Page 14 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Wren

The letter fluttered beneath her door without a sound.

Wren had spent the early hours of the morning silently reprimanding herself for listening to August, pacing back and forth, furiously fidgeting with the end of her braid.

She had been so consumed by her own self-punishment that she hadn’t noticed the letter until she was seconds away from leaving her room.

It was sealed with red wax fashioned to look like the Blackwood Academy emblem—the carcass of an oak tree surrounded by bone fragments.

She picked it up off the floor and ripped open the seal. The letter was short and concise, the words etched in bloodred ink.

Ms.Loughty,

Your presence is required in my office. I have spoken to Housemaster Birdie and informed her, so do not worry about arriving tardy to your first class.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Silas

She read the words over and over, as though a hidden message might suddenly jump out at her, tracing each individual letter with the tip of her finger. It didn’t make any sense. She had just spoken to Silas.

A tidal wave of questions shot through her mind.

Why would he need to speak with her again?

Had the others received a similar letter?

Did he change his mind about pardoning their infractions?

Panic coursed through her as she stuffed the letter into her desk drawer.

She didn’t know how to handle these feelings.

Unlike some of the other students, she had a good reputation.

She had exemplary marks, obviously, but it was more than that.

Wren had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t simply interested in existing but had completely accepted her role as a student and fused it into her soul.

She could not get her old life back, but she could do her best to excel in this one.

It was why she drowned herself in schoolwork and textbooks. Why she exhausted all of her energy studying for exams. It was the one thing she could control. The one thing that hadn’t been altered by the hands of death.

But now one stupid mistake, one stupid decision…her reputation was ruined.

She slipped on her trench coat and bolted toward the door. However, upon swinging the door open, she was faced with a rather large obstacle blocking her path. A large and annoying obstacle with gray eyes and an infuriatingly pleased look on his face.

“Move.”

August pressed his hands against the doorway. “Well, that wasn’t the cheery welcome I was hoping for.”

“I quite literally don’t have time for this.” Wren ducked under his arms and began charging down the corridor. She heard August’s familiar footsteps echo behind her. Great. This was the last thing she needed.

“Where are you running off to?” August called out behind her. “Your defensive instruction doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“Wow.” Wren shook her head and chuckled. “Are you that obsessed with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling.” August jogged up next to her, flashing her a cocky grin. “I just happen to have great observational skills.”

“While somehow totally lacking self-awareness.”

He skidded to a halt and slammed his hands on either side of the corridor, blocking her path once again.

“Come on. Tell me.” His eyes drank her in with unnerving precision. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am obsessed with you.”

“Congrats. Acceptance is the first step.”

“You know…you’re rather cute when you’re upset.” August’s eyes raked up and down her face. “You get this crinkle right between your brows. Right here. ” He tapped his finger against her forehead, and she swatted him away.

“Yes, well…it’s pretty easy to be upset when I’m around you.” Wren tried to ignore the searing heat pulsing against her skin. Right on the place where he had touched her. “That might be one of your greatest skills.”

He smirked. “You flatter me.”

“All right, enough of this. I have somewhere I need to—”

Wren attempted to walk past him, but August didn’t budge, sidestepping so that his face was mere inches from hers. In that same moment, the teasing glint in his eyes seemed to harden into something colder, something almost dangerous.

The next words he spoke were slow and deliberate. “Tell me…where you’re going.”

Wren scoffed. “Is that a command?”

August shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Silence swept over them. Wren met his gaze with unwavering stillness, not daring to blink or look away.

She wasn’t scared of him. She never had been.

But there was something disconcerting about being this close to him…

something twisted. Because whether or not she’d ever admit it out loud, Wren knew that her body wasn’t telling her to run away or hide.

It was telling her to close the space between them.

And that terrified her more than anything.

“August.” She spoke his name slowly. “I’m afraid the ominous bad boy routine doesn’t work on me.” She edged closer, mockingly flicking a piece of lint off his collar. “So…why don’t you just move along and go find somebody else to pester?”

