Chapter 19
I’m a rag doll hanging in the air.
The magic that swirls around my body is nauseating, but also slightly intoxicating. I’ve never been around a spell-cast so powerful, and what burns is that it’s from the combined forces of Feniks and the dud.
I do not like being at their mercy.
The power of Theodora Wilson wraps around me as I’m lowered gently to the ground. I can taste it. It pools in my mouth, tangy, salty and fresh, like ruby grapefruit with a shot of tequila.
Or what I imagine her pussy tastes like.
Why am I thinking about her and sex?
It’s the power thing. Power turns me on, that’s all. I quickly cast the girl out of my mind and send out a seek-spell. I’m the powerful one here. My cast lets me know no one other than our group is close.
“Well, fuck me,” Max grins, “that was quite the ride.” Wes and Donovan are also looking equally stunned.
Wes.
What’s going on with him? I stride over and put a hand on his arm, gripping it firmly. “Do you remember traveling through a portal?” I ask him. “Entering another realm?”
Months, or maybe years, have passed. Are they all a blank for him?
His face is pale and hard. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, or what is going on. I do know that whatever that dud and her boyfriend just did was dark magic and needs to be reported.”
That makes me pause. Even if Wes has amnesia, he’s never been someone who’d make reports to the authorities. He has a long standing hatred of everything WMO-related.
I glance at Dono who looks equally confused; he puts an arm around Wes’s shoulders. “Actually, the girl is someone you love. Someone we both love.”
A sneer tugs at Wes's lip. “Her? That scrawny bitch? Hardly.”
Again—weird. I’d definitely use derogatory descriptions for women, but that’s not a Hart-twin way of talking.
“Brother,” Dono says to Wes, “do you trust me?”
“Of course,” Wes nods.
“Then listen to my words. You don’t remember the last year, but a lot has happened. The girl and man who helped us are your friends,” Donovan says. “And now we’re just arriving back at Validus Vale after a year away.”
“And we’re telling people you’ve been partying around the world,” I add, looking at the confusion on Wes’s face.
“I-I..if you say so,” Wes nods eventually, none of the bewilderment lifting.
“Ooh, we can say he had a mega-acid trip and it’s fried his memory,” Max suggests.
That isn’t a bad idea.
“Come on, we need to move. We’ll figure this out later. By the way, do we trust Feniks? I don’t like him having a hold over us.”
Max instantly bristles. “My cousin is solid, man,” he replies, curling his fists.
“If Tee-Tee likes him, so do I,” Dono adds.
“I don’t know either of them,” Wes says to me, ignoring his brother, “so I will not give them any trust. This is all fucking with my head, but especially that girl. My gut says she’s wrong and I don’t want to be anywhere near her.”
A year ago that would have been music to my ears. “That’s fine, Wes, you don’t need to hang out with her. I don’t like her either.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he mutters. “I thought I was the only sane one. All this bullshit about portals and realms. Did we really go traveling? I guess my brain is fried. You said it was LSD?”
“Er, sure.” I have no idea what the fuck to do with this situation, but letting Wes believe the cover story seems to solve the immediate problem. “And I met up with you in Europe when I was in Amsterdam.”
“What were you doing there?”
Fuck my life. “Buying a diamond for a ring.”
We are still trudging through the thick forest understory, and Wes slows down. “A diamond ring? What? You getting married or something?”
Not if I can help it.
“My father has commanded me to get engaged to Jordan Singleton-Smith.”
Wes is silent for a moment then shrugs. “She’s got great tits and it’s a powerful family. Could be worse.”
Yeah, my boy is definitely not himself.
“This is taking forever,” Max grumbles. “Maybe I should just shift.”
“Shift?” Wes questions.
Before any of us can debate the wisdom, Max starts grunting and throwing his body around. “FUCK!”
“Problem?”
“Can’t do it. I can feel my hellhound deep inside, but he won’t come out to play, or can’t.”
Wes opens and closes his mouth.
“Ignore him,” I command. “It’s just Max fucking around like usual.”
“Oh, right.”
I’m not comfortable giving Wes any more information than we have to. At least not until he starts acting like his old self again. Did the time alone in the realm brain-damage him? I know that psycho storm was nothing to take lightly.
I give him a side-glance. He’s in much better shape than Dono was. No long beard and rags. Hmmm. I wish he could fucking remember.
My phone vibrates and I look at the message.
STRIKER: 5
“Striker is five minutes out.”
Hopefully she’ll have everything I requested. I haven’t been let down by Striker—yet. “Fuck!” A briar snags on my sweater. I guess it doesn’t matter, the Prada cashmere was ruined as soon as I’d landed in that nightmare white desert.
