Page 13 of Bonds of Magic (Vesperwood Academy: Incubus #3)

NOAH

I picked Cory up at his bedroom for our next lesson, and we walked in silence through the halls of the manor. I couldn’t help notice him casting glances when he thought I wasn’t looking. There was something in his eyes, like he expected me to yell at him. To hit him.

Was I that intimidating to him?

Did I want to be?

At first, I’d thought it was necessary, but that was when I was trying to keep him at bay. With Isaac’s new directive, I didn’t have a choice about that anymore. Still, it wasn’t like I wanted to get close with Cory. Get emotional.

At the same time, I was growing to…if not like the kid, at least respect him.

He tried hard. Despite everything he’d been through since arriving at Vesperwood, he hadn’t given up.

He’d fought like hell to keep Jude from killing Erika.

And he’d listened to everything Isaac said, and seemed to believe it.

That took resolve. Steel. Even if it was hard to see behind his waifish exterior.

He was still beautiful, much as I hated noticing it. My body thrummed in his presence, but I tried to tamp it down. It was physical attraction, nothing more, and it wouldn’t get in the way of me doing my job.

I opened the back entrance to the manor and stepped into the night, ushering Cory out behind me. He’d barely set a foot outside when a sudden burst of air whooshed around us, and something flew through the night. It swooped over my head, seeking Cory, with a caw .

I pulled a knife from my wrist sheath and readied it to throw before I realized nothing was attacking us. It was just a bird—a raven—that had settled on Cory’s shoulder.

“Oh,” I said, looking between Cory and the raven for a moment, still holding the knife as adrenaline drained out of me.

Cory watched me with wide eyes as he reached up to stroke the raven’s head. It bent down to make it easier.

“Hey, Cat,” he said. The raven clicked its beak and began to peck at the nubs on Cory’s wool hat.

“Your pet?” I asked, sliding the knife back up my sleeve.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “They kind of showed up one day and didn’t leave.”

“And you named them Cat?” I arched an eyebrow.

Cory shrugged. “They sort of named themself. They mostly appear whenever I need saving.” He laughed, but it sounded defeated. “Maybe there’s another moragh on the way. With you and Cat, I might stand a chance at surviving.”

He looked down at the ground, kicking a chunk of dirty snow. He muttered something else I couldn’t make out, but I thought I heard the words, ‘ deserve it .’

I waited for him to look up. When he finally did, I said, “You helped save yourself from that moragh. I saw it. You stuck it in the eye with a feather from your pocket. Maybe from this guy, here,” I added, pointing at the raven.

Stabbing a moragh wasn’t the smartest move, actually, as it made it easier for the creature’s fluids to come in contact with Cory. But he hadn’t known that, and I wasn’t going to pile more guilt or shame or whatever this was on top of his already dejected demeanor.

“That’s what Ash said,” Cory said with another shrug. “I don’t remember it though. I just remember freezing.”

“That happens sometimes,” I told him. He looked at me in confusion, and I continued. “The not remembering part. Sometimes the body acts without conscious direction. If an experience is traumatic enough, you might block it out to help yourself get through.”

He looked at me doubtfully. “Have you ever frozen like that? Or forgotten details of an attack?”

I shook my head. “Don’t let it get to you, kid. You and I have lived very different lives.”

There were things I wished I could forget. But I wasn’t going to talk about that with him.

We followed the winding path back to the gym, then took a second one into the trees towards my cabin.

When we were still a good fifty yards out, Cat lifted off Cory’s shoulder and swooped through the darkness, cawing loudly.

When we reached my cabin, the caws were coming from the roof, directed angrily at a darker patch of black slinking around on the forest floor.

The patch of black resolved into Mouse as we got closer, the hints of gold in her coat subdued in this light.

She rubbed up against my leg before walking over to Cory.

I watched in astonishment as she twined through his ankles, then reached up and stretched herself against his front legs.

The raven let out another caw. They sounded jealous.

“Um, hi,” Cory said, reaching down to scratch Mouse behind her ears. She let him. She’d never let me get within a foot of her head before. He looked over at me. “What’s her name?”

“Mouse,” I said, still dumbstruck.

Cory grinned, and even in the dim of the night, it lit up his face. “And you were judging me for my bird’s name.”

“I wasn’t judging.”