For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes darkening with each passing second. Just when Wren thought she would implode from the tension permeating the air, August’s demeanor shifted and his face molded itself back to its usual arrogant smirk.

“Did you really just call me a bad boy?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Never mind. You’re hopeless.” She used the momentary distraction to duck under his arms and continue down the corridor. To her immense disappointment, August didn’t take the hint. He followed after her as she pushed open the doors of Pettyworth and made her way outside.

Blackwood’s amethyst-tinted sky stretched out above her as her feet hit the narrow, graveled path that snaked around the dormitories and led toward the main grounds. A brittle chill clung to the air, just cold enough to nip at her nose and send a flurry of goose bumps down her neck.

“Look. I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.” August caught up with her, matching her pace. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Especially after our little conversation with Silas.”

“What do we need to be on the same page about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Loughty.” He dropped his voice and leaned in closer. “They’re not telling us everything. I know you felt it too. Something isn’t right.”

Of course she had. The entire situation had left her feeling off-kilter.

The newbie’s startling display of shadow magic was frightening enough, but then being told that Demiens were attempting to abduct students?

That they were meant to keep it a secret from everybody else?

It had all felt too…calculated. Like the Housemasters had been anticipating everything—like they’d already had the perfect explanation prepared.

But what was she meant to do? Questioning the rules of Blackwood was practically blasphemy.

And the last thing Wren wanted to do was give Silas another reason to snatch the Decennial nomination away from her.

“Maybe you’re right,” Wren sighed, stopping in her tracks.

“Maybe they are keeping something from us. But there’s nothing we can do.

We shouldn’t have been up on that rooftop in the first place.

All we can do now is assume Silas and the Council know what they’re doing.

If Louise poses a threat, they’ll take care of it. ”

“Right…” August shook his head. “And tell me again, who exactly is on this mysterious Council you trust so wholeheartedly?”

Wren opened and closed her mouth. “I—” She inhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t know.”

Truthfully, Wren had never put too much thought into it.

The Council was made up of a group of Ascended and Housemasters, all of them selected for one sole purpose—to protect Blackwood Academy.

They were in charge of all defensive wards and strategies against the Demien Order, and their membership was kept strictly anonymous.

It was like a secret society among the academic elite…

something Wren couldn’t help but dream of joining one day.

August stepped closer. Too close. That familiar scent flooded her nose—peppermint and something else…something warm that reminded her of storm clouds and thunder. “Are you really willing to trust a group of people who refuse to show their faces?”

“I don’t know.” Wren took a slow and deliberate step away from him. “But I do know I’m not willing to trust you.”

August flinched. It wasn’t a trick of light or a momentary hallucination. He looked…wounded. But just as quickly as the hurt had appeared on his face, it vanished, replaced by the cold and apathetic mask he often wore.

“Good.” The wall was back up between them. Solid and resolute. “I’d keep it that way.”

And then he was off, sulking deeper into the grounds, until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

“Ms.Loughty.” Headmaster Silas glanced up at Wren from behind his glasses. “Please. Come in.”

Warm earth tones and the orange glow of firelight spread over Silas’s office like spilled ink, the corners of the room dappled with shadows.

Six paintings adorned the wall closest to the entrance, portraits of the Housemasters—Birdie, Russo, Wesley, Violet, Marigold and Calligan.

Each exuded the shimmering power of ancient magic, a sense of wisdom in their stares.

The students were never taught how Housemasters were selected, nor how Silas came to be the Headmaster.

Wren had always assumed they had simply been there since the beginning of time.

When she had first arrived at Blackwood, Wren had considered asking Marigold, though her idea had been shut down by August almost immediately.

You don’t question the higher powers that govern Blackwood, he had told her. And trust me…sometimes it’s better not to know.

Wren approached the large mahogany desk at the center of the room. Silas slid his glasses off and placed them upon the desk.

“Comical, isn’t it?”