Page 12 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Masika

Masika Sallow hurled herself out of the building and gasped in a strangled breath.

She gripped her knees and shut her eyes, willing the bile rising in her throat to stay down.

She shouldn’t be having this reaction, not after all the work she’d put in, not after all the years she’d spent eradicating the memories from her consciousness.

Yet there she was.

All it had taken was one lousy trip to Memorium for everything to come crashing down around her.

It was infuriating. She wished she could strangle Catherine with her bare hands for making her feel so weak.

So pathetically human. Nobody in her old life had ever been able to sink their claws into her heart the way Catherine had.

Sure, she’d had her string of summer flings and secret lovers—but nothing concrete. Nothing lasting.

Well, Catherine hadn’t lasted either.

“Oh, please don’t throw up.” Irene was leaning against an oak tree, her heeled boots propped up against the trunk. “I’m serious. If you do it…I’ll do it. I’m a sympathy puker.”

“I’m fine.” Masika inhaled a sharp breath and shut her eyes. “Though whoever decided dead people can still feel nauseous should be tortured.”

“I’m assuming your conversation with Silas was just as delightful as mine?”

Masika pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. It was lovely. ”

It was true her conversation with Silas hadn’t quelled the tornado wreaking havoc in her chest, but it wasn’t the main reason for her…reaction. She wasn’t sure what to call it. A panic attack, maybe. But she refused to say those two words out loud. She refused to acknowledge their presence.

Her father had suffered with panic attacks his entire life, a product of unresolved trauma and bad luck. And though she’d spent most of her childhood free from the paralyzing thoughts that seemed to run in her family, she’d always known it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out.

Even when she was alive, Masika would spend her days anticipating the inevitable breakdown.

Waiting for the moment she’d feel the switch inside her snap.

She would sit on the fire escape of her redbrick apartment nestled in the heart of Toronto, watching the traffic rush below her, the sound of sirens in the distance and the murmur of voices melting with the wind.

She would close her eyes and search for that lingering anxiety inside her, the darkness lying dormant, and pray that it would never wake up.

But what she hadn’t known, what she hadn’t thought to anticipate, was that there was something worse waiting for her. Something far more sinister. And before she could even recognize the hands of death slithering around her heart, she had been met with this wretched fate.

“Do you need something?” Irene crossed the distance between them. “We could swing by Ezra’s dorm. I’m sure he’s got something to mellow you out…a bit of enchanted wine might do the trick?”

Masika shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

Irene sighed. “Suit yourself.”

She gave Masika a firm pat on the back before turning to face the gravel path and sauntering toward the main grounds. Despite the persistent flurry of bees rattling around in her chest, Masika straightened herself and followed after her.

The early glimmers of morning had begun to spread over Blackwood—the thick nighttime mist breaking away, revealing a plum-colored sky with feathered cerulean clouds. No sun, just a silverish glow that emanated from the sky and illuminated their world in a translucent veil.

The farther Irene and Masika walked, the more the world around them began to stir awake.

Even the trees seemed to rouse from their slumber, groaning and fluttering their russet leaves.

Just as the morning bell rang in Elysium Hall, a cluster of eager students funneled out from Holsterd, the House that sat northwest of the Library.

It was a sea of tartan coats and neutral tones, a muted palette of button-downs and lace.

They’d each received a unique uniform upon entering Blackwood. Irene’s uniform was a black silk dress with two slits on either side and a pair of black heeled boots. Masika’s was a burgundy turtleneck tucked into a black skirt that clung to her hips and loosened at the hem.

Their uniforms fit them. And not just in the physical sense. They fit them —their essence.

“So…what do you think?” Irene linked her arm over the crook of Masika’s elbow.

“About?”

“The girl. Louise. The shadows.”

Masika shushed her and tugged her in closer. “Are you trying to get us in trouble? We just promised Silas we wouldn’t say anything. If somebody hears you—”

“Nobody can hear me,” Irene chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Look around. Everybody is too preoccupied preparing for the Decennial.”

Masika glanced around nervously. Irene was right.

There was a palpable electricity in the air, a flurry of anticipation.

