Page 35 of Unshaken

I burned my clothes. There was no way I was going to put them back on. The sight of all the blood coating them was too much for me to stomach. With my boots on and Ty concealing us with his shadow magic we make our way back to The Quad. There are students outside, everyone excited to be out tonight, some are attending a party that is being thrown by Rodyn and his cronies. If Esme wasn’t hurt and in the Hospital wing, I would be out for his blood tonight. He not only tried to kill me a second time, but he also went after Esme, a victim of circumstance, innocent in all of this. I can’t get over his blatant disregard for her life or mine. We are just a problem to solve, an obstacle in his way, our deaths would’ve been an easy solution for him. I want him to see me alive. I want to feel his reaction when I smile defiantly in his smug ass face.

Once back at my place we both attempt to wash away the dirt, blood and grime on our skin. Of course, that means a few more orgasms, where Ty leaves me shattered and boneless against the shower walls. Eventually I throw more clothes on, and Ty takes me to the Hospital wing where I am left with Trys who lifts me in his arms, kissing me so thoroughly that I am panting and gasping for air.

“I missed you, sunshine.” He places me on my feet and holds out his hand for me, pulling me towards the entrance. I look over my shoulder to see if Ty is joining us, but he stays rooted in place watching us go.

“Are you not coming?” I ask him curiously, searching our Tether for his emotions, finding a slowly simmering rage there. I stop Trys and turn to look at Ty, gone was the warm smile and calm demeanor that he usually graces me with. I can feel his darkening spirit, it stirs my own.

“Someone needs to talk to Rodyn, sunshine. It has to be Ty because I can’t promise that I can walk out of the party without killing everyone who dares to be in that asshole’s presence after what he’s done.” He squeezes my hand and smiles. It’s both alarming and a little swoon worthy that he can talk about killing so easily and still offer me a big bright smile at the end.

“I don’t know if I can promise that, brother.” Ty shrugs, knife in hand, and spinning it without looking. He goes to walk away, but turns and jogs up to me, kissing my cheek. “Don’t worry kitten, Rodyn’s blood is all yours.” He pecks me again and we watch him walk away, disappearing into the darkness of the hall.

“Where is she?” I ask Trys as he pulls me along again. The Hospital wing is located on the second floor of the west side of Lux Hall. The side closest to The Pavilion. I guess it makes sense considering that’s the place where students are injured most. If you’re lucky enough to survive the nightly death-a-thon's and you manage to get your injured self here without dying, then that’s a win for sure.

A set of glass doors greets us at the end of the hall. Trys opens the doors and escorts me in as he approaches the desk in front of us.

“Trys Larrieux, you’re back already.” A woman smiles up at him with a mischievous grin. “Is this your lady love that you’ve been talking my head off about since you got here two hours ago?” She winks at me, followed by a giggle from another woman sitting next to her. Both appear middle-aged, but as Witches we have a longer shelf life than humans, you can never tell how old one of us truly is. One of them has bright red hair, with sharp features, and bright green eyes, she almost looked Fae. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is. The lady who is still speaking softly to Trys has warm brown eyes, and dark brown skin, with salt and pepper hair tied up in a low bun.

“Ms. Margaret, Ms. Bertha, this is Micah.” They both look at me with interest, and it almost makes me fidget under their quick scrutiny.

“Nice to meet you.” I wave in greeting and the red head named Margaret, claps with delight.

“She’s polite. That’s wonderful. Do you know how many of these uppity urchins lack the skill to say please and thank you?” Ms. Margaret scoffs, and I can’t help but laugh with everyone else at how animated she is. Hand flying up in the air dramatically, followed by a fake fainting spell where she falls into her chair. She fans herself. “Well, at least, you finally found a good one, Trys. Now, she can rub off on you.”

“I think she already has.” He looks down at me as if I am his whole world, and I can feel my face heat.

“Are you here to see Miss Blu?” Ms. Bertha asks, breaking up what was about to be some serious eye fucking. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t come to yet. She’d lost a lot of blood and one of those wolves almost bit her entire foot off at the ankle.” She tsks. “I would never openly say this to Headmistress Larrieux, but all of this is getting out of hand. I am tired of sending students home in body bags, this is not a war zone, it’s a place of education.” Ms. Bertha stands, fists clenched by her sides as she stumbles around the desk.

