Page 32 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Irene

Irene had just ended her final class of the day, Spacial Theories and Relocation Methods, when the pain took a turn for the worse.

It traveled up and down her side like an unrelenting current, tearing at her muscles and igniting her nerves.

She cursed furiously under her breath as she pushed through the crowded staircase, ignoring the other students’ curious stares and grating whispers.

She pushed open the swinging door that led to the upstairs bathroom and stumbled toward the sink.

Her hands gripped the porcelain basin, fingers clenched so tight her knuckles turned white.

She glanced up at the mirror and scowled at her own reflection.

How could she have allowed this to happen?

None of the other contestants had been wounded as badly as she had.

And now she had a disadvantage. She was weak.

She lifted the hem of her dress and inspected the bandage.

It had been rather easy to snag a few medical supplies— too easy.

Most newbies were unfamiliar with the warning signs of psyche magic, the tingling sensation that started at the base of their neck and traveled down their spine.

So when Irene had cornered one of the newer students and planted a mind-alteration spell, he didn’t even have time to register what had happened.

It was nothing dramatic. Just a simple manipulation of his subconscious.

She’d convinced him to sneak into Housemaster Violet’s office and steal a sewing kit and rubbing alcohol, which she had used to haphazardly disinfect and stitch up her wound.

She wasn’t about to slowly bleed out and be eliminated from the Decennial due to a bad infection.

If Irene was going to be eliminated, she would at least hope for the reason to be something a bit more exciting.

She lowered her dress with a sigh, smoothing down the creases and tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. She molded her lips into a rigid smile, taking on that iron mask she wore so well, fighting back the urge to wallow in self-pity.

You’re stronger than that, she reminded herself before turning toward the door and exiting the bathroom.

But when she stepped back into the corridor, something moved in her periphery, instantly catching her attention.

It was a shadow—the faintest glimmer of movement.

She turned, catching sight of a supply room door swinging closed, the muffled sound of footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty corridor.

Irene wasn’t entirely sure what prompted her to go look. It was this gut feeling—this invisible thread pulling her closer and closer.

She approached the supply room door and opened it slowly. There appeared to be nothing inside, just cleaning supplies dusted with shadows.

She stepped inside, peering left and right, allowing the door to slam behind her. It was silent. Eerily quiet. She waited for some sign, some indication that she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. She held her breath, waiting…

“Are you following me?”

Irene masked her surprise with a calculated smile, turning around slowly until she came face to face with the boy standing behind her.

The same boy she had bumped into after her duel the previous week.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was leaning against the closet door, arms crossed and lips twisted in amusement.

He appeared to be less disheveled than the last time she saw him, his dark blond hair slicked back and a rosy hue adorning his sharp cheekbones.

He wore a black button-down and dark jeans, a long coat obscuring his broad shoulders.

But the one thing Irene couldn’t stop mulling over was how he had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, materializing in the darkness without a single sound.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were stalking me.”

He laughed, and the sound of it caught Irene by surprise. It wasn’t some sardonic half-assed chuckle. It was warm and inviting, a contagious sort of laughter.

“Stalking might be a stretch.” The boy grinned, eyes roaming over Irene’s face. “I prefer the term… admiring. ”

Irene blinked. “You’re… admiring me?”

“Irene Manette Bamford.” He spoke her name as though he were tasting it. “How could I not admire somebody with a name like that? That’s the kind of name that demands attention. That requires respect.”

Irene sighed. “All right. Cut the shit. What do you want?”

His eyes latched onto hers with unwavering intensity. For a moment, the teasing glint seemed to vanish, replaced by something far darker.

“What if I told you not everybody can see me?” He stepped closer, and it was as if the darkness were parting for him, the shadows shifting. “That only a select few can. A select few who crave more. Who desire something more…meaningful.”

“I’d say you’re insane.”

He smiled, but this time, an edge cut through his words. “You’re limited here. Restricted. But I can show you how to tap into all that magic inside you—the magic begging to be released. To be used.”

