Chapter 8 Emilio
EMILIO
Emilio had a notorious habit of getting into trouble—though, in his defense, it was almost never his fault.
Shortly after finding Emilio, Masika and Olivier sneaking around her office, Catherine had dragged the three of them to the Battle Room, flanked by two guards armed with corporeally infused swords.
Nobody uttered a single word, nothing to keep them company but the echo of their footsteps resounding in the narrow corridor as they made their way out of the Southern Wing.
And now here they sat, awkwardly shifting in their seats, while Catherine simply looked at them and waited for someone to speak.
She sat on the other side of the oval table, hands clasped in front of her.
The cerulean sheen of the chandelier washed her features in an icy breath; her narrowed hazel eyes were cold and unfeeling, her petal-shaped lips pulled into a withering frown.
But it wasn’t any of them who broke the tension.
The little creature curled on Emilio’s lap let out a sudden bark, shattering the silence.
Catherine’s eyes snapped in its direction. “What is that thing?”
Emilio should probably have left the puppy behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Masika destroy him—even if he really was just a product of magic.
He wrapped his arms protectively around the puppy’s neck, tucking him in closer. “Benji.”
Catherine blinked. “Pardon?”
Olivier groaned. “I believe he means that infernal creature’s name is Benji.” Olivier’s gaze skated to Emilio before he added a softly whispered, “When on earth did you name it?”
Emilio shrugged. “On the walk over.”
Catherine rubbed her face in exasperation. “You do realize the three of you broke the one rule you were meant to follow, right?”
“It’s really not our fault,” Olivier remarked with feigned innocence. “We have a terrible aversion to rules.”
Masika rolled her eyes. “And either way, we wouldn’t have had to break in if you had simply been honest with me.” She pressed her hands upon the table, leaning forward. “The True Headmaster is still out there. That’s what Birdie and Russo discovered, isn’t it?”
To Catherine’s credit, she didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Even though they’d already found the truth hidden in the Southern Wing, hearing it spoken out loud was something else entirely.
A cold shudder ran through Emilio, an electric current igniting the air.
Even Masika and Olivier seemed to sink deeper into their chairs, as though the weight of the truth had fallen upon them in a sudden blow.
“All right, then.” Olivier cleared his throat, drumming his fingers against his thighs. “If this True Headmaster is still out there…well, where the hell have they been?” He tossed his hands in frustration. “Why don’t they simply come out of hiding and help us?”
Catherine sucked her teeth. “It’s not that simple.”
Emilio whimpered. “Of course it isn’t…”
“When Silas took over Blackwood, he thought he’d destroyed the True Headmaster,” Catherine explained, eyes drifting over the trio.
“But the True Headmaster had prepared for this…for the day someone might try to usurp his power. He harbored a fraction of his soul and hid it deep within the farthest reaches of purgatory, leaving behind a clue to its location for his followers. A way to find that piece of his soul and resurrect him.”
“The map,” Emilio whispered.
Catherine nodded. “It leads to the first clue. The first step in finding what remains of his soul.”
“But I don’t understand,” Masika interjected, leaning her elbows against the table. “Why did it take so long for someone to find the map?”
“Because…” Catherine let out a sigh. “Silas found it first.”
A weighted silence settled over the room.
Catherine pushed herself away from the table, standing.
“He hid it within the halls of Blackwood. Years went by…centuries. All the while, the followers of the True Headmaster who had been banished to the outskirts of purgatory corrupted under the Soulless One’s shadows.
It wasn’t until the Resistance began to form and we gained members who had access to Blackwood’s halls that we were able to even learn of this map in the first place. ”
“Birdie and Russo,” Masika commented under her breath.
Catherine nodded, solemn.
“We’d been secretly working with the two of them for a while. They would feed us information that they’d learn about both the Demien Order and Blackwood and report back. But then…they discovered something in the restricted section of the Library.”
Emilio snapped his gaze toward Olivier, who stared at him with wide eyes. He must have been thinking the same thing. They had seen Birdie and Russo wandering about the Library before the Decennial Ball…the two of them sneaking around the restricted Housemasters’ section.
“Does Silas know the map is gone?” asked Masika.
Catherine nodded. “That’s precisely why Birdie and Russo had to leave Blackwood in a rush. They knew once they stole the map, it wouldn’t take long for Silas to put the pieces together.” Catherine gestured to Olivier and Emilio. “And that’s when they took you two here.”
“But is there any other proof that the True Headmaster’s soul is really out there?” asked Emilio. “Other than this map, I mean.”
Catherine shook her head. “No.”
Olivier placed his elbows upon the table, burrowing his hands in his hair. “Okay. So what you’re saying is that we have a way to save the afterlife, but it involves resurrecting an ancient powerful entity using a sliver of his soul that could very well not even exist?”
Catherine sighed. “Pretty much.”
Olivier slid his hands over his face. “Delightful.”
“When will you send the expedition crew out?” Masika asked, straightening in her chair.
“Tomorrow morning,” Catherine replied.
“Seems a bit soon,” muttered Emilio. “Didn’t you just lose an entire group? Masika told us nearly a dozen members went missing on a tracking mission.”
“There’s no time to mourn,” Catherine shot back defensively. “Not anymore. The entire balance of the afterlife is in our hands. And we’ve received word that the Demien Order has begun to plan their attack on Blackwood. That it could happen any day now.”