When we push out of the bushes, leaning against a shiny black Range Rover, is my right-hand woman.
“Boss,” she says. “Fun trip?”
“You bring everything?”
She clicks a button and the tailgate opens revealing several bags. “Marshalls?” I ask, feeling a little nauseated. “Ross?”
“You didn’t exactly give me time to hit up Balenciaga,” she chuckles. “And you owe me $400 for this lot.”
“Fine,” I grunt, pulling out some skinny chinos.
Shudder.
I toss them at Donovan. “Fresh clothes here.” Next I examine a pair of sweats—nope. My own clothes, even though they are torn and stained, are decidedly preferable. Max swaps out his shredded shirt for a new one that says ‘I’m with stupid’.
“What else did you bring?” I ask Striker.
“Cash, as requested.” She digs in her back pocket and passes a brand new Hello Kitty wallet to me.
I lean against the Range Rover and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to not bite her head off. “Thank you.”
“You are more than welcome, especially for $750 an hour.”
Seven-fifty? “What the fuck? When did your rates go up?”
Striker just crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. She has a point, she’s worth every penny. “Fine,” I grumble.
Giving a slight smirk, she hands me the keys. “Alright, boss, I’m outta here. Anything else before I split?”
“Don’t think so. How are you going to get back?” I ask, but she’s already disappearing into the thick forest.
“Your friend is kinda like Alfred,” Max says as he wriggles into too-tight sweats, “but that would make you Bruce Wayne and I just don’t see it. Maybe you’re Princess Bubblegum,” he continues, “and Striker is Peppermint Butler.”
I do my best to ignore him. “Let’s move. If I have to spend much longer outside civilization, things are going to get ugly. No one better have touched the apartment in my absence.”
“Apartment, right,” Donovan says, using velcro to close some hideous shoes. “Who do you have living in there and how do we kick them out?”
“No need, I’ve got the place to myself.”
“Nice,” Dono grins.
Wes is still not saying much.
“Shit!” Max exclaims. “If I’ve been gone for a year, there’s no way my room will be empty. I’ll have to stay with you until it’s sorted.”
I stifle a sigh, but it’s probably for the best. Max is a wild card and at least this way I can keep an eye on him.
"Alright." I take a deep breath, feeling weary to my bones. “Let’s do this. Remember the story: you three were globe-trotting, Wes's brain is blitzed from all the non-stop hedonism. I connected with you in Europe and now you all want to pick up where you left off after your gap year.”
“Where’s our luggage?” asks Max, which is a surprisingly good question.
“Following on behind, lost in transit. I don’t fucking know. How about you come up with an answer for yourself, I’m not your fucking mother.”
He sticks out a bottom lip in a pout. “Aww, Momma’s mad at me.”
“Do you really think the Academy is just going to let us come back?” Dono asks, putting a ballcap on his shaggy head.
“We're Elites. I don’t see anyone making much of a fuss. But I imagine you’ll have to repeat as sophomores; which means I’m now a year ahead of you idiots. Just keep your heads down.” I look pointedly at Max. "And Wes? Follow our lead.”
Wes nods, looking bewildered as we load into the car and set off.
I glance at Donovan next to me in the passenger seat. He’s slumped against the window, running a hand over the new, cheap pants.
He looks shattered.
Gods. I hate feelings.
I hate dealing with other people's emotions. But Donovan Hart is one of the few people on this planet I tolerate.
"He'll come around, Dono," I say quietly, keeping my eyes on the road.
Donovan looks up.
"Obviously, something is wrong," I continue, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. "But he’s strong.” I shoot him a sideways look. "We'll fix him. Whatever it takes."
"Thanks, Cos." I see Donovan nod out of the corner of my eye.
I don’t say anything else, just let the silence settle, giving him space to breathe.
Driving along the road towards the main gates, the last of the evening light disappears. Dono keeps turning back to glance at Wes, looking like a kicked dog every time Wes ignores him.
Fuck.
The guard in the booth glances up as we roll to a stop; looks at a screen as the wards read our personal signatures and with just a bored flick of the wrist waves us through.
No flashing lights, no alarms.
Lowering a window, I throw a bundle of cash at a second guard. “Radio a valet to meet us at Elite Tower. I’m leaving the keys in the ignition.”
“Yes, sir,” he nods, quickly pocketing the money.
A couple of minutes later we pull up outside our building. There are a few students about, but not many. I’m glad of the tinted windows on this thing. Maybe I’ll keep it? It’s a lot more practical than the Lotus.
