Page 14 of Missing

"Right." I kept my response nonchalant, but an image of Harper, with that waterfall of black hair and those defiant green eyes, clawed its way into my thoughts.

Dante nudged me with his elbow, his brown eyes gleaming. "But get this, she's completely in the dark, bro. Like, knows nothing. It’s strange, watching her trying to wrap her head around the basics."

"Is that so?" I looked away, a frown creasing my forehead as we sidestepped a group of chattering students. I couldn't help wondering if she told the truth at breakfast this morning about a human mother.

"Completely clueless," Dante confirmed with a laugh, oblivious to my inward musings. "I swear, if looks could kill, she'd have reduced us to ashes for sure. But when it comes to actual magic?" He snapped his fingers, and a small flame danced on his thumb, lighting up his smug expression before he shook it out. "Zip. Nada."

"Guess we all start somewhere." My words were dismissive, but a part of me felt a strange twinge—something akin to protectiveness.

The memory of breakfast clung to me like the remnants of a dream, persistent and unsettling. As I threaded my way through the campus, Dante's incessant chatter about Harper filled the air, but my mind was elsewhere, caught in that suspended moment when her expression shifted as if someone had snuffed out the light behind her eyes.

"Did you see her face this morning?" I asked suddenly, the image of Harper's fallen features cutting through the noise of the present. "When we turned away to order breakfast?"

Dante glanced at me, his brown eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Yeah, she looked like someone kicked her puppy. Why? You feel sorry for her now?"

I shrugged off his question, not ready to examine the knot of discomfort tightening in my chest—a peculiar blend of guilt and something else, something more primal and confusing.

"Whatever," I muttered, brushing it aside as we rounded another corner, my shoes echoing on the stone pathway.

"Griffin sure turned on a dime, though," Dante continued, either oblivious to my internal struggle or choosing to ignore it. His voice held a note of amusement, but the mention of Griffin sparked a different reaction within me.

"Overwhelmed," I said, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Dante raised an eyebrow, prompting me to elaborate. "He turned because he felt overwhelmed looking at her."

"Feeling psychic, are we?" Dante's laugh rang out, clear and untroubled.

"Something like that." I shoved my hands into my pockets, recalling the prickling sensation beneath my skin, a phantom echo of Dante's fire magic whenever he got too close. It was the same feeling I'd had this morning, sitting next to Harper. The electric tingle had crawled up my arms, insistent and distracting, only subsiding when I broke eye contact with her.

We continued in silence for a few moments, the din of student voices fading into a dull background hum. I wrestled with the images in my head—the look of hurt on Harper's face, the strange connection that sizzled through my veins. The desire to understand her warred with the impulse to maintain distance. And somewhere amid the chaos of my thoughts, I knew one thing for certain: Harper Hillstrom was going to be trouble.

"Man, I could eat a dragon after that class," Dante declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he'd just downed three espressos instead of sitting through 2 hours of Fire Magic.

I shook my head. "Nope, not yet. I wanna talk to Hunter about Harper."

"Harper?" Dante's eyebrows shot up, and he started skipping backward in front of me, his grin as wide as the corridor. "That girl's got you more twisted than a gorgon's braids. Fine, lead the way, oh broody one." He whipped out his phone and tapped out a message in a blur of thumbs, probably updating Griffin on our detour.

The admin office was dead ahead, its doors like the jaws of some great beast, ready to swallow us whole. We stepped inside, the air tinged with the scent of old paper and lemon polish. The receptionist, a woman with hair so tightly wound it looked painful, glanced up from her computer screen, her eyes sharp behind horn-rimmed glasses.

"Can we see Hunter?" I asked, trying to seem casual.

"Sorry," she replied without missing a beat. "He has someone in with him. You can sit and wait."

We slumped into the chairs opposite her desk, the plastic creaking in protest under Dante's restless energy and huge frame. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, trying to ignore the tick of the clock on the wall. Ten minutes crawled by, each second a tiny eternity.

Then the door opened, and out came Harper, her stormy expression clashing with Melody's sunshiny concern. Harper's green eyes were alight with confusion and anger, her fists clenched at her sides like she was ready to take on the world bare-handed. Melody was close by, whispering something, a hand gently grabbing Harper's hand in an attempt to tether her to calmness.

"Dammit," I muttered, watching the two girls pass by us without a glance. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of emotion from Harper's fiery exit. Whatever had gone down in Hunter's office, it had rattled her—and despite myself, I felt a pull, a desire to comfort her.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," Dante mused, following my gaze.

"Or just trouble," I corrected him, my words laced with a tension I didn't fully understand. Harper was a riddle wrapped in a conundrum, and every instinct told me to stay away, but there was another part of me, reckless and raw, that wanted to dive into those depths.

"Maybe she needs a knight in shining armour," Dante suggested with a smirk.

"Or maybe she needs to fight her own dragons," I shot back.

Hunter stepped into view, his expression unreadable as he smoothed back a stray lock of hair. "She's fine," he said with a dismissive wave, though his eyes flickered briefly towards Harper with an inscrutable glint. "Did you want me?"

"Yes," I replied, the word tasting like a new determination on my tongue.

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