13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Wilder

Ifeel like I'm coming away from our little tryst with more questions than answers and only a half-baked plan on what to do with the problem that is Bronwyn.

But I also know with utmost certainty that if I had stayed there much longer that I would have spilled my heart to her. And I don't even want to think of what I would have done if she had caressed my face again.

I would have made an utter fool of myself, past the point of any conceivable redemption, and all for a girl named Eel.

I find myself shuddering as I race down the stairs.

"Wait!" I hear Bronwyn call at the top of the stairs. "Wilder!"

I ignore her, of course, it's perhaps the only sane thing I've done this evening.

I told her what I came to tell: that Morozov is a deadly foe, and she must do what she can to remain outside his notice, if such a thing is still a possibility for her after what transpired tonight. I told her that she would have to convince him that we are indeed engaged, and that I would do my part in that convincing.

Naturally, I had wanted answers as to what Bronwyn was doing in the professor's office or how she knows what she does about vampires, but I long ago learned that I can't always get what I want.

There is more to Bronwyn than what first meets the eye; she is an enigma wrapped in a secret and locked away in a mystery. I'm not sure how I could have ever thought that she was a mere merchant's daughter. She is far too cunning for that.

No, she is… something else. I'm not quite sure what, but something.

And I'm beginning to wonder at her intentions for being in the academy. Something tells me that just learning about magic is something beneath a girl like Bronwyn. She wouldn't be here unless the academy had more to offer, but what is that?

A husband? She never talks to anyone.

The status of a magicker? Not likely.

It must be something and I'm just missing it.

I give my head a sharp shake. I can't afford to be distracted from my own ulterior motives by wondering about Bronwyn's. I'll keep her from getting killed but that is all she shall get from me.

I have enough problems of my own to bother with the beguiling Bronwyn the Eel and all her mysteries.

No, the real question is whether Morozov is expecting me to come back so he can fill my head with more plans for a world domination I don't even want.

I slide my hand into my pocket, my fingers meeting a piece of paper that crinkles under my touch. I feel my mouth quirk up as I pull the paper out and see Bronwyn's name. That smile slides off my face as I read over my scathing summary, I wrote for her.

Did I really say that she lacked ambition? Only to now be thinking that she is too ambitious for the simple life of a magicker and is currently at this academy with nefarious intents?

And Bronwyn read this?

I crumple the paper back up in my hands. I know that I had been cruel on purpose; Morozov has tasked me with writing reports on my fellow students so that he can know who to pick for the vampire army he is growing.

I'd done it to save Bronwyn, because no matter how annoying she can be I never wanted her to be involved. And yet despite my best attempt, she wound up getting involved anyway. Which makes my effort to make her look bad completely useless, which would be bad enough except she had to go and read my failed attempt.

Now, she probably hates me for hating her, when in fact out of all the students at this academy, she was the one I was trying to protect.

Even if Morozov turned everyone here, I had been determined to save one. Bronwyn. In saving her, perhaps I might have been able to save myself.

But now, that whole plan is in flames. I'm still undead, there's a power mad vampire intent on creating an army like him out of the students here, and the one person I specifically tried to save went and got his especial attention.

To top it all off, now I have to pretend to be madly in love with Bronwyn the Eel, a feat that will require all if my lying skills because I feel more inclined to strangle her for getting me into this mess than to show her any sign of affection.