4

H ow many times should one knock on the door of the headmistress’s office before giving up? I’ve reached ten so far, but I don’t have anywhere else to go on a Sunday night. If she doesn’t eventually open it, I’ll resort to kicking the thing in.

Maybe not. I like my shoes. And I’m not that strong.

Mel leans against the wall while I continue bruising my knuckles against the wood. “Have you ever considered that she may be in her room, sleeping? Not everyone sits in their office after hours.”

“No.” I continue knocking. “She’s probably standing opposite the door, trying not to laugh. Mrs. Dalton knows how much we hate each other!”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s not going to change partners for you. Dane already tried, like, a million times.”

Even his name makes me mad. “He set my papers on fire when I told him to help me with the project. Do you know how much work that was? A lot! I’m telling her I’m either going to kill her son, or she needs to give me another partner.”

My friend inspects her nails—still long and sharp like blades. “You need to start fighting back.”

I sigh and drop my forehead to the door. “And what exactly am I to do? I’m certain he can read my mind, for God’s sake!”

“I hate when you say that. We don’t have the same god.” Then she shrugs. “The mind reading could be fun. Throw him off with some sex thoughts.”

I groan. “He’s powerful. I’d be toast before I could even blink if I attacked him back.”

“Humans are very dramatic. I have no idea how I’ll ever fit in with your kind.” She pushes off the wall. “Come. She’s not in her office, and the castle guards are probably on their way with all the noise you’ve made.”

“Fine.”

Just my luck—Dane and his friends are in the courtyard as we make our way to our dorm. I can feel his deathly stare on me as I try to ignore him, my fists tight and itching to smash into his face.

But Orsen, his little sidekick, appears beside us, giving an unimpressed Mel his best smile. “You haven’t replied to a single message. Care to explain?”

She crosses her arms and blows a strand of white hair from her face. “Go away.”

His laugh is deep as he shakes his head. “Come on, ice queen. Either reply to my message or let me fuck you. I’ll make it worth your while. We are partners for human relations after all. Either way, my dick is going inside you. Let’s make it fun.”

Dear God.

She smiles the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “I’d rather fuck myself with my fingers, but thanks.”

I stare at her blade-like nails in horror.

Orsen, with his charming smile and blacker-than-black eyes, goes back to stand beside Dane, who hasn’t stopped glaring at me.

“The offer stands!” Orsen calls to Mel. “And message me back!”

“The offer can fuck off,” she mutters, taking my arm and pulling me away from the courtyard. “I swear, ever since I’ve been partnered up with him for nearly all my classes, he’s gotten clingier. I say we kill them both in their sleep.”

I manage a laugh as we step into the castle. “All your classes?”

“Five so far. Who are you with?”

Confused, I shake my head. “Only mortal studies with Dane.”

“Hmm,” is her reply as we walk into the ballroom, a shortcut to the dorms.

The students being punished are setting the room up for a dance that I unfortunately have to attend. Big chandeliers line the ceiling, and the students are busy scrubbing some graffiti away and polishing the floors. Apparently, most of the students have been in the dungeons for years and haven’t yet earned their freedom.

Some are killers, and others have committed some of the most heinous crimes possible on the island over hundreds of years.

My friend smiles at the view. “It’s going to be the best night, right? Have you picked out your dress?”

I look at her in mortification. “It’s not for another two months. And where the hell am I going to find a dress?”

She tuts. “Humans.”

“You’re probably going to have sex with a human one day. Maybe you should get used to us?”

Mel couldn’t look more disturbed if she tried. “I most certainly will not.”

I smile. “Unless you want Orsen?”

Grimacing, she ushers me out of the ballroom. “Stop. We have human relations tomorrow, and the last thing I need is a tired human by my side.”

We stop at the dorms, and she waves her hand, opening my door. “Sleep. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

As soon as I’m in my room, the wood in the fireplace ignites and the candles flicker beside my bed. I’m showered and under my duvet within ten minutes.

And I’m annoyed again.

