34. Frankie

Chapter 34

Frankie

The harsh buzz of my alarm slices through the darkness, jolting me awake. My heart races, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs.

Today’s the day—another meeting with Professor Blackwood. As I drag myself out of bed, my stomach twists and churns, a writhing mass of shadow beasts clawing at my insides.

I catch my reflection in the mirror as I get ready. Dark circles ring my eyes, revealing restless nights filled with swirling darkness and cryptic whispers. My fingers trace the outline of Bishop’s puzzle box on my nightstand, its intricate patterns seeming to writhe beneath my touch. Next to it sits the coffee mug Leo gave me, emblazoned with an awful pun that still makes me smile. Matteo’s protection charm gleams softly in the dim light, while the ancient tome from Dorian lies open, its pages filled with lore I’m only beginning to understand. Each gift is a reminder of the bonds we’ve forged and the secrets still left uncovered.

Should I open Bishop’s box? I don’t know if I’m ready to know what’s inside.

I shake off the thought, the cool metal of the box lingering on my fingertips. One mystery at a time. Right now, I need to focus on Blackwood.

As I pull my jacket on, a chill runs down my spine. For a split second, I swear I catch a whiff of Valerie’s perfume—that sickly sweet scent that used to make me feel safe, but now just makes me want to puke. I shake it off.

Get it together, Frankie. She’s not here. She can’t hurt you anymore.

The campus is super quiet this early, and the mist is making everything damp and creepy. The urge to share my worries with my packmates is almost overwhelming. Leo’s easy smile and Matteo’s steady presence flash through my mind, a balm to my frayed nerves, but no—I need to handle this on my own. I’ve relied on others for too long.

Time to face the shadows head-on, Francesca. You’re not that helpless girl anymore.

The heavy wooden door to Blackwood’s office looms before me, more imposing than ever. The grain of the wood seems to twist into faces, watching and judging. I take a deep breath, the scent of old books and something darker filling my lungs. My hand trembles as I raise it to knock, but I force it steady.

“Come in,” Blackwood calls out. His voice gives me the creeps, like always.

As I cross the threshold, something feels off. The air is heavy, and I’m getting major bad vibes. Something’s different, dangerously so.

New artifacts crowd his already cluttered shelves, their surfaces carved with eldritch symbols that seem to writhe and twist when I try to focus on them. Just looking at them makes my eyes burn and my head spin, as if my mind is rejecting what it sees.

A strange, acrid scent assaults my nostrils—ozone crackling after a lightning strike, mingled with the musty breath of ancient tomes. Underneath it all, a coppery tang makes my stomach churn. Blood? The taste of fear floods my mouth, metallic and bitter. In the oppressive silence, I can hear my own heartbeat, a frantic drumming that seems to echo off the walls.

Blackwood’s at his desk with that annoying know-it-all smile. His eyes are creepy in this light, like he knows something I don’t. “Ah, Ms. Vale. How good of you to join me. Please, have a seat.”

I perch on the edge of the chair, its leather cool against my skin. My muscles coil, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. “Professor,” I say, my voice carefully neutral despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. “You summoned me?”

He steeples his fingers, studying me with those piercing eyes. Blackwood’s gaze pins me in place, stripping away my defenses layer by layer. I want to curl up and hide. It’s like he can see right through me.

“Indeed. I must say, your progress has been… remarkable. Your control over the shadows grows stronger by the day.” His smile turns predatory, his fingers tapping an ominous rhythm on the desk. “I do hope you’re being careful with such power. It would be a shame to see it consume you.”

A chill runs down my spine. I can feel the shadows moving under my skin. They know I’m freaked out.

He’s fishing. Stay calm, Francesca . Don’t let him see the cracks in your armor.

“Thank you,” I reply cautiously, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’ve been working hard.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have.” His smile widens, revealing too many teeth, sharp and white in the gloom. “But I wonder… Do you really understand what you’re working with? The true nature of the shadow realm?”

I lean forward, curiosity warring with caution. The leather of the chair creaks beneath me, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the office. “What do you mean?”

Blackwood’s eyes gleam with an almost manic light. He reaches for an artifact on his desk—a small, obsidian orb that seems to devour the light around it. “The shadow realm isn’t just some power source, Ms. Vale. It’s a whole other world, with its own set of rules, and Shadow Locke University? We’re not just a school. We’re the guardians of a millennia-old legacy.”

A legacy of secrets and shadows. What else are they keeping from me?

“I can see your interest.” He perks up. “See, we aren’t really Nyx’s children.”

Bullshit .

“You look skeptical,” he says. He’s right, I don’t believe him at all.

I force myself to meet Blackwood’s gaze, ignoring the way the shadows dance in my peripheral vision. “Why are you telling me this now?” I ask, because I’m convinced he is only bringing this up right now to steer me in the wrong direction.

He leans back, his chair groaning under his weight. His smile never wavers, a mask I long to tear away. “Because, my dear, you’re at a crossroads. Your powers are growing, yes, but so are the dangers. You need to understand the stakes and focus your energy where it matters.”

Or where he wants me to focus.