“Sure.” Cory laughed. “Okay.”

He bent down to stroke Mouse’s fur again. I grunted and walked up the front steps to my cabin. I opened the door and turned to look at him. “You going to stay outside all night? Last I checked, you didn’t know how to put yourself into a trance at all, let alone standing up.”

I thought maybe he flushed at that, but it was hard to tell in the dark. He gave Mouse a final scratch, then made his way inside. Mouse, I noted with some relief, did not attempt to follow. At least some things remained the same.

The raven stayed outside too.

I expected Cory to sit down on the sofa once we got inside, but he walked over to the kitchen instead and peered at the pot on the windowsill behind the sink.

“Is this a cactus?” he asked, reaching out to touch it. “Ouch.” He withdrew his hand and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“Yeah, it is.” I looked at him in disbelief. It was obviously a cactus. “Why would you deliberately touch the sharp part?”

“I wasn’t sure you would answer me.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, so I crossed my arms and waited for him to sit down. Instead, he wandered over to the fireplace and poked at a hummingbird’s nest that I’d set there.

“Did you find this here? At Vesperwood?”

I stifled the urge to tell him to stop touching things, and kept my voice neutral as I said, “Yes. Closer to the lake, over by Harvest Haven.”

He nodded, but I got the impression he was barely listening. He had already turned away from the fireplace. He walked over to the couch, but instead of sitting down, he pointed at the afghan.

“Where’d you get this? Did someone make it for you?”

I frowned. What was with all the questions? And why did he seem so nervous?

“I knitted it,” I told him.

“You know how to knit?” He looked surprised, bending down to finger the rows of yarn. He toyed with a tassel. “This looks really complicated. Was it hard?”

“Not if you know how to knit.”

“When did you learn?” he asked. “My friend Franny—from back home—knows how to crochet. Is that similar to knitting? I mean, they both use yarn, but they must be a little different if they’re—”

“Cory,” I barked. He jumped and looked up at me. “If something were going to attack us,” I said, “it would have done so already. Your bird came by because they like you. Now lie down so we can get to work.”

“I’m not stupid,” he said, straightening. “I know sometimes Cat just shows up.”

“Then what are you stalling for?” I nodded at the couch.

He either didn’t notice, or refused to acknowledge it, because he turned and walked back towards the kitchen. I waited, striving for patience, as he ran his fingers along the edge of the kitchen table, fiddling with my salt and pepper shakers, then peering at the cactus again.

“Has it ever occurred to you that this isn’t actually fun for me?” he said finally, glancing in my direction.

“What isn’t?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely around the cabin. “All of it. Being an incubus. Needing to have sex dreams with people. Having no control over any of it. It sucks. Sue me if I’m not looking forward to doing it yet again, against my will.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry, but that’s the deal. You’re an incubus, whether you want to be one or not. And you know what’s at stake. Unless you want to die, and put everyone else in—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Anger filled his voice.

“You think I haven’t been listening every time the dean reminds me?

I have to learn to control my power, or everyone I know is in danger, but they’re also in danger just by me being here.

You think I’m not thinking about that all the time? Erika died because of me.”

“You’re not responsible for that.” How had this turned into an argument so quickly? “We’ve been over this before. You’re not to blame. You’re as much a victim as Erika or—”

“ Don’t , okay?” Cory spun away to stare out the kitchen window.

“Don’t what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t give me your pity. I wouldn’t want it, even if it were real. I’m not a victim. But you’re not very good at pretending you care anyway, so let’s just forget we ever had this conversation and get this over with.”

He strode back to the couch and sat down, but he crossed his arms and didn’t look at all ready to fall asleep.

I re-ran the conversation in my mind, trying to find the place—or places—where I’d messed up. I wasn’t thrilled about Cory’s conviction that I didn’t care about him, but I also had no desire to tell him he was wrong.

But something he’d said caught in my mind. I hesitated to bring it up, but I needed to know.

I pulled a chair out from the table, set it across from the sofa, and said as carefully as I could, “You said these dreams were against your will. But they shouldn’t be unpleasant.

” If they were, if Cory were being forced to act against his own will, Argus might already have him.

“Are they? Are you being hurt? Is someone making you—”

“Jesus, can we please not talk about this?” Cory snapped. “Forget I said any of that. It’s fine. Let’s just—it’s fine.”