Dane doesn’t plan on lifting a finger for this project, so neither will I. If we fail, so be it. He can go take a flying fuck for all I care. After all, I’m the only one who knows everything we need to know in order to pass that class.

The following week comes and goes, and I think I might throw myself out the window of the tallest tower. Head first, just to make sure I don’t survive. Though knowing my luck, someone will just revive me and send me back to class.

All Dane’s doing is scowling at me in the corridors, knocking my food off my tray in the canteen like a teenage schoolboy, and making me trip up in the courtyard.

What can possibly be worse than being partnered up with Dane Dalton for one class? Being partnered up with him for four of my classes!

Mortal studies.

Communication and socialization studies.

Combat and weaponry studies.

Cult studies.

All four classes I have to sit beside him. And in all four classes we don’t speak a word. He makes me do all the work—because why would someone who needs to learn to adjust to live around humans do the work when the human can do it all for him?

I’ve not yet been partnered up for human relations, but I know that’ll happen tomorrow. If I need to work with Dane, I might actually cry. So far, from what Mel and Poppy have told me, the professor wants all the students to know how to form romantic connections, how to kiss and touch and care, and as soon as that part is established, she wants everyone to move on to more intimate forms of contact.

We haven’t used the mobiles yet. He has no idea how to use his, and I refuse to help him. I don’t think he’s even taken the phone out of its case. Meanwhile, Poppy is having a blast with her partner, and Mel has done nothing but complain about Orsen, saying he should be expelled for sending her pictures of his cock.

It’s big, to be fair. In my world, he’d be considered an extremely large eggplant, though apparently Mel has had bigger dicks inside her. Given her slim yet freakishly tall frame, I’m mentally questioning how she hasn’t been split in half.

She’s learned how to forward messages, much to my own misery, so as I’m her friend, she thinks it’s perfectly fine to send me every single one of Orsen’s penis pictures, with the horrifying bonus of a two-minute video clip. With audio . I’ve never witnessed so much sperm in my life.

I’ve also never deleted something so fast.

The professor upgraded everyone’s mobile phones a few days ago, which is a relief yet a curse because as much as they appear as something we mortals use, they never lose battery.

This entire school is full of firsts for me, so I guess the shock value of being surprised when powers are used, or when my bed randomly shakes while I’m trying to sleep, is fading.

Dane and his little gang don’t have that issue, I’m sure. They sleep in fancy rooms—probably have their own ball washers too.

They get special treatment here, being the offspring of the teachers and all.

I lie in my four-poster bed, situated in the middle of my dorm room, listening to the rain smack against the window and the whistle of the wind through the trees, which must be close to being ripped out of the ground. My room falls into darkness then fills with moonlight every few minutes. It storms a lot here, and every time it does, I can’t sleep.

The crack of thunder and the flash of lightning seems to awaken the lost souls stuck in the walls, and shadows dance on the bricks while I watch. A silhouette of a woman holding a child’s hand, running from a large mass. A man sitting down and reading a newspaper while someone cuts his hair.

Sometimes they wave at me. And sometimes I light a candle and hide under my duvet and wait for the storm to end. The shadows like me; they enjoy me watching them move across the bricks. I feel them when I wake, when I walk into the room, and I also feel them trying to comfort me when I’m sad.

When I’m anxious, or debating if I should just jump from my window, or smash a glass and take myself out with a shard, the shadows shiver, and the entire room grows cold, as if they’re warning me to stop.

The phone on my bedside unit vibrates then starts to ring, and I frown. It’s the middle of the night.

I roll my eyes when I see who it is. Nearly two weeks of silence and now he wants to contact me?

I busy-tone him and lie back in bed. It rings again, and again, and again, until even the shadows in my walls tremble in annoyance.

“You want to deal with him?” I ask the gathering masses. “Go. Be my guest.”

I throw my phone at the wall, but it materializes above my head.

“Ow!” I rub my scalp, glaring at the swirling darkness of laughter trailing to my ceiling. “Stop doing that!”

