Chapter 33 Caelum Fifteen Years Old #2
Caelum winced, and glanced at the three beds where Voltaire, Panzen, and Maskey should be. He remembered then, and his jaw clenched.
It was Yule.
They’d left for the night, which was why he’d had Elysia up here in the first place. She’d implied she might let him shag her, if he put enough spells around the room and no one else could hear them or walk in while they were doing it.
He looked at the taller of the two mages, who still stood over him, by the bed, then back at the one with the wide, frightened eyes he’d just been throttling. Both were unusually handsome boys, but in vastly different ways.
The tall one, Lucifer “Luc” Mocking, had dark red hair, and a quiet, pensive, intellectual demeanor.
Physically he was lean, angular, somehow removed and regal-seeming, but with sharp, all-seeing blue eyes.
Alaric Greythorne, the boy seated next to him, rubbing his throat, had a disarmingly charming, boyish handsomeness to him.
He could also look regal when he made an effort, but he often didn’t; Caelum had him pegged as an easily-overlooked genius who liked to pretend he was an idiot.
Both mages were younger than him, by at least two years, but everyone in his year was younger than him.
Even Elysia was only fourteen. Caelum had known Alaric a lot longer, partly because their fathers were friends, but they’d never been close.
Then again, Caelum had never been close to anyone, not even Elysia.
He’d always respected the two boys, though.
They were his only serious competition in his academic courses. They’d always left him alone up until now, presumably because he ignored them.
Why were they fucking with him now?
“Are you all right, Elysia?” Greythorne asked the witch.
She blinked at him, still looking on the verge of hysteria. “Me? Yes. Yes, I’m all right.”
“Maybe you’d better go back to your dorm then,” Alaric suggested gently. His eyes never left Caelum’s. Neither did Luc’s.
Elysia huffed a bit, but got up, and walked out of the room. Despite her feeble protests, Caelum definitely got the impression she was happy to go.
Alaric watched her until she’d left. Luc never took his eyes off Caelum.
“I think he’s back,” Mocking said shrewdly.
Caelum forced his expression blank.
He scrubbed the fingers of both hands through his white-blond hair and forced an exhale. He could feel himself flushing, though. He continued to avoid their eyes when he finally spoke.
“What happened?” he asked.
His voice came out quiet, dangerous even now.
Alaric’s hand dropped from his own neck.
“Elysia,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Screaming like the building was on fire. Luc and I were all set to sleep downstairs, to give the two of you some privacy, but then she started screaming bloody murder and we felt obliged to intervene.” He glanced at Mocking, who shrugged in general agreement.
Alaric looked back at Caelum, a frown furrowing his brow.
“She says you two were snogging, then something happened. She wasn’t really sure what, but it burned her, she said, pretty badly. It also knocked her out…”
He trailed, and Caelum got the impression the mage was flustered.
Caelum’s own mind had already wound backwards to its own version of events. He remembered being with Elysia on the bed and felt his face heat. Gods. He’d been trying to fuck her, hadn’t he? She’d gotten him mostly naked, and put her mouth on him, and he’d lost control over his magic. He hurt her.
Fuck. He’d seen her go down, and assumed he’d killed her.
That must’ve sent him into some kind of mental breakdown.
No wonder Elysia freaked out.
“It’s fine,” Caelum blurted. “It was just an accident.”
Luc and Alaric exchanged looks.
“Did you lose control over your magic?” Luc asked, matter of fact. He folded his arms. “You were convulsing when we came up here. She thinks she was only out for a few seconds, but she said your eyes rolled up, and she couldn’t get you to respond.”
“A magical embolism,” Alaric blurted.
Caelum looked at him, his jaw hardening. “What?”
“I’ve read about them,” Greythorne added, apologetic.
“I’m guessing you had some kind of magical reaction with Warrington, knocked her out, then panicked when you realized you’d hurt her.
It’s called a magical embolism. I’ve read about them.
An extreme emotional response can trigger your magic to turn in on itself.
It can cause seizures, migraines, blackouts, even hallucinations.
Trauma can cause it. Like something in your mind gets triggered, and it’s too much all at once, causing a magical reaction.
It happens to people sometimes if they’ve been in wars. Or simply witnessed a horrible death––”
“He was trying to help you,” Luc added, his voice a touch cooler than Greythorne’s had been. “Why did you attack him?”
“He may not have been able to help it,” Alaric offered.
Caelum looked between them. “Did I hurt her badly? Elysia?”
Luc and Alaric exchanged looks again.
“No,” Luc said, his voice subdued. “No, I don’t think so. She said not. You might’ve scared her more than anything.”
