrounding the pitch.
“Late,” Rumlock growled, his gaze cutting to me as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Won’t happen again!” I called back, raising a hand in surrender.
“See that it doesn’t.” His eyes narrowed before he jerked his chin in the direction of the locker rooms. “Get changed.”
Heat flushed my face as a few students nearest the gate smirked, their attention flicking between Rumlock and me like they were waiting for him to make an example out of me. I ducked my head, muttering under my breath, and sprinted for the locker rooms tucked beneath the stands.
By the time I reemerged onto the pitch, the matches in progress were heating up.
Pairs of students slammed into each other with fists, kicks, and bursts of power that sent sparks snapping through the air.
The warded ground drank up the energy greedily, glowing faintly as it absorbed impact after impact.
Rumlock’s eyes tracked me the moment I stepped back onto the pitch, his expression unreadable save for the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth that said he was still displeased.
“Dreadgrave,” the professor barked, causing me to flinch. “Pair up with Ms. Knight.”
My eyes shifted from Professor Rumlock to Gabriel as the vampire prowled from the training mat he’d been on.
Hatred flashed across his face, sharp and raw, a reminder of the bond he’d somehow marked me with that we never spoke of, though neither of us wanted it.
My stomach clenched, bile threatening to rise in my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing it down.
“Move it, Knight.” Rumlock barked, pointing toward my usual training mat.
I scrambled forward, my feet hurrying across the grassy pitch.
Gabriel was already there, waiting at the edge of the mat like a predator lying in wait, his arms crossed as he glowered at me.
Stepping onto the warded square, I let my body sink into the stance we’d been practicing, knees bent, fists up, weight balanced, and watched him warily.
The last time we’d trained together, he’d thrown me around like I was nothing.
Not even the fire magic I now had at my disposal had been able to help me against his superior strength and speed.
Gabriel smirked, like he remembered every second of it, too. “Try to keep your feet under you this time.” His voice was low enough that Rumlock wouldn’t catch it, but laced with venom sharp enough to slice.
“Enough posturing,” Rumlock snapped from the sidelines. “You’re not here to socialize.”
Gabriel’s smirk widened. His body blurred with speed as he lunged.
It didn’t matter how ready I thought I was; it could never be enough.
His speed made it impossible for me to track his movements.
One second, he was on the opposite side of our mat, the next, his fist connected with my stomach.
The blow stole my breath and folded me in half.
I staggered back, sparks flaring from my fingertips in a wild arc.
They fizzled out, as if my stolen breath had yanked the oxygen they needed from them, too, before they could touch him.
“Too slow,” he taunted. His grin widened, sharp and merciless as though every failed strike confirmed his belief that I didn’t belong at the academy.
I braced myself, eyes roaming his body for any hints that would help me anticipate his next move, but he was a blur of motion.
Pain bloomed in my shoulder as he clipped me from behind, spinning me off balance.
I caught myself before I hit the ground, a frustrated growl breaking free of my lips.
Heaving myself upright, I called forth a ball of flame and desperately launched it in his direction.
Gabriel tucked under it, the heat singeing the air above his head as he drove his knee toward my ribs.
By some miracle, I twisted at the last second, catching only a glancing blow, but it had been hard enough to leave my side throbbing.