21 Shades of Night, page 295
The soul crystal nestles against my hip and I curl my hand around it, squeezing the crystal until the hardness bites into my palm. My success and survival in the field have an unfortunate side effect: suspicion. Nobody has ever told me the fate of the souls I return and the secrecy nags at me.
Where do the captured souls go when I hand over the crystals to Darius?
The majority of my comrades don't survive long enough to consider this, and I can never ask my treacherous questions.
I straighten as I continue along the bright hallway. The weak Fated girl paraded in front of Darius has to stay behind. I'm a soul hunter and a good one. If a Nephilim soul is required to end my servitude, I'll give this impossible mission my best. No, I'll bloody succeed. No one has beaten me yet, and I’m not about to let that change now. This is more than my life hanging on the line, I’ve spent two years fighting for my freedom and I’m almost there. Darius promised. He’s commanded by the Caelestia.
I pull my long, aqua-coloured hair into a ponytail and yank the knot tight.
Bring it on, Nephilim boy because you don't know what's about to hit you.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER
I STRIDE ALONG the corridor to the entrance of the lecture theatre, rucksack slung over my shoulder and campus map in my mouth. Groups crowd outside, chattering, and I avoid looking at them. The girls I stop next to eye me, and I raise a pierced eyebrow at them. They might rock the Barbie doll look, but I have more of an bright-haired, big-booted leave me the hell alone image.
The doors open and the previous lecture-goers flood out. I push through them and into the vast room. Students weave around me as I stop to survey the crowd. This room is bloody huge; how can I spot him amongst over a hundred people? I'm good but not that good. I slide onto a low bench seat and place my full backpack beside me. I wriggle down in the seat and pull my short black skirt straight, before resting my heavy boots on the seat in front; I'll check the rest of the room out once the lecture starts.
"Excuse me."
A slightly built girl frowns at my legs blocking her way to the seat beside me. A mouse. I giggle to myself. She is, in every detail. Short, small features, nondescript, brown hair—right down to her tiny voice. I slowly pull one leg and then the other down, not moving enough for the girl to pass without brushing me. The girl draws in a breath and hugs her books tightly to her chest as she slides through the gap, eyes on the floor.
"Hey," I say
The girl's eyes widen. "Hi," she squeaks.
Ha. Mousy girl. "I'm Ava, and I don't bite."
"I'm Dahlia, and you look like you might."
"Do I? Why?"
Dahlia examines me in greater detail than the girls did earlier. I flash her a grin. "Girls like you often do."
"What? And they don't?" I point my pen towards the two blonde friends from outside, now wandering past us to the seats behind.
"They don't bite, but their claws are sharp," says Dahlia, quietly.
"Ah, clever. We can be friends."
Dahlia opens her mouth to respond, but the lecturer's voice booms through the speakers and silences the room.
I don't listen to much of the lecture, spending the next hour checking out people around me. Bland. Boring. Nondescript human lives. Some shift uncomfortably at my gaze, so I keep my eyes on them for longer, daring them to keep looking. If only they knew the truth about their world and what I did for them, stopping demons from stealing their souls. Then they wouldn't look at me like I'm some kind of fucking freak show. I give up, bored. No Nephilim eyes stand out amongst the sea of mundanity.
I summon a memory of his picture from the manila folder back in my room. Is the image his current appearance? When was the photo taken? Humans changed a lot at this age, and in his half-human form, he would too. Great.
At least I'm in the right town and the right college; now I need to find the right person and get this over with. I roll my head from side to side, stretching the muscles in my neck. I don't want to stay a day longer than necessary in this godforsaken place.
Dahlia taps dutifully on her laptop, recording the lecture on her phone, oblivious to the restless girl next to her. I yawn and stretch my legs out to rest my feet on the back of the seat in front again. The guy seated there tuts and pushes at my boots. I refuse to move them and when he turns to say something, I mouth an obscenity at him. He turns back round sharply and mutters something to the guy next to him. Screw this. I shift downwards in my seat and close my eyes.
