Page 54 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

The only times I gain some bit of freedom from their presence is when I sneak off or must attend tutoring with Caedmon, the former of which consists of a lot of roundabout God talk.

The days pass into weeks and Kalix continues to disappear periodically without telling anyone where he goes or what he does. When he returns, he sometimes smells of blood and decay. Even Theos and Ruen seem to be unaware of his activities, but they both act as though it is normal for him.

Perhaps, it is.

Every day in the Academy reminds me of the invisible noose that continues to tighten around my throat, cutting off my air. Blood is in my lungs and it is what I now breathe.

I’ve managed to keep the book Caedmon had gifted away from the Darkhavens’ prying eyes. Most shockingly of all, from Ruen—who, since the meeting with his father, has taken to himself more so than ever before.

Why does it feel like the four of us are simply waiting for the start of a storm and there’s nothing more we can do to prepare? There must be something. There is always something.

“Kiera?”

I blink and glance up as Caedmon calls my name, sounding as if it’s not the first time. We are, once again, in the strange garden that is lit with divine power with a spread of a chessboard before us. The scent of floral blossoms surrounds us and invades my nostrils with each breath I take. I shake my head and refocus on the board.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “My turn?” I reach for a pawn, stopping only when a dark-skinned hand comes down on mine, halting the movement.

“Your mind is elsewhere,” Caedmon says.

I sit back, pulling my hand out from under his as I look up towards the lights glimmering from every surface of the ceiling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this place is coated in real sunlight and that the windows are true visions of what lies beyond the walls. But I do know better and I know that it is all an illusion—much like these ‘tutoring’ sessions with Caedmon.

Perhaps now is the perfect time to bring up the changes to his book. I contemplate that even as I sense Caedmon’s eyes boring holes into the side of my face.

“What is bothering you?” he asks after several moments of silence.

A heavier question, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard. He still hopes that I will accept his request to attempt to kill the most powerful being to exist within this realm. Kalix is keeping secrets and Ruen has pulled into himself. I’m confused and frustrated. The weight of all of their expectations as well as the building pressure within my own body now that the brimstone has been removed is slowly driving me to the brink of insanity, and I fear that when I fall over the edge there will be no coming back.

I don’t say any of that but instead, go back to something far simpler. “The book you gave me has changed again,” I admit.

I sense rather than see Caedmon shift forward. The light creak of the chair beneath him and the scrape of fabric on the stone table echo back to me. Thankfully, I manage to maintain a straight face and not wince at how loud it seems.

Maeryn informed me that it’s only natural for my senses to get stronger with time as my body is now acclimating to having full access to my abilities. That doesn’t make dealing with it any easier though.

“What has it shown you this time?” he inquires.

“Names,” I say, glancing in his direction. “Some are crossed out but others aren’t.”

Caedmon’s face doesn’t change as he absorbs that information. “Are they in any sort of order?” he asks.

“The ones that are crossed out are at the top,” I say. “And the ones that aren’t appear at the bottom.”

“Do you recognize any of them?”

I hesitate to answer him, but my hesitation, I realize a moment later, is answer enough. “I recognize a few, but they haven’t been crossed out yet.” Another beneath Malachi had appeared in recent days. Enid Duskhorn. Though I’m not entirely sure since I don’t know the girl’s surname, Enid is the name of the Mortal God Theos had recommended for advancement before the battles. She’d won and still lives, but her name appearing in the book has me on edge for some reason.

“What is the book’s new title?” Caedmon asks, disrupting my thoughts.

I swallow before answering. “To Those Who Have Been Stolen.” The only response from him comes in the form of a small twitch over his left eye. I narrow my gaze as he sits back. “What does that mean?” I mean the question to come out soft and curious. Instead, it comes out harsh and annoyed. I suppose trying to hide my frustration at this situation is not within my current skill set.

I find when there’s no reason to hide my personality any longer, I simply can’t. Caedmon knows all anyway. My past. My present. And a future he still refuses to divulge.

“I cannot say,” Caedmon says as he reaches for a tea cup set a few inches to the side of the chessboard.

“You cannot say or you will not?”

His elegant fingers still as they latch on to the cup’s fragile looking handle. Ebony eyes lift to meet mine. “You are angry.” Yet another statement.

I can’t help but bare my teeth at him. “You don’t say.”

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