Fade (36 page)

The furtive glances cast my way began making sense. I kept my head down, not wanting to answer any questions, and feeling suddenly guilty. It seemed wrong that I could find happiness in the midst of so much tragedy and mythic scariness, but I was happy.

I knew Dace and I weren’t completely there yet, and that there was still a lot unsettled and uncertain about the things happening around and even between us, but he and I felt more settled in my mind. He’d let me in a little bit and it’d been good. How could I not be happy about that?

Comparative Politics flew by as quickly as Origins and Prehistory. I gathered my books at the end of the class, less certain of the discussion than I had been in Origins. And worse, Professor Dodd assigned the first three chapters of the text to be read by our next class. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be finishing the assignment.

“Miss Jacobs?” Dodd called as I waited in the line of students jockeying to get out the door. “Can I speak with you a moment?”

I cast a wistful glance at the door and turned back around.

“I noticed in your transcripts that you’ve taken a comparative justice systems course,” he started without preamble, pushing up his glasses on his nose and propping one hip on the corner of his desk. He probably wasn’t that much older than Dace. He was one of those young, good-looking professors every college girl wanted to see standing at the front of her classes.

Except this one, apparently … Dace ruined me.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I also noticed you aced the course,” he continued, glancing at me for confirmation.

I nodded. It had been easy enough to do. My senior project in high school dealt with religious law. After doing the research for that, comparative justice systems had been no sweat.

“Do you have any pressing desire to take this course, Miss Jacobs?” Professor Dodd asked point blank.

I wasn’t sure if I should lie or not. I shrugged instead.
Where is this heading?

“I didn’t think so.” He smiled at me, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “I’ll be teaching a comparative justice course next fall and need a little help. If you’d be willing to review lesson plans and make recommendations, I’ll give you independent study credit to make up for this course.”

“Seriously?” I glanced up, my mouth hanging open.

“Seriously,” he said, chuckling. “You looked bored to tears back there. Politics isn’t your thing?”

“Not even close,” I said with a little shake of my head. “I’d be happy to help. When would you like me to start?”

“Do you have classes tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“Swing by between classes then, and I’ll give you my notes. Don’t hesitate to make mincemeat of them. I want to do this right.” He smiled, his eyes kind.

“Of course,” I said, “and thank you.”

“No problem.”

I shared my news with Dad over greasy burgers in his office.

“Awesome,” he congratulated me around a mouthful of cheese fries. “You’ll like Dodd. He’s new, but he’s an easygoing guy.”

He’d excused me from reading three chapters of mind-numbing politics tonight. I saw nothing to dislike.

“What are you teaching next?” I inquired, finishing up my lunch.

“Mythology 101. I had a thought about that, by the way.” He took a swallow of his coke. “Did Dace tell you what he’s looking for?”

“Yeah.” I tossed my wrapper in the trashcan by his cluttered desk, deciding not to mention that it’d been my idea to see if we could find anything in the various myths to help us figure out what Ronan might be. He might not have been Sköll or Hati, but he was still
something
. The sense that he was connected would not abate. Since Dace couldn’t disagree with that, we both sort of figured we’d be better off if we figured out Ronan’s deal sooner rather than later.

“Oh, well, I’m going to put the class to work on it.”

“How are you going to accomplish that?” I wondered aloud, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

“I’m not sure.” He rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “There are, quite literally, thousands of myths out there. A lot of them have the same underlying themes and variations of the same creatures. I can’t think of what kind of creature he’s looking for, and I know most of them. I’m thinking I’ll assign extra credit to anyone who brings me a shifter myth that doesn’t focus on the obvious.”

“Think it will help?” I asked.

“No clue,” he said, still rubbing at his chin, “but it has potential. If nothing else, maybe it’ll shake loose some myth Dace hasn’t heard. That’d be worth it alone.” He grinned at the prospect.

I laughed, shaking my head, and then hesitated. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

I took a deep breath. “I think you should concentrate on bird mythology.”

His eyebrows rose as he examined my face. He didn’t ask me any questions though. He merely looked at me and blew out a breath. “Birds?”

I bobbed my head, not ready to tell him anything more.

He was silent for a minute and then he nodded. “Be careful, Ari.”

He couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes, and I realized maybe he knew more about the things occurring between me and Dace than I thought. I didn’t have the heart to confirm it for him though, not when our relationship had a possible apocalypse in there somewhere.

“I will,” I promised instead. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I closed the door behind me, wondering how much Dace told Dad. I guessed Dace hadn’t filled him in completely, but Dad knew enough to worry.

The fact that he was going to have his class look into the Ronan problem relieved me, though. Like he’d said, there were thousands of shifter myths out there. Having an entire class tackling the problem probably wouldn’t even make a dent, but at least that non-dent would be bigger than what Chelle, Gage, Dace, and I would have made on our own.

Which made me wonder … Dace hadn’t explained how shifting worked. If they were wounded in that form, did they retain those wounds when they shifted back? Did they look like the real animal when they shifted as I knew Dace did, or were they more were-animally? I should have known all of this, and the fact that I didn’t frustrated me.

I tried hard to believe I couldn’t shift for a reason, but feeling like half of me was missing in action hurt. But what could I do about it? We had enough problems without adding my shifting issue to the list. I’d have to ask Dace to explain the logistics and hope knowledge would be enough to ease some of the ache that’d become my constant companion since our pow-wow at Chelle’s house.

Too bad Dace wasn’t in my head like he had been so often lately … .