"Ava!"
I open one eye to see Dahlia standing over me. "Time to go. You might want to sleep through classes, but I don't—come on."
I drop my feet to the floor. "Fine..."
Dahlia slides past and stalks off; I catch up in a few strides. "What class do you have now?"
Dahlia pauses outside the lecture theatre. "Nothing, you?"
"Same. What should we do then?"
Dahlia stiffens. "I have things to do. I'd rather do them on my own."
"Oh sorry, I was hoping we could become besties." I grin at her.
Dahlia stares at me as if I've recently landed on the planet, which I guess is half-true. "First of all, I don't really like you, and secondly, nobody says besties anymore. Please leave me alone." She scurries away.
I wrinkle my nose, glancing around. The break between lectures brought a new student throng walking down the corridor, and I rest against the wall, watching the stragglers leave the theatre.
A guy walks out on his own, staring under long lashes at a sheet of paper in front of him. His dark hair falls casually into his eye and he shrugs his bag onto a shoulder as he passes. I straighten, comparing him to the image in my mind. Taller than most men. Check. Athletic build. Check. The hair. Longer than in the picture. A closer inspection is required. I catch up alongside and jostle him, pretending I'm pushed by the couple passing me.
A shock surges from the place our bodies touch and into my head, blurring the world as a white light closes out my vision for a second. The panic that he's somehow zapped me Nephilim-style recedes when his demeanour and interest in me don't change
"Sorry," I mutter.
The guy turns his head towards me and I no longer hold any doubt. Not only is there a beautiful symmetry to his face, but below his heavy brow, glacial blue eyes regard me, the violet tinge to the irises betraying his bloodline. Gotcha.
"Umm, no problem." I'm caught in his allure but, weirdly, the guy can't hold my look, shifting his focus back to the paper in his hand.
That. I wasn't expecting that. Arrogant, good-looking guy aware of his heat factor, yes, but not this. The good-looking part is right though. If he'd carried himself with confidence, every girl in the hallway would be staring at him. Instead, I run a gaze over the broad back beneath his black T-shirt, the muscles of his long legs, and take an extra few seconds to appraise his squeezable ass as he stumbles off, running a hand though his curls as he walks.
I weave between students, following at a distance. The Nephilim reaches the library and I hover in the doorway, watching him chat to the librarian. The young woman with the brown ponytail and pink cheeks points him to a different area, and I smile as the woman's gaze lingers on the guy a little too long. I need to fill out my borrower’s application, a perfect excuse to hang around and watch him. Pulling the form from my bag, I lean against the counter. I scrawl Ava Ford and my address, ensuring my date of birth matches the one on the enrolment form I faked a couple of days ago.
The Nephilim sits at a corner desk, pulls a laptop from his bag, and switches it on. A girl approaches, and he turns a thousand watt smile in her direction. My pen clatters to the desk as mousy Dahlia sits next to him.
What the hell? My plan of action rapidly dissipates. Past assignments taught me hot guys plus my alluring self equals souls taken in no time. Not happening this time, if he prefers plain girls, I huff. Worth a shot, I guess. I slip the form away and saunter over to the couple.
"Hi again." I set my bag on the desk, knocking Dahlia's papers to one side. They look up at me, faces a mixture of fascination and alarm.
"Hello..." says Dahlia.
I shoot Dahlia a smile. "Dahlia." My eyes shift to the Nephilim, gauging his reaction. He stares at his laptop, refusing to meet my gaze.
"Gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?" I ask, manoeuvring myself into the chair opposite them.
Dahlia scratches her cheek. "Boyfriend? Hear that, Keir?"
Keir.
Keir gives Dahlia a crooked smile.
"Oh?" Yes. One step closer.
"We're not a couple, Ava," he says.
I'm unsure what hits me the hardest; the fact he knows my name or the dark look in his eyes. For a second, I swear I've looked into his eyes before and a glimmer of recognition flickers across his too. No, all Nephilim eyes are the same; I've obsessed myself by looking for him, that's all.
