The migraine followed me long after the football field disappeared behind me. My head threatened to split, my sleeves seemed too hot as if they were on fire.
I needed to sit
I needed a drink as cold as a vampire's skin.
I needed to think.
And most importantly, I needed to find Jordan Files.
Cass had slithered off with righteous indignation and a face as angry as stone. But the vision still clung to me in pieces. Chains. That voice.. Night Carter. The memory of it tugged unpleasantly beneath my skin.
The thing about being a Dark Magian is that your visions are always bedazzled with the eery sprinkling of Death. That man in the cellar was definitely going to die if I didn't do nothing about it. But how was I going to do anything when I didn't even know who he was, and where he was.
And where the fuck was Jordan when you needed him. Annoyance clouded my brow.
I was halfway across the Eastern Corridor when somebody collided into my shoulder hard enough to send a pile of books nearly flying.
"Careful". The voice was sharp. Familiar. And grattingly aggravating. Long black hair whipped into a tight bun. A chiseled face and the tallness that I had recently begun to loathe.
I hissed even before looking up.
Derrick Vale stood before me balancing what looked like half the school library in his arms. He was wearing black cashmere sweater and a scowl sat dangerously on his face.
I made to move , he shifted and stayed framed in my pathway. One of the books tilted dangerously, instinctively I caught it before it could hit the floor.
"Pretty good reflexes for a human". Derrick snickered.
"Pretty bad reflexes for a hybrid" I snorted , trying so hard to calm the rising irritation his presence evoked and failing so badly.
"You're in a hurry," he observed.
Not asked. Observed.
I shrugged. "Maybe I just enjoy walking away from you."
"Mm." His gaze dragged slowly down my face like he was trying to peel something apart beneath my skin. "No. This feels different."
The corridor suddenly seemed narrower. Too warm. I stepped sideways to move past him. He shifted again smoothly, blocking me without even pretending it was accidental. My irritation flared instantly. "Move."
"Where are you going in such a rush?" he asked softly.
There was something invasive about the question. Like fingers rifling through drawers.
"Why?" I snapped. "Planning to stalk me professionally now?"
Derrick tilted his head slightly. "Depends. Are you hurrying toward Jordan Files?" My pulse stumbled. Damn him. The smallest reaction. Barely anything. But Derrick saw it immediately. Of course he did. His grin deepened with slow satisfaction. "There it is," he whispered.
Cold unease crawled down my spine.
"You're insane," I muttered.
"Possibly." His voice remained velvet-soft. "But not blind." The books shifted slightly in his arms as he leaned closer. Too close. I caught the scent of frost and iron.
"You look for him constantly," Derrick said quietly. "Your eyes follow him across rooms before your brain remembers to lie about it."
My jaw tightened. "And you sound obsessed."
That earned another low laugh from him. "I am obsessed." His gaze sharpened. "With patterns. With secrets. With disasters waiting to happen."
The air between us felt suddenly dangerous. Like a match hovering over gasoline.
Derrick lowered his voice further. "Do you know what I find fascinating, Night?" I said nothing. "Wolves are usually so careful around humans." His eyes glittered strangely. "They bite. They flirt. They play with their food sometimes. But they don't…" He paused deliberately. "Attach."
The word slid beneath my ribs unpleasantly. I forced a scoff. "You desperately need a hobby."
"And Jordan Files desperately needs self-control." Something hot flashed through my chest. Not fear. Protectiveness. Instinctive and sharp.
I curved my lips defiantly and said "For a hybrid who's also a council dog, you sound too confident. Too confident for a servant".
His face contorted in a flash, his hands lost their hold on the books and they slithered slowly to the floor. I rolled my eyes, watching the masks of anger take hold of him.
The words when they came out of his mouth now had none of their previous weight . It was a whisper "Tell Jordan I will so enjoy watching you burn ".
"Tell him that yourself. " I whispered back "He's right behind you".
Derrick's eyes darted and he turned back and was most surprised to find Jordan lazily perched by the wall with all his usual characteristic nonchalance .
"Jesus Christ" Derrick exclaimed.
"Don't outsource your vocabulary to prophets you don't understand,it's embarrassing" Jordan said mildly, unfixing himself from the wall and pulling off invisible dirt from his shirt. He was dressed in black and his cologne waffed toward us effortlessly. It carried the scent of his arrogance and that effortless magnetism. I rolled my eyes , resisting the urge to spank that pride off his flawless face.