CHAPTER TWELVE
Divisions & Gnawing Aches
VERITY
Grief is love that has nowhere to go. It sits with you in your sorrow. Gnawing on your bones until your heart busts from the pain. Even in my dreams, I can't run from it. So I embraced the ache, hoping the mask wouldn't slip. It never does until he appears.
My throat is pinched with raw screams that I can't pass. The greenery wraps around my wrists, holding me in place. That's when I saw him. Crawling out of a shallow grave with his flesh mangled. The rotten smell of his carcass smothers my senses, and the mask falls. I cried, thrashing violently to wake myself from my reality. Cal crawled to me. A multitude of flies and beetles ooze from the gapes in his remains.
I thought he was going to touch me. Bile rises in my throat as the tears fall. If only I had asked more while Cal was still alive then maybe… Maybe I could've saved him. Instead, I obeyed his wishes. Blindly without hesitation or the desire to question him. This is what I get for letting him leave that night. It's my fault he's here. Haunting me in my dreams and consuming my thoughts. Part of me wanted him to hold my hand even if all that remained of him was fragile brittle bones. Instead, he clasps a hand over the veins that caress my wrist.
"Why'd you leave me?" I sobbed, dipping my head to stare at the illusion of my brother.
His voice bubbles. The tone that used to be rich with laughter and love is now low. Unattached and soulless. It's not my brother's. And still, in my own selfish way, I pleaded with him. Begging him to snap me out of the twisted reality I've lived with since his murder.
"You knew they were going to kill you." I screamed. The vines pulled tighter, making me drop to my knees. I'm drowning in my grief as I cupped his dislocated jaw in place. Cal doesn't flinch or pull away from my caress. He shows no sign of pain. Lifeless as ever. "So why did you pass it to me?"
I'm pleading with myself. I know this isn't my brother. My ribs ache from the sheer panic of my heart. Cal's arms rise to the veins, and in his own fashion, he cuts them. I stifled a cry, watching a strand of my hair join his torn flesh. A jagged blade resides in his boney fingers. Its golden handle shines with dried blood coating the steel blade. Another cry surpasses me followed by sharp gut-wrenching pains. The knife that killed him. The one the Covenheads claimed a human lodged into his chest cavity.
They fall. Small screams of agony from the greenery filled me as it slithered back into his grave in a mad rush. Even in death, he finds ways to protect me. So why did he entrust me with his death wish?
Cal's voice rumbles in my ear. A low growl of words from his last message, "finish what I started."
The ground caves below me, and I fall. Leaving my brother alone in a world I'm not meant to be in. The jolt I feel from slumber is electrocuting. Beads of sweat drip from my head, and I stare at the mirror against my wall. My body aches from the abrupt wake while my eyes adjust to the blurred tear-streaked vision. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling back the strips of hair from my face. Droplets of blood pour from my ear canals. This is what I get for sleeping without my headset.
Cal was meant to be the hero. He was too good in a world of crooked beings and rich thieves. He would save everyone if he lived to see things through and that's what killed him. But I'm no one's hero. I could care less who gets hurt as long as I see this thing through till the very end. Even if it means I wilt alone, alienated by my own species.
The bastard has a week. In the meantime, I'll make his life a living hell with all the vacuous-minded mythicals hungry for fresh blood. The coven's precious prodigy is a weak fleshy sack of crushable bones, and I can't wait to snap every single one.
I smooth my nightgown, dapping a nearby cloth to clean the blood. Sasha and Piper asked last night for me to join them for breakfast. I should feel sorry that they think my intentions with the human are pure. But I'm lost when it comes to being empathetic. The thought alone makes my stomach lurch. I know I'll lose Sasha and Piper forever once it's done. And my heart aches at the idea, but I can't turn back now. I've waited years for the opportunity to snare the human. The human's entire existence ruined my life. It's worth it if it means Callum didn't die in vain.
And Cal's message was evident that there was much more to blatant existence. I have to figure out what the hell thirteen meant to my brother, but the answer may be closer than I realize.
May the bells sing even in the harshest of weather.
