50. WEN
“Here comes the shitstorm.”
Sarah whips her head around, eyes still filled with concern, and frustration.
Yeah. I remain her main source of both emotions.
They’ve been at a new high since I told her a redacted version of what happened with Godric. I was forced to when she woke up the next morning to my tear-swollen face.
If only that damn healing ability could wipe away the ravages of weeping. But no. It only heals shattered bones and slit throats.
Not that I’ve been crying over Godric. Not consciously, anyway. During the day, when he has me flat out running between the classes he’s substituting for our sessions, I’m stone-cold mad. The breakdowns happen only when I surrender to exhaustion and dream of him walking away from me, forever. This is the stupid version of me that cries her eyes shut over him.
After a week of waking up looking like when Kondar pummeled me, Sarah now shares my burning need to throttle Godric.
I haven’t bothered to soften her reaction—or to defend his. Even if he has good reason to shut me out. Especially if he does.
Not that he would want me to. He’d be offended if she or anyone else mistakes him for anything other than the heartless bastard that he is. He won’t be crying in his feathers that the kindest person he’d ever know now hates his guts.
He probably wants me to hate him.
And oh, I’m so getting there.
With his disappearance and all that followed it, it’s been almost six weeks of no training.
Not only am I in severe withdrawal, on all fronts, to add inflammation to injury, he manages to be everywhere I go. Always staring at me, from afar in that damn way of his. As if I’m the only one he can see, and the only thing he wants to do is devour me.
And he dared suggest I take another week off, as if that was some sort of kindness.
I am starting Phase Two of his torture bootcamp tomorrow at dawn. Even if I have to drag his semi-Celestial butt there by his Life Essence.
Sarah falls back, letting Jinny and the others overtake us. “What shitstorm?”
I wince as I point ahead. “That shitstorm.”
She turns her gaze where I pointed, then gasps.
Yep. She sees it now.
Every pair of eyes in the vast Hall is pinned on us. Or rather, on me. I feel everyone’s horrified antipathy hitting me like the shockwaves that destroyed Godric’s cavern. That can only mean one thing.
The Null is out of the bag.
The others realize what’s happening, too, since the trio turn and target me in their crosshairs.
If they ever hated being around me, this will kick their loathing into overdrive.
“They know,” Sarah whispers.
I exhale forcibly. “Yep.”
And I bet I know who ratted me out. Fucking Azazel.
After the Amulet Ceremony, he had a vested interest in keeping my powers a secret—until he made me his Null-powered slave. After we foiled his coveted Ligare, exposing me is his perfect, consequence-free revenge. On both of us.
From everyone’s reaction, he must have done it in the most damaging way possible.
Knowing him, I doubt he’ll stop at that.
“Maybe I should just leave.”
I don’t realize I said that out loud until Sarah turns to glare at me. “You’re not letting them intimidate you, are you?”
I wince again as my gaze pans around, my insides freezing solid with dismay. “It is intimidating, Sar. The whole student body is looking at me as if I’m Typhoid Mary, and they’re a lynching mob. It might be better to get out of everyone’s face, until the—uh, novelty of the discovery wears off.”
“And what if it doesn’t?” Sarah snaps, looking almost angry—at me! “You won’t find food anywhere else, and you’re not going hungry until everyone decides to stop being a prejudiced jerk.”
She does make sense, but I feel everyone is fresh out of it right now. This can get ugly, and the urge to run away is almost overpowering.
As usual, Sarah reads me, wrapping a bolstering hand over mine. “Running and hiding will only postpone this confrontation, not to mention validate whatever shit they’re thinking about you, and encourage anyone on the fence to join the mob. Running always makes things worse, as you always told me. So let’s go stuff our faces, and to Hell with them all.”
Her touch and words ground me, jogging me out of panic mode. Yeah. I never ran, since it only made shit hit the fan harder. The one time I did, from Godric, it landed me in this Supernatural monster land. Right now, delving deeper into the fire is my only option.
I let out a ragged laugh. “I just love it when you curse, Sar. You’re right, as always. To Hell with them all. Let’s eat!”
As I resume walking, Sarah rushes ahead of me, as if to intercept everyone’s hostility with her own body. It still feels too strange, this role reversal.
It’s what the others do that has my jaw dropping to the ground. They fall back until they’re surrounding me, each spreading her glares wide, as if warning everyone off.
“USTB and all, Null and Void,” Jinny says from behind me.
Though she sounds as maliciously gleeful as always as she refers to her self-coined Unitas Sticking Together Business—or Bullshit, according to her mood—my throat thickens with emotion.
I always expect Sarah to stand up for me, even if I’ll never get used to having her be my protector around here. And Godric, even if he’s schizophrenic where I’m concerned, and I still don’t understand where he stands. With me, or with everyone else.
