I pull out my phone on the way down the stairs to Brit Lit and find about twenty text messages waiting for me. Five from Heather, complaining about how boring school is without me, along with several photos of her in her costume for the fall play.
I fire off a text telling her how great she looks dressed as the Cheshire Cat and another one sympathizing with the boredom. I want to tell her about Jaxon—not the vampire stuff, just the cute boy stuff—but that’s a subject I know I shouldn’t open until I decide exactly what I can or can’t tell my bestie about him. Because when Heather is on the trail for new information, she’s utterly relentless.
Plus, I’ve never lied to her, and I don’t really want to start now. I mean, logic says that if I’m going to be with Jaxon, I’m going to have to lie sometimes—I can’t walk around announcing to the world that he’s a vampire without us having to dodge a lot of wooden stakes and garlic. But I need to think about what I’m going to say. I’m a terrible liar at the best of times. When talking to Heather? I’ll crack in ten seconds flat, and that can’t happen.
Which is why I don’t say anything more than I absolutely have to, even though a part of me is dying for her opinion about…oh, I don’t know, everything hot-guy related.
Most of the other texts are from Macy—there are seven of them talking about what happened in the study room. She wasn’t there, but the news of what Jaxon did to the wolf alpha has obviously spread. Not that I expected any different; he did it publicly for a reason. Plus Uncle Finn showing up at the tower shows just how far and fast the news traveled.
And Uncle Finn sent several texts to me as well, all of them demanding to know where I was. I don’t bother to answer, considering he already found me—much to my chagrin.
The last two texts are from Flint, and I’m so shocked—and annoyed—I nearly miss a step and fall on my face. But then I remember the asshole dragon doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t have a clue that I know he’s been trying to kill me instead of help me.
It still pisses me off, though—the whole thing does—so I don’t bother answering him. I swear to myself that I’ll never answer him again, no matter what explanation he comes up with and no matter how many excuses he tries
Part of me wants to find him right now and have it out. But I’ve finally made it to Brit Lit, only to realize that I’ve totally forgotten to change into my school uniform. So I shove my phone back into the front pocket of my hoodie and head up to my room to do a super-quick change. Ten minutes later, I walk into class only to have the whole room go eerily silent the moment everyone spots me. You’d think I’d be used to that after the last week, but today, with everything that’s happened, it feels a million times more awkward than usual. But honestly, it’s not like I can blame them. If I wasn’t me,
I’d be staring, too. I mean, come on, supernatural or not, they’re still high school kids and I am still the girl who just caused a fight between the alpha wolf and the most powerful vampire in existence.
It’d be stranger if they didn’t stare.
That knowledge doesn’t make the walk across the room to my desk any easier, though. Even with Mekhi giving me a supportive smile.
“We just started act 4, scene 5,” he tells me in a soft undertone as I slide into my desk. “You can share my book.” “Thanks,” I answer, pulling a pen and a small notebook out of my purse. I have no idea why I didn’t grab my backpack before heading down here, but I didn’t, so this is
going to have to do.
“Everyone’s taking a turn reading today, Grace,” the instructor informs me from her spot at the front of the classroom. “Why don’t you read Ophelia in this scene?”
“Okay,” I answer, wondering why I have to play the damsel in distress. Because I’ve already read the play, I know this is the scene where Ophelia goes mad—or at least, where the audience gets to see her insanity for the first time. I try not to take it personally that she seems to think I’m the right one for the job…
Mekhi is playing Laertes, my brother, which makes it a little easier to read the lines of an insane girl who has just lost her father and feels all alone in the world. But I still struggle to get through them, especially the lines toward the end.
“‘There’s a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good
end—For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.’”
Mekhi reads Laertes’s line—obviously concerned about the state of my mental health. And by my, I mean Ophelia’s, I remind myself as I move into softly singing my last lines in the scene—and the play. “‘And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy death- bed: He never will come again—’”
The bell rings before I finish her lines, and I stop as the rest of the class starts shoveling their books into their backpacks as fast as they can go. “Thank you, Grace. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up where you left off.”
I nod, then shove everything back into my purse, doing my best not to think about the death scene I just read. Doing my best not to think about my parents—and about Hudson. About Jaxon’s grief over who Hudson was and what that forced him to do.
It’s harder than I want it to be, especially when I realize my World History of Witchcraft Trials (and yeah, okay, now that I know about the whole paranormal thing, classes like this one make a lot more sense) is next.
It’s not the class that bothers me; it’s the walk through the creepy-as-fuck tunnels. Especially now that I wonder what would have happened to me down there alone with Flint if Lia hadn’t come along when she did.
