CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO #2
Perseus met his gaze. He forewarned, “I am the only one who knows you for exactly who you are and I accept you as the dark-minded brute that you are. I do not require you to change.” His voice deepened.
“However, from now on, this is the final murder that we will commit without my informed consent. I will leave otherwise.”
Perseus knew James was not the man of morality he proclaimed be. He was not even a man with a moral gray area of ethics, nor was he a vigilante that had acted to spare the underclassmen of her tutelage. Her actions had directly affected him and he murdered her for it.
She had threatened his loved ones in his life; only then had he acted against her.
He would’ve carried on elsewise. He would’ve left behind the rest of the undergraduates. He was villainous by nature, exactly like him.
James smiled wider. “You wouldn’t keep away from me, you like the taste of danger.
” He remembered the first night Perseus met Lucy.
The new pledge wants to kill me. She severed the subject on the examination table, then she held a blade to my throat when I tried to correct her.
I nearly kissed her. Do you think she might want to marry me?
They both knew he was right. Perseus was impossibly attracted to danger–provided it didn’t threaten his future. That was what James never understood.
His cousins were the world to him. He would never endanger their lineage.
James knew when to retreat, but he never knew when to surrender. Perseus knew when to retreat and when to surrender. Perseus kept a closer eye on him as he cleared the rest of the feast. He never let his back be turned towards James.
Better still, he hid the butcher knife from him after he set it down.
Foolishly, Perseus had forgiven him. James was his friend, after all. He concluded that James acted out as a result of the toxic mentorship and now he was rid of her, which anyone with sense would have done. Everything was resolved.
Finished, James shoved his hand inside of the snake handler’s glove to retrieve a fresh pair of snakes to set free within her antechamber.
With puncture marks found all over her body from the serpents, the College would not be surprised her eccentricity and arcane behavior was the end of her. Her office was otherwise spotless.
After the deed was done, James returned to Winterthur Hall. He nearly collided with Callum Han himself on the manicured steps between the white columns. Callum wore a shirt and boxers with a wrapped cold cut in one hand and beer in the other. He’d spent the weekend with Elliott.
He’d spent every weekend with Elliott.
He spent the night in his dorm watching action films with the television they snuck in from the Common Room; he spent the morning before lecture painting at sunrise with him. Callum couldn’t keep away from Elliott; he wouldn’t have even if he wanted.
From the way Callum bristled, James knew their last encounter had not been forgotten.
He smiled, yet it only deepened Callum’s disdain.
Despite it, James attempted a small conversation, though he couldn’t even imagine what he’d ever have in common with Callum Han.
He pointed at the hymn pamphlet underneath Callum’s arm.
“Are you painting the stained glass for the chapel?”
Callum ran his gaze over him as though to confirm who he’d seen was truly James. He had returned after all that time. Though it didn’t seem possible, Callum’s disregard intensified. “I am headed to mass in an hour.”
James concealed the Underground Reagan Railway train badge as he excavated a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn’t smoke for his nerves the way Perseus did; he smoked to hide the stench of the antechamber, the Exeter Athenaeum, the URR, or anywhere else he shouldn’t have been.
“Aren’t you Buddhist?” James retrieved a lighter from his pocket, barely interested in the answer.
Callum responded, “You’re Catholic, why did you attend mass at the chapel when you were here?”
It dawned on him slowly. Elliott.
He returned the lighter to his pocket without igniting his cigarette. “Elliott left early to mass already,” James responded with the unlit cigarette between his teeth. “He wanted to say good-bye to Bishop Powell, I imagine.”
Confusion knotted Callum’s thick brows. “The bishop is leaving?” Huey Powell’s father had been a staple at AEscwulf College for decades at Ark Chapel, precisely like his father before him and his father before him. Everyone would’ve spoken of it if he retired.
“Elliott is the one who is leaving. I transferred him to Tiberian College–”
Callum shouldered past James to search Elliott’s room in hopes that the man was lying to him.
He hated that his fear rose higher when he noticed Elliott’s backpack wasn’t outside his door.
He prayed that he’d somehow find Elliott choosing between ties before they walked together to mass like they always did on Sundays.
Callum knocked, but there was no response. He opened Elliott’s parted door, and there was already a suitcase. Callum swore underneath his breath as he rifled through the clothes, junk, tapes, and trimester items. “Don’t tell me he lost his passport.”
James had heard him. “Elliott doesn’t have a passport.”
“He has a passport.” Callum gritted his mouth shut after he realized he’d said it out loud in his distraction. He cursed himself for responding to him.
Callum planned for Elliott to have a passport. It was crucial for him.
Mildly irritated, James leaned against the paneled wall and he tried his hand at friendlier relations with a smile. “Let’s not be rude, Callum, invite me if there are plans. I like to travel.”
“Clearly.” Callum returned to his search for the passport. He ransacked the closet.
“Have I offended you?” James tilted his head in feigned innocence. He questioned him insincerely, “Didn’t Elliott tell you he was leaving the College? Forgive me for not knowing you were close with him.”
Callum found his breath increasing. His anger climbed in his chest.
However, Callum Han was nothing if not centered. He closed his eyes for a moment and he steadied his breath.
Then, he opened his eyes with clarity. “Are you close with him?”
James retrieved his JVW IV mug from Elliott’s shelf. “Clearly.”