It rings once more, and my patience has vanished.

“What do you want?” I snap as soon as I answer. “It’s three in the morning, Dane.”

There’s ruffling then a scoff. “Ridiculous piece of technology. How can I hear you?”

“If you paid attention in class, then you’d know. Really, what do you want? I’m trying to sleep.”

“We have to hand in our first assignment tomorrow and I…” He stops, and I know he’s gritting his teeth. “How do I send a message to you?”

I huff. “I’m not telling you. Read the manual the professor gave you. I already covered my part when I texted you. Learn something for once.”

“Listen here, mortal. If I don’t pass, neither do you. And we both want you off this island.”

“Sure. So you’ve mentioned, like a million times. It’s getting old now. Just open the app called Messages , then click new, then click on my name. Or reply to the one I sent.”

I messaged him when we got the newer phones and knew he’d never respond. If you class a middle-finger emoji as a message.

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused. “How do I search for that app?”

Groaning, I bury my face in my pillow. “Figure it out, Dane. Like everyone else in the school, you need to actually work to pass this.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

It’s obvious that he thinks the call has ended. Faintly, I hear him muttering that I’m useless and that he wants to strangle me. His phone is far away from him, but I can tell he’s getting dressed. Metal—I assume a belt buckle—knocks against something, and Dane swears to himself then continues to ask himself where he put his shoes.

“Fucking mortals and their idiotic ways.”

I try not to laugh, but a smile breaks out across my face. I wipe it away with my palm and narrow my eyes. He doesn’t deserve anything of the sort directed at him. “I’m still here. You didn’t hang up.”

Nothing. He runs the tap in his bathroom, brushes his teeth, then there’s more ruffling.

I can hear footsteps on his end, then a heavy fist against a hard surface, and to my absolute horror, I realize I can hear it happening twice.

“Are you at my door?” He knocks again. “No! Go away!”

He can’t hear me because I’m in his pocket.

In my short nightdress, I hunt for my robe, falling short just as he opens my locked door. “Dane!”

Blank faced and monotoned, he says, “Mortal,” as he struts in, waving his hand to close the door behind him and lock it. His gaze lands on me, and he stops walking. “Please don’t make me bring up my insides.” Dramatically, he covers his eyes with his hand. “Dress—before I intentionally blind myself.”

“I wish you would.” I glare, secretly wishing I had powers to set him on fire. Who the hell wears a crisp white shirt and dress pants at this time in the morning?

At least he hasn’t done his hair. It looks disheveled, as if he’s run his hand through it one too many times. Little curls fall over his forehead, and I want to pull one to watch it ping back into place. They’re kind of cute.

“Please keep your childish thoughts to yourself,” he says, and I feel all the blood draining from my face. “Touch my hair and I will hex you.”

Finally finding my robe, I pull it on and wrap it tight. “Why are you here?”

He parts his fingers to see I’m decent enough for him to look at me. “Much better. I need you to show me how to send a message then I’ll never set foot in your…” He grimaces as he glances around my room. “It even smells like humans in here.”

I raise a brow. “And how do you know what humans smell like if I’m the only one you’ve met?”

“Vile. Sour. Like stale sex.” Dane waves off the subject. “Back to the main issue.” He tosses his phone at me—it’s still connected to our call—and clasps his hands behind his back. “Send a message so I can get the hell out of here.”

I end the call and open a new message, send myself one that says, Humans rule, and give him it back. “There. Now leave.”

He stares at the phone. “Can you show me how you did that?” Then he brings the screen to his face and squints at it. “Remove this. I don’t want such messages to be connected to me.”

I sit on my bed. “I’m trying to sleep.”

He frowns in confusion, like my words have no meaning to him.

I screw my eyes shut and cover my face with a groan. “Dane?”

“Mortal?”

I remove my hands. “Get out of my fucking room.”

He sneers. “Watch your tongue.”

I raise a brow. “Or what? Are you going to use your ghost hands on me again?”

