Page 7 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

August

Augustine Hughes was not to be trusted. He was cruel.

Cold. People avoided his gaze. The other students scattered out of his path like cockroaches, hunched over their textbooks as they whispered about him in the corridors.

The rumors said his soul was practically embedded in the walls of Blackwood Academy.

That he’d been around long enough to completely lose himself, trapped within the underbelly of purgatory.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Being feared had its perks. And it was always better to be feared than pitied.

So, even though most of the rumors running rampant throughout the veins of Blackwood weren’t true, August didn’t bother correcting them.

If anything, he encouraged them. He wanted people to leave him alone.

To avoid getting too close. Hell, he wouldn’t mind if they thought he was the Devil himself.

He was fairly certain he’d cemented this belief in everybody at Blackwood.

Well, nearly everybody.

There was still the matter of Wren Loughty.

Self-righteous, exasperating, pedantic Wren, who waltzed through the halls with that seraphic glow of hers.

No matter how hard he’d initially tried to diminish her perpetual confidence, her opinion of herself was nearly as unshakable as her morals.

And though their bickering and homicidal games kept him entertained, he was beginning to realize she might actually have a chance of securing the nomination for the Decennial.

Which would really be a problem.

It wasn’t that he wanted her to fail. He’d grown to…

tolerate her. And he knew, despite never wanting to admit it out loud, that nobody would be a better Ascended than Wren.

She would thrive among the academic elite.

She’d be their bloody saint. But it didn’t change the fact that her mere presence was an unavoidable threat to everything he’d been working toward.

The truth was, August didn’t care about becoming an Ascended.

And he certainly didn’t give a damn about academic glory.

But pestering Wren with their silly rivalry was the only way to keep her distracted.

To keep her from discovering what he really wanted.

And he knew, now more than ever, that he should be keeping her at a distance.

Solidifying that wall between them for her own good.

So…why the hell had he asked her to go with him?

It had been a foolish decision. A selfish one. He could admit that to himself. He could recognize the twisted codependence the two of them now shared, that strange magnetism driving them closer together. But he just couldn’t help himself. He felt inexplicably drawn to her. It was maddening.

“Can you quit stomping?” Wren hissed as they trekked through the dense mist. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

August didn’t bother glancing back at her. “Perhaps if you stopped nagging for a second, you’d notice the sound barrier around us.”

“The sound—” Her breath hitched in her throat. “Oh.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?” He reached his hand out and brushed the edge of the barrier, a shield of blue light rippling in the air. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours…nobody can hear us.”

“You know,” Wren muttered, fingers fussing with the end of her braid, “that’s the second time you’ve called me pretty tonight. Careful, August. Someone might accuse you of having a bit of a crush on me.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t you just love that?”

Her teasing smile hardened into a scowl. “Don’t be an arrogantjerk.”

August slid his gaze forward.

“Then don’t tempt me.”

They cut through the eastern side of campus, the path adorned with stone sculptures and wrought iron benches.

Thick bushes full of flowers in odd shades of deep plum and fluorescent blue lined the perimeter—primroses, witch hazel, tulips and lilies.

The dense gray fog only grew with every passing second, thick enough that August could barely make out his own hands.

A fleeting memory drifted through his mind.

Thick mist rolling over tall grass. A large estate sitting at the top of a hill, red brick drenched in thorned vines and wildflowers. It was a house, not a home. There was no warmth to be found within the grand halls of the estate, no love holding the foundation together. It was a fortress…a cage.

But there were still moments of joy. Two people on this earth that he could rely on. His mother. His sister. The beating hearts of his family, the glue that kept him from giving up on happiness altogether.

The early glimmers of morning glided over his skin. The dew-speckled grass slipped between his fingers.

His sister’s voice rang out behind him. “Augustine! Slow down!”

He glanced over his shoulder. Dark hair whipped over her face as a trill of laughter echoed from her throat.

A few paces behind his sister strolled their mother, hands clasped in front of her, watching them with a serene expression on her face.