I laughed at the irony of that desire. I’d spent days griping because having him in my head wasn’t fair, and now that he behaved himself and gave me a little privacy, I missed him? I figured that probably had something to do with his confession this morning. I liked knowing he found being in my mind as calming as having him in there was for me. Even when his presence did frustrate me, I liked knowing we had this connection no one else could intrude upon. What we shared belonged to us alone.

“Are you Arionna Jacobs?” Professor Hawk, a beautiful Native American woman, asked when I walked through the classroom doors, still shaking my head. Her voice was soft and melodious, and I liked her instantly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

She held out an envelope toward me. “A T.A. dropped this off for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the envelope from her hand. Why had Dace left me a note? My lips twitched as I tore open the envelope.

A single sheet of paper fell into my hand. A lock of red, painted hair followed. I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning across the one line scrawled on the page.

My mouth gaped open.

I read the note a second time, sure I’d misread. The words didn’t change:
Your boyfriend is dying.

My gaze moved to the lock of hair. Not paint. Not paint at all.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, horrified.

Blood rushed in my head in a torrent of sound.

“Is everything okay?” Professor Hawk’s eyes darkened as my hands shook around the paper.

I turned on her. “Who brought this?”

“I—” She opened her mouth too slowly.

“Who brought it?” I yelled, my mind wild at the single line scratched across the paper and the evidence that it was no sick, twisted joke.

Dace!
I screamed his name even as I screamed at the professor for answers.
Dace!

He didn’t answer.

The envelope fell from my shaking hands.

I took off running before it ever hit the ground, the hair and note clutched tightly in my fist.

I screamed his name over and over as I tore out of the classroom and barreled down the hall. Students leapt out of the way, their exclamations sounding in my wake. I paid them no attention, trying to breathe through the terror clogging my throat. It thickened each time Dace failed to appear in my mind.

I didn’t know where I was going until I threw open the door to Dad’s classroom, still silently screaming for Dace to answer me. I beat at the walls blocking me from his mind, clawing at them in panic. It didn’t help though. I didn’t know how to pull them down. He’d never told me.

Dad turned toward me, his expression surprised and then worried. Twenty pairs of curious eyes settled on me as I gasped for breath. A piece of chalk bounced across the floor. Dad crossed the room, then dragged me into the hall in seconds.

“What’s wrong, Ari?” he demanded.

I stared at him, unable to get the words out to explain.

“Ari, talk to me.” He took hold of my shoulders and shook me gently.

I thrust the note and bloody lock of hair at him, a sob rising in my throat. He scanned the note and then his eyes flickered to that lock of bloodied hair. He turned faintly green.

“Kyle, watch the class,” he bellowed through the open door, then dragged me down the hall to his office.

“Sit,” he ordered, throwing open the door and bustling me inside. He dove around his desk, dialing the phone faster than I could have imagined possible.

I tried to do as he ordered, tried to sit, and I couldn’t. My legs wouldn’t work. Blood pounded in my ears.

“Donald,” Dad barked into the phone. “Did Dace Matthews come in this morning?”

Please, please,
I prayed, knowing my attempts were fruitless. Dace wasn’t on campus. Someone had him. Someone was hurting him.

Your boyfriend is dying.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision.

“One of the T.A.’s delivered a note to my daughter. Do you know anything about that?” Dad demanded into the phone, his expression bleak. He swore and slammed the phone back onto the receiver before snatching it up and dialing one more time.

My body shook.

“Edwards, have you seen Dace?” Dad said into the phone. “Dammit!” He never cursed much, and it didn’t help to hear him doing so now.

Shards of ice stabbed into my heart when he explained the situation to Professor Edwards.

“Call Naomi, and find out if she can sense him.”

Time inched along as Dad waited for Professor Edwards to call his wife. As I stood there, the only thing I could think was “please, no.” It ran through my head on an endless loop as the clock ticked. The shards of ice grew every time Dace failed to appear.

What felt like hours later, Dad expelled a defeated breath. He didn’t say anything, but the worry in his eyes grew. Naomi couldn’t sense Dace either.

Your boyfriend is dying.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The final sliver of hope that this was all a sick, twisted joke splintered. Tears came to my eyes.

“No, I don’t have it. Ask her to call Chelle.”

A wave of pain hit me like a physical blow, throwing me into the wall.

“Dace!” I screamed as he and his wolf came tumbling in.

Wave after wave of agony slammed into me. I clutched my head and screamed. Ronan’s invasion felt like a needle prick compared to this, a mosquito sting. I was being ripped viciously apart. Every tear of my skin burned like acid. My leg. My shoulder. Muscles cramped, and my lungs expanded so wide I knew they would burst. My knees buckled.

“Arionna!” Dad yelled my name, the alarm in his voice breaking through the torture and then receding as another wave of agony ripped through me.

My entire body seemed to explode into fire, and I thrashed on the floor. Lash after lash beat at me. And that wasn’t the worst part. Not by half. Being slowly and invisibly shredded was nothing compared to knowing everything I felt came from Dace. Every pain tearing through me came from him, his torn skin, his wounds … .

He was barely conscious. That wolf side of him threw himself bodily at the weakening walls to the mental cage Dace forced him into, screaming almost humanly as the pain of Dace’s injuries lashed at him, too.

Dace wouldn’t let him out. He used every ounce of his rapidly waning strength to keep from shifting. Even through his pain, the fear of his wolf drove him.

The invisible fire burned me from the inside. Dace was slipping away from me, and I could do nothing to hold on to him.

I love you. His words were a quiet sigh.