There's only one person who fits Cal's little riddle, and getting that lizard to answer my questions will be painfully tiresome. I placed my headset on to drown the insufferable noise. My fingers trace the earmuffs. The last gift my brother gave me before he departed that dreadful night. Not only do I wear the pearly set to drown my condition, but it's a treasure I cherish dearly. Under the headband is my brother's embodiment with my name. There's no other like it. I will avenge Callum.
I retrieve my uniform from my bare closet and turn to smooth the wrinkles on my bed. I almost didn't notice the surprise nestled in the cream-colored duvet. A strand of my hair rests at the brim of my pillow. The same one Cal cut. I smile at the revelation, plucking the blue ribbons of my hair from the mattress. Even in death, my brother makes his presence known.
Anything for you, love.
...
FLINT
Divisions of Magical Practices sucks ass. A big steaming load of shit. Andrew and Donnic rushed into the classroom which was a five minute power walk from Hart's building. Division resides in the Gilmore tower nestled between the Hortus gardens and Dybbuk stadium. The three of us sat in the middle section in the auditorium seating. I shift uncomfortably on the red cushions that feel like needles. No matter how boring this class is, I couldn't fall asleep even if someone knocked my brains out. This is an injustice to seats.
Mr. Lucian, the professor, tapped his fingers on the spine of his book. Andrew calls it the book of death by boredom. I can't disagree. We tried to hide our smirks but to no avail, we managed to piss off his brother. Donnic swatted at Andrew and I. He's annoyed by our childish banter. Classic Donnic.
Lucian isn't all that bad though. The old man is patient, answering questions from the future class pets in the front. He runs his hand down his chalky white beard, smoothing its braiding contents in deep thought. I have to hold my breath when I notice the professor is pantless. Instead of black slacks, the professor has bowed legs of an animal. I suppose they don't make pants for animalistic hybrids. Or the old man just doesn't like to wear pants. Lucky bastard.
Lucian is a faun. Donnic further elaborated that in human terms; he's part fae and part goat. His horns were six inches long with a deep curve to them. The upper half of him is all fae. His ears stick out pointed and abroad with soft yellow eyes. The professor's brown crewneck sweatshirt tugged at his skin tightly. Lucian was a vintage montage of knowledge and straight up weirdness. The lower half was intriguing considered his hindlegs were goat and his hooves clack against the marble floors. Lucian must be six feet tall as he strides in the front flashing a gnarly smile of small sharp teeth and a forked tongue.
Andrew explained to me that Lucian is the least likely professor that would want me dead. His exact words. The man is a walking encyclopedia on philosophy and principles. He's a pacifist in a world of warmongers. Lucian, as Andrew put it, was the peacemaker among the other professors. Always thinking of what's best for the students and seeking peace in times others suggested violence. Apparently he saved Andrew's ass from being scalped by the Historian professor when he was found banging the teacher's daughter in a janitor's closet. Classic vile Andrew.
"The use of magic is under coven law. If there was no written law, magic would be used for immoral and wicked deeds. It's a delicate gift bestowed upon our kind. We must respect our gifts. Embrace the magic for its true contents." Lucian said, his fingers wave with a glowful light. The only youthful thing about him. "If we misuse it, you'll corrupt the internal bond sewn into your veins. The coven will seek the utmost punishment by law."
He goes on to explain that the coven is a band of elders. Members who have been around for hundreds of years- if not thousands. The coven has endured the first war among humans where they strung up women for baring their ankles or sleeping out of wedlock. Humans called it the Witch Trials, but here in Mythicae, it's referred to as the Dark Sages. It didn't matter if the accused was a wielder of magic. The coven decided to uproot to colder regions. Then there was the war among mythicals themselves. When the balance of magic was jaded and power was up for grabs. He claimed that was another recap for a new day, and named it the Lost Time before moving on.
In an effort to protect Mythicals from another human-based war, the elders formed Harlem's Gate. Dean explained the magical barrier beforehand but never spoke about the rules beyond the divine veil. Under coven law, Mythicals are ordered to bear their human forms unless they are in the sanity of Mythicae. By following this law, any humans that somehow enter the gate or come close to the periphery won't see something they're not supposed to. I'd feel bad for a human who did stumble into this place. They would end up on the menu. I shiver at the thought.
