Page 7 of Buried Secret 295

“Perhaps we should stay on point.” The Black Rose man looks unimpressed. I shoot him an innocent look before shrugging my shoulders.

“Indeed. I don’t like the accusation.” She shakes her head and clears her throat. The woman’s voice pulls me from his gaze.

The man snorts and stifles a laugh before shaking his head. “She has a certain charm about her, that’s for sure.”

“Name, please.” She pulls out her clipboard and looks through some pages as if to familiarize herself with them. The woman has my information on those documents. She wants to hear me say the words. Her eyes narrow on me, and she taps her pen against the clipboard.

My lips thin while my brain tries to think of the name I’m not allowed to speak of—the name I haven’t spoken in so long that it feels like cobwebs in the corners of my brain. There is pressure, and I could pull it if I tried. The only name I am supposed to use slips through my lips. “295.”

She clicks her pen, and her lips form into a thin line while her eyes narrow at me. “There are other places I need to be after this. I don’t need you wasting my and other important people’stime by waiting for an answer I need from you. This whole…” She waves her hand over me before flickering her hand away. “…victim thing you got going. While it might work for most, I need you to help me out here.”

Thoughts of me throwing her out the window cross my mind, and I can feel my shadows flickering right below the surface. They are ready for the word and would happily help me. I know the Black Rose man said the name earlier, yet it still feels stuck under layers of cotton in my mind. I continue to push through the layers of my mind, trying to get my mouth and brain to get on the same team. “Salem.” My voice is low, and the word comes out choppy, yet pride fills my chest.

“Yes, Salem Tempest, according to records from the facility. Do you recall how you got to the facility? Were you taken when you ran away?” She jots notes down before looking back up at me. “How long did you live on the streets?”

My head shakes. Is that the lie he told in order to explain my disappearance? My heart sinks as I realize how few people that might miss me. How easy it was for him to explain away my disappearance. My heart sinks, yet I feel a small spark of fire run through my head. Ember… There is a memory there, but it sinks away. I can’t focus on that, so I put a pin in it. “No. That’s what happened. I didn’t run away. He dropped me off, disposed of me like I was trash.” I feel my anger grow, and the lights flicker—the cheap fluorescent light flickers and clicks, trapped in their glass casings.

“That’s a serious accusation. Are you accusing Marcus Tempest of giving you to the Facility? Are you aware that a human faction of the extremist runs it? No supernatural would associate with the likes of them.” She scoffs like she doesn’t believe it. ‘Clearly, she is a mental case, just like he warned about.’Her voice flickers in my brain even though her lips don’t move. I can feel it, along with her hatred and disgust of me.

My shadows don’t wait for permission as they move out of me. The room goes dark, and the cold creeps back in. Her eyes change from confident to fearful. She realizes she is no longer in control. We are the ones in charge, my shadow and I. I feel my shadows laugh hauntingly as they latch onto her fear. Her eyes dart around the room, and her mouth opens into a scream, yet no sound leaves. I can’t describe how powerful I feel; it seems to fuel me. Every ounce of fear she feels has my smile extending. Every inch tastes delicious. She folds into herself, curling her body into a small ball, rocking back and forth. I can’t find it in myself to feel bad as I think about her disgust for those rescued. She needs to learn a lesson.

Black Rose steps in front of her, blocking my concentration. “Lydia!” He yells, distracting me further. “Wait outside the room, please.” She doesn’t answer, she only squeaks. “Now!” He snaps. The click-clack of her heels darts out of the room.

I feel my eyes go dark as my voice deepens, and I smile a toothy grin at him. “I was only playing.” My shadows laugh through my mouth before absorbing back inside. The shadows and I are going to be friends.

“Not funny.” He rolls his eyes at me, and he cracks a small smile.

I give him a flat look and roll my eyes. “It was a little funny.” I hold my thumb and forefinger outstretched.

“Name is Simon Garnet.” His jaw ticks before he shakes his head, snaps his fingers, and points at me with his right hand. Simon waggles his finger at me like you would a naughty child. “You seriously have got to get control of that. I need time, and breaking you out isn’t on my to-do list.” He paces around the room, pausing momentarily as he seems to think. “Seriously! 12 hours. Focus on being not you for 12 hours! Legally, they can hold you for at least that length of time. Partly because your blood work has come back strangely.” I let out a small laugh atthat. He pauses and looks at me strangely. “Before I go, tell me what happened. With Marcus?”

He sits on the bed, and I can hear his heartbeat even though he is at the foot of the bed. I lick my lips, unable to stop from inhaling. “What do you think happened?” I growl, needing him to get away from me. This is the closest he has been to me, and I want to eat him. “You need to get away from me.”