But I thought I knew where the members of my Unitas stood. Firmly on whichever side I’m not. Their show of solidarity is so shocking, the damn tears I’ve been shedding in my sleep prick my eyes.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Cara says from my right, as if preempting an accusation.
I can see why she’d expect one. If it wasn’t for Azazel, she’d be my prime suspect.
As if reading my mind, Cara glowers at me. “I take this Unitas business extremely seriously.”
Yeah. That explains it. She hadn’t suddenly decided she likes me or wants to be my friend. I haven’t missed the gratification in her eyes every morning, when she found me in our dorm room and not with Godric. Finding me looking like shit was an extra bonus.
But her obsession with her standing within the Academy has her obeying its rules to the letter. Even if it means standing up for me.
Aela turns her violet gaze on me. “Whatever happens, don’t engage anyone. And by the archangels, don’t use your powers under any circumstances. We can’t afford another incident like the one with that fallen angel—or any other sort of provocation.”
My eyes burn again at the worry in her eyes, even if it’s not really for me. But I must let them all off the hook.
“Uh, listen, guys,” I rasp. “I appreciate your support, but please—just avoid me like you usually do. There’s no need for you to be lumped with me in the shitfest this will surely turn into.”
Jinny pokes a switchblade-like nail between my ribs. “Oh, quit it with the Wen-is-me schtick. We are lumped with you no matter what. We might as well get brownie points for appearing all upstanding for our Unitas member.”
Aela shoots Jinny a disapproving glance. “It seems you haven’t learned this is what being a Unitas means, demon. If the Trials didn’t teach you, I doubt you can learn. But as long as you keep doing what needs to be done, your dubious motives are of no importance.” She pans her gaze to include Cara and Sarah. “Everyone needs to know that if they mess with Wen, they mess with all of us. This should limit any nastiness, until this blows over.”
“If you think it will, you have feathers clogging your birdbrain, princess.” Jinny snickers, coming into my field of vision. “As for you, Nullybuns, listen to archangelspawn here, and don’t do anything to make it any worse on your end.” She wiggles perfectly-plucked eyebrows at me. “On my end, I wish someone would try to mess with you. It would give me the perfect excuse to fry some Angelblood ass—and get away with it.”
Just like that, all my tension drains and I grin at her. “I’d love to see you do it, Demoncakes.” I look at the other two. “Whatever your motives for sticking with me, in my book you don’t have to do it, so I’m grateful, beyond words.” Cara’s hard gaze falters, and Aela inclines her majestic head in calm acceptance, and my smile widens. “Now let’s go eat. All this anxiety is making me so hungry, I could eat an Angelblood whole.”
Jinny snorts and slaps me on the back, and the others look at me with various levels of dismay and distaste.
“Joking guys!” I exclaim.
Aela sniffs. “A tasteless joke, as always.”
Cara takes what feels like an involuntary step away from me. “And not really a joke, when you can eat what makes any Supernatural themselves.”
Aela purses her full lips. “Saying things like this is just the kind of provocation I warned you against.”
I groan. “Ugh, sorry, guys. I promise to watch what flies out of my big mouth.”
Aela exhales. “Make sure you do. Every word you say from now on will be taken literally, and as a possible threat. If you find yourself tempted to fling something inadvisable at anyone, don’t. If any of us is around, we’ll intervene, and stop any situation from deteriorating further.”
I suddenly have the stupid urge to burrow into the haven of her Level-Seven bosom.
Remembering her non-encroachment rule, I thankfully don’t. “Thanks, Aela, really. And I will.”
She gives me a curt nod before turning away. “Stay close.”
I do, so do the others as we move towards the food stations.
Not that they needed to. Everyone we cross paths with gives us—me—a wide berth. Some run away at our—my—approach.
When we reach our table, the other Unitas we always sit with are halfway through their breakfasts. The only one who doesn’t look wary or straight out afraid is Niala, the fae princess. She actually looks intrigued, and amused at the others’ blatant reactions.
But neither she or anyone else says anything, for which I’m grateful. I would have hated it if they blurted out something that would have interrupted anyone’s appetite. Not that my Unitas’s is in any danger. My being a Null is old news to them, and they’ve already taken it in stride. After Aela’s initial dismay, everything returned to normal between us, it lulled me into a sense of false security.
As we demolish our breakfasts, the Hall buzzes all around us, louder than ever, but that oppressive silence still grips our table.
Unable to stand it anymore, I look between the other quintet. “Anything you’d like to say to me? Get it off your chests already.”
Instead of answering, everyone raises their eyes above my head.
My hair stands on end as someone tackles me, wrapping powerful arms around my chest, and squeezing.
Crushing down on the aggression that surges within me, I beg my powers to disobey it, to burrow deeper beneath my skin instead. If they put on the slightest appearance, it will strike a match to this volatile situation.
The arms tighten enough to interrupt my breathing as a high-pitched voice almost pierces my ears. “You’re a fucking Null!”