The rest of the class is spent with Lucian belting about ethics. Andrew groans under his breath about the blonde who's hand never seemed to go down. She's his next victim. This earned a stuffed groan from Donnic and I. The guy is a walking STD. The bell tower chirps in the distance. Its hour hand swings slowly, striking eleven O'clock.
"We'll resume on Thursday. Class is dismissed." Lucian said, clasping the spine of his book shut.
I follow behind Andrew who's hustling through the thick wave of students. Donnic doesn't bother picking his pace to follow. I don't have either of them in the fae language class. Which makes sense considering they've grown up with the language and took the class last year. Lucian stops me at the door frame, and I watch my roommates leave without a second glance. Asshats.
"Mr. Anderson," professor Lucian quipped, "I've been excited to meet you in the flesh."
I gave him a skeptical smile. "That's a shock, professor."
Lucian chuckled, setting his book on his podem. "Yes, son. I expect great things from you." I find that hard to believe. "Your mom was one of the best students I ever had the privilege of teaching. It's an honor to meet her boy."
I stilled at his words. My mom was in his class? So he knew my mom before she met dad. I can't hide my disbelief. "Mom was your student?"
He nodded, answering what he stated in the first place. "Jean was a special kind. She never viewed the world as lowly despite her origins. Dragons are of high honor, my boy. She would be proud to see her son embracing his heritage." Lucian held the door for me, continuing. "There is much I have to offer you, Flint. So I suggest you pay attention next time. You'll be surprised what I can bestow upon you."
Shit.
"Yessir," I said, lowering my head in a bow. This sparks a light in Lucian's eyes that I don't understand.
He hums in amusement. "So much like your mother. Have a good day, Mr. Anderson."
I left his room listening to the door click behind me. I used the scroll Sasha got me to navigate my way to a building called Thorne Center. I brave the harsh winds outside and make it to the building that resembled a high security prison. Its fence stretches to the sunless sky. For the next sixty minutes, I'm learning about the dull yet "rich" origin of fae's when they decide to create a language separate from humans. In turn, the humans learned the language as their own anyways. Mrs. Geraldine, a sphinx, is a woman who spent her days soaking words from poetry and acts of philosophy.
Sphinx are stunning mythical beings. Sitting across from me, Geraldine is on all fours. Her body is of a lioness with giant golden wings draped behind her elegance. The golden hues of her hair hang from her shoulders exposing the sharp pointed ears of a fae. Geraldine's face was that of an alluring woman in her mid thirties. Her cheekbones pulled as she smiled, rambling on about the sufficiency of perfecting the language which bonds us to magic. Her navy robes cover her body modestly and I could've sworn I've seen paintings of this woman back home in Maine's Historical Museum.
The bell tower strikes in the distance once more, symbolizing that the class period is over. I bow to Mrs. Geraldine and excuse myself. My stomach pools in an aching pit. I'm thanking the stars by the time I reach Hart's cafe. The sweet aromas waft my senses and I find myself among the girls ordering a semi edible meal. Sasha and Piper hound me with questions about my day. But I stuff my face with a spoonful of salty black-eyed peas and soggy green beans. I hope I can eat meat for dinner. Because I'm not touching the sandwich that bubbles in front of me in its pulpy contents.
"Your next class," Sasha quipped as Andrew joined us, "-is a lot harder."
I glanced at her taking another bite of beans. "How so?"
Piper and Sasha exchanged looks. Andrew seemed to know what's up because he gave a long whistle as if the next part pained him. Piper interjects, "none of us have that course. It's not to our liking."
Andrew leans over, resting his arm on Piper's shoulder before she can push him off. "She means to say that we don't have a death wish. Only barbaric shitbricks are in that class."
Blake and Donnic joined shortly after listening quietly to their bantering. They're stalling, beating around a thorny bush. I jibe. "Just say what's wrong with it so I don't go in blindly."
"Verity is in that division. Top of the class for that matter." Donnic said with a mouthful of greens. "No one has ever defeated her even before Callum's death."
"Who's Callum?" I asked, knowing the answer. I need someone to say it though. Confirm my suspicions.