After a deep breath, I open the driver's door and wish I’d told Striker to pick me up some shades. Surely even strip mall stores have Ray-Bans?
Then the back of my neck prickles. We’re being watched. “Get a move on.”
“Mr. Drakeward?” a high-pitched voice says. I look up to see Dean Crankshawe walking towards me. “You’re back. I’d appreciate a little more notice when you go on a trip during term time.”
“Uh, yeah, sorry.” I do not have the energy for this. “I’ll make sure to keep you apprised of my social calendar from now on.”
She slams her hands onto her hips but doesn’t reply.
The passenger door opens and Wes stumbles out onto the gravel, which definitely adds something to the jet-lagged, post-party thing we’re going for.
“Mr. Hart! What are you doing here?”
“Ah, hello…um,” he looks between the dean and me with complete confusion.
“It’s Dean Crankshawe, she was Associate Dean this time last year,” I tell him, then turn back to Crankshawe. “The twins went a little hard on their gap year. You ever heard of the Full Moon parties on Koh Phangan? The Thai weed gets you twisted. I met up with them in Amsterdam.”
“G-gap year?” she stutters. “But I thought…”
“Your predecessor Dean Dartmouth,” I say, as Max and Donovan join me, “gave the twins a gap year. You remember they’d decided to quit and go to the UK? Luckily, the idiots changed their minds and went traveling instead.”
She moves her gaze from the twins to Max. “What? That’s not possible. Maximus Larsen?”
“In the flesh, baby,” he replies, winking at the dean.
“But, the police have been looking for you. You are registered as a missing person.”
“My bad,” Max grins. “I wasn’t going to let these bastards have all that fun without me.
” He gives the dean a salute then he and Donovan hustle Wes through the tower doors.
The three of them, even in strip mall clothing and with unkempt hair still look like Elites who belong here. That’s the nature of status.
I, on the other hand, will not feel like myself until I’m fully groomed once more.
As I leave the Range Rover keys on the seat, Larissa Crankshawe stands watching with crossed arms. “Let me get this straight, Mr. Drakeward," she says, her voice filled with skepticism.
"You went to Amsterdam for a diamond... and you just happened to bump into three students who have been 'traveling' for a year? In the same city? On the same day?"
"That would really make it a small world, wouldn’t it?" I reply, keeping my face bored. "No, they knew I’d be in Europe, so they met me there. They were looking for a ride home. I had the jet and felt charitable."
I see her eyeing my less than immaculate appearance. Can’t blame her for that. “Customs was a nightmare. They tore my luggage apart. Hence the... disarray."
"If you knew they were on a gap year, why did you let us file a missing persons report for Larsen?” she demands.
"Not my job to manage your administration, Dean. I’d assumed they filed the paperwork. Clearly, they are idiots.”
She splutters some more, and I increase my bored expression. “I don’t know why any of them think they can all just walk back into Validus Vale like this. None of those boys are students anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow, confident in Striker’s work.
"I suggest you check the digital archives again, Dean. I believe you’ll find the paperwork was misfiled under 'withdrawal' rather than 'sabbatical.
' My PI cleared it up this morning. Anyway, Max can stay in our apartment until something else is sorted.”
“Absolutely not. There is a process to follow, starting with a mandatory drug test by the sounds of it.”
Thinking quickly, I tilt my head in a slight incline. "Already handled, Dean. I had my private physician run full toxicology and bloodwork screenings the moment they stepped on the jet. I’m not bringing contraband or diseases onto my aircraft. You’ll have the clean results on your desk by morning."
Striker is going to be earning her hourly rate tonight.
The dean is opening her mouth, like she has more to say, but I ignore her and follow the guys inside.
There’s only one student in the lobby: a freshman Elite, Francois de Vaux.
I don’t know why I’m wary of him; something about the sardonic expression, pitch black eyes and air of unending confidence pisses me off. “Bonne soirée,” Francois says, looking all of us over from head to toe.
We ignore him, so he repeats himself in English. “Good evening, gentlemen. I hear you’ve all been, er, globe-trotting.”
I freeze.
Donovan opens his mouth to reply but I give him a sharp jab in the ribs.
How does a freshman know that? We’ve been on campus for five minutes. We only just told the Dean the cover story.
“None of your concern, de Vaux,” I snap, hitting the elevator button repeatedly.
He just smiles, tapping away on his phone.
The doors slide open and we pile in, leaving the creepy freshman in the lobby.
Getting back to the apartment can’t come soon enough.