Students were congregated in small groups, whispering to one another in hushed murmurs, their eyes wide and gleaming with hope.

Those were the dreamers. The ones with rosy cheeks and hungry eyes.

The ones who truly believed they stood a chance at the nomination.

It was easy to spot the realists. The students who anxiously gnawed on their fountain pens while frantically scribbling in their tattered journals.

The ones perched on benches with dour expressions and textbooks tucked between their hands.

They weren’t hopeful, because they had submitted to their fate.

They drowned themselves in academics because they would rather lose themselves in the smudged ink and cobwebs than face the music.

Masika lived somewhere comfortably between.

She was secretly hopeful. Nobody wanted to experience the Forgetting.

No one wanted to spend eternity wandering the Ether, reaping lost souls on an unbreakable loop.

It was exhausting enough to have to reap lost souls once a week during their assignments.

But she also understood that earning the Decennial nomination wasn’t easy.

It was a shot in the dark. And though she wanted nothing more than to be given a choice, to be handed the opportunity to decide her own fate, she also wasn’t going to allow herself to be crushed under the weight of disappointment.

“Fine,” Masika sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear. “We can discuss it. But can we at least hold off until we’re back at Ivory?”

Irene groaned. “You’re so paranoid.”

“I am not—”

“Masika! Wait up!” A cheery voice rang out behind them, and the pair instinctively froze.

Masika glanced over her shoulder and spotted a pair of large hazel eyes framed by square black glasses.

Liza Mendez. A bit younger than the usual Blackwood student; she was sixteen when she crossed over.

Most students who were chosen were seventeen or eighteen, which Masika had learned was essential for their souls to properly acclimate to Blackwood.

Fully formed adult souls didn’t have the transient quality required to traverse the Ether.

Youthful souls, however, harbored the perfect balance of death and stubbornness that had them clinging to their humanity.

“Hey, Liza.”

Irene pinched the inside of Masika’s arm. Masika knew what the signal meant.

Get me the hell out of here.

“I was hoping you had a second to chat.” Liza looked between them, eyes quickly skating past Irene.

The two of them didn’t exactly get along.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that us girls over at Holsterd would love to have you join our Defensive Strategies Club.

We have an opening now that—” Her voice broke off. “Well. You know.”

Of course she knew. Everybody knew.

Quinn Woodrow had disappeared last month. Well, disappeared wasn’t exactly accurate. She’d left a note taped to her vanity mirror. An explanation. Ramblings about wanting more—about wanting a way out. And everybody knew what that meant.

The Demien Order.

Headmaster Silas’s assertion that recruitment numbers had been historically low didn’t mean that some students still hadn’t fallen prey to the Demien Order’s poisonous words.

Turned out, Quinn had been one of them.

“That’s very kind of you.” Masika smiled. She could practically feel Irene’s searing gaze against her face. “But I don’t think my schedule will allow it. I’m pretty busy.”

“ Very busy,” Irene added.

“Well…either way…we’d love to have you over sometime.

” Liza smiled and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“But who knows…maybe one of us will be nominated! Could you imagine? Getting to stay in the Ascended Quarters?” She let out a wistful sigh.

“I heard it’s enchanted to be even larger inside. That it spans hundreds of floors.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll ever find that out,” Irene muttered under her breath with a snort.

Masika nudged her sharply with her elbow. “What Irene meant to say was…I hope one of us does.”

Liza smiled, though Masika could see the hurt lingering in her eyes. “I hope so too.”

Masika wanted to keep things cordial between her and Liza. There were benefits to befriending students from the other Houses. They could prove themselves useful.

There was Pettyworth, known for housing some of the most academically inclined yet stubbornly reclusive students.

Litterman, with its notorious troublemakers and party animals (with the rare exception of Emilio), housed students who tended to excel in illusionary magic.

A basement connected Chambers and Fiddle, both of which housed students with an affinity for elemental magic—and a penchant for creating enchanted liquors and other elixirs.

There was Ivory, of course, the dormitory that Masika and Irene lived in, known for its cutthroat, corporeal-inclined students and equally ostentatious décor.

And lastly, Holsterd, the dormitory Liza belonged to, which was home to some of the best defensive magic students in the entire school.