Page 38 of Black Onyx
I take it and return his smile as he lets go as soon as I’m standing, “It’s pretty impressive that you use your gift to predict your opponent's next moves.”
His grin broadens, “Thanks, I’m still working on it. You managed to get quite a few hits through.”
“Not as many as I normally would.” I reply honestly, “If you ever want to practice and help me learn to defend myself against your particular skill, let me know.”
“Sure, that’d be great, actually. Everyone else tends to avoid me.” His smile never leaves his face, and I get the feeling that he’s more amused by that than hurt.
“Why?” I ask bluntly because, other than the guys, he’s the first person I’ve actually been remotely interested in talking to, and I’m curious.
“Because I come from poverty, I used my skills to get in here and not mummy and daddy’s fucking money. I’m here on a scholarship.” He answers defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at me.
“They’ll all be fucked if we actually have to go to war.” I shrug.
He blinks at me in shock for a moment, clearly expecting a different reply before that broad grin of his settles back on his face, and his posture relaxes again.
“I couldn’t agree, mo . . .” he stops midsentence and simply freezes.
I wait for him to finish his sentence, but his eyes cloud over white, and it becomes clear that he’s having a vision. I step back slightly and wait. I’m used to witnessing Kill having his visions. What I’m not used to though, is the sudden breeze that whips around him, lifting his shoulder-length silver hair and tangling it around him. His feet slowly lift from the floor as the wind continues to circle him.
“Whoa,” I mutter in shock.
“Alright, everyone, step back. He’s having a vision!” the instructor yells, moving everyone back to their own spaces again.
“Fucking orphan freak,” someone mutters as they walk past me back to their mats and more people than not laugh at his comment.
Without looking in their direction, I send a thread of my air magic towards the voice and grin as I then hear the satisfying thud and grunt of someone landing on the hard on the floor.
“I saw that,” Mayhem says quietly as he comes to stand next to me, his arm brushing against mine, something that I shouldn’t be aware of as much as I am.
I simply smirk, choosing not to respond and feel the others move over to us. The instructor glares at us but considering we’re the only ones currently looking out for the guy having a vision, he seems to let it slide. In theory, his magic should protect him if someone tries to attack him while he is vulnerable but in reality, that can get a bit iffy, so it’s best to watch out for him. Although they all do as they’re told and go back to sparring, most of them still shoot curious looks this way. They may hold a certain level of disdain for him and think that he’s beneath them, but they’re still nosy fuckers.
“Is he okay?” I ask, glancing at Kill before my attention goes back to a still floating, white-eyed guy with his hair whipping around him in such a frenzy that he might actually have to shave his head to get the knots out.
“He should be. It looks like he’s having a pretty fucking severe one.”
“I’ve seen him get a vision in class before; usually, his eyes just flash white, maybe a slight breeze, but nothing like this,” Loki adds with a frown.
The guy drops to the floor suddenly, landing hard on his knees, and the guys and I rush over to him to help him back up. He lets us pull him to his feet, his hands shaking, and all of the colour drained from his face. I’m hoping that’s from the toll the vision has taken on him and not because he’s seen something horrendous.
“Are you alright?” Kill asks, “that looked like a big one.”
He brushes his hair back from his face, his hand getting stuck in the tangles, and he gives up with a frown, his eyes darting everywhere like he’s still in the vision. “I, fuck,” he replies and then rushes towards the door.
“You can’t just leave!” the instructor yells after him, not bothering to ask if he’s okay.
“I need to see the Headmaster,” the guy yells back, not even pausing in his stride as he pushes his way through the door.
“Pretty big coincidence that Magnus warns us of the Head Seer calling all the royals to the palace, and then he has a vision like that and rushes to see the Headmaster,” Storm points out grimly.
“We could try and ask him what he saw?” Loki suggests.
“We could, but I doubt we’ll get anything out of him. We all know how secretive Seers are,” Reaper replies, shooting a glance at Kill.
“Speaking of, have you seen anything?” Rival asks Kill.
“You know I wouldn’t be able to tell you specifics even if I had, but no, I haven’t seen anything. Nothing that would mean the need to involve the royals.” He pauses for a second before continuing, “but the fates may have deemed that this vision wasn’t one that was necessary for me to see.”
“Fair enough, I guess we can try to catch up with,” I frown, “shit, what’s his name? Do you guys know?”
