Page 49 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Irene

The ticking of the clock was enough to drive her insane.

She had barely slept the past few days, too busy worrying about the impending third trial and mulling over the night of the shadow creature’s attack.

She could still see it if she closed her eyes.

The towering darkness. The undulating shadows forming pointed wings.

Not to mention Louise’s remarkable display of shadow magic shortly after.

Despite the genuine shock that had coursed through Irene’s body upon seeing the newbie harness shadow magic, she had to admit that the whole thing had amazedher.

Impressed her, even.

Emilio had spent the past few days hidden within the towering shelves of the Library, drowning in dusty textbooks and ancient scrolls.

Somehow, despite his persistence, which bordered on obsession, he had yet to find any answers that might explain how Louise had harnessed shadow magic.

Irene was beginning to worry that their efforts were futile.

If Emilio, of all people, couldn’t find what they were looking for—then what was the point?

Louise had even attempted to cast shadow magic again, supervised by Wren during their training sessions, and nothing.

No matter what they tried, she couldn’t re-create whatever she had tapped into the night of the attack.

They had decided to give themselves a week to do research. If at the end of the week they still couldn’t find an explanation for the shadow magic, then they’d go to Silas, Louise’s future at Blackwood be damned. Which meant they had two days left…two days to find answers.

If it were up to Irene, they’d spend their remaining time researching shadow magic, using the last of their precious hours to find an explanation for what was happening to Louise. But there was one tiny problem.

The Decennial Ball.

There was no getting out of it. Tonight, they’d be forced to wear ridiculous dresses and twirl around the banquet hall, plastering on their best award-winning smiles.

Valuable time they could use to do further research would be occupied by nauseating small talk.

Initially, she had been rather excited to attend, even if it was just so she could wreak havoc and break hearts, but now her mandatory attendance was simply a nuisance.

It didn’t help that the damn wound on her stomach still hadn’t fully healed. Every once in a while, she could still feel a sharp and searing pain. A grating reminder of the weakness now embedded in her skin.

But at least she was still here—she was still in the running.

Georgia and Tristan had been eliminated after the second trial.

Silas had explained what had happened to them in rather vague terms—something about slipping through an elemental obstruction.

Carter and Josie were both noticeably shaken by the loss of their partners.

They had been told it might be months before the eliminated nominees would be fully healed, and everyone knew that a few months in Blackwood often felt like an eternity.

Irene, however, couldn’t have cared less.

Two more nominees eliminated meant she was two steps closer to being crowned the victor.

After finishing classes for the day, Irene went back to her dorm room and sprawled herself across the velvet duvet on her bed, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the locket around her neck.

The window closest to her had been left propped open, a soft whisper of a breeze trickling into the room.

In the distance, she could hear the incessant buzz of the other students, their muffled voices melting with the wind.

The fireplace crackled, woodsmoke wafting from the dancing flames.

She hadn’t called on Mateo since he’d given her the necklace.

She wasn’t entirely sure why, caught between the desire to learn more and an unfamiliar resistance that stopped her from getting too close.

Joining the Demien Order was a decision she couldn’t turn back from.

And if she was going to make that irreparable decision, then she wanted to be certain it was her decision, and her decision alone.

Either way, if anybody had answers about what happened to Louise…it would be him.

But before she could pluck up the courage to say his name, the door to her bedroom swung open, a familiar disgruntled voice breaking the silence.

“I just don’t trust her.” Masika burst into the room, a tornado of restless energy and frantic nerves. She immediately began to pace in front of the fireplace, gesturing wildly as she spoke. “There’s just something about her story that doesn’t add up. I can’t put my finger on it, but—”

“Masi, please,” Irene said, sitting up. “Slow down. Use words.”

“Louise.” Masika ran a jittery hand through her curls.

“Do you truly believe she has no idea how she harnessed shadow magic? I mean…think about it. You can’t harness shadow magic without giving up your humanity.

Which means that either Louise somehow managed to bypass that sacred law, or she’s a Demien and is lying to all of us. ”

“Catch.”

Irene tossed the knife tucked beneath her pillow at Masika’s face without warning, the sharp blade twirling through the air at an alarming speed.

Masika jumped out of the way at the last second.

“Irene!” She glowered, ripping the knife out of the wall behind her. “Can you stop being an insolent brat for one second and just listen to me?”

Irene lifted her brows in mock surprise. “Well. Someone is in a bad mood.”

“Louise is lying, ” Masika snapped.

Irene lifted herself onto her feet and slowly slinked toward Masika.

“She’s not.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just know.”

“But how can you—”

“I dipped into her mind.”

Masika startled, her jaw slackening in surprise. “You used psyche magic on her? Even though everyone said not to?”

“Oh, don’t be so scandalized.” Irene snatched the knife from Masika’s hand and tossed it into the air. It froze, suspended in the space between them. “You agreed with me the other night, remember?”

Masika bit the inside of her cheek, clearly displeased with Irene’s rule-breaking.

But what had she been expecting? Irene wasn’t about to risk everything just because the rest of the group was too cowardly to do what needed to be done.

So, after everyone had left the Opal Chamber, parting ways and retreating to their dormitories, Irene had snuck into Louise’s room and scoured her mind while she slept.

“Well?” Masika sighed. “What did you see?”

“A whole lot of nothing.” The knife dropped from its place in the air and soared straight into Irene’s hands.

“Other than some lingering thoughts about her family and whatnot. But nothing pertaining to shadow magic. It seems like she really has no clue how she was able to cast it.” It had honestly been rather disappointing.

