Stealing Infinity, page 13
In fact, it’s actually pretty. Though it is really loud.
He shakes his head, pulls a small tablet-like device from his jacket, and silences the sound. “Mozart, ‘The Magic Flute,’” he says. “It’s the ten-minute warning.”
I pull my stole tighter around me. I have no idea what is happening. But when I reach for Braxton, he moves away so quickly, my hand flops awkwardly back to my side.
“I’ll bring you to your room,” he says, his voice oddly formal considering what nearly happened between us just a few seconds earlier. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s glad for the interruption. Like maybe he’s already regretting bringing me here, never mind how close we just came to a full-blown make out.
“Arthur goes pretty easy on us on the weekends,” he says, shaking me away from my thoughts and back to the completely mortifying present. “But on school nights, he likes to keep to a schedule.”
Oh sure, blame it on Arthur. I frown at Braxton’s back as he heads for the door. I mean, fine, maybe it makes sense on the surface. But it also seems like a really convenient way to escape a potentially sticky situation.
One that’s pretty much entirely of his making.
One that he’s clearly having second thoughts about.
The trip back is quicker than expected, mostly because Braxton is practically running as I huff alongside him. By the time we reach the hall that leads to my room, I’m so out of breath, and so confused by his silence, I tell him I can take it from there.
“Thanks,” I say, standing awkwardly before him. “For—”
I wasn’t going to say anything that might get him into trouble, but I guess he doesn’t realize that, because he’s quick to cut in. “I think it’s best if we keep what happened between us.”
I’m not sure exactly which part he’s referring to—the part where he told me I’m trapped in a posh boarding school for time travelers or the almost kiss…or both.
What I do know is just before I turn away, I catch a glimpse of Elodie darting out of view.
43
Last night, I dreamed of Arcana.
Blurred images of a torch singer wearing a crown of golden antlers, boys in slinky black gowns, and time dripping like tears down ornately paneled walls unfurled like a ribbon before me.
It’s the same dream I’ve been having since the day I lived it. Only this time, I was aware of Braxton gently lifting my limp body into his arms before carrying me out of the room to where Elodie waited.
“Told you,” she said.
Before Braxton had a chance to respond, I woke to the world around me still dark and the sound of someone urgently pounding on my door.
Only, once I was awake, I realized it was actually the sound of footsteps running down the hall.
I threw the covers aside and leaped from my bed. With my ear pressed to the door, I listened to the beat of an insistent fist thumping on wood, followed by a rush of urgent whispers.
When I tipped onto my toes to gaze through the peephole, I saw the noise was coming from Oliver’s room across the hall. Finn stood inside the entry, hair disheveled, a silk robe draped loosely around him, as Oliver, looking equally tousled, soon came to join him. Tossing an arm around his shoulder, Oliver pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek and pulled him in close to his chest, while Song, her face red, probably from crying, hurried inside, leaving me staring into a dim, empty hallway.
I backed away from the door, my skin tingling with chills, stomach tangled in knots, then immediately scolded myself.
I’m in a boarding school. Which means there’s probably no shortage of drama, rivalries, cliques, and intrigue. Kind of like whatever was going on, or possibly was even still going on, between Braxton and Elodie.
Just because I’m not part of their inner circle doesn’t make it sinister.
And yet, as I climbed back into my canopy bed and settled onto a pile of pillows, I made myself two promises:
One: Like I did at my old school, I’ll keep to myself and steer clear of anything having to do with social politics or romantic entanglements.
Two: As far as Braxton’s concerned, the almost-kiss in the Moon Garden is as far as we’ll go. Which, considering how quickly he turned off the heat, that clearly won’t be an issue.
But then I remembered all the stuff that happened just before Mozart intruded. The scorch in Braxton’s gaze, the whisper of his voice when he said This energy between us… And I seriously began to doubt my ability to stick to my list.
The rest of the night, I slept fitfully. So when the first fingers of dawn reach around the edge of my drapes, I spring out of bed, rush to the window, and press a palm against the thick leaded pane.
I’m not sure what I expect to see. Maybe the maze returned, and the sight of a cloaked figure vanishing and reappearing.
What I get is a bird’s-eye view of fat droplets of rain rolling down the collection of statues in the Tarot Garden. And for one fleeting moment, I have the wildest thought:
What if those statues are real, and the ones in Italy are fake?
44
After dressing for the day in a fresh Gray Wolf Academy sweatshirt I pull from a stack I found in a drawer (all of them disappointingly green), a pair of faded jeans, and running shoes, I open my door to find a boy standing outside, fingers curled into a fist that’s headed straight for my face.
“Whoa—sorry!” He stops himself mid-punch. “I was just about to knock. Your door, not your nose. Still, how’s that for timing?” He lowers his arm to his side and grins in a way that lights up his whole face. “Not my best move, considering we’ve met only briefly. But I wanted to introduce myself personally. I’m Jago.”
My eyes graze over him. He’s tall and lean, with a head of thick brown curls and eyes the color of topaz. I shoot a curious look at the package clasped in his hand.
