* * *
When I wake, it’s to the feel of something warm next to me. I edge closer to that warmth, moaning in satisfied contentment before the weirdness penetrates my sleep-addled brain. My eyes fly open.
Kodi is solid! His hair is reddish-blond, shaggy and wavy. His skin is really pale and dotted with freckles, but it’s so much different than his usual ghostly gray. His eyes are closed, and his chest is moving up and down like he’s breathing.
I reach tentatively toward his chest, wanting to know if he’s actually breathing. Am I dreaming or did the library’s magic turn him solid overnight? My hand meets warm, living flesh. I spread my fingers across his hard chest in astonished curiosity. Elation starts to flood through me when his eyes fly open. I catch a startling glimpse of bluish-green like the brightest Caribbean Sea before everything fades back to monotone and he zips away from me with a sound of surprise. The sensation of his ghostly energy trickling through my fingers immediately chills the brief warmth.
“What the fuck?” he sputters. “Was I sleeping? I don’t remember. I was just sitting next to you while you slept. I don’t remember what happened next. And then I felt… I felt something.”
I stare at him, my eyes wide. “You were solid. I thought you were breathing. I could see the color of your hair and your eyes.”
“What? What color?”
I describe his appearance in detail, finding the usual gray, white, and black tones of his form inordinately disappointing after the flash of vibrant color. Kodi floats back down, his expression alight with excitement.
“Touch me. Maybe it’s you.”
I reach for him eagerly, but all I feel is the usual static buzz. My hand strokes over the outline of his forearm and our faces fall at the same time.
Kodi retreats slowly, the devastation on his face ripping my heart in two. “It must have been a fluke,” he grumps before he floats through the wall and leaves me alone.
I stare after him, my chest aching with sadness. What’s worse? Coming to terms with the ghostliness or getting just a tease and never knowing whether it will happen again?
Chapter Twelve
Garrett
Finally. I glare at the imposing Woodfern Hall as the limousine comes to a stop in front of it. Students getting ready to start classes for the term stop and gawk. I want them to look. We’re flaunting Daddy’s money, and I want the other students to know it. The more sycophants we gather, the more clout we have behind us.
I glance over at Bren, who isn’t paying any attention to his surroundings. He has a complicated puzzle book in his lap, and I can’t make heads or tails of the numbers and letters he’s scrawled all over the page, ignoring the actual puzzle. At least, that’s what it looks like to me. Bren is a genius. He’s also the reason I’m five years late to enter the academy. I nudge him in the arm, softly. Bren doesn’t like rough play or touches. It’s only one of the many reasons I couldn’t leave him with our dad. I wait several minutes for him to acknowledge me. Even when he looks up, his mind is still calculating something unknown behind his eyes.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask him quietly.
His eyes seem to clear for a minute, so different than mine with our different mothers. His pale green eyes are framed with long eyelashes that women swoon over. Mine are dark and resemble onyx stones, hard and unwelcoming. That’s the way I like it. They keep people away; people are a pain in the ass.
“We’re here?” He looks through the windows that don’t let anyone see in. If he notices the packs of girls tipping their heads together and giggling or the men waiting to see who steps out, enemy or prey, it would surprise me.
“She’s here,” he murmurs so quietly I barely hear. I don’t push him to explain. Whoever this woman is, I’m already tired of her. It’s all Bren’s been talking about for the last six months. It should bother me that this unknown woman is here, but I’ve steeled myself against the eventuality, especially after Bren suddenly changed his mind to attend the academy with me.
“So you know the plan, right? We’re going into the administrative office, we’ll sign up, and I’ll demand that they let you in too.”
Bren looks straight at me, and his lips tilt in a secret smile as he shrugs his lean shoulders. “Sure, Rett.”
Well, that’s not a resounding agreement, but I’ll take it. I inhale deeply and flex all my muscles so that I feel strong and ready before signaling to the driver to let us out. The well-trained employee doesn’t say a word as he steps out and crosses to my door. As I unfold myself from the seat, sudden sound assaults my shifter senses - noise we couldn’t hear from inside the car. We caught the student body en-route to something important. I couldn’t have planned a grander entrance, but I’m concerned about how Bren is going to react. Sometimes, the noise and stimulation slide off him without effect. Other times, he runs. That’s definitely not what we need right now.
Thankfully, my brother follows me, looking remarkably calm. He scans the crowd as if he’s looking for someone, but his gaze ends up directed toward the back of the campus. I wonder if that’s where his mystery woman is. I wait for him to barrel off in that direction, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at me and nods. I release a small sigh of relief. He knows how important this is to me. It’s all we’ve talked about. Or all I’ve talked about, rather. Bren doesn’t care. He’s following me for reasons of his own.
We’re like two gods as we make our way down the cobblestoned path that leads to the massive stone steps of the famous elite Apocrypha Academy. The pretentiousness of the institution sickens me, but it’s the best means of confronting my father on the only platform he understands - power.
Before we reach the steps, the bravest female in the flock of vultures descends. The younger woman is everything I hate. She’s perfect. Her hair is perfectly colored, her nails perfectly done, her skin pampered, and her eyes probably enhanced because no one has eyes that blue. She flips blonde locks over her shoulder and preens as she poses in clothes that probably cost as much as the car behind us. Three girls trail just a step behind her, the typical cliché of a queen bee and her followers. Her eyes flick from my brother to me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking because I’ve seen it so many times. She can’t decide which one of us she wants. The sweet and shy, but model-handsome younger one or the massive bad boy who could rip her in two.
“Hi. My name is Beatrice, but my friends call me Trixie.” Her voice is syrupy and false, eliciting flashbacks to every single woman my father has ever tried to set me up with. Her hand extends as if she expects me to bow over it and kiss her knuckles. My gaze flickers dismissively down then back up. It’s not really her fault that I don’t give a shit about her. Even if she’s a powerful man’s daughter, which I’m sure she is, our society doesn’t really listen to women. I don’t like it, but it’s true. Therefore, she doesn’t further my plans.
Her eyes flicker to my brother, but he’s not paying any attention. He’s staring over her head at the same place he was looking before. Her jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but I feel like I’ve been trained my entire life to recognize the first signs of anger or impatience.
“Beatrice Pascal,” she repeats firmly. This time, my brows rise. Not only is she the daughter of someone powerful, but that person is my father’s business rival. She might prove useful, after all. I force a flicker of interest to my face and caress her fingers with mine, but I won’t bow or touch her with my lips. Who knows what she’s done to her skin? Magical spells leave a residue, and the humans’ chemical treatments are even worse.
“Garrett Addington. This is my brother Bren.” I notice the flare to her nostrils when I speak my last name. She’s probably wondering whether or not she should talk to me. Calculation flickers behind her eyes, and I upgrade her from a vulture to a manipulating pawn. She clearly has power on her mind. I can use that. But then, she extends her hand to Bren. I debate just pushing past her, but I’m curious to see what my brother does. Unlike me, he won’t recognize the last name.