Mortal Danger (Page 54)

I shifted uncomfortably while Davina studied me. “Doesn’t matter. You were there, so you need to come. Catharsis.”

“Okay. You talked me into it.”

“You can ride home with me. So tell your super-hot boyfriend he doesn’t need to pick you up.” Jen was smiling, though, and not using the bitchy tone Allison would’ve imparted to the comment.

“I will. Catch you guys at lunch.”

We split then and I went to first period, where Mr. Love was smoldering at the girls who had doubtless turned up half an hour early in hopes of getting time alone with him. The problem was, like, seven of them had the same idea today. That guy’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Yet I couldn’t say he was looking at them inappropriately, just radiating a Lord Byron poetic intensity and talking with just the right hint of pretension.

“You look fetching today, Edie.”

“Do I?” I glanced down at myself, seeing the same uniform and the same hairstyle I’d been wearing since the start of school.

“I hate that girl,” Nicole whispered, she of tongue and cherry-stem introduction fame.

Maybe I should let it go … but no. I didn’t turn over a new leaf and infiltrate the Teflon crew just to let other people roll over me. So I dropped my backpack on my desk and strolled over to her desk.

“Why?” I asked politely.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes went wide, as she glanced at friends on either side.

“You just said you hate me. I’m asking why. Or am I supposed to pretend I didn’t hear you?”

Before she could answer, the cause of our problems intervened. “Girls, it’s almost time for class to begin. Find your seats, please.”

Yet as I sat down and got out my notebook, I noticed a pleased gleam in Mr. Love’s eyes. With proper encouragement, his female students would fight over him in earnest. When I went to snap at Nicole, I didn’t even care about his tousled hair or stupid smile. God help those who did.

His lecture was interesting, per usual, and we discussed the imagery in a poem. I’d always found “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” to be overrated and somewhat misogynistic. The knightly ass had no more style than to hump a woman in a hedge, and then wondered why she left him? Fairy bullshit allegory aside, his behavior answered the question.

Afterward, I waited until the rest of the class had gone. Pausing at his desk, I stared hard at Mr. Love, who stirred beneath my scrutiny. “Is something wrong?”

The tinnitus kicked in, and it only happened when I got close to something inhuman, monstrous, or immortal. I slammed a palm on his desk and muttered, “I know what you are.”

Well, not exactly. Not yet. But his presence meant trouble and Very Bad Things.

“I beg your pardon?” He wore innocence like a white mantle, dusted in gold.

No matter. That was all I said; it was enough. Gauntlet thrown, I hurried to my next class, hoping I hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

On Thursday, I went to Brittany’s funeral. Pretty much the whole school did, and they gave us a half day, I suspected because the Kings had donated a lot of money to Blackbriar over the years. It was a closed-casket service with pictures of her on top of the coffin. Brittany’s younger sister sang and Allison tried to deliver the eulogy, but she broke down halfway through her speech. Cameron sat with Brittany’s parents up front, and he looked worse than he had the other day, like he wasn’t sleeping at all.

After the services, I paid my respects to the family and Mrs. King hugged me. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” That felt like the wrong response, but I didn’t know what else to say. I stood for thirty seconds, letting her hug me and then I stepped back. No matter what Kian said, I still felt guilty. My head felt like scrambled eggs, and I was full of crazy theories, like what if I asked for the power to make the Teflon crew pay, and then my third wish was for a memory wipe of that request, so I didn’t have to live with the guilt. Surreptitiously, I checked my wrist. Only one hash mark atop the infinity symbol.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

Friday, I went to school late, so I could skip first period. I didn’t feel like dealing with Mr. Love’s scrutiny. Since I’d dropped that warning, he had been different, watchful and cold. The other girls hadn’t noticed, but they were purblind where he was concerned, seeing only the carefully disheveled hair and keen insights into poems we’d read before.

Apart from pictures of Brittany hanging near the main office, things got back to normal. Classes resumed their usual curriculum and the teachers were determinedly cheerful. At lunch, the cafeteria was back to full capacity, though people were quieter than usual, less yelling, less wandering between tables. Most of the Teflon crew was back. After hesitating for a few seconds, I took my lunch to the table, thinking, I should try to make some real friends.

As I sat down, I noticed Russ was still absent. Davina, especially, seemed worried about him. “Has anyone heard from him?” she asked.

I was still feeling horrible about Brittany. Plus, he wasn’t on my list of people worth giving a crap about, but I only shook my head. Surprisingly, the rest of the crew didn’t know anything, either. Davina turned to Cam. “I thought you guys were supposed to be tight.”

“Excuse me for having other things on my mind. My girlfriend just died.”

She looked like he’d slapped her. “I’m just … worried. It’s not like him to—”

“You’re so funny,” Allison cut in. “I bet you think you’re actually dating. On the DL, right? So you don’t have to ‘deal with drama’ from everyone else?”

Davina sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know everything. You’re not his girlfriend, you’re his bike, available anytime he feels like a ride.” Allison glanced around and seemed to take offense at our expressions. “What? It’s not a secret. Russ is always adopting strays and letting them think they have a shot at being one of us.”

“Bitch.” Shoving back from the table, Davina grabbed her tray and looked for somewhere else to sit.

Without realizing I’d made a decision, I stood up, too. “There are some chairs over there. This table reeks.”

I didn’t realize we had started a mass exodus until Jen joined us; I glanced over and saw the guys looking at Allison as if she were the shit on their shoes. And then Cam said clearly, “Jesus Christ. I have no idea why Brit was friends with you.”