“Found this sitting outside your door.” He hands me the bag. “I’m guessing it’s your slab.”
“Slab?”
He laughs. “Officially known as the Gray Wolf Academy Tablet. More commonly referred to as the slab. But don’t let Arthur hear you call it that. Or basically anyone else who’s not wearing a sweatshirt.”
“What is it?” I pull it free from its box and toss the packaging on the small table nearby.
“Think of it as your lifeline. It holds the day’s schedule, everyone’s name and room number. The inspirational quote of the day. A GPS system to help you find your way around. It’s all in there. There’s also a text function that allows us to message one another.”
I give it a dubious look. It’s barely bigger than a tarot card. “Can’t I just download an app on my phone and use that instead?”
“Your phone doesn’t work here.” His lips fall as flat as his gaze.
“Well, if I could get my hands on a charger, then—”
“Trust me, your phone’s as good as dead. The slab is your newest addiction. It holds everything you need—or rather, everything they think you need. Though be warned, your days of going live on the social feed of your choice are long over.”
“Looks like I missed my chance.” I shrug. “I never did anything worthy of an audience.”
“Same.” He laughs.
I meet Jago’s gaze. If his eyes are anything to go by, he’s so much warmer than he was the night I arrived. And so far, he’s the friendliest out of everyone I’ve met. That includes Braxton who, last night in the Moon Garden aside, veers much closer to the moon than the sun.
“You going down for breakfast?” Jago asks. When I nod, he says, “If you’re up for company, we can head that way now.”
I close the door behind me and walk alongside him. We’re halfway down the hall when I say, “Why is your sweatshirt yellow?”
He shoots me a sly sideways grin. “Because I’m on my way to blue, baby!” He pumps his fist in the air, which strikes me as funny, though a little out of place in such a refined atmosphere. Then, eyeing my own green sweatshirt, he says, “Don’t worry, you’ll get there. Probably sooner than you think.”
I give a half-hearted shrug. “I hope you’re right,” I groan. “I mean, I know it’s been only a day, but I’m already sick of being left out.”
Only, just after I say it, I realize it’s not entirely true. I’ve probably spent more time with Braxton than I have on my own. Still, after I nearly lost my mind in the Moon Garden last night, getting so swept away by his smart English accent and his ridiculous pretty face, that situation is starting to feel like a bit of a landmine.
“Listen—” Jago starts. After running a quick glance up and down the hall, he tips his lips toward my ear. “A word of advice that no one gave me?”
I lean closer, desperate for anything he can tell me about how to find my way here.
“There’s nothing normal about this academy. You’re going to see some really weird stuff here at Gray Wolf, but if you’re smart, you’ll choose your battles wisely, because there’s no use fighting a match that’s completely rigged against you.”
I swallow hard, nod for him to continue.
“That said, don’t ever lose sight of your value. And never allow yourself to forget that they need us more than we need them. Because the more they invest in you, the more reluctant they are to lose you.”
“Lose me?” My stomach clenches, my mouth goes dry. I have no idea what that means, but Jago pulls away so quickly, it’s clear he’s not about to explain.
45
Jago stands before me, his handsome face showing absolutely no trace of the ominous tone from just a moment before.
“Now,” he says, switching to a more formal stance and offering his arm. “Shall we?”
I glance between his crooked elbow and him. It’s such an outdated gesture, I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Um…what are you doing?” I ask.
“One of those rules I mentioned,” he says. “Things like comportment, carriage, and manners—they matter here.”
I bite down on my lip and continue to stare. Is this one of those archaic protocols Braxton warned me about? Because there’s no way in hell I’m agreeing to take part in such an outdated, misogynistic social ritual.
To Jago, I just shake my head and continue down the hall. “No offense,” I say. “But I really don’t need a big, strong man to show me how it’s done. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”
Jago laughs and follows along. “Look, I get it,” he says. “On the surface, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a purpose to everything in this place. And it won’t be much longer before it all starts to make sense.”
He gestures toward some of the other students who’ve entered the hall—all of them walking arm in arm. Boy/girl, girl/girl, boy/boy—it’s like I’ve wandered onto the set of a historical film where everyone is in character except me.
“This is absurd.” I frown. “Not to mention outrageous, clownish, totally and completely ludicrous…”
Jago flashes me a patient grin, the kind a teacher might give to a student who just isn’t getting it. “Remember when I told you about the rules that aren’t worth the fight? This is one of them. But don’t get the wrong idea—while linking arms is expected, other displays of romantic affection are strictly prohibited during school hours.”
I blow out a frustrated breath and, with a great show of reluctance, hook my arm with his. Still, I can’t help but say, “What could possibly be the point?”
I gaze up at Jago and, since he’s got a good eight inches on me, I’m practically craning my neck just to meet his gaze. And for the first time, it really hits me—with his nicely sculpted face, eyelashes practically longer than Elodie’s, and gorgeous golden brown skin, Jago isn’t just handsome, he’s actually breathtaking. And when he speaks, his voice is low and deep with just the trace of an accent that sounds vaguely Spanish.
