Chapter 27
I allowed myself two hours of sleep then left well before sun-up; being caught leaving a student's apartment is precisely the kind of violation Dean Crankshawe would use to dismiss me.
Gods, I wish I could have stayed, though.
What the fuck happened in the middle of the night?
Must compartmentalize.
I’m moving through the dark, damp woods, heading toward the staff housing, trying to let the air relax me. The heavy scent of pine is a sensory throwback to my early years and sometimes brings me peace.
But just as I’m clearing the treeline, a low, frantic murmur puts me straight back into high alert.
“I didn’t know. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know.”
The voice is a blend of panic and raw, choking pain.
Student drama doesn’t interest me, but this doesn't sound like young adult angst.
I move closer until I can see—Professor Amos. He’s sitting hunched on a fallen tree trunk, holding his head in his hands. The man is visibly trembling, but I can’t see who he's talking to
“Forgive me, Petra. They would have killed us all, but still,” he chokes out, his voice cracking. “But still, it was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Amos’s words finish with a great, rasping sob.
My instinct to avoid getting involved evaporates. What the fuck is he talking about? This sounds like a confession.
“I was caught in their web, Petra. There was no way out. I was trapped in the inescapable net of ruin by my own want of sense.”
I wouldn’t have pegged Amos to be someone who’d quote Aeschylus, but I guess I don’t know him very well.
“Hell is empty,” Amos whispers, “and all the devils are here.”
When he staggers to his feet, I see he’s holding a battered photograph.
He’s talking to the photo.
With a shaking hand, he produces a handkerchief from an inner pocket, mops his face, then tucks away both the cloth and photo. “It’s too late, my love. We can never be reunited, not after what I’ve done.”
A shudder runs through my body. What the fuck is he talking about? What has this man done?
From a separate pocket, Amos brings out a vial. I can’t see what it contains, but I’m getting a really bad feeling. Fuck it. “Amos?”
He looks up in confusion, frowns, then quickly pockets the vial. “Ah, um, Feniks…” he croaks.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, er, you’re better?” he mumbles, “Heard you had the flu.” The tremble in his voice is still present.
I scowl at him, wondering if interfering is a mistake, but just for a second there, I’d thought…Gods.
If the old man is planning to kill himself, I should do something. I move forward and slot my hand into his jacket. He grips feebly to my wrist but can’t stop me from finding the little bottle.
Its contents are the sticky black liquid of a Mortiferum potion.
Fast-acting and deadly. “What the fuck?” I growl.
He tries to snatch it back from me, but there is no hope in Hades that’s possible. “Why are you killing yourself?” I demand.
Like a marionette with its strings cut, Amos collapses. “Because I can’t live with the guilt any longer.” His eyes are wild as they fix on me. “Don’t let them in, boy. Don’t let them know you care for someone. Love is a weakness, makes you do terrible things.”
After checking no one else is in the vicinity, I take a seat on the log beside him.
“Your given name is Alexis, isn’t it?” he asks. I’m surprised by the question, but nod. “Mine is Bernard. No one calls me that now. I haven’t been Bernard since my wife died.”
“When did she die?” This must be the Petra he was talking to.
“Fourteen years ago, today. And each day since she’s been gone has been agony. I should have ended it so long ago, but I was afraid. I’m not a brave man, Alexis.” He looks at me, tired eyes filled with pain.
“Tell me what you’ve done, and maybe I can help you,” I tell him. “There is nothing that is not redeemable.”
“You really think that’s true?” Suddenly, a spark of hope shows in his face.
“Of course.”
Lies.
Many, many acts are completely irredeemable, but Bernard doesn’t need to hear that right now. “It is not an act of courage to end your life; it is an act of courage to make amends for your transgressions.”
He sags, burying his face in his hands. “Impossible; it’s too much, too awful.”
“You’ve caused others pain?” I try to keep a note of compassion in my voice.
“So much pain, so much. Gods.”
“Tell me?” I invite him gently at first.
