Page 46 of Revenant

“It’s not that big of a deal. I knew him for what? A day? Maybe two? Guess he had to go find someone who was desperate enough to give it up on the first date.” The words leave me with ease, knowing they can hear every last syllable that rolls off my tongue. I remember Moriah mentioning something on the way here, a faint memory since I was so preoccupied keeping my head on a swivel. “Wasn’t there a club tonight you wanted to go to?”

Moriah’s eyes light up. “I believe I mentioned something about one, yes.”

“Good, I don’t have class tomorrow.”

Maps have never been my strong suit. Which is why I found myself more often than not getting lost on the subway back in New York. However, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where Botanical Alchemy is being held.

The greenhouse is set apart from the other buildings on campus. Not just by distance, but also by its outward appearance. Now clearly haunted by painful memories of the past. Shutters frame the muddled windows, the old oak door barely hanging on its hinges. Knowing what I do now…I’m not so sure it was a coincidence I stumbled upon this building when I first arrived.

Familiar vibrations greet me like an old friend, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a welcome. Something washes over me, the vibrations suddenly turning into tingles, spreading over my entire body. Similar to the way it felt when we got to the bonfire—almost euphoric, like I’ve been purified. The appearance of the greenhouse changes in an instant and I immediately stop in my tracks. My brows pinch together, looking between the breathtaking building where the rundown shack stood moments ago, and the invisible barrier I must’ve stepped over.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the front and side of the building, their frames laced with wisteria blooms hanging in soft violet ropes that sway against the glass. A small staircase leads to a door so perfectly blended into the surrounding stone that it’s nearly seamless.

Entering the greenhouse, I’m overwhelmed by the herbs scattered around the room, some in jars, a few flourishing alongside blooming flowers. Strands of eucalyptus hang from the ceiling, their muted green softening every edge of the room.

Voices filter in, startling me at first, but then I spot a set of steps leading underground. My stomach drops, a sinking feeling of déjà vu taking hold. The stairs creek with my arrival, all the words flying through the air coming to a screeching halt—each pair of eyes immediately trained on me.

This isn’t overwhelming at all.

Everything about this room is familiar, looking exactly as it did a week ago. Instinctively, I look toward the spot where Sage was drained of blood before my eyes. The same girl I saw walking happily attached to Pryce’s arm earlier today.

I scan the room, my gaze unmoving from the one person I least expected to see here. Naomi’s previous joyous smile morphs into something cruel—disgust slithering over her features as if it’s finally home. “You have got to be kidding me. Does anyone with a pulse get in these days?” Her question is directed at the professor who’s staring at me like I have two heads.

He seems surprised that I’m here, which has me thinking Professor Eldritch should focus less on my attendance and more on which students are expected to be in his class.

“Miss Calder, I’m afraid there’s been a grave error,” he stammers, quickly flipping through whatever lesson plan he had for the day—presumably looking for the class list.

“No errors have been made.” The voice rings behind me with finality, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end and the professor’s head to whip up in fear. Color drains from his face; meanwhile, I don’t have to turn around to know exactly who is standing at my back. “If you would’ve read the provided blood tests from the new recruits, you would’ve seen Alicent Calder at the top of the list. I know you’re not that dense, Professor.” Bastian’s words carry a threat that’s almost invisible—one that’s treading alongside his lethal upbeat tone.

Eldritch gulps. “I—I just assumed she’d receive private lessons.” His eyes cut to the side, sweeping over the other students, like my presence near the other witches breaks some rule no one bothered to tell me.

“You’ve assumed wrong,” he corrects, leaving no room for further argument.

“Must have been an oversight. My apologies, Mr. Creed.”

Bastian’s hand lands on my arm, but I shrug it off instantly, ignoring the way my heart rate picks up from the single touch. I attempt to act as if it doesn’t affect me, but his low chuckle tells me he doesn’t buy it.

I need to put as much distance between us as possible. As much as his charm drew me in before, I can’t help but feel conflicted knowing they’ve always had an ulterior motive.

My feet carry me to the back of the room—staying in close proximity to the hidden door in case I need a quick escape—while still keeping everyone in my sights.

Almost everyone.

I keep my eyes ahead and my expression blank, even as Naomi twirls her hair and stares at Bastian like she’d climb into his lap if he so much as breathed in her direction. I don’t look. I won’t. But every nerve in me is tuned to the space where they’re standing.

This girl has no shame.

“Now that everyone has been accounted for…” The professor pauses for a beat, probably waiting to see if there was another “oversight.” When Bastian doesn’t correct him, he continues. “Welcome to Botanical Alchemy. This is where your real education begins.” I take note of the others in the room, recognizing the girls from the fucked-up initiation, and a few that aren’t ringing any bells. “Some of you were expecting this, your letter of acceptance to the school a mere formality. Others...” His eyes land on me for a second too long. “Congratulations. You’re amongst the most powerful witches to attend Veilcrest.” But we all know I was the only one left in the dark.

I don’t have to look at Bastian to know he’s moving to the front of the room. His presence is demanding, and it’s like something deep inside me is being pulled to whatever lies within him—beckoning me to surrender my soul.

“I’m going to make this brief. A little refresher to start—welcome to The Hollowed.” Bastian waits as if applause were supposed to sound. “This is a secret society formed and established here at Veilcrest to serve one purpose. To break our curse in exchange for power. You should be honored you made the cut.” It sounds endearing, as if he’s giving out compliments, but I know exactly what this is. They’re trying to save themselves, and it doesn’t matter at whose expense.

Frankly, I don’t believe any of them deserve saving.

“Veilcrest was, in the beginning, a school for witches. They came from everywhere to learn to wield their magic and to control it. But after the dark days, the founders thought it wiser to thin the witch population and open the doors to mortals instead.” A low murmur of understanding sounds through the room, like they’ve all heard this story before. I hang onto every word. “It worked, for a time. Witches hid in plain sight for decades.” A pause. “Until one of them took it upon herself to meddle in magic well beyond her right.” Veil. He’s talking about my ancestor.

As if I had any doubt, Bastian’s eyes settle on mine and stay there, unwavering, while he continues. “After that day, the first vampires were forged. Only the original five were bound to these grounds. Many others have been turned since—Eldritch among them.”