Page 8 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

“Would you like to finish that sentence?” Wren cocked her head to the side and pressed the blade down harder, digging into his flesh with ease. “Go on. I dare you.”

“You must be rather pleased with yourself.” August tried to yank his hand free from the blade, but it had been lodged too deep. “Come on, Loughty. You have to admit this is a bit unnecessary.”

“I’m not removing it until you tell me.”

August could hear the crunch of bones. The sharp rip of ligaments tearing. It obviously didn’t hurt, but Wren had shoved the blade deep enough to trap him.

“Did you really think I’d willingly follow you into a creepy abandoned building without more information?

” Wren asked with a sneer. “For all I know you’ve brought me here just to push me off at the top.

I’ll admit, it’s a clever plan. I’d be too busy rebuilding my bones to show up to class tomorrow.

Not exactly the best look right before the Decennial. ”

August groaned. “You are beyond paranoid.”

“No,” Wren shot back, stepping closer. “I simply know better.”

“And have you forgotten that you’re the one with the track record for pushing me off buildings?” August scoffed bitterly. “You’ve done it twice now. And both times conveniently right before an exam.”

She shrugged. “That’s not the point.”

August burned with anger. A sudden rush. And despite his usual restraint, he couldn’t stop the flames from bursting out of his fingertips.

“Jesus!” Wren flinched but didn’t release her grip on the knife.

August curled his fingers closed and extinguished the flames, black smoke funneling into the air.

Neither of them said a word, a thick silence reverberating between them.

Wren’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Having a difficult time controlling your emotions?”

“I’m fine.”

“The flames erupting from your skin beg to differ.”

“It’s just—” He inhaled deeply. “I’m tired.”

“Tired?” Wren echoed. “Really?”

“I’m…mentally tired, okay?” August bit back another wave of anger. The embers hummed deep inside him, the familiar itch building at the tip of his fingers. Pull yourself together, Augustine. “Is that what you want to hear? That sometimes, despite knowing better, I can’t control myself?”

Wren flinched. “No. That’s…that’s not what I want to hear.”

“Then what?”

“The truth.”

August let out an exasperated sigh.

This girl was going to be his demise. He was sure of it.

“I snuck into Headmaster Silas’s office.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You— what? Are you mad? Why on earth would you—”

“I was bored,” he interjected with a nonchalant shrug. “I had some time to kill, and it just so happened that his office was unattended. And while I was scouring his desk, I came across a book.”

“A book?”

“It contained a list of names. Our names. All of them.”

“I’m not following,” Wren sighed.

“It contained the name of every student who has ever been selected for Blackwood. And there was one name I didn’t recognize. On the last page.”

“Another name…,” Wren echoed. “The one that’s crossing over tonight?”

August nodded. “Louise Nordain. Today’s date was written next to her name in red. And given the fact that we all arrived exactly at three in the morning…”

“She’s bound to cross over any second now,” Wren whispered.

August blew a curl away from his face. “Happy now?”

“Elated.”

Wren ripped the knife out of his hand. She’d begun sliding it back into her waistcoat when August snatched it from her grasp and placed it firmly against her throat. She stumbled, nearly falling backward, but managed to catch herself on the railing, her eyes snapping up to meet his.

“You arrogant—”

“Now, let’s play nice, Loughty.” August pressed one hand against the wall behind her, the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of the dagger. He knew she couldn’t feel the edge of the blade against her throat, but that didn’t matter. Hurting her was never his goal.

Annoying her was entertaining enough.

“Look who’s wasting time now,” Wren sneered, chin lifted high. “Go on. If you’re that bored. But all it’s going to do is ruin both of our shoes.”

“You’re the one who started it,” he replied coolly.

“And I’ll be the one to end it,” she snapped. “The second my skin stitches back together, I’ll jam this blade straight into your back.”

“If this is you trying to flirt with me,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “then I have to admit…it’s working.”

A wave of goose bumps rippled across her shoulder, and August couldn’t help but chuckle.

Wren swallowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just…interesting, isn’t it?” He dragged his fingertips over her collarbone and watched in satisfaction as her eyelids fluttered open and closed. “We can’t feel pain, yet we can feel…so much more.”

Her eyes raked up and down his face and something in his chest tightened. He found himself stepping closer. Too close. Crossing the boundary both of them had secretly vowed never to cross. Wren tensed but didn’t move. In fact, she leaned in toward him, the slightest shift in her stance.

