Page 105

104

Summer

W e linger, just basking in each other. Connor’s forehead is pressed to mine, and tears still silently leak from my eyes. Connor has his arms wrapped around me, not possessively but protectively. I came so fucking close to losing him, and for what? Some stupid idea that I’m protecting him? Maybe I will still lose him, and I wouldn’t even blame him. Even though I’ve finally opened up to him, it’s too fucking late. He’s been patiently waiting for a small piece of me, but I’ve held onto every hideous scrap, holding it so close to my chest it’s welded to my skin.

I pull back and cup his cheek, looking at his perfect, handsome face. “I should clean myself up before we go see the headmaster.”

Connor nods, and I leave him in the living room while I retreat to my bathroom. When I’m alone, the fear clutches at me again. The murderer is still out there, and though I suspected it, the confirmation feels worse than I could have imagined. I look at my reflection in the mirror, at how my blue eyes shine, so different from everyone else’s. Right now, they’re bloodshot and puffy, and my nose is red from all the crying.

I hate this version of myself, but sometimes I miss her, the Summer who didn’t feel, who couldn’t feel. She was safe, but she also lacked so much life . This Summer is raw and broken. She’s messy, chaotic, and difficult, but she loves and she cares. She has people and has found a family. I won’t give it up, not for the world.

I turn the tap on, waiting until the water is freezing cold before I splash it on my face. The icy droplets are refreshing against my hot cheeks, and as I dry my face, I wipe away some of the sadness, too. Not all of it, but enough that I’m confident I won’t dissolve into tears again anytime soon.

When I walk back into the living room, Connor is still kneeling on the ground where I left him. He looks pensive and is staring down at his hands.

The moment feels so private that I clear my throat to alert him of my presence, trying not to invade whatever space he needs. Connor blinks and looks up at me, a sad smile tugging at his lips, but it’s still so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Ready?” I ask.

Connor nods and pushes to his feet. His wings disappear before we leave the dorm. Initially, we don’t touch. We walk side by side, and there is an awkwardness between us that has never been there before. I consider reaching for his hand, but before I decide, Connor brushes the back of his hand against mine and then interlocks our fingers. I look up at him, but he continues staring straight ahead as we walk through the campus. I know from afar we look solid, but from this close, I can see every single fracture.

Connor knocks on the door when we arrive at the headmaster’s office.

In a now all too familiar ritual, we enter when he calls, “Enter.”

“Another fae?” I ask before the door even has a chance to close behind us.

The headmaster nods. “Yes, but this incident differed from the others.”

“Did she look like me?” I ask, wholly focused on him.

The headmaster shakes his head. “But she was wearing an item of your clothing.”

Connor’s hand tightens on mine, and bile crawls up my throat.

The headmaster waves his hand, and a projection manifests in front of him, glowing a faint blue. Connor steps toward the desk, but I grab his arm, stopping him.

“You don’t need to see this, big guy.”

Connor meets my gaze, steely resolve hardening the beautiful blue of his eyes. “Yes, I do.”

I nod, and together, we step forward to look at the projection. On the screen, a dead fae female is lying at the bottom of the Dullahan Hall stairs. Blood stains the steps and is puddled around her. Unlike the other victims, her body has not been posed and positioned for the viewer. Her legs rest on the stairs, and her arms are extended as though she is reaching toward safety. She is wearing my black t-shirt, the words Ruin My Runes now littered with slashes and painted with gore.

The headmaster slides his hand through the projection, rewinding it to the point where her head slams down. The thud is sickening, and a wave of nausea rushes through me. He rewinds again and again, trying to see… something. I’m about to beg for him to stop, to get rid of the spell, but then my eyes catch on the slightest flicker in the upper corner of the magical screen.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing the headmaster’s wrist just as he is about to dismiss the spell.

He goes rigid and stares at my hand. I quickly let go. He obviously doesn’t like to be touched, or maybe he just doesn’t want to be touched by me, but either way, I have more important things on my mind.

“Please, start it again,” I ask, staring at the projection.