Sasha shot Donnic a disapproving look, but he didn't care. I don't think there's much in this life that he gives a shit about. He always came off as truthful even if it's far from what you want to hear. "Her brother." Donnic answered, "the reason V isn't herself anymore."
We sat in silence after that. Sasha chewed violently on her questionable burger while Piper played with the fleshy sacs of an elk's heart. Donnic hit a nerve when he spoke about Verity. I'm left wondering what kind of person she was before grief ate away at her. Was she the suffocating kind person who captivated everyone with her smile as I thought from Sasha's prized photo? The image of her laughing mid-picture resides in my mind. I finish my glass of water and dump my tray in the washing center.
Piper agreed to walk with me to Dominus Armorum. The class resided in the Kiner Stadium. I'm clueless as to why one course would need an entire stadium to itself. I want to apologize for Donnic but I settle on thanking her for walking with me. She pats my shoulder wishing me luck before running off to the Hortus gardens. I watched her leave, and found myself asking how the girls don't freeze to death in those tiny ass skirts.
I entered the stadium. The large steel doors screeched when I pushed them open. Inside, the stadium consists of four large rooms connected to a tiny lobby. Each room was labeled in fae until the words shifted for me to read; Weapon Master Home Room, Wielder of Steel, Casts of Endurance, and Panic Room. I followed the small group of students who crammed into the doorway of the home room. I expected the girls to be in a fist fight over the seats in the front, but I'm surprised to see they're collectively calm. The rest of the student body is shuffling between the mid section, and the back of the room.
I settled for the back and dropped my bag to the side of my desk. I spotted Minnow who offered a small wave to me from the front. She turned quickly when a beefy arm wrapped around her neck. Wrath is at her side but he doesn't bother glancing at me. I breathe a sigh of relief quietly. Of course those two would be here. Shortly after, Mr. Heeler bustled through the doors grumbling to himself. He has to turn to enter the room with his broad shoulders. The room is practically dripping in ecstasy and lust from the girls.
Heeler stands at the front of the class. The clock tower chimes letting us know that class has started. There's still no sign of Verity. I find solace in that. Heeler smiles widely, flashing his canines to us. "Welcome, welcome to Dominus Armorum." He said with a deep laugh, "I'm sure you're well aware of who I am, but let's recap. I'm Mr. Heeler and you lovely pupils are my first class. I'm honored that Grimm entrusted me with your education."
I crave to smash my head into a nearby wall knowing I'll have to spend a year listening to my classmates drool over this man. Heeler goes on to explain he's a wolf-shifter which is mistaken as a werewolf among humans. He speaks about the art of mastering magic. Forging its source into weapons that come from your soul. The act of wielding magic is, as he put it, a release of impulse. Strong instincts and emotions pull the defiant act from within. Especially when one is exposed to harm or desires to prevent such a thing.
Minnow raises her hand to ask a question, but she never gets the chance. The steel doors burst open with a heated kick. The room stills. Its bubbly contagious environment is replaced with grimace and fear. Heeler turned to face the commotion and his eyes widened. Verity stood at the doorway coated in thick black tare that resembled blood. She didn't bother bowing to show respect. Instead, she bit back a growl towards Heeler and walked to the midsection.
Heeler cleared his throat. I'd almost say he was intimidated by Verity. "Nice of you to join us, Ms. Talc."
Verity must've cast because an invisible hand of some sort began to clean the muck off of her. She opens a book lazily at her desk, "ms. Denik."
Heeler eyed her suspiciously and bared his teeth. "My roster says-"
"Look again."
He does as he's commanded. It makes him appear weak. I suppose she's correct because he turns back to her apologizing. "I'm sorry, Ms. Denik. I was unaware of the sudden change." She scoffed at that and I watched as Wrath's shoulders tensed. "I'd like to introduce the class to Farouts leader. You may know her as the terror of our finest establishment, and has been top of the dominous program for three consecutive years."
I make a mental note to ask the girls what Farout is. If Verity's the leader, then there's a good chance her band of mythicals are out to bathe the streets with my blood. Verity doesn't bother looking up or replying. Heeler finishes his sentence, dripping with challenge. "I look forward to seeing if you can stay on top."
I squinted my eyes wondering if I heard her right when she replied with a killer smile, "I'm sure you would."