Irene had been hoping for something —a devious lie, or some good blackmail at the very least—but the girl seemed to be truly clueless.

“I don’t buy that,” Masika countered. “I just…I have this gut feeling. I just know the Demien Order is involved somehow.”

Irene suddenly became overly aware of the locket on her neck.

The weight of it an unwelcome burden. She knew Masika couldn’t see the locket, that it was hidden beneath Mateo’s enchantment, but a part of her feared that Masika could somehow sense it.

If there was anyone capable of looking right into Irene’s deepest fears—into her very soul—it was Masika.

“Masi.” Irene spoke her name slowly, placing her hands upon Masika’s shoulders.

“I think you might be indulging your fantasies a bit. Overthinking the situation, as you usually do. And either way, I have far more important things to focus on right now….” She dropped her hands and wandered over to her wardrobe, opening the large wooden doors.

Inside hung a deep-indigo dress that glittered with starlight.

“Like putting on this dress and looking ridiculously hot.”

Masika didn’t respond, her eyes slightly glazed over. And then she blinked, stumbling back toward the door.

“I’ll be right back,” she muttered under her breath.

“What are you talking about?” Irene scoffed. “The ball starts in an hour!”

Masika ignored Irene’s protests and made for the door. “I’ll be back before then.”

“Don’t you dare flake out on me, Masika Sallow!”

Masika waved to Irene over her shoulder, twiddling her fingers. “Save me a dance!”

Irene rolled her eyes, flopping back onto the bed.

She wasn’t an idiot. Masika was up to something—that much was clear.

Under normal circumstances, Irene would probably have found a way to follow her and see what her friend was up to, but it turned out that some time alone was just what Irene had been hoping for.

There was someone she needed to speak with.

Her hand landed on the locket once more as she unclasped the metal hinge. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she swore she heard the faintest whisper as she opened it, a muffled voice. As though somebody were calling out to her.

She closed her eyes and whispered his name.

“Mateo.”

When she opened them, she was no longer alone.

“You’re here.”

Mateo stood leaning against the door to her room, a soft smile on his face.

“You said the magic word.”

He’d appeared before her cloaked in a palette of darkness—dark pants and a black T-shirt, the shadows running through his veins plainly visible.

The moment lingered, stretching out between them. Irene propped herself on her elbows.

“Tell me about the shadow creature.”

Mateo’s smile deepened, dimples sprouting on his cheeks.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. What was that thing? And who brought it into Blackwood?”

Mateo didn’t answer. He simply stepped closer, twirling a tangle of shadows between his fingers.

“You know, Irene…” His voice was low, with a foreboding edge. “You’re asking an awful lot of questions for someone who still hasn’t agreed to work with me.”

He wanted to intimidate her, that much was clear. And though a small sliver of apprehension curled around Irene’s throat, it would take a little more than a couple of shadows for her to cower under his gaze.

“And you’re being awfully cryptic for someone I could easily give up,” she shot back without hesitation, sitting up. “Has it not occurred to you that I could stroll right up to Silas and tell him there’s a Demien milling about the dorms?”

Mateo didn’t even flinch. In fact, his face… softened. The teasing smile turning into one of understanding.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because…you want this.” He walked forward and sat beside her on the bed.

Before she could ask him what he was doing, he grabbed her hand and gently pried her fingers open.

The shadows curling around his fingers drifted into her open palm.

“Whether or not you admit it right now, you know that whatever Blackwood intends to offer you if you win the Decennial will never suffice. You are a fighter, Irene. A survivor.”

He looked around her room, brows furrowed. “You expect me to believe this will be enough for you?”

Irene couldn’t bring herself to answer.

Mateo sighed, and the shadows vanished. He slid his gaze back toward her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The surprising tenderness in his touch nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.

“It wasn’t me”—his voice was barely audible as the words left his lips—“if that’s what you’re asking.”

Irene blinked.

“What?”

“The shadow creature,” Mateo explained, slowly dropping his hand. “I didn’t bring it into Blackwood.”

“Then who did?”

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, he chuckled, slowly standing as he shook his head. He wandered over to the windowsill, peering out at the students bustling below.

“You were remarkable, by the way.” His eyes snaked back toward her.

When the meaning behind his words sank in, Irene couldn’t help but shudder.

“I didn’t send the shadow creature, but I was watching.

The way you fought back…your technique. It was merciless.

” He smiled as he spoke the word. “Beautiful.”

Irene rolled her eyes.

“Compliments will get you everywhere.”

Mateo smirked.

“That’s my hope.”

There was more to say…unspoken words that neither of them was prepared to admit to the other. And though Irene knew that the nagging voice in the back of her mind wasn’t going anywhere, the one telling her to say yes, to join them, she also wasn’t ready to turn her back on Blackwood.

Not yet.

“You should go…” Irene cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from him. “Masika is bound to come back soon to get ready.”

Mateo nodded. “Of course. The Decennial Ball…how could I forget?”

“I’ll call you again,” she said, fidgeting with the locket. “After the third trial.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

A chill ran up and down her spine. Even once he had left, disappearing from one blink to the next, she could feel his presence lingering in her room.

That overwhelming, unmistakable power radiating in the air, trailing after her like a second shadow.

She felt it crawling against her skin, burrowing into her mind, an insatiable parasite.

She knew what the power wanted. What it demanded of her.

It wanted to be beckoned. To be claimed.

It wanted to be used.