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She might pay for that later, when there was no professor around to intervene, but right now she simply didn’t care. Though she made a mental note never to get caught anywhere alone with them.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she forced her rapid breathing to slow and deepen. The jittery feeling shaking through her body—and the tiny stars drifting across her vision—had less to do with Ethan and his pals than it did the magical tattoo warming the skin on the inside of her left forearm. Morning was winding down, and she’d had nothing but coffee and an apple for breakfast. Her heart was palpitating, and her lungs felt small and hot.
She should’ve known better than to eat so little.
Where she sat at Loren’s right, scribbling flowers and vines on a page in her notebook, her sleek copper hair hiding part of her softly freckled face, Dallas gave a snort. “I have to admit,” the witch whispered, “I’m enjoying this new side of you.”
It had been a while since Dallas had found it necessary to fight Loren’s battles for her. Loren decided her adoptive sister deserved the break, especially after all those years of nearly getting kicked out of middle and high school for defending her. Sometimes the arguments had escalated to physical fighting in cafeterias and schoolyards, the cheers of other students goading her on.
Taega and the Red Baron hadn’t liked that.
“At least one of us is having a good time,” Loren whispered back. She drew another deep breath in through her nose, then slowly exhaled through her mouth. The edges of her vision were fogging up with the threat of a fainting spell, though the stars were now gone.
Sabrine, who was sitting at Loren’s left, shushed them. Her almond eyes were glued to Professor Griffith, who waddled before the floor-to-ceiling chalkboard in a gray pencil skirt and blazer, rambling on about the legend of Spirit Terra and the Crossroads. The dusty chalkboard was marked up with a diagram of three circles drawn in a straight row, a thin oval stretching diagonally across all three. White, green, and blue, the oval consisting of dashes instead of a solid line. Scrawled across the board beside the diagram was a list of words Loren was having trouble reading from this distance.
When was the last time she’d had her eyes checked? She squinted, barely making out the words Ignis, Crossroads, and one that looked like it said Sunstone. Or was it Sandstone? Cripes, her eyes were burning.
Where it sat at the edge of the table, sandwiched between stacked textbooks and grimoires, Loren’s cell phone pinged—quietly, thank the skies. She must’ve forgot to mute the volume before coming to class. She checked to make sure the professor’s back was facing the room before she leaned forward, pried the phone free, and hid it under the table.
Sabrine fidgeted, her fire-colored eyes—warm as two suns against her honey-brown skin—darting to the phone in Loren’s hands. “She’s going to catch you,” she warned.
“Not likely.” Loren unlocked her phone with her thumbprint. “She’s too busy with her lecture.” She pulled up the long message thread under the name DARIEN CASSEL and read what the leader of the Seven Devils had sent her.
Morning, beautiful. When’s your lunch?
The endearment made Loren’s heart sing. She checked the time on her phone. In twenty minutes, she replied.
I’ll meet you outside. You forgot your medication.
Loren glanced down at her purse that was sagging by her feet.
That was strange. She remembered checking to see if the bottle was tucked in its usual side pouch before leaving Hell’s Gate that morning. But it wasn’t there now.
While she usually saw Darien strictly on weekends, they stole the odd weeknight together as well. Since they’d started dating, she found it even more impossible than before to stay away from him for long periods of time—and he was always more than willing to pick her up whenever she asked him to, which was exactly how she’d wound up at Hell’s Gate on a Wednesday of all nights.
Loren typed up a reply, her nails—painted sparkly black and filed into points, a safety habit she wasn’t willing to break, regardless that she spent most of her time surrounded by seven deadly Darkslayers—clicking on the cracked screen.
It was in my bag this morning, she wrote, taking care to keep her phone partially hidden in the folds of her plaid skirt. Did you take it out so you would have an excuse to come and see me, Daredevil?
You know I always love to see you every chance I can get, but I would never take your medication, silly girl. She already knew that; she just liked to tease him. Besides, he wasn’t at Hell’s Gate that morning, after being gone nearly all night, so how could he have possibly taken it? Darien added, When I got home, I found Mortifer in the sitting room, shaking the bottle like a tambourine.
Loren was trying not to laugh when Darien sent another message.
He was dancing on the record player and damn near broke the thing. The guy’s a menace. Mortifer the Menace—that’s his new nickname. Did you know he likes country?
This time, she barely managed to contain her laugh. Loren wrote back, Did he swallow any?
Who knows? The cap’s childproof, but I don’t think they come Hobproof, do they?
She was full-on grinning now. She knew she was pushing her luck, but she typed up another message. Rain plinked against the arched windows lining the wall, the sound blending in with the clicking of her nails on the phone screen. Another day of lousy weather.
Sooooo, she wrote. did you have a nice night getting those knuckles bloody for Perez? She added a winking face to the end of the message and hit SEND. She was always trying to make light of his need to fight at the Pit these days, since she knew how badly he wanted to change, not only for her but for himself. Since the events of Kalendae, his Surges had doubled in intensity and frequency. Loren hoped they would wear off soon, but until they did, she would be there for him in whatever way he needed her to be. No matter how many nights it took.
Darien wrote back: Sweetheart, I’m insulted. I don’t fight for shitheads like Perez, you know that. Though she was suppressing a smile, Loren rolled her eyes. Leave it to Darien to get defensive over a harmless little comment like that. He fought only when he wanted to, not answering to anyone but himself. While people like Antonio Perez might benefit financially from Darien’s participation in the fights, no one held him on a leash. Darien added, And I wouldn’t call ripping out demon throats a nice night, but you’re a doll for pretending that you’re okay with this.
Loren chewed her lip. She checked to make sure Professor Griffith was still preoccupied with her lesson before she began typing. Well, I don’t know about that… We might need to come up with some sort of deal. You have no idea how cold the bed gets when you’re not at home. My ass is freezing without you there.
Darien’s reply came through so quickly, she barely saw a typing bubble. If we talk about your perfect ass right now, I might roll the car into a ditch.