Time froze. The two of them suspended in darkness. A flurry of twisted anticipation humming in their bones.

But the moment didn’t last.

Wren shoved August out of the way, using the momentary distraction to snatch the dagger right out of his hand before he could stop her.

“Seems you’re not that tired after all.” She waltzed past him and twirled the dagger between her fingers. “Good. I was beginning to think the notorious Augustine Hughes was going soft onme.”

An unavoidable thrill ran through him. “I wouldn’t dare.” He bowed his head and motioned up the stairs. “After you, darling.”

“Thank you. Always such a gentleman.”

A sharp wind greeted them as they opened the door at the top of the staircase and stepped out onto the rooftop.

The air smelled smoky, with the faintest hint of vanilla and amber, the familiar scent that clung to Wren wherever she went.

He found himself leaning in closer, drawn to her like a reluctant moth to a deeply infuriating flame.

Blackwood Academy lay sprawled out to the north of them.

A landscape of pointed towers and vaulted ribs, of arched rose-tinted windows and ornate buttresses.

Oak trees covered in gnarled branches and burnt-sienna leaves dotted nearly every inch of open space, adorning the buildings with opaque shadows.

To the south was the forest. The uncharted outskirts of purgatory that loomed menacingly in the distance, whispering enticing promises of power to those foolish enough to listen.

The Demien Order could attempt to lure students out with their false claims, but August would not be one of them.

He understood that there was truly no escaping their eternal punishment. No freedom to be found.

No deliverance for the damned.

“Now what?” Wren peered over the edge. “We just stare at each other until somebody falls through the sky?”

August cleared his throat.

“Something like that.”

She frowned. “I should have brought a book.”

“Am I not entertaining enough for you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

A noise rattled in the distance, interrupting them. They lifted their eyes in unison. Wren narrowed her gaze toward August, and he instantly knew they were thinking the same thing.

We’re not alone.

August released a fresh wave of flames from his palms, readying his stance. The fire blazed from his skin, lapping up his forearms. Elemental magic was his strong suit, but fire had always been his vice.

Wren, on the other hand, opted for something more elegant and subtle. Golden threads erupted from her palm as she prepared an energetic barrier around them. Something that would more than likely save their skin if whoever was on the other side tried to knock them off the rooftop.

More sounds echoed beyond the door. Boots against hardwood. The creak of weight.

And then the door swung open.

August didn’t hesitate. A wave of flames surged from his palms and soared straight toward the figure standing by the doorway. It wasn’t until the fire escaped his fingertips that he spotted Olivier’s familiar face looking back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Despite August’s infallible aim, Olivier was annoyingly nimble and managed to duck out of the way just in time, causing the newbie behind him to suffer the brunt of the blow.

“Relax!” Olivier exclaimed, raising his hands in the air. “It’s only us!”

“What are you doing here?” August bristled. “Did you followus?”

“It was his idea!” shouted the newbie, who August now recognized as Emilio. He frantically blew out the flames, grimacing as the charred skin around his collarbones began to heal. “I’m just a victim of his stubborn curiosity.”

“Oh, you were just as curious as me,” Olivier said. “Admit it.”

“I was not!” Emilio huffed, nervous eyes shifting among the group.

“Snuff your flames,” Wren muttered behind him. “They’re harmless.”

August tensed. “He didn’t answer my question.”

“All right.” Olivier leaned against the doorway, annoyingly smug as always. “Yes. We followed you. But can you really blameus?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“And did anybody follow you ?” August pressed. “Are you two alone?”

“Of course we are!” Olivier exclaimed. “I’m far too discreet forthat.”

“Wrong,” came a third voice from somewhere above him. “Though I doubt anybody is shocked.”

August knew that voice. Incandescent. Smooth like honey dripping down his throat.

“Irene.”

Just as her name escaped his lips, Irene materialized in a plume of bloodred smoke, Masika by her side.

They were like a set of conjoined twins.

Where one went—the other was never far behind.

Despite their symbiotic relationship, the pair had distinct differences.

Masika’s movements were fluid, like that of an acrobat, as though her body were moving in time with a song only she could hear.

Irene, on the other hand, was harsh and rigid, like staring straight into a blazing fire.

Her dark eyes watched him carefully from beneath her blunt fringe.