Olivier snorted, dismissively waving his hand. “Oh, please. I’ve been hearing about the Order’s big plan of attack for centuries—”
Centuries? Masika mouthed to Emilio, who flushed a deep crimson and shrugged.
“—and nothing ever happens,” Olivier continued. “They follow their make-believe God and wait for a prophecy that will never come to fruition. What makes you so certain that anything has changed?”
“Because of Augustine Hughes.”
The entire room seemed to go taut as soon as the words left Catherine’s lips.
Emilio still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that August was a part of the Demien Order. When Masika had revealed to them what she had learned—that August had been an undercover member of the Demien Order from the very start—a part of him had been unwilling to accept the betrayal.
The August that Emilio had known had been many things—stoic, callous, intimidatingly beautiful. Yet, despite all that, it had never occurred to Emilio that August might have been harboring something darker.
And, truthfully, it wasn’t even August being a Demien that stung.
It was the fact that he had lied to them.
That he had been planning their destruction all along.
When Olivier spoke next, his words came out slow and rough. “What does August have to do with this?”
Emilio shivered at the ire in Olivier’s voice. They hadn’t talked about it much, but Emilio could tell that August’s betrayal had badly wounded the other boy. That Olivier had, in his own strange way, grown to trust August.
“He has everything to do with this,” Catherine shot back.
“His sister, Edith, is the High General of the Order. He allowed her to infiltrate the gates of Blackwood. We don’t know what the particular goal of her mission was, but we can only assume she was successful.
Which means that if we want to have any chance of stripping Silas’s power and stopping the Demien Order before they destroy Blackwood and everyone inside it, then we need to act fast. We need the True Headmaster. ”
“I want to go,” Masika blurted out, standing.
Catherine blinked. “Excuse me?”
“On the expedition,” Masika clarified, slightly out of breath. “I want to be a part of the expedition crew.”
“It’s dangerous,” Catherine replied, voice level, though Emilio swore he saw a flicker of panic in her eyes.
“The outskirts of purgatory are…perilous. We have the path mapped out, but there’s so much of it that remains uncharted.
There’s no way to guarantee your safety. I already had a group in mind—”
Masika shook her head, interjecting. “I don’t care. Plus, I heard what you said in the Battle Room. You need as many people as possible to stay behind. To defend the base. Well, let me go on the expedition, then. That’s one less body you have to worry about.”
“Masika…” Olivier warned, bracing himself against the table. “Hold on a minute—”
“If this is truly the only way to stop Silas and the Demien Order, then I want to be a part of it,” Masika said, looking among the group.
“I can’t just sit here anymore. I need to act.
To do something. If not for myself, then for all the other souls that have been lost. For Josie. Carter. Tristan. Liza. Nick. Wren.”
Emilio’s heart sank at the memory of the sacrificed nominees. He couldn’t quite believe they were all gone. Nothing but sacrifices. And though the memory of their collective loss was heartbreaking, Emilio had to admit that it was Wren’s destruction, out of all of them, that pained him the most.
The last they’d heard, Wren had participated in the final trial. And though her fate wasn’t clear, given the fact that Irene had come out crowned as an Ascended, they could only assume she hadn’t made it.
It was unfathomable—an afterlife without Wren Loughty. Emilio had always seen her as a brilliant, indomitable force. Indestructible.
And now she was gone.
Just like that.
Olivier stirred uncomfortably, the sound of his voice pulling Emilio back into focus. “But you heard what Catherine said. You could…you could be destroyed. Or taken hostage—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Masika interjected.
Olivier scoffed. “Well, have you perhaps thought to consider, for even a fraction of a second, the possibility that you might matter to other people?”
The hardness in Masika’s stare melted a fraction. Her lips curled into a sad smile. “Don’t go soft on me now, Olivier.”
He shook his head and let out a bitter chuckle. “I won’t let you do this.”
“Well, good thing I’m not asking for your permission,” Masika shot back.
Olivier jolted from his seat, mouth open as he prepared to protest, but then something snapped inside Emilio. He found himself standing, his own voice carrying across the room as he spoke five words that he knew would solidify their fate.
“I want to go too.”
Olivier had gone impossibly still. His hands were splayed upon the table, his green eyes locked on Emilio, wide and unyielding.
“Don’t.” Olivier held his breath as though he were bracing for impact. “Emilio. I am begging you—”
“Masika is right,” Emilio interjected softly. “We came here to help, didn’t we? To save the afterlife?” He looked among the three of them, shrugging. “Well…this is our chance.”
Olivier swallowed. He hadn’t moved a muscle. “You…you have other skills.” His voice was low. Hoarse. “Talents that are better suited to the archives—” But Emilio cut him off, silencing Olivier with an unfamiliar spark of frustration.
“I want to fight.”
Olivier blinked, startled. Emilio had to admit…he had even surprised himself. But he couldn’t stop the idea now that it had solidified in his mind.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to make a difference.
For once…he didn’t want to be afraid.
Olivier must have sensed it too. The indignation in his stare softened into something tender and anguished, a quiet understanding stretching between them. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He slid his gaze toward Catherine. “All three of us are going.”
Catherine hesitated. Her right hand rested upon the pommel of her sword, fingers drumming the handle. For a brief moment, Emilio wondered if she’d decline their offer.
But then she gave a single nod in response, striding toward the Battle Room doors.
“Tomorrow morning, meet me back here before the first bell.” She didn’t bother glancing back at them as she spoke, swinging open the double doors with a flourish. “Don’t be late.”
She was gone before any of them could utter another word.