Chapter 4 #2
A more useful emotion replaces my fear: rage. It’s easier to feel. Why should I be in the depths of despair, haunted by flashbacks when I can daydream about ripping his pretty head off?
“I don’t see anyone else lining up for the job,” he says.
“You have no clue what you’re talking about. I left a date early, if you must know. People are clamoring to be by my side.”
“Oh, to be one of the lucky people waiting in line to see you.”
“You wish.”
“I really don’t.”
“Then why are you bothering me?” I stop walking, turning to him with narrow eyes.
My fangs shrink to their normal size, but venom still coats my words.
“I already told you,” he says, “we’re walking together. Stop overthinking it. Maybe you don’t need an escort, but I do.”
“Ha. There’s no more danger on campus, or haven’t you heard?” I turn away. “Which means there’s no need for us to walk together.”
Except I know there is, and he’s right—I shouldn’t be walking alone. That doesn’t stop me. I’m not like Tobey, soft and human. Not like Caldwell, with only magical visions and sells. I have natural weapons at my disposal, and so does Jun.
Then again, many of the deceased students did as well. It didn’t stop the killer—or killers—from doing away with them.
I shake my head, fighting off the thoughts.
“You’re smarter than that.” His voice lowers. “There’s always danger, isn’t there? The world is a dangerous fucking place.”
“And I am a dangerous woman.”
The corner of his lip twitches into a smirk. “Finally, something we can agree on.”
“I suppose.”
Even though I would rather not agree with Jun, I take pride in knowing he may be afraid of me. He’s quite intimidating, with his brawny figure and demonic features.
“Besides,” he says, “I thought I could give you some acting lessons while we walk.”
As swiftly as he’s put me at ease and even found something we can agree on, he’s back to dancing on my nerves. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I would love to pluck off his long, red horns and shove one in his eye.
“I don’t need tips from you. I’ve had better parts than you in countless plays, darling.”
“That means I’ve improved, leaving you behind. Nothing to brag about. I would rather start my career performing like shit in the beginning and get better over the years.”
“There’s still plenty of time for me to catch up.”
“And I hope you don’t waste it. I miss having actual competition in our shitty program.”
My attention snaps to him, a gloating smile on my face. “Just say you miss me. We both know what you mean.”
“You fucking wi—”
His words come to a harsh stop, and his arm moves to stop me. What is he going to call me? A witch? I’m preemptively offended, opening my mouth to lecture him, but the look on his face stops me.
The life drains from his eyes, and the blood from his face. His chest rises, silent, his words buried under fear.
“What?” I turn to see what he’s looking at.
I wish the sight of the corpse could shock me, but I’ve been waiting for it. For months. Deep beneath the disgust in my belly, beneath the pang of sorrow, there’s a sigh of relief longing to come out.
At last, the killers are on the move. That means we can move, too.
But it’s still gutting to see. A young person—a woman this time, I believe. I don’t recognize her as a student. Somehow, that’s more heartbreaking. She doesn’t belong here. How did she get wrapped up in this?
Just like Poppy.
At least she looks peaceful, with her eyes shut softly. If I didn’t know better, it would seem like she’s napping.
Her stiff body says otherwise. How long has she been here?
“Hell,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Not another one.”
After a month of waiting, we know what the person in the bird mask told us is true—more is coming, and here it is. Getting rid of Amelia cannot get rid of them all. Perhaps there is no way to erase the threats.
“What do you mean?” Jun looks at me with desperation, trembling from his horns to his wings.
I touch his arm, turning him away from the body. “Is this the first one you’ve seen?”
He nods, his expression going blank.
At least, I can rule Jun as an innocent—or an even better actor than I know him to be. But there’s no faking this level of shock and fear. It’s visceral.
“It isn’t my first,” I say.
The last death I saw was Amelia herself, turning into a puff of dust. Immortal vampires don’t leave a body behind. They disappear. It’s a sign their time has expired.
I didn’t know Amelia was immortal until she turned to dust, and I still don’t know what it means for us.
But death is nothing new for Strode University. The so-called accidents are more frequent now, but I saw my first body in my freshman year. We were all crowded around it, desperate to be sure it wasn’t one of our friends.
It’s been years. Why is it still happening? How did I accept it as normal for so long?
“No fucking shit,” he says. “You were the one who caught the last killer.”
“Tobey did that. I only… I helped.”
“Same shit. You’ve seen worse than this. Forgive me for being a little fucking surprised.”
Taking credit for Tobey and Caldwell’s work doesn’t feel right, though they can’t deny my involvement. Everyone on campus knows.
“It’s fine, okay?” I tug on his arm, leading him away. “We have to find Tobey and Caldwell.”
Our investigation may have been on pause for the last month, and it was never perfect. But in the end, we worked together to bring down Amelia. We’ll do the same to her little friends… whoever they are.
Jun was never supposed to be a part of this, but I can’t exactly leave him alone now.
“What?” His voice goes higher. “No way. We need to find the investigator—the headmaster—something!”
“We’ll do that after. I promise.”
“You are so fucking weird.”
I cringe. “Trust me, I know.”
Weird is a description I wouldn’t have accepted before. I was always normal. Likable. Enough that the humans I grew up with never guessed that I was something more than them. These days, I certainly feel strange.
“What are Tobey and Caldwell going to do?”
“Maybe nothing—but we have to let them know.”
“What the hell…”
We’re far enough from the body that I stop and place my hands on his broad shoulders. “Breathe with me, okay?”
“What will that do to help a dead person? I don’t want to breathe.”
“It helps you.” I place a hand on his chest. “Let’s focus on you for now. Deep breath. Let it fill your diaphragm. I’ve heard you sing. I know you know what I mean. Come on. I want to feel it.”
To my surprise, he listens. His chest rises under my cool touch, and after exhaling, he takes another breath. Our eyes lock, and behind his gaze, behind the fear, he’s furious. For once, I don’t think he’s angry with me.
Maybe it won’t do anything to help in the long run, but at least my grounding exercises are getting some use.
At least I’m doing something.
“Do you feel better?” I ask.
“No. Let’s go find your weird ass friends.”