The headmaster flicks his fingers, and the spell activates. Connor’s face turns a little green in anticipation of the noise we’re about to experience again.

“Pause. Now,” I demand, just as her head hits the floor. I narrow my eyes and move in, noticing the slightest of blurs. “There. Something moves there. She’s not alone.”

The headmaster plays it again, but this time in slow motion, his eyes narrowed as he leans closer. I watch as the blur shifts only slightly, so easily missed.

“The Helm,” the headmaster whispers. “They’re using the Helm,” he says, only fractionally louder this time.

“The Helm, sir?” I ask, feeling Connor shift uncomfortably behind me.

The headmaster looks at us. “There was a note left at the scene.” The headmaster pulls a small, clear plastic bag from his desk and hands it to me.

DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE?

It is written in what looks like blood, and my heart picks up. I stare at it, reading it over and over. Connor gently pries it from my fingers to inspect it closer.

“Is the blood?—”

“It doesn’t belong to the victim, but they’ve been smart. It’s untraceable. Another one of their little games, no doubt.”

“The message they’re referencing is the one from the Nexus account?”

“I presume so. That I know of, there have been no other complete messages since the last murder. However, I could be incorrect,” the headmaster says, taking the note back from Connor.

“What message?” Connor asks.

I glance at Connor, knowing that this will probably add to his anger, but I also know that not telling him would be even worse. “The murderer seems to have been communicating with us via social media.”

The furrows in Connor’s brow deepen, his eyes flicking back and forth between the headmaster and me.

“Via the page dedicated to the headmaster.”

“On EverydayEmrys ?”

The headmaster scowls. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Everyone’s heard of it, headmaster.”

The headmaster rubs a hand over his face. “Mister Morningstar, I assume you’ll be helpful in that particular investigation.”

Connor nods. “Whatever she needs.”

I look back at the headmaster. “I actually have some leads regarding who might run EverydayEmrys .”

“Already?” he asks.

“I work fast, sir.”

He nods and gestures for Connor and me to sit. We take the chairs on the other side of his desk, and I pull a list from my bag. I pass him the piece of paper with ten names on it.

“And how did you come up with these names?” the headmaster asks, reading through the list.

“These are only potentials. Some because they have a knack for tech, some because they seem… enamored with you, a few because they’re popular, and a couple because they’re not.”

The headmaster’s eyes dart over the list, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And how do you plan on narrowing it down?”

I clear my throat. “Well, I have an idea.” I look away. “But it’s probably best you don’t know too much about it, sir.”

His gaze flicks to mine, his eyes narrowing, but then he sighs. “Fine.”

I nod and give him a tight smile. “I’ll have an answer for you by the end of the week.”

The headmaster places my list down and picks up the message from the killer again. “Dismissed,” he grumbles, his attention already long gone.

Connor doesn’t speak again until we get outside. “What messages?” he asks. I miss his hand in mine, but asking for affection now doesn’t feel right.

I exhale. “Listen well, this is just the beginning.” Connor shudders, and I nod gravely. “That was the message as of three days ago. It was random letters on different posts from what looked like a bot account. But we need to find the owner of the account to know if any of the other comments were blocked or deleted.”

Connor slides his hand into mine and squeezes, reassuring me. The rest of the walk is silent. When we get to the door to Kelpie, we linger awkwardly outside.

I look up at him, my hand still in his. “Are you coming in?” I ask, unable to hide the hopefulness in my voice but not wanting to guilt him into it.

Connor looks down at me and considers for a moment, and I can see the moment he decides. His shoulders relax a little, and his eyes sparkle a fraction. He nods, and I open the door, leading him up the stairs to the dorm in silence.

We step inside, and I ask, “Drink?”

Connor nods and sits down on the couch. I pour two heavy-handed glasses of bourbon and hand him one before sitting down next to him. He tosses it back in one gulp and then looks up at me. “Do you really love me?” The question is shockingly painful, and my stomach clenches.