“Think of Arthur as a curator of the past,” Jago says as we continue down the staircase, our arms linked. “He picks what he wants and discards all the rest.”
“He said something similar at lun—” Remembering that my lunch with Arthur is not something granted to everyone, I’m quick to cut myself off.
“I know about your lunch,” Jago says. “Everyone does. But you’re smart not to flaunt it. Gray Wolf is way more competitive than you might think.”
“But what exactly are we competing for?” I ask. “Are we on some sort of grading scale I don’t know about?”
“Look,” he says, “it’s not that long ago that I was new, too. So I’m going to tell you something else no one told me.”
I walk silently alongside him, hoping the reveal isn’t nearly as ominous as the last one.
“One, forget your past. You’ve been given a chance to start over, so try to make the best of it. Also, don’t go asking other people how long they’ve been here or where they come from.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. I’ve pretty much done that with everyone.
“None of it matters anymore. And we’ve all worked hard to move on.”
“Okay,” I say. “Anything else?”
We’ve reached the entry to the Spring Room, and he steers me aside to let others pass.
“And two…” He removes the slab from my grip and presses my thumb between his and the screen. “This is how you turn it on, wake it up, and turn it off. The rest is intuitive; you’ll figure it out. Also, whatever you do, don’t lose it. They’ll find it, of course, but it makes a bad impression.”
“Does it come with a charger?” I ask, thinking that I didn’t see one in the box.
“No need,” Jago says. “As long as you remain on the island, it stays charged.” He removes his hand from mine, but his topaz gaze continues to linger. He dips his head, about to say something more, when he suddenly stops, and I turn to find Braxton standing behind me.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Braxton says, his gaze darting sharply between Jago and me.
“Just trying to help a Green find her way.” Jago grins, flashes his palms. Then, directing a sly wink at me, he ducks inside the Spring Room.
I’m about to follow when Braxton says, “There’s been a change of plans.”
I glance longingly toward the place where breakfast, and the possibility of making new friends, awaits, and heave a loud sigh, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “What’s this about?” I ask.
Offering his arm, Braxton says, “Ever been to Paris?”
46
When I refuse the offer of his arm, Braxton reaches for my hand, but I’m quick to pull away from that, too.
“Is something wrong?” The space between his brows pinches with concern. As though he has no recollection of how we ended last night.
But, since I’m not about to humiliate myself by reminding him how he totally blew me off after we nearly kissed, I just say, “It’s—”
He looks at me.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own, that’s all.”
With a brisk nod, he sets off.
“Also, I’m hungry,” I call after him as I race to catch up. “Am I supposed to skip breakfast?”
“There’ll be coffee and pastries where we’re going.”
“You mean in Paris? Because I’m not sure I can hold out that long.”
He stops abruptly, his rubber soles skidding against the stone floor. “You want to be a Blue?” His gaze locks on mine.
I nod. I mean, I’m not exactly sure what that entails, but it’s gotta be a lot less lonely than being a Green.
“Then now’s your chance to jump the line.”
“Seriously?” I stare imploring at Braxton’s back. He’s on the move again, and it’s all I can do to keep up.
After making a series of rights, he pauses before a single black door. “All you have to do is prove yourself,” he says. “Show Arthur he was right about you.”
“But right about what, exactly?” I ask. “Because I have no idea why he chose me, or what he actually sees in me…”
When I notice the way Braxton’s blue eyes burn on mine, like they did in the Moon Garden last night, my voice falters, my breath backs up in my chest, and I force myself to look just about anywhere else.
I have no idea how to respond to this guy. Have no way of knowing what his intentions are when one minute he’s hot, and the next he’s ice-cold. All I know for sure is that I need to be a lot more careful where he’s concerned. I need to protect myself, safeguard my heart. Because if there’s one thing my past has taught me, I’m the only one who will.
Braxton starts to move toward me, but when he catches the wary look on my face, he’s quick to fall back into place. And I breath an inner sigh of relief. The last thing I need is to give him any reason to think that near miss of a kiss actually meant anything.
Or worse, that it might happen again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Braxton says, pulling me away from my thoughts. And at first, I think he’s referring to us, but then I realize I was the only one thinking about us. Braxton is still talking about Arthur. “All you have to do is be yourself and try your best.”
Braxton turns away and presses his right thumb to the keypad. A buzzer sounds, the door swings open, and I follow him into one of the rooms I saw yesterday—the one with a circular stage in the center and theater-style chairs arranged all around it.
Since the other students are at breakfast, it’s just me, Braxton, Hawke, Arthur, and another person Braxton introduces as Keane.
My first impression of Keane is how far my gaze needs to travel before it meets his. He must be at least a foot taller than me, possibly more. And if his biceps are anything to go by, this is a guy who does not miss a workout. He has gleaming dark skin, medium-length hair styled in multiple twists, and beautiful dark eyes that taper ever so slightly at the sides. When his lips pull into a grin and he presses his palms together in greeting, I awkwardly do a version of the same.