“No…I can’t. I can’t.”
Oh well, he asked for it. “TELL ME.”
The older man’s mouth falls open. A gurgling noise in his throat.
Fuck.
I can instantly tell an Elite witch has bound and marked Amos, even though I can't see the sigil. Gods, I really fucking need to learn how to undo that bullshit.
It occurs to me that Theo may now be able to remove bindings. Yes, that seems extremely possible, especially after burning that dark shit out of Drakeward.
I’ll talk to her about it later.
In the meantime, I need to keep this old man safe.
“You will make no attempt to end your life.”
His eyes glaze over slightly as he nods. “I won’t try to take my life.” This is reassuring, but Bernard Amos still looks two seconds away from a complete breakdown. I guess I’ll give him a shot of my witchy SSRI. My grandmother had taught me this magic spell to absorb the emotions of the unwary.
And though it makes the subject pliable, it’s not a pleasant experience for the caster.
I weave the magic, and immediately pain and guilt flood my veins. Amos’s breathing grows steady as I battle to control my own. So much regret.
I’m drowning in his shame.
Finally, Amos’ eyelids grow heavy, his wild gaze softening. I release my hold on his psyche. “Go sleep it off,” I tell him.
He stumbles to his feet. “Feniks? What are you doing here?”
“Go to your room, sleep for four hours.”
That should take care of him for now. When my beautiful girl is awake, we can work on a way to unbind him.
Back in my apartment, I flick on the heating and look around the sterile, bare space.
Gray walls. Gray furniture. No photos. No life.
Before Theo, this was all I needed. A barracks. A place to store my body while looking for Max.
Now? It feels like a prison.
I close my eyes and I can still smell her on my skin—lilac and petrichor. I remember the way she melted into me when I held her in the basement, trusting me completely despite everything I’ve failed at in the past.
She makes me want to be a man who deserves a home.
I pull out my phone just to look at her contact photo—a candid shot I took when she wasn't looking, laughing as she clung to a wall during our Parkour sessions. Her nose is crinkled, her eyes bright silver.
Beautiful.
I trace her face on the screen with my thumb. Gods know what the future holds, but it will be with Theo at my side or not at all.
I hate being away from her.
Even though I trust Ludo as a protector, it’s not enough.
Pulling open a drawer, I let out a sigh of relief when I find half a pack of cigarettes. Probably should quit now that I’ve something to live for—but I’ll not worry about that today. I light up and suck the smoke deep down into my lungs. My body relaxes instantly.
The nicotine helps to burn away the sticky, lingering sensation of Bernard Amos’s desperate psychic noise.
It's shame and guilt that saturate his aura. And so much regret. Whatever his crimes are, at least the old professor retains the mental clarity to accept responsibility.
A functional conscience is rare these days.
Stubbing out the cigarette, I shift gears.
The first item on the checklist, obviously, is to ensure Theo’s safety. The debacle of my time as Royal Guard haunts me daily.
Helvetti. My mouth fills with the taste of ash and failure.
No. Don’t go back there. Think about today. Think about tomorrow.
I light another cigarette, set it smoldering in a ceramic ashtray, pick up the pen, and begin writing.
● Tracker for Theo’s phone (Cosmo/striker)
● Wards around her basement/better locks (Ludo)
● Surveillance rota
● FIND THE LITTLE GIRL
● Work on unbinding Amos, then question him about his ‘wrongdoings’.
● Research the Guardians of Avalon. Surely, there will be some information in the ancient records room?
● Wes???
● Research dark energy transfer via children
● Request English Breakfast tea order for the cafeteria
After that?
Fucking plan a lesson for the history of combat class I teach, and actually mark the assignments from last week. Also, there’s a budget report due for the sports department.
I hate playing the professor role, but as long as Theo is at Validus Vale, I need to keep this position.
Even though I’m exhausted, I pull out my computer and start researching phone trackers.
There is a battle ahead of us. Rest can come once the war is won.