Irene took a step back as the realization struck her hard in the chest.

“You’re a Demien.”

He bowed his head. When he glanced back up, the whites of his eyes flicked to black, nothing but two swirling pools of darkness staring back at her.

“At your service.”

“How—” She couldn’t find the right words. Her voice trembled as she tried to regain her composure. “How is that possible? There are protective wards around the school. You shouldn’t be able to—”

“Come and go as I please?” He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. “I’m afraid Blackwood isn’t what it used to be. We’re getting stronger. And your defenses are…weakened. People have gotten lazy. Comfortable.”

The boy had somehow crossed the space between them without her noticing. He even moved like a shadow, dipping in and out of her vision before she could register his motions.

“All right,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s say I believe you…what do you want from me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She shook her head.

“I want you to join us.”

Irene’s hands went numb beneath her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing—an invitation to join the Demien Order. It was something she had dreamt about…something she had secretly wished for.

“Prove it.” The words left her lips before she could stop them. “If you’re part of the Demien Order…then prove it.”

If her distrust offended him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he broke out into a warm smile, stepped closer, and lifted his sleeve.

Irene couldn’t contain the gasp that sprang out of her.

Shadows.

They traveled through his veins like ink, swimming up and down his arms in a mesmerizing pattern. The shadows weren’t etched into his skin—they were alive. Moving and breathing beneath the surface.

She reached out and traced her finger over one of the shadows. It hummed beneath her touch.

“What does it feel like?”

He considered her question, eyes anchored to her face.

“Power.”

Irene dropped her hand and tucked it behind her back.

“Look…if you had asked me a few weeks ago, perhaps I would have considered your offer, but I don’t need the Demien Order anymore.

If I win the Decennial…I can become an Ascended.

No more trips to the Ether. Full access to my magic.

” She masked her interest with a nonchalant shrug. “I say that sounds like a fair deal.”

“And then what?” He quirked his head to the side. “Do you really think they’ll let you live up to your potential? Offer you true, unfiltered power?”

She stiffened. “That’s what we’ve been told.”

He studied her, eyes raking up and down her face. “Irene. Come on. You’re smarter than this. You know just as well as I do that Silas holds his fair share of secrets. In fact, I believe you recently swore yourself to secrecy at his hands. Something about that new student…”

Her eyes widened. “What do you know about Louise? Is she one of you?”

The smile on his lips faltered. It was the faintest twitch. The slightest slip in his mask.

“No.”

Irene could sense something lingering behind his response. It wasn’t a complete lie…but it wasn’t the truth either.

“Then how did she harness shadow magic?”

He sighed and stepped away from her, hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer any more questions until I know I have your loyalty. I can’t go on exposing Demien Order secrets to somebody who might turn around and betray us.”

“I won’t.”

“Then is that a yes?”

“It’s a… maybe. ”

He seemed to find her response amusing, his nose crinkling as he smiled.

“You’ll never be satisfied here, Irene. You know it. Every day you’ll fall asleep dreaming of the possibilities you left behind when you said no to me.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a silver locket. “Here. I want you to have this.”

She examined the necklace with suspicion. “And what do you want in return?”

“Nothing. Just…hold on to it for me. It’s special.

” He dropped the locket into her open palm, and a spark of electricity shot through her veins.

“Don’t worry about somebody else seeing it.

It’s only for your eyes. There’s an invisibility enchantment attached to it.

All you have to do is open the locket and say my name. One word. And I’ll be there.”

Irene clasped her hand over the necklace. “Your name…”

“Mateo.”

The name burned through Irene’s mind like a searing flame.

She wanted to know more. She wanted to know how he had entered Blackwood undetected.

How he had managed to break through their defenses.

How he had known about the meeting with Silas and what he knew about Louise.

Most of all, she wanted to know why he had chosen her.

Why he had picked her from all the other students in Blackwood.

But when she glanced up, he was gone. Nothing but the silver locket in her hand to prove he was ever there at all.