He frowns at me before shaking his head. “Seriously? This is such a shitty hospital!” He throws his head back. “You need to feed.” He groans and looks at me like I am the bane of his existence. Simon stands, pulling off his suit coat before rolling his sleeve and thrusting his wrist at me.

My mouth waters, but I still shake my head. I deny what I want because I don’t trust myself, and I’ve always been kept on a tight leash. “I don’t know what I am doing.” My gums ache, and I feel my teeth sharpen, yet I don’t draw attention to them. I want to curl my lips around them. Their presence is an odd feeling in my mouth.

He closes his eyes, and I can feel his irritation from there. “Just bite down and, when you finish, seal the wound with your tongue. I will tell you when to stop.”

I run my tongue over my teeth and feel them all come into little points. It is like vampire teeth, but not since they seem to be little razor points on each of my teeth. My hand grabs him by the elbow, and I run my hand down to his wrist before bringing it to my mouth. I bite down on his wrist and hear him suck in a breath of air. My eyes close, and they roll back in my head at the rich flavor of his blood when it hits my tongue. Has anything ever tasted this delicious? I swallow the blood down my throat and continue to drink. He praises me and strokes the back of my head while doing so. “Good girl.” Oh, I like that. With encouragement, I continue to drink, never wanting to stop. “Salem, it’s time to stop.” I let out a slight growl in protest. He iscalm, and his words soothe me. “We will let you feed again. You need to lick the wound closed.”

I pull his wrist back and lick the two sets of crescent-shaped teeth marks. His skin around them starts to close and knit back together. I give it one last lick to wipe any remaining blood away. When I pull back and look at him, I know I should feel some embarrassment, but I feel stronger—calmer. I clear my throat, “thank you.” We both stare at each other for a moment. The surrounding air seems heavy, but I owe him an explanation. “My shadows happened. He told her I couldn’t be his child, that he would not have a bastard child living under his roof.”

“Yeah, your magic isn’t that of Marcus. Your shadows didn’t come from him.” The man squeezes my hand, and I slightly like it, but it feels foreign. His eyes widen as he pulls his hand back, as if he didn’t mean for that to happen.

“What happens next?” I let my thoughts wander out loud. The unknown feels terrifying. This isn’t how I saw my freedom going. Yet here I am, looking at someone willing to help me, and all I can wonder about is what’s in it for him. I have little choice but to hope somehow he comes through for me.

“Sleep for 12 hours. Watch a TV show. Don’t engage, taunt, or use powers. Nothing.” He nods his head like he just handed me solid advice. “I will be back as soon as I can,” Simon stands and mutters under his breath. He grabs his coat, folds it over his forearm, and opens the door. “Probably sooner. Fuck.”

Chapter six

I pull into mytownhome’s driveway on the Black Rose Academy campus. My eyes are tired from the paperwork I had to go through because of Salem’s antics. There must be some truth to her words regarding Marcus. Lydia kept a careful eye on me as I filled out paperwork with vague and non-slant answers to my report that would soon be in his hands. I was trying to downplay all the damage that was Salem. This Academy wants her, and it’s my duty to make that happen. As I turn off the engine, I lean back into my seat. My hands go to the car’s steering wheel and give it a tight squeeze, only letting go when I hear my knuckles crack. “Fuck!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

There are no other teachers or faculty here yet—only Dean Campbell and myself. I have only seen him because of this SOS from the school. When I told Salem it wasn’t something to take lightly, I meant it. The Academy’s magic is alive. It can and willreject people based on their magic and skill levels. It has only requested a handful of students over the years, mainly because they were born to non magical parents: recessive genes. The occasional adoption and scandal also happened along the way. It made her story more believable because the Academy wouldn’t have sent anyone if she had a family that would get her here.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the odds were high that Marcus would arrange for an accident to occur. It wouldn’t be that hard, either. The anti-fae Prisons would do a number on anyone, so it’s no wonder she has issues. It wouldn’t be hard to have a number of accidents occur without anyone batting an eye. Thinking about that makes my anxiety about the situation rise. Her odds of getting through the night without incident aren’t very high. She is a loose cannon; I’ve seen it firsthand. My hand touches the sensitive area on my neck and even my fingertips on the delicate flesh make me wince from where her shadows wrapped around me like a boa constrictor. I throw my head against the back of my car headrest and question what I am supposed to do—the oath I have taken to the Academy replays on a loop in my mind.

This whole thing was supposed to be easy—in and out. I was supposed to go in and give the girl the brochure, tell her how special she is, and change her life. I took this oath two years ago when I pledged to become a professor. Now, I am stepping into a gray area and don’t know how to do this.

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