Page 15

There are only two days until Christmas, and the storm is relentless, uncaring that there is a desperate need for snowball fights and cheerful weather, most especially now. Despite that, I still find myself seated on the roof’s ledge, being pummeled by snow or in my bedchamber with the windows thrown wide. I cannot explain it other than the need for some semblance of freedom despite all that I fear surrounding me.

Everyone has gone mad.

Whether it’s out of grief or fear, I cannot be certain, but something wicked is lurking in the very air surrounding us, and I’m just waiting for my flame, or worse, Calista’s, to be snuffed out.

I’ve never been a religious man, but a spiritual one. And if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Nocturne Frost University is in desperate need of a cleansing, possibly in more ways than one.

Until tomorrow,

Alastair

Chapter 7

Two Days Until Christmas

Calista

My head pounds as I climb the stairs, my feet slipping on the smooth edge. My heart lurches as my palms make contact with the ground, and an ache claws into my chest.

Alastair has never let me fall. I feel the absence of his steady hands.

I’m not certain how, but he’s always around when I need him. Always here to catch me and yet, here I sit with a scraped knee and ruined pantyhose, rolling over onto my bum.

I shake my head, pushing the thought away. He can’t be around every time my clumsiness gets the better of me.

Pushing myself up and sorting my skirt, I gather my wits and continue up the sprawling staircase. Candles flicker, wall sconces casting impossible shadows, but I suppose that when you’re living in hell, anything is.

My stomach twists in knots, my breaths coming more shallow, hands trembling. I drift outside myself, half watching, half suffering every ache and tremor. I should have stayed in my bedchamber. I’m probably coming down with something, risking infecting the whole school with what ails me.

The thought dies on my tongue as I lurch forward, something yanking me back just before I can fall to my face. All the air leaves my lungs, a yelp crawling up my throat, but it’s silenced by a meaty palm over my mouth as I’m grabbed around the waist and pulled into a dark alcove. I dig my heels into the stone floors beneath me, clawing my nails into the arm wrapped around me as panic threatens to seize me.

My heart races impossibly fast as I move on instinct, biting down on the palm until I taste the metallic, hot liquid tinging my lips. My attacker pulls his hand back, cursing and creating the perfect opening for me to knee him in the balls and turn on my heel.

“Damnit, Calista, stop.” A shiver of apprehension slides down my spine, and my hesitation is long enough for Professor Dinwoodie to get ahold of me again, dragging my trembling body back to him. “So much for keeping your appetites separate,” he rumbles in that begrudging tone of his, as if he’s never been truly content in his life. And I suppose I haven't either.

“What are you on about?” I grunt out, stomping my foot. My lips curve in delight as he grimaces, and I know I’ve hit my mark, digging my pointed heel into the soft flesh at the top of his foot.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I wish they hadn’t as I’m forced to stare him down, taking in every detail. His shirt gapes at the throat, hair greasy, beard unkempt, eyes red-rimmed above the sag of sleepless hollows.

“I saw you.” His words hold so much meaning and malice.

My spine grows rigid, unintentionally giving away too much. His brow arches in recognition before I can correct my posture, forcing a relaxed appearance, even though I am anything but. My mind is a foggy mess and I find myself forcing my usually calm and fluid exterior.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Balor. I, regrettably, see you every day.” I cross my arms across my chest, watching as his nostrils flare. “Though I’m open to suggestions for how we could rectify that issue,” I drawl.

I’m goading him, and I know it, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from my years spent with John, it’s that angry, volatile men are the weakest. They can’t see their own downfall until it’s too late, too blinded by their fury.

He reacts exactly as I expect, lowering his mouth until it hovers beside my ear. But instead of the delicious wash of heat that would ripple across my skin if it were Alastair, his breath turns my stomach. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to run, to put as much distance between us as possible.

I force myself to remain still.

“I saw you find her. I saw you leave her. I saw you, Miss Ravenna. And I know exactly who you’d been with.”

My teeth grind together as I bide my time. I will not cower beneath a man. Never again.

“If you want me to keep quiet about it, you’d better get used to the idea of being used by more than one man. Because I don’t think you want another murder charge hanging over your head, do you?”

My already erratic pulse hammers to a crazed beat. How could he possibly know about the first?