“What?” I ask. It is mind-boggling that he even needs to ask, but then, why wouldn’t he? I’ve been lying to him almost our entire relationship. I still am. Why wouldn’t he doubt my words and me? I am still unable to show him the depths of my soul in the hopes that if I hide them long enough, they will go dormant permanently.

“Do you?” Connor asks again, keeping his gaze on me.

I sit next to him. “Of course I do. You know I don’t say those words lightly.”

Connor exhales and leans in, brushing his lips over my forehead. “I just… had to make sure.”

I look down at my still full tumbler. “I guess I’m bad at showing it.”

Connor watches me, his hand on my lower back. “You are.” He pauses for a long moment but then surprises me by continuing. “But then you smother my face in kisses and cling to me. You take care of me, and I know you will protect me. You,” he takes a moment to collect himself, “you let me sleep over.”

I look up at him, tears welling in my eyes.

“You show me in little ways, and those little ways add up.”

I shake my head. “It’s not enough. I know that.”

Connor puts his empty glass on the coffee table and gently pinches my chin, turning my face to him. “It is. For me.”

“I’ve never done this before, Connor. You know that I’ve never had a family, not truly. I’ve never had a boyfriend either, and I’ve never been in love. I’ve never been accountable for anyone but myself.” And that was so painfully true. Torin was never my boyfriend. We were held together by lies and deceit, by manipulation and desperation. There was no love, no kindness. Until Connor and Alice, I don’t think I even knew what love was. I only knew the lack.

Conor cups my cheek. “I know that now.”

I inhale deeply and wrap my hand around his wrist, pulling it away from my face. “Connor, I’m not saying this to make excuses. I’m saying it because…” I swallow, looking away, “you need to decide if this is what you signed up for.”

Connor pulls his hand free from my hold and cups my cheek again. “I just needed to understand why you weren’t letting me in.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Summer Tuatha De Daanan. If you let me, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you, Connor Morningstar.”

“It’s going to take me time, but I’m–I’m not going to leave you.”

“Take you time?” I ask, fear gripping me again.

“To move on from this,” Connor says, still stroking my cheek comfortingly. “I’m not going to leave you, but I need to learn to trust you again.”

I take a deep drink. “Right.” I clear my throat. “Well, you can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” I feel my cheeks flush. “That is if you’re planning to stay.”

Connor shakes his head, and at first, I think he’s going to say he’s not staying, but then he says, “I’ll take the couch.”

“Please, Connor. You’re too tall for the couch.”

Connor scans my eyes, and then he takes a deep breath. “I’ll sleep in the bed with you then.”

My lips part, taken aback a little, but I nod. Connor plucks the glass from my hand and places it beside his on the coffee table. He takes my hand as we stand up and leads me to my bedroom. I follow behind him, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. Connor pulls off his pants and shirt and slides into the bed. I follow suit but pull on his discarded shirt. His scent and warmth envelop me, and I feel comforted again as I climb into bed, careful not to touch him.

Connor opens his arms, but I notice his hesitation and don’t move closer. “It’s okay, Con. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Your hesitation begs to differ.”

Connor wearily slides his hand over his face. “Summer, I’m trying.”

I blush and move into his arms. Connor wraps himself around me, pulling me close, though my muscles remain tense.

“Relax,” Connor says, kissing the top of my head. “It’s going to be all right.” I nod and kiss his jaw gently before laying my head back down. “I’m here.”

I try to relax, but the more I try, the more tense I seem to get, the louder my mind gets.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” Connor asks, obviously sensing that his presence isn’t relaxing me.

I tighten my arms around him. “No. Please stay. My mind is just very loud right now.”

Connor brushes his lips over mine. The kiss is tentative at first, but he relaxes into it. I match his pace, not daring to deepen the kiss at all. I’ll give Connor as much time or space as he needs.

“We’re going to get through this,” Connor whispers. “We should sleep.”

I nod and curl into him. Connor falls asleep slower than usual, but I am still awake long after he has drifted off. I am left alone, staring at the ceiling with nothing to distract me from my thoughts until my phone pings. I reach over Connor and grab it, opening the message.