"Old friends?" I ask in a light tone. "Or just study buddies?"
"Kindergarten. Friends for years; we just happened to get into the same college." The mouse smiles.
"Just happened?" I could imagine the temptation to follow this guy across the country, if I were a stupid, human girl.
Dahlia's eyes narrow for a moment. "Yes."
"Lucky," I reply. "I know no one. Just shipped in. Guess that'll teach me not travel around Europe before college."
"Europe?" asks Keir.
Those eyes. If it weren’t for their startling blue colour, I'd be searching campus for a different guy because he is not what I expected. Still, at least something about me piqued his interest.
"Yeah. Just for a few months, had some business to attend to." Killing demons and now it's your turn. "So, here I am. Friendless."
Dahlia glances at Keir who's resumed studying his laptop.
"I'm not great at making friends. I think people misjudge me by my appearance." I tip my head and raise an eyebrow at Dahlia.
"I don't agree with judging by appearances."
"So true, Keir," I reply, trying to meet his eyes again. Is he actually aware of his Nephilim origin and clueless, or an expert at hiding what he is?
"You guys want to show me around tonight?" I ask. "I'm free after eight if you have any suggestions."
The horrified look on Dahlia's face, when Keir says yes, amuses me for hours afterwards.
Chapter 2
I HOLD THE page corner, scared of tearing the brittle leaves as I turn them. The humans have no idea who Nephilim really are, coming up with their own legends to explain the race’s existence. The true history is written here in exhilarating bedtime reading. I yawn; I already know the story of the angels who rebelled against the Caelestia, came to this world, and took on human form, but kept their angel souls and powers. I’m also aware of the Nephilim evolution: over the centuries, they sided with the Demon Lords, and the Nephilim united with demons, trapping their angel souls in a powerful half-human, half-demon form. Trapped souls exist in all demons but usually human; I’ve captured enough for Darius in my last two years as a soul hunter but never imagined capturing angel souls from a Nephilim was soul hunter territory. In training, our instructor Daniel was clear in telling us to stay the hell away from Nephilim. Which begs the question: why has Darius sent me on a suicide mission?
I once heard that Nephilim could live when their souls are taken because their demonic half merges with the angelic power of life and doesn’t need a soul. If this is true, how am I supposed to survive a fight with one? If I win, will Keir die long enough for me to take his soul, then run the hell away with my soul crystal? I rub my head in confusion and swallow down the fear. No, living without a soul must be a rumour; otherwise, the task would be impossible. Even demons die once their souls are taken. Nobody can live soulless.
A soft knock on my door pulls me away from my thoughts, and I check myself quickly in the mirror. For a night out with a Nephilim and his pet mouse, I’ve selected a tiny black dress and striped leggings and finished the look with motorcycle boots, happy to kick someone into next week if they get the wrong message from my clothing choice. I smooth my long aqua hair, check my makeup, and open the door.
Dahlia stands in the hall, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you ready?”
“Looking good,” I lie as I sweep a gaze over Dahlia’s ensemble. Jeans and buttoned up cardigan.
In response, Dahlia studies me and her nose twitches. “Interesting look.”
I narrow my eyes at her and she mimics me. Oh, joy. I hold the gaze until she looks away. If Dahlia has something to say, she can say it.
Dahlia sets off toward the halls entrance.
“So, Keir?” I ask as I stride after her.
“Keir, what?”
“Cute guy—in an annoying sort of way.”
“Annoying?”
“Yeah, annoyingly not interested.” So what if we just met, normally I kindle a spark of some kind on my first encounter. Demons tend to like that kind of treatment.
“That’s Keir.”
Crap. “Gay?”
Dahlia chokes a laugh. “No… just picky.”
“You mean he never picked you?”
Dahlia stops and puts a hand on my arm. “No, we’re friends, more like brother and sister. He’s just careful about who he gets involved with.”
Whoa. Intense, much. “Okay…”
Dahlia doesn’t drop her hand. “Yes, okay?”