Just as I expect, something wraps around my throat, like an ice-cold snake twisting around my neck. I can breathe perfectly fine, but I can feel the faint press of its tongue against my hammering pulse.

“I have a number of powers,” he says, still standing at the opposite side of the room. Then he takes slow steps towards me as the invisible snake tightens around my neck ever so slightly. The hissing tongue slides across my cheek then to my ear. I shiver, tingles traveling down my spine. “But I can tell you like this one. Will I use it when you meet your end?”

Another step, and the snake tugs at me, so I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. The silhouettes are hiding now. In the corners, in the designs of the bricks—anywhere Dane can’t see. I fist at my bedcovers, trying to control my breathing.

Shakily, I say, “Am I supposed to be afraid?”

I should stop. But he pisses me off to no end and is still in my room, even after I told him to leave. He’s got what he came for, so why is he still here?

Dane walks until he’s in front of me, looking down with a curled lip. My robe has fallen open, and my nightdress is very, very revealing. He allows his gaze to trail down the length of me, and behind him, the shadows come out of hiding. They start to move slowly, silhouettes of a man and woman dancing, a dog barking as it chases a ball.

They must be trying to distract me.

Dane’s eyes turn silver, and his white hair ruffles as random wind whips around my room. “If I ever see you dressed this way again, I will personally drown you in the castle’s lake.”

I drop my gaze to the obvious—large—tenting in his pants. “That must explain why you’re hard.”

The oxygen to my lungs cuts off, and my eyes widen with the pressure as the snake tightens around my throat until I’m unable to breathe. But as quick as my air supply stops, the snake vanishes, and Dane steps back.

I cough, trying to fill my lungs.

Dane shoves his hands in his pockets, probably to try to hide himself. “Why do you keep trying to provoke me?”

“Me?” I sit up and rub my throat. “You’re the one who won’t leave me alone. You’re like a child. Who acts this way? How old are you?”

Dane’s entire expression changes as he backs away from me, and he appears to be thinking. When he doesn’t respond, realization hits.

“You don’t know how old you are?”

“That is none of your concern,” he replies. “Age is a number. You are born to die, whereas I am born to live. I don’t need a number.”

“You can just say you don’t know. Unless you’re two hundred years old, then it would be weird that you keep targeting someone a hundred and eighty years younger than you. You say humans are pathetic, yet you’re acting like one by bullying me. You, Dane Dalton, are the pathetic one.”

As his eyes darken, so does my room. My walls turn to black, the floor crawling with swirling, angry shadows, the ceiling full of them. The happy silhouettes are gone now, replaced by evil. He takes a step forward, and although I feel trapped in place, a force shoves at me from behind, as if it’s pushing me towards Dane, and suddenly I’m standing.

My bed creaks before it slides backward and hits into something.

A wind builds, and my chandelier swings, the room turning cold enough that I can see my own breath.

Two more steps and Dane is right in front of me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw tense. “Do not speak to me like I’m beneath you.”

He’s fuming with rage as he glares at me. Something presses down on my shoulders, and my legs give way until my knees crack into the ground. I look up at him, my hair a mess over my face, and watch his eyes flickering to a bright silver.

Now I’m scared.

I think my heart might beat out of my chest as my things start to fly off the units and pictures crash off the walls. The rug in front of my fireplace is thrown across the room, and flames swirl out of the hearth.

As if something slaps him across the face—maybe the realization that he was about to destroy my room with me in it —he looks around us, eyes wide, noticing all the mess and the gathering shadows on the walls, the ceiling and slowly crawling towards us on the floor.

I can feel them too. They’re excited; they want Dane to keep going, to let out all that power.

No. They aren’t excited. They’re… aroused.

He realizes the same time I do, or he reads my mind. He doesn’t walk out; he vanishes in a swirl of darkness, and I let my lungs fill with much needed air as my room falls silent, as all my things return to their rightful places. The shadows vanish, and the silhouettes are back, watching me.

Dane is powerful, but I don’t think he realizes just how powerful he is.