Slaying Year Two (Grim Reaper Academy 2)

GC was already running me a bath, dumping a ridiculous amount of bath foam as hot water filled the tub. He then reached in the cupboard above the sink, from where he produced a vanilla scented bath bomb.

“You might want to brush your teeth first,” he suggested.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, but if my jumbled thoughts were any indication, I didn’t quite get the desired effect. I grabbed my toothbrush and the toothpaste in a daze. Since I’d started dating GC and Paz, I kept three toothbrushes at the same time: one in my room, one in GC’s, and one in Paz’s. And the guys made sure to keep a fair amount of bath bombs, since taking long bubble baths colored yellow, and pink, and purple, was my favorite thing in the world.

“Why do you think he did it?” I said with my mouth full of toothpaste. “Saved me?”

GC shrugged. Paz was silent. I rinsed and threw cold water onto my face. Straightening my back to look in the mirror, I cringed at my own reflection. I looked like shit. My blue hair was matted to my head, bits of dead leaves were stuck in the knots, and there was a chunk of something unidentified glued to my shirt. I pulled at it and scrunched up my nose in disgust. Dropped it in the toilet, flushed, and tried to forget about it.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Paz grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. After what I’d done with him and GC countless times since the night before the beginning of the semester, being undressed by one of them (or both of them) was common practice now. “I’ll drop them in the laundry bin, but I’d burn them, if I were you.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s just puke. It’s not radioactive.”

“It’s not your puke we’re worried about,” GC snickered. “Sariel gave you cooties.”

I shot him an annoyed look. God, they’re impossible! Having a serious conversation with them was something rare. Very, very rare. For sure, they weren’t in the mood today, so I kept the thousand questions running through my head to myself. I allowed them to help me into the hot water and relaxed as GC washed my hair and Paz ran a foamy sponge up and down my arms. Mmm… at least, they do make me feel like a goddess. Later, they ran to the dining room and brought lunch for the three of us. After what I’d gone through, I was apparently excused for the rest of the day. They, however, had to go to PE and then Anatomy of Souls. I was more than happy to take advantage of the peace and quiet and take a nap.

* * *

The bookshelf snapped shut behind me, and I found myself in the dark, my trembling hands searching for the wall I knew was there, my legs not wanting to move another inch if I didn’t have something solid to hold on to. I found the wall, took a moment to breathe deeply, then reached inside my pocket. My phone wasn’t there. It didn’t make any sense. I never forgot my phone, never lost it… Shit. No light. How did I get here, anyway? I didn’t want to be here. I looked down, my eyes barely able to distinguish the stone steps in the dark. I knew what waited for me if I descended, so I tried the secret door again. It wouldn’t budge.

Shit.

The only way out was through. Down the stairs and through the cavern, that was. If I didn’t make a sound… If I managed to sneak along the wall… Maybe the thing sleeping in the well wouldn’t hear me. Wouldn’t smell me. Where was Francis when I needed him most?

I was following him… How did I end up here, again? I’d been avoiding the hidden tunnel like the plague, yet here I was. I was following him. I swallowed hard and descended one step at a time. The further I went down the tower, the darker it got. But the only way out was through. I’d done it once… found myself down there, ankle-deep in warm, rusty water, my scared little voice bouncing off the walls and down the tubular body of the well. And I’d survived. I could do it again.

He was here. I can swear he was here. I was following him.

Had he gotten down the stairs so quickly? How? Could he see in the dark? I remembered his eyes. Not mossy green and gentle like when he was up there, at the surface, in the light. Yellow irises, elongated pupils. Like a reptile’s.

This time, I’ll ask him, and he’ll answer me. What’s wrong with your eyes, Francis? Why are your eyes yellow?

I few more steps to go. I could see the familiar glow of candlelight pouring through the narrow tunnel. I reached the last step and stopped to study the water. What if there was something there, below the surface, waiting to grab me? I hadn’t been scared the first time, but now I knew better. What if the tentacled thing had babies? And the babies were tiny, and they swam in the rusty water, and when they got a whiff of warm blood running through some uninvited guest’s veins they… they…

I saw my own reflection in the pond. I was pale. My blue hair had faded, and… when had I lost so much weight? I was almost skeletal! I could see my cheekbones protruding underneath my skin. I touched my face reluctantly, shivering at how sharp and bony it felt. My hands moved down my jaw and neck, in search of some part of my body that had more meat on it. My fingers reached my collarbone, and I felt it cold and smooth… Bone. Pure bone. No flesh. The reflection in the dirty water confirmed my greatest fear. I was turning into a skeleton. I gasped and looked away.

Something fell from the sky. No, not the sky. I was inside the north tower. From the ceili

ng. Something white. Something soft. It floated before my eyes, touched the surface of the water, and just stood there, pure and plump, in hard contrast with the red of the puddle. An angel feather.

An archangel feather.

“They can create illusions,” Francis had said.

I looked up, searching for him. Searching for the archangel. I should have heard the wings beating, but in this dark hell, the only sound was the feeble whisper of the air currents chasing each other through tunnels and caverns. I looked harder. Another feather fell, and I caught it. There was someone there. I could feel him flying closer and closer. It had to be him. He was the only one who could fly.

Sariel…

I expected to see a pair of beautiful silver eyes. Instead, two yellow slits blinked at me. I was so shocked that my foot slipped, and the next thing I knew, I was falling. Falling falling falling, and never hitting the ground.

I woke up with a startle. I was in GC’s bed still, the curtains were drawn, and by the orange light in the room, I could tell the sun was setting. GC’s oversized T-shirt was soaked in sweat clinging to me uncomfortably.

“Fuck!” I ran my hands through my hair. I’d gone to sleep with it still damp, and now it had the delightful texture of a witch’s old broom. “Fuck!” I rubbed my eyes and temples, trying to clear my head. “What does it mean? Why do I keep dreaming myself in that wretched place? Yellow eyes. Why does Francis have yellow eyes?” Since his Great Old One had almost eaten me alive, I’d had these nightmares almost every night, and now, apparently, also when I took an innocent midday nap. But I’d been dreaming about his yellow eyes way, way before I’d found out his secret. There was this connection between us. I could feel it. I didn’t want it, but it was there.

I shouldn’t have discontinued my therapy sessions with Headmaster Colin.

CHAPTER SIX