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“Sorry, I…”
“Are you okay?”
I dragged in a breath. “No.”
“Me neither.”
“What happened?”
We sat down, and he looked at me over the considerably wide space separating our desks.
“I look at you and… my heart aches,” he whispered. “Mila, if I knew how to help you, I would.”
“What are you talking about?”
He sighed. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re pale, you’ve got bags under your eyes, and you’ve lost at least five pounds. Are you sleeping okay? Are you sleeping at all?”
I rubbed my temples, ran my hand through my long, blue hair. The roots were starting to show, but I couldn’t give a shit.
“Dreaming. I’m dreaming. Every night.”
“What are you dreaming about?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m there… I’m traveling. Different places, different times. I don’t know what it means or how it’s supposed to help me, but…”
“But what?”
“I’ll find out.”
I spaced out in Psychology more than I should have, paid some attention in Anatomy of Souls because it was my favorite subject, then PE sucked. PE always sucked nowadays. Fewer VDC students ended up in the infirmary, so that was progress. I ran to leave my scythe in my dorm room before lunch, excited to call the bank. Then I reached for the phone I always kept in my uniform blazer and realized it wasn’t there.
“Fuck!”
I plopped on the floor so hard that my butt hurt. My brilliant plan of having Celine send me cash money to buy Crassus off turned out to be fucking stupid. I’d forgotten I didn’t have a phone anymore.
“And even if you had one, Mila, does an Unseelie guard accept American dollars? Maybe they like to be paid in gems.” I felt tears gathering in my eyes. I sniffed loudly and tried to hold them at bay. I was losing it. That was it. Morningstar had finally crushed me. “No phone, no money, no Corri, no friends…” I had plenty of friends, but no access to them. “What the fuck! How did I get here? I was supposed to be…” The tears started running down my cheeks in thick, flowy rivers. I almost imagined myself like an anime character crying her eyes out. “I was supposed to be the one who retired him. I was supposed to be the hero. And now… now everything is falling apart. I’m falling apart.” I let go and allowed myself to break down in one of the worst crying sessions of my life. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alone, lost, confused, and angry at the same time. Maybe when Lorna had smacked me in the face with a piece of roast meat? Maybe when Sariel had tried to kill me the first time? Every single thing that had happened to me since I’d joined Grim Reaper Academy in year one had hurt. Somehow, though, the fact that I was proving to be so useless when everyone needed me to save them from the tyrant that was my father hurt even more.
I spent the whole lunch break on the floor of my stupidly luxurious room, crying. I knew Crassus could hear me from outside, but I didn’t care. I hoped it made him feel uncomfortable. When it was time for History, I dragged myself up, feeling like an old, dirty rag that was good for nothing and should have been thrown in the bin long ago. I pulled at my sleeves to reveal the scars on my wrists. Since everyone knew about them now, I didn’t bother to hide them with my long, goth-looking wristbands anymore. The VDC guys had found out last spring, at practice, then they’d spread the word.
Mila Morningstar, the most gifted student at Grim Reaper Academy and the Headmaster’s daughter, liked to cut herself. When I heard what the four cabals were gossiping about me, I got angry at first, then I wanted to laugh. And I eventually did laugh, because there was no other sane reaction to be had when people started saying that I cut because I believed the pain made me tougher. I was better than them, more talented and more resilient when I was faced with hard cases because I cut and they didn’t. What the fuck? I didn’t contradict them. It wasn’t worth it. I let them talk, deciding that as long as their ridiculous gossip actually made me look cool, it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to know the truth. GC and Pazuzu knew it, and that was enough for me. Francis had probably guessed it, and I didn’t know about Sariel, but for sure, he didn’t believe the stupid theories going around.
I grabbed my History book and my notebook from my desk, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and got out of the room, not even bothering to lock the door. Crassus was standing guard, as usual. I walked up to him and looked him straight in the eyes, knowing full well that my makeup had run down my cheeks and that I probably looked like a clown.
“If I had money to buy you off, would you take it? Would you agree to work for me?”
The corner of his lips twitched.
“Say I gave you double what the Headmaster is giving you now…”
He remained silent.
I sighed, shook my head, and started down the corridor toward the stairs. It was no use. Not that I had the money, but I was curious to know if my plan could have worked, had I had the possibility to put it into action. Crassus fell in step with me.
“It wouldn’t have to be double,” he said in a serious, business-like voice. “Just more than I’m paid now. Yes, I’d take it, and I’d serve you for as long as you’d pay me better than him. It’s the way of the Unseelie. But it would have to be your money.”
I smiled, satisfied. “I have money.”
“No, you don’t understand me. You are who you are, you have an entire floor to yourself, so of course you have money. But is it your money? Did you earn it?”
