Page 65 of Fractured Fates
Stone takes a pace towards me, his jaw hardens. “You went into the city?” I nod. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“No,” I tell him.
He scoffs. “Then why the hell would you go into the city?”
I don’t understand why he’s so outraged. “Everyone else was going into the city!”
“Everyone else doesn’t have a bounty on their head. A bounty placed there by the Wolves of Night. You want to get yourself killed?”
“I was with my friends. They’re not going to come after me when I’m surrounded by magicals and–”
“You don’t know Marco Lowsky, Blackwaters. He’ll come for you whenever and wherever he likes.Your friends,”he says the words with disgust, “aren’t going to stop him or his men. The only place you’re safe is here, in the academy. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.” He glares at me, then shakes his head. “Come on, I’ve got places to be.”
I follow him to the back of the mansion and into the garden. I peek at the Venus common room. The windows are all dark and the place silent. Whatever orgy took place there last night, they’re probably all sleeping it off this morning. They won’t be woken up by some asshole professor in a bad mood.
“I’m in a bad mood, Blackwaters, because I drew the short straw and am having to babysit you on my day off.”
“Babysit me?”
“Professor York wants to be sure you actually complete your chores. Seems she doesn’t trust you very much.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying out a couple of chores and I always keep my word.”
“Really? Excuse me if I don’t believe an unregistered.”
He marches me further into the gardens and stops in front of a giant flowerbed that runs the length of the fence that circles the gardens. In one corner, sits a pile of steaming manure, so tall it reaches over my head.
I’ve shoveled plenty of manure in my time. I’ve cleaned out chicken pens, and cleared up pig shit. But today, with my insides churning and my head aching, the smell is so pungent, I’m bending double and spilling my guts all over again.
I’m never drinking again. Never ever.
“I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Blackwaters.”
As there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up, I conjure the most revolting image I can imagine into my mind and hear the professor mutter a string of expletives under his breath.
“You are fucking revolting,” he snaps.
“You don’t want to see it, then stay out of my head.” Maybe I’ve finally found a way to keep him out.
“Trust me, I don’t want to keep stumbling into your pathetic schoolgirl thoughts, but you make it so fucking easy.”
“Then teach me how to stop it,” I say, rolling back up to stand.
The professor doesn’t say anything, just tosses me a pitchfork he’s now holding.
“I think you can guess what you’ll be doing here today.”
“Running assholes like you out of town?” I ask hopefully, lifting the pitchfork over my head.
“Nope. Shoveling shit. The Head Gardener wants it spread over all his flowerbeds.”
I peer up at the tower of manure, and then the never-ending rows of flowerbeds. It’s going to take me all day.
“Let’s hope not,” the professor says, yawning and conjuring a deck chair out of thin air. He sinks down into it and next a newspaper appears in his lap and a cup of hot coffee in his hand. “The sooner you’re finished, the sooner we’re out of here.”
I stare longingly at the coffee, wondering if I asked nicely enough whether he’d conjure me one too.
“No,” he says, not lifting his eyes from the front page of the paper.