A soft smile. Even though he was young, nothing but a boy, August had known that this moment of fleeting happiness meant everything to his mother.

And though none of them ever spoke the words out loud, he knew.

They were all they had.

It was so long ago that the memory had begun to fade, corroding at the edges.

Not in the way memories faded through the Forgetting, completely washing away until there was nothing but darkness, but in the way memories always faded with time.

Growing softer. More distant. As though he were watching somebody else’s life.

But despite everything, a part of him still clung to it. Desperate to hold on to something living and real.

Something other than what he had become.

“August.” Wren’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “Where is it we’re going exactly?”

They were passing the familiar towering brick walls of the Library.

It was the largest building on campus, with thick serpentine vines snaking around the sides and up toward the domed glass ceiling.

A set of four Corinthian columns flanked the entrance, each one consumed by the never-ending greenery that devoured the buildings of Blackwood.

“Bonestrod Hall has rooftop access.”

Wren stopped dead in her tracks. “But…that’s a faculty-only building.”

“Is that a problem?”

Wren scoffed. “Of course it’s a problem! We could be banned from the Decennial if we’re caught. Sneaking out past curfew is one thing. Breaking into a faculty-only building the night before the Decennial is plain reckless. Even by your standards.”

“Come on, Loughty. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Dunno.” Wren shrugged. “Must have left it back where you left your common sense.”

August shook his head. If she wanted to stay back—then so be it. The farther away from her he stayed, the better. But as he took two steps away from Wren, he heard a loud and unmistakable groan, followed by the sound of reluctant footsteps.

A smirk crept onto his lips. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, shut it.”

It took a while, trekking past the dormitory section of the grounds, down the graveled path flanked by oak trees, but they eventually reached the infamous Bonestrod Hall.

It sat isolated from the rest of the grounds, out by the main gates.

A set of steps led to an arched doorway with the word Bonestrod etched in tarnished gold, thick vines intertwining with each individual letter.

Wren hesitated behind him, but he kept moving forward, approaching the door with an outstretched hand.

“Wait!”

August glanced over his shoulder. “What is it now?”

Wren opened and closed her mouth, a strange expression clouding her eyes.

“Just…” She let out a broken sigh. “Be careful.”

August paused, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. A strange sense of hope unfurled in his chest, but he quickly extinguished it, swallowing back the ridiculous feelings with a curtnod.

“Always.”

He had practiced the spell all week in preparation for tonight.

It was a rather complex defensive barrier, but nothing he couldn’t dismantle with a bit of patience.

Golden sparks erupted from his fingertips, twirling around the lock and funneling into the keyhole.

He gritted his teeth, pushing past the tension seizing his body in an iron hold.

Three seconds later the lock popped open with a satisfying click.

He felt an unmistakable wave of exhaustion, but he cast it aside as he turned to face Wren.

“Impressed?”

She shook her head, biting back a smile.

“Hardly.”

They stepped inside, careful to shut the door behind them without a sound.

“Christ, it smells like a wet sock in here.” Wren covered her nose with her palm and scrunched her brows. “You mind hurrying this along?”

August nodded. “Follow me.”

They scurried across the main hall, pushing through mounds of dust and thick branches that had snaked their way through the windows.

The floorboards were rotten and decrepit, bits of wood crunching with each step they took.

Other than a grandfather clock ticking ominously in the distance, a piercing silence engulfed them, a dense nothingness that sent an acute chill up and down August’s spine.

He approached the spiral staircase near the back of the building and spared a single glance over his shoulder.

“Keep up.”

Wren paused at the bottom of the staircase. “Wait. You never told me how you got this information in the first place.”

“I have my ways.” He placed his hand on the railing and took his first step. “Now, why don’t you pocket your questions for later and follow me like a good little—”

He’d barely finished his sentence when he suddenly found himself unable to move, a dagger jammed into the back of his hand. He glanced down to find Wren staring back at him, blue eyes narrowed in defiance.

To be fair, he should have known not to turn his back to her.