But I’ve got to get to class, so it’s no use spending too much time dwelling on might-have-beens. Especially now that Jaxon has pretty much made me untouchable. What happened in that lounge might have been horrifying to witness, but I’m not going to lie. The fact that I no longer have to be afraid of chandeliers falling on my head or
random shifters shoving me out into the snow isn’t a bad thing.
And when Mekhi walks with me down the hall instead of racing off to his next class, I realize that Jaxon’s protection extends even further than I thought. The threat was made— and I’m pretty sure heeded, judging by the wide berth everyone is giving me at the moment—and still it’s not enough for him. Still, he wants to make sure I’m safe, so much so that he’s called in other members of the Order to ensure I am.
Maybe it should bother me.
And honestly, if this was a normal school or a normal situation, it would probably bug the hell out of me to have such a protective…boyfriend? But I’m currently surrounded by shifters, vampires, and witches—all of whom play by rules I don’t have a clue about. Plus, it’s been less than three hours since a chandelier nearly crushed me to death. Not accepting Jaxon’s and Mekhi’s protection would be foolish, at least until things calm down around here.
I turn to thank Mekhi for walking with me, then freak out a little when Flint pretty much shoves his way between us. “Hey, Grace. How are you feeling?” he asks, all sweetness and concern. “I’ve been worried about you this morning.”
“Worried about me or worried that the chandelier didn’t do its job well enough?” I query, walking faster in what I already know is a useless attempt to get away from him.
He doesn’t stop walking, but everything about him kind of stills when I confront him with what Jaxon told me—which tells me all I need to know.
And still, he tries to play it off. “What do you mean? Of
course I’m worried about you.”
“Give me a break, Flint. I know what you’ve been up to.”
For the first time in our entire “friendship,” anger flashes in his eyes. “Don’t you mean you know what that tick told you I was up to?” he sneers.
Mekhi’s face goes livid at the insult to Jaxon, and suddenly he’s right there between the two of us again. “Back the fuck off, Dragon Boy.”
Flint ignores him and continues talking to me. “You don’t know what’s really going on, Grace. You can’t trust Jaxon—”
“Why? Because you say so? Aren’t you the one who’s been trying to kill me since I got here?”
“It’s not for the reasons you think.” He shoots me a pleading look. “If you would just trust me—”
“Not for the reasons I think?” I repeat. “So you actually think there are good reasons for trying to kill me? And you still want me to trust you?” I wave an arm his way in a step right up kind of gesture. “Fine. Then tell me the truth about what happened during the snowball fight. Did you jump out of that tree to catch me, or did Jaxon knock you out of it?”
“I… It wasn’t like… Jaxon overreacted. I was—”
I let him stutter all over himself for a few seconds, then cut him off. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Stay away from me, Flint. I don’t want to have anything to do with you from now on.”
“Well that’s too bad, because I’m not going away.”
“You know, there’s a name for a guy who continues to hound a girl after she tells him to leave her alone,” Mekhi tells Flint after we make the turn into the hallway that leads to the tunnels.
Flint ignores him. “Grace, please.” He reaches out and grabs hold of my arm. Before I can tell him not to touch me, Mekhi is right there, fangs bared and warning growl pouring out of his throat.
“Get your filthy dragon hands off her,” he hisses. “I’m not going to hurt her!”
“Damn right you’re not. Step back, Montgomery.”
Flint makes a frustrated sound deep in his throat, but eventually, he complies with Mekhi’s request. Mostly, I think, because there would have been a fight right here in the hallway if he didn’t. One where Mekhi tries to tear him to pieces.
“Come on, Grace,” he implores. “It’s important. Just listen for one minute.”
I stop because it’s clear he isn’t planning on going away. “Fine. You want to talk, talk. What’s so important?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait to see what he has to say.
“You want me to say it now? In front of everyone?” he snarls, glancing at Mekhi.
“Well, I’m certainly not going somewhere alone with you at this point. I may be ignorant about your world, but I’m not downright foolish.”
“I can’t do this. I—” He breaks off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I can’t talk to you in front of a vampire. It needs to be alone.”
“Then you’re not talking to her at all,” Mekhi says, once again stepping between us. “Let’s go, Grace.”
I let Mekhi guide me away from an increasingly angry Flint. It’s kind of obnoxious when you think about it. He’s the one who tried to kill me with a chandelier, and now he’s the one who gets to be angry? Where’s the logic in that?
“Damn it, Mekhi, at least do me a favor and don’t leave her alone, okay?” Flint calls after us. “I’m serious, Grace. You shouldn’t go anywhere alone. It’s not safe.”