The vehemence intrigues me. If they’re not lovers, then something weird exists here because her prickly attitude is over the top for somebody who’s just a friend.
Still… Picky. Not gay. My original plan of attack is possible.
“He still likes guy stuff, right?” I ask.
“Guy stuff?”
“Girls, alcohol, fun…?”
Dahlia sighs. “He’s a guy who just found freedom at college, of course. But he and I don’t quite fit into that crowd, so if you’re looking for college hedonism, I suggest you go elsewhere.”
I hook my arm through Dahlia’s, who stiffens in response. “Well, we can learn to be hedonistic together. Looks like you need some lessons.”
* * *
I PULL MY phone from my pocket and check the time again. An hour since the last drink? Jesus. Why are we still here? Dahlia’s spent the evening with one drink in front of her; a lemonade with a sniff of spirits. Keir fares a little better, a couple of empty bottles lined up next to mine but not enough to liven him up.
I gently bang my head on the table. “Fuck. Guys?”
“What?” Dahlia frowns. All night Dahlia’s glued herself to a taciturn Keir, legs touching. For a small girl she certainly creates a huge barrier between him and me.
“Fun? Heard of it? I think I’m going to fall asleep here.”
Friday night and the small campus bar emptied a couple of hours ago, more interesting venues nearby drawing the livelier students away. A few stragglers shuffle around pool tables or prop themselves at the bar, too short of cash or too drunk to move on.
“You’re welcome to find your own entertainment,” replies Dahlia tersely.
“What entertains you, Keir?” I ask, once again trying to catch his uninterested eye.
Keir twists the half-empty bottle in his hands. “I like reading.”
Seriously? “I meant in the evenings.”
Keir shifts and regards me in the way he did earlier. “I said I like reading, especially history books. Do you like reading, Ava?” He swigs from his bottle. “Be careful though, sometimes history is rewritten to suit people’s agendas.”
An image of Darius’s book crosses my mind. Considering Keir’s said three words to me all night, his choice of conversation is bloody weird. He rubs his chin and turns his attention back to a nearby group playing pool.
“Not really,” I reply. “I’d rather experience life than read about it in books.”
“Why are you at college,” asks Dahlia, “if you don’t like reading?”
“I read what I have to. Learn what I need.”
And silence. I sigh.
Dahlia glances at her watch. “Scintillating as this is, I need to go. Early start tomorrow—you coming, Keir?”
Keir shakes his head and Dahlia opens her mouth to say something, but when Keir turns to her, she closes it, glancing at me.
Ha. “Night, then!” I say and give Dahlia a little wave.
Dahlia slinks off, pulling her jacket tightly around her. Keir watches until Dahlia walks out of the bar, then switches on a dazzling, out of character smile for me.
“Do you play pool, Ava?”
* * *
I SIP MY bourbon and coke, enjoying the view of Keir’s denim clad rear as he leans over the pool table, and consider how enjoyable things could be if he shows any interest in me. Temporarily, of course. Second game in and I’ve wiped the floor with him so far. A soft click sends the yellow ball spinning into a pocket. I rest against the pool table, close enough to ensure when Keir straightens he’ll be close to me.
“You’re quite an intense person, Ava,” he observes, chalking his cue as he moves back from the table.
“Am I?”
“The way you look at people. And the way you dress, hiding behind your image.” Keir hands me the cue and his fingertips brush mine. “Your turn.”
His words are a challenge beyond our pool game, coupled with the same electric shock sensation from his touch, and my concentration breaks. I swear under my breath as the balls hit and spin in the wrong direction.
I thrust the cue back to him. “I’m not hiding from anyone.”
Keir tips his head. “So why us?”
“Who?”
“Me and Dahlia. A college full of interesting people and you latch onto us. Wouldn’t have thought we were the type you’d be interested in.”
“How do you know what my type is?”
Keir’s violet-tinged blue eyes narrow and he leans across the table to take his shot, turning his back. Is he playing a role to hide his identity too? After Dahlia left, a different Keir replaced the reserved, uninterested one.