Alaric continued to stare at Caelum like he was a puzzle Alaric wanted to solve. Those intelligent hazel eyes drank him in somberly, his expression serious.
“Have you hurt people before with your magic?” Greythorne asked cautiously.
Caelum’s jaw hardened.
“Only on purpose,” he sneered.
A blatant lie, but they wouldn’t know that.
He looked between them, feeling his face grow taut as he took in their curious and wary expressions.
“Were you planning on spreading this around?” he asked next, coldly.
“Bones heir tried to kill me or, better still, Bones heir rapes girl in dorms? Tell everyone what I looked like when you walked in? Like some kind of drooling nutter, or mental deficient?”
Isis’s tit, he sounded like his father.
Still, he needed them to keep their fucking mouths shut.
He didn’t have money. Did he have threats?
He didn’t usually try that without Voltaire, Maskey, and Panzen behind him.
He could definitely hurt Mocking and Greythorne on his own, but that was hardly the point.
He wasn’t allowed to fight students anymore, not since he got certified as an adult combatant.
They might actually kick him out of school altogether if he did that, not to mention the shit they’d say if he did anything that brazen.
To say his father wouldn’t be impressed was more than a small understatement; he still hadn’t forgiven Caelum for what he’d done to get certified as an adult in the first place.
Malefic would probably keep him out of school indefinitely if he got expelled, especially if the rumor mill started up all over again.
No, it was out of the question. His father would whip him down to the bone if he did anything that colossally stupid.
Alaric didn’t even answer at first.
He continued to watch Caelum closely, as if trying to discern the real meaning behind his threat, and not only out of fear. After a few more seconds, Greythorne got up from the mattress, and dug into the pocket of his cardigan.
He pulled out, of all things, a waxy packet filled with rounded, bright blue objects the rough shape of gumdrops. Alaric ripped open the packet while Caelum watched, and shook two of them out into his palm. He handed them to Caelum.
“Eat these,” Greythorne said seriously. “I get anxiety at night sometimes, and can’t sleep, so I take these. They work really well. They won’t knock you out, but they’ll calm you.”
Caelum slid his hand under the other boy’s, palm up. When Alaric dropped the objects into his hand, Caelum stared at them for a second. Then, with barely a thought, he tossed them into his mouth and chewed.
Heat slowly ran down his throat, thawing some of the ice that remained from the memory of the cold stone. His muscles began to unclench, even before he’d finished chewing the hard, sticky candies. The sound of screaming dimmed in the back of his mind.
The fear more slowly began to subside.
He blinked, relieved beyond words. “Can I have another?” he asked.
Alaric shook out two more.
Caelum threw those into his mouth, too. Chewed.
Gods. He wanted to kiss the other boy.
He could feel his fingers again. And his chest. He could breathe.
“Thanks,” he said.
When he glanced up, Alaric and Luc were having another of their silent conversations. Whatever they were arguing about, Alaric appeared to be winning. When Greythorne looked back at Caelum, Caelum saw the red prints of his own hand around the other boy’s throat, even in the candlelight.
“Sorry,” he muttered, swallowing the last of the medicine drops he’d been given. He motioned towards Alaric’s neck. “I didn’t mean that.” He glanced at Luc. “To answer your question from before, I didn’t do it on purpose. I guess I was pretty out of it.”
Alaric smiled. It was a shockingly warm and open smile.
“That’s all right,” Alaric grinned. “Especially now.”
Caelum looked between them warily.
He focused on Mocking first, then his friend, fighting uneasiness at how vulnerable Alaric Greythorne looked. His father would eat this young mage alive.
“Do I want to know what that means?” he asked.
“Yeah, does he?” Luc muttered, folding his arms.
“Oh, I’m definitely adopting him,” Alaric informed both of them. “He tried to kill me. I’m pretty sure that means we’ve a life bond between us now.”
Caelum winced, but Greythorne only beamed.
“We’re friends now, the three of us. Friends for life.”
Luc snorted, like he couldn’t help it. “You’re both quite possibly mentally ill,” he said drily. “Maybe you should be friends. Bloody maniacs, both of you. Am I just there to add a touch of sanity to the equation?”
“Oh, we’re going to be great friends,” Alaric declared with certainty. “And you’re with us, too, Mocking. Like it or not. You witnessed the whole thing, so you’re part of it.”
Luc snorted again, but his mouth and eyes showed him to be amused.
Blinking at the grinning boy with bruises on his throat, Caelum huffed a laugh as well. When he glanced at Lucifer Mocking that time, the somber boy with the shocking blue eyes and the shaggy, dark-red hair nearly smiled.