Hearing of Esme’s injuries and how bad they were sends me spiraling. If I had caught on sooner to the fact that I was feeling her distress, I could have gotten there faster. The extent of her trauma is my fault because I failed her.

“Now, now, Bertha, it’s not our place,” Ms. Margaret says as she looks around in alarm, as if they’re being watched or bugged by some unknown source. I start looking around for cameras as well. Would someone really be listening in?

Ms. Bertha throws her hands up in frustration. “Not our place. Huh. They are not the ones patching the kids up twenty-four hours a day. Come on now, I’ll take you to her room.” She beckons us to follow, and Trys takes my hand in his and pulls me to his side, tucking me under his arm. He kisses my head, as if he knows where my mind is right now, and I am grateful for his intuition. We pass several medical bays, some with curtains pulled back revealing a few students from Magical Combat still having their injures tended to, tablets and cell phones keeping them occupied. She turns the corner where there are a few rooms with open doors on either side of each other. I can only assume they are for students who have to be here for a while. We follow her inside a door to the left, and I pause as we enter. Esme’s white hair is pristine, no dirt or blood in sight. The cuts that I saw earlier on her face have been healed. She looks peaceful, her chest is steadily rising and falling. I exhale, not realizing I had been holding my breath waiting for a sign of life.

“We still have a bit of healing to do on her foot, so she needs to remain here for the weekend. I’ll make sure she’s in tiptop shape for Monday morning.” Ms. Bertha pats my shoulder as she passes and leaves us here.

I pull up a chair next to the side of the bed and sit. Not really knowing what to do but be here. I guess that’s all that really matters, I am here. Trys slides down the wall by the door, leg bent in front of him as he leans his head back to rest against the wall.

“Thank you.” I keep my voice soft and low, not wanting to disturb Esme’s rest. If I had gone into those woods alone both of us would have been killed. I would have been gravely outnumbered with no way of getting her to safety.

“You don’t have to thank me, sunshine. What’s yours is mine. She is one of us, whether she wants to be or not. I will protect her and have her back like I would with Ty and even Rodyn, if he would just see what’s in front of him.” He huffs and goes quiet, both of us settling into our own silence until finally he speaks again.

“Was that the first person you ever killed?” I don’t turn to face him as the question sends the entire night to the forefront of my mine. The blood, the rage, the excitement. I killed someone. Yes, it felt justifiable in the moment, but I could have left him there broken. I didn’t. Things that are broken can be healed. I ended his life, and the sickening part about it is that I loved it, the power of it.

“Yes.” I keep my answer short, not knowing how to express my feelings to Trys.

“Bloodlust is an essence of being a Demon, sunshine. I don’t wish it on anyone, hence why Demons, by the laws of the Underworld, are not meant to procreate with humans or Witches,” he says matter-of-factly, and I turn at his words, my mind whirling.

“If that’s the case—”

“Then how were we sired by one?” he completes my sentence, and I nod in agreement. “Whoever they are, they weren’t afraid to thwart the rules, or they make them,” Trys says with a shrug, and that really gets my gears turning. I look down at my Anchor key, thinking I should talk to Rook but change my mind.

“I take it you three have no idea who your father is?” I ask, hoping I’m not overstepping, considering it’s such a sensitive subject for some.

“Nope. Not a clue. Our mother is very tight-lipped about that.” Trys sighs, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. I turn to look at him, and see the man in front of me, and he looks weary and haunted, like he’s seen too much in his lifetime already.

“Are you OK?” I ask in concern. I want to go to him, but I don’t want to leave Esme’s side.

“I was just thinking about how different our lives would have been to have grown up in a normal family.” He smiles dreamingly. He goes quiet again and I wait. I know he wants to say more. “It’s ok to feel something over killing Patrick. Back there in the woods was the first time in a long time I felt bad about killing. Yes, the Wolves weren’t innocent, but this.” He points to Esme. “This is all Rodyn, and I hate him for it. He’s always had it so easy. My mother practically twisted, shaped, and molded his darkness in her own image. His powers came to him easily whereas Ty and I struggled.” I swallow the lump of emotions in my throat, I can feel his pain and regret.

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