As if on cue, I feel the shadows beneath my skin stirring, responding to my heightened emotions. They slither just below the surface, eager to break free. I try to keep it together, but the shadows slip out anyway, wrapping around my fingers. Bishop’s words echo in my mind. “It’s dangerous, but it’s a chance to make a difference.”

Blackwood’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp as a blade. “Word travels fast in our circles, Ms. Vale,” he says, a knowing glint in his eye. “A rather interesting incident at a local bar caught my attention. Shadow manipulation in public? Quite the spectacle, according to my sources.”

My stomach drops. Shit. He’s talking about that night at the Grotto when I almost lost control. I thought Tori and I had that covered. How the hell did Blackwood find out?

I keep my face neutral, falling back on the story Tori and I concocted. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Oh, that? Just an urban legend making the rounds. You know how college towns are with their ghost stories.”

“Hmm.” Blackwood’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I swear I see shadows swirling in their depths, a maelstrom of darkness. “Is that so? How… convenient. I suppose the sudden increase in shadow activity in that area is just a coincidence?”

Something in his tone and the way he’s toying with me makes something snap inside. The shadows beneath my skin surge, responding to my anger. I’m done being a pawn in everyone else’s games.

Screw this. I’m done being pushed around.

Time to bring forth the Frankie that existed just to survive—the one I didn’t think I needed here on campus.

I was wrong.

I lean forward, meeting his gaze head-on. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. I swear I can see shadows moving in the corners of the room. “Enough. What do you really want, Professor? Why all these half-truths and manipulations?”

Blackwood’s eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise flashing across his face before he schools his features. “My, my. Quite the backbone you’ve developed, Ms. Vale. I wonder… is that all your doing, or have your new friends been a bad influence?”

“Answer the question,” I growl, feeling the shadows respond to my anger, coiling around my fingers like eager pets. The temperature in the room seems to drop, darkness gathering at the edges of my vision. I let a tendril of shadow extend, probing at the edges of Blackwood’s aura, searching for any hint of his true intentions.

For a long moment, we sit in tense silence, neither willing to back down. The ticking of an unseen clock counts out the seconds, each one stretching into eternity. Then, Blackwood sighs, seeming to deflate slightly.

“The truth, Francesca,” he says, leaning forward with an intensity that makes me want to shrink back, “is that a cataclysm approaches. The veil between the human world and the shadow realm frays, and when it tears…” He pauses, his eyes boring into mine. “Well, let’s just say that those who aren’t prepared will be swept away in the flood of darkness.”

“And let me guess, you’re here to tell me which side that is?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice, sharp enough to cut.

Blackwood’s smile returns, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain cold and calculating. “I’m here to warn you. Untamed shadow powers are a dangerous thing. They consume, Francesca, and destroy. Without proper guidance, you could lose yourself entirely. Just look at what happened to your mother.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My mother? What does he know about her? The shadows around me roil and surge, reacting to my shock and confusion.

A chill runs down my spine, but I refuse to let him see how his words affect me. The shadows whisper at the edges of my consciousness temptingly.

Is that concern in his eyes, or am I just seeing what I want to see?

“Thanks for the warning. Is that all?” I keep my voice level, but inside, my mind races with implications and possibilities.

He studies me for a long moment then nods. “For now, but remember, Ms. Vale—my door is always open. When the storm breaks, you’ll need allies. Choose them wisely.”

I stand, my legs shaky but my resolve firm. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound harsh in the silence. As I turn to leave, Blackwood calls out one last time.

“Oh, and Francesca?” Blackwood’s tone is deceptively casual. “Do give my regards to Dorian. I’m sure he’s finding his… living arrangements quite enlightening. After all, blood is thicker than water… or shadows.”

My blood runs cold. How does he know about Dorian living with us? And what’s he implying about blood? I think of Dorian’s curse and his struggle with his heritage. Does Blackwood know something about that too? God, it’s like he’s always ten steps ahead, and I’m just fumbling in the dark. I don’t respond, simply nodding curtly before stepping out of his office.

The hallway feels too bright and normal after the intensity of that encounter. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, their harsh glare a stark contrast to the shadows that still cling to me, reluctant to retreat fully beneath my skin.

My mind races, trying to process everything I learned. As I make my way out of the building, the weight of Blackwood’s warnings and the secrets still left uncovered press down on me, creating a suffocating blanket of doubt and fear.

What am I going to tell the others? How much danger are we really in? And what did he mean about my mother?

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the figure approaching until it’s too late. The click of heels on tile breaks through my reverie. I look up, and my heart stops, the world grinding to a halt around me.

Valerie.

Her smile, once warm and comforting, now sends ice through my veins. The shadows are getting darker. It’s like they can sense how messed up Valerie is. My breath catches in my throat, memories of pain and betrayal flooding back in a dizzying rush.

“Hello, Francesca,” she purrs, her voice a silken noose as her fingertips trace an icy path along my arm. The shadows beneath my skin recoil at her touch, hissing and spitting like angry cats. “It’s been far too long. We have so much to catch up on, don’t we?”