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Chapter One
Rebel
4 years later
“Fresher fucker!” Ugh. I instantly regret answering Thorn’s call. He thinks it’s hilarious that I drove my cousin, Elena, to Edinburgh University last week to help her settle in. Fuck knows why she wanted to leave California to come to school over here, let alone why she’s chosen to go to fucking Scotland of all places. It’s rained non-stop since I arrived and it doesn’t show any signs of stopping. But for some unknown reason, I decided that I may as well stick around for a while and see the sights. It’s not like I had anything to rush back for. Of course, Thorn thinks that’s code for fucking as many freshers as I can get my hands on, but given that my cousin is a freshman, it just feels fucking wrong.
“What do you want, dickwad?” I sigh.
“When are you back? I want to hang out with your ugly mug. I get the better chicks when you’re with me.”
“Weekend.”
“The fuck? It’s only Tuesday. Surely you’ve shagged all the students by now?”
“Hilarious,” I deadpan. “I have to go.”
“Oh my god,” his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “You got a girl right now? I hear ya man.” I hang up, relieved to be off the phone, and go back to scanning the campus coffee shop. It’s busy with students grabbing lunch or a fresh coffee on their way to their next class.
It’s been four days now since I unexpectedly caught a glimpse of a girl who looked like Raven, and I can’t find anything out. I’m frustrated as fuck. It probably - almost definitely isn’t her - but why does no one recognise the girl with the long blue-black hair? I’ve quizzed all the freshmen friends of Elena’s, and none of them seem to know her. She hasn’t been at any of the fresher events I’ve gate-crashed and I’ve not seen her on campus since. I’m starting to wonder if I imagined seeing her - wouldn’t be the first time in the last four years - when I catch sight of a flash of blue through the window.
I leap to my feet and am off out of the door before I can blink and lose her. I think I’m crazy. I must be crazy, chasing after a ghost after all this time. But there she is. The girl - whether she’s Raven or not - is the one I caught sight of the other day, for sure, and right now she’s hurrying across campus with her head down to avoid the pouring rain. I don’t have such luxury; I have to keep my eye on her as I chase her across the quad towards an academic block.
I slip inside, glad to be out of the driving rain, just in time to see the girl entering a classroom. I relax for a moment and catch my breath, knowing that she’s not going anywhere. When I’m a little less breathless and I’ve swept the water out of my vision, I cross the corridor and approach the door I saw the raven-haired girl go through. Room number twenty-three. ‘C Cox Snr’ is the name on the door, with ‘Chief Professor of Literature’ printed in gold underneath. Fancy. But the literature reference gives me hope; it used to be her favourite subject in school. She certainly wasn’t studying medicine anywhere in the country, thanks to Jax I knew that much.
Peering in through the glass in the top half of the door, I skim the rows of bored looking students, trying to zero in on my target. It doesn’t take long. She’s sitting in the centre of the front row and is the only one paying attention. I watch as she furiously scribbles notes while everyone around her sits in a trance. I stare intently, silently willing her to look up from her notebook. I need to see her face. I need to know if it’s her.
The others tease me for still having a Raven obsession, but I don’t know how they haven’t still got one. That chick stole my heart and - Thorn would say - my sanity, but I don’t care. I have to find her; I need answers. When we realised that she wasn’t dead and that she must have somehow escaped the fire, Jax hired someone to find her. When they came back to us empty handed, Jax hired several other people to find her. But no one could. Raven Deighton does not exist. And we couldn’t even get to her through her alleged grandmother, Cordelia Deighton, because the woman doesn’t have any grandchildren, and she’s untouchable. Always off on some world cruise or on a private island or something. No one can get close enough to ask her. For that reason alone, I need to find her. My brain won’t rest, won’t quit playing the ‘What If’ game until it gets answers. I tell myself that’s all I need, closure, but it’s bullshit. After all, she stole my heart.
Laughter snaps me out of my trance and through the glass I see the class are all laughing at something the professor has said or done. The girl in the centre of the first row puts down her pen and looks up to smile at the professor. My first thought is of how arresting her smile is, it lights up her beautiful face. Then it sinks in.
It’s her.
I blink, convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me. It has to be some kind of mirage. I actually rub them like a fucking sap, as if somehow that will clear them. But it doesn’t make a difference. What I see before me is real.
It’s really fucking her.
Holy shit! It’s her! It’s fucking her! Here in the fucking shitty wetlands of Scotland, at uni when she should have graduated, studying literature, not medicine. What the fuck?! Excited, I pull out my phone and rattle off a quick message on the group chat. I’m not surprised by their instant responses: they range from outright disbelieving (“fuck off” from Thorn) to cautiously reproachful (“this has happened before, make sure you get proof this time” from Jax). What do they want, a blood sample? I’m standing no more than twelve feet away from her, and I can see it’s her with my own eyes. Granted, there had been a couple of false alarms in the past, but that was usually because I couldn’t get a direct look at her face. Not today though. Right now, as she gazes up at her professor like he hung the fucking moon, I’m able to stare directly at her face. Her beautiful face that I’ve dreamed about every night since she vanished.
Suddenly I can't even believe I thought I saw her all those other times. She’s so unique and perfect, that all the others were poor imitations that didn’t even come close to the real thing. I feel foolish for all the false alarms, but triumphant that I’ve finally found her.
I need to calm down, I need to think and plan this out. I can’t just go barging in there demanding to speak to her. No matter how much I want to. I could follow her when class ends I guess, but I run the risk of losing her again. Damnit, Jax would know what to do. Think, Reb, think...
I click my fingers when I have an ‘ah-ha’ moment and move away from the door. I take out my phone and play some games as a way to pass the time. I reckon the class will be an hour - maybe two - long. I’ll grab someone on their way out and get all the details I need to know. Maybe I’ll even speak to the professor. Who knows. One thing I’m certain of though, is that I won’t be letting Raven slip through my fingers ever again.
When the classroom empties, she’s thankfully one of the first out the door and rushing off. She’s in far too much of a rush to see me even if I hadn’t moved slightly out of sight. I grab one of the kids loitering behind in no rush to get to his next class.
“Yo. You there. Give me your schedule,” I say. The kid looks like he wants to argue with me, but when he takes in my size, and probably the muscles and tattoos, he obviously thinks better of it and meekly hands his timetable over. I scan it quickly to see when she next has literature, notice that it’s a third year schedule and I snap a quick picture of it on my phone, before giving it back to him with a thanks. I walk off before he can say much else.
When the classroom is completely empty, I knock on the door. “Excuse me, Sir?” I call through the open door, ever so polite. Raven once told me you catch more bees with honey or some shit, so I was being nice in the hopes of getting what I want.
“How may I help you, young man? Come in, come in,” the professor replies.
He seems friendly enough, if a little formal and stiff. He’s pretty old in my opinion, but probably too young to be Chief of Literature. Pretty sure that means he’s in charge of the whole department. I don’t know. He has grey hair but it’s kind of trendy, and he’s well dressed in a traditional Harris Tweed three piece suit and he doesn’t appear senile. Raven would probably have said he looked dapper. I can see why she’d like him on looks alone, and with his extensive knowledge of her favourite subject, yeah, I can see why she was looking at him like that. When he speaks I notice he has one of those clipped British accents that screams upper class, but, you know, he’s a teacher so how rich can he be really?
“I was wondering if you could help me. I’m trying to find someone and I believe she takes one of your classes? I’m not sure what year she’s in though.”
“Go on...” he sounds a little more weary now and I wonder if he’ll be willing to help me. I mean, I could be anyone and he probably shouldn’t be revealing students’ identities to strangers.
