Page 168 of Every Shade of Shadow

I heave myself into a sitting position on the couch and stretch.

There’s an envelope on the table in front of me, ‘Annabelle Fairchild’ in scrawling, very un-notice-like script.

Yawning, I reach forward and pick up the envelope, opening it to find a series of papers. The first is the deed to the apartment—in my name no less.

I blink, but nope, it’s still there.

Well, shit.

There’s a letter attached from the bank that shows the finalized debt, the balance reading a very neat and handsome zero.

I speculate who could have paid this off. Damien?

It’s possible. We never spoke of his finances, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s hoarding a stash of money or gold or some-such.

There is yet a second letter I pull out, reading fast.

Dear Ms. Fairchild,

Please forgive our unorthodox methods, but it is paramount students leave the Academy until we can better understand the Event in question. Any updates on Professor Darkwood will, of course, be passed onto you accordingly.

As you can see, the debt of your grandmother’s apartment was paid off some weeks ago. The bank will not release any information as to who provided the payout, invoking client privilege.

The AOB thanks you for your service to the magical community and wishes to inform you that you are still under its protection while in inais. Should you require assistance, our operatives will be more than glad to help.

Sincerely,

Hazlet Miller

Arcane Oversight Bureau – Public Relations

So yes, they’re happy to help but provided no way to get in touch.

Figures.

Hazlet Miller—Christ, I’ve got to get me one of these AOB names.

It’s clear then. Damien paid off the apartment.

“Damn you, Damien,” I whisper, tears clouding my vision. He’s in a coma and still taking care of me. The man who I thought was out to destroy me made sure I had a home to return to in case things went south. And south they went.

I place the papers down and pace over to the window. It’s a gloomy, soup of a day in New York. Much like Lumina, really. I’ve brought the weather with me.

But not him.

I’ve got to get back, which means finding how to get to the Academy, which means… Sweet fuck all, because how the hell am I going to find that out?

I stroll around in the apartment, certain things bringing a small smile to my face. My clothes are pretty much everywhere, reminding me of the hurry I left in. That’s how desperate I was to get the hell out of here—to leave my whole life behind.

But soon the space becomes suffocating. I decide I need some air, making my way to the front door. I ease it open and step into the stairwell only to find a grainy picture of myself looking back at me.

The eviction notice is gone and, in its place, a missing poster with the worst possible picture of me and a caption that reads: ‘Have you seen me?’

Oh. My. God.

I look to the bottom of the page, and yep, there’s Sabrina’s number.

I can’t even begin to fathom the anguish I must have put her through all this time when I just up and disappeared. I never even got a message out to her.

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