Page 102 of A Dusk Of Stars

I frown at him. “Are you actually trying to make me feel stupid for giving my best to stop this psycho from waking up?”

He just looks at me for a second, teeth gritting. Then he smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just saying it’s all you think about these days.”

I blink at him.

Then the old man's eyes flash before my face. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm getting in his face, my chest heaving and my jaw clenching. “What should I be thinking about, huh?”

His eyebrows shoot up and he moves to touch me, but I take a step back, my jaw clenching so hard, it hurts. “Let’s see, on one hand, there’s my outfit for the Grand Ball, on the other…” I fail to stop myself from raising my voice, my face flushing and my nails digging into my palms, “there's the fact that I got actual people killed and will probably end up somehow doing it all over again because I'm areckless… fucking… idiot.”

By the time I'm done, I'm forcing myself to inhale deeply, all the while gritting my teeth in an effort not to lose my shitcompletely. I barely register the look of surprise on his face before he comes to look me in the eye with this super intense look on his face. “You shouldn't talk to yourself that way,” he says under breath.

“Really? Well, that was me being kind,” I say forcefully as I take a step back and fold my arms. “Because everything I just said is true, so you need to stop making me out to be a fool simply for trying to fix my mistakes and make sure I don't repeat them.”

I watch him grit his teeth, then get in my face, smoothing out his features. “Spending all your waking hours stressing about it won’t get you anywhere.”

I just stare at him for a second. I can’t believe this shit. It’s people’s lives he’s willing to gamble with here.

“You know what?” I finally say. “I don’t have time for…” I make a face. “This.” And I start straight for the door. “I’m going back to the Library.”

There's a moment of silence before he snaps, “Fine, I couldn’t care less.”

I crane my neck to throw daggers at him. “Yeah, it’s inthatdepartment that you seem the most reliable.”

I push through the door and slam it behind me.

***

I’m lying on my bed, my feet on the wall and my eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling, trying to figure out how to make the ritual work in almost total silence.

My brain is shit though. I’m not letting myself even think about anything personal, but it doesn’t help. I can barely keep all the information on the surface of my mind, let alone make any connections or draw conclusions.

Maybe I should go to bed and try again tomorrow.

When I last checked my watch, it was 23:53. Normally, at this time, I’m already under the covers or at least preparing to get there.

Tonight, the very thought of doing what I normally do makes this defiance burn a hole through my stomach.

Other than that, I barely feel a thing. So I just keep lying there, imagining the symbols and trying to see them come to life somehow.

The next time I glance at my watch, it’s 00:01.

I glance at my phone and see that I have no new texts, even though the light in my room is still on.

What I want to do is grab my phone and throw it at the wall, but I just keep lying there. I pull my knees up and I put my upper arm over my face, this noise filling my ears — the noise of silence and solitude and despair.

The thought is laughable to say the least. That it’smewho’s supposed to protect everyone ever from some guy who sounds like the incarnation of both power and evil.

The old man, dead.

Raven, dead.

Alaric, dead.

I choose not to think about anyone else.

I feel the wet glide of tears down my cheeks, but they bring no relief. Without a conscious decision, I imagine the patterns of my Aurora tattoos and start drawing them with my finger, on my palms, my forearms, my chest.

It’s at that moment that the sound of footfalls drifts up to me, making my ears prick up.

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