Page 9 of Caelum

“Was that a joke?” Merry asked, nudging me in the side with her elbow. “Good for you, kid.” Then, to Damon, she inquired, “You going to let me in, or are we going to stand out here all day?”

The muscles in his arm bunched as he straightened up and stopped leaning into the doorway, saying, “Nicholas will want to see her.”

“Of course. I knew that. Not my first rodeo, dude,” she grumbled, grabbing my arm again and dragging me down a foyer that had me gaping at the myriad items in the space.

There were hundreds of chairs lining the walls, and above them were thousands of paintings that soared toward the ceiling, which was at least twenty feet above me and made of glass—another patchwork quilt of color that I wanted to see the sun shining through. Along the walls, there were more colors to be found in the dozens of paintings adorning them. There were images that belonged in nightmares, then others of handsome men and beautiful women who were obviously important to the Academy’s history.

We moved down another corridor that was intermittently decorated with clothes made of metal. They stood there like silent warriors, somehow different than the stone monsters on the edifice itself. A different kind of watcher. But, as I studied the metal suits, I wondered if people wore these once? Goodness, talk about uncomfortable.

I wasn’t sure if someone was inside the outfits, but they were scary as well as old. Some had horns and others had carvings engraved into the metal that made their chest plates look like dancing flames.

Merinda didn’t let me pause to discover the joys of each new room, instead she dragged me through more of them, tens of them, until we finally reached one that was paneled in a dark wood, had a large circular rug on the ground in a color that reminded me of cherries, and was topped with a table that had a vase of the most beautiful flowers adorning it.

I wanted to reach out to touch the petals, but Merry apparently didn’t have time for that. She headed toward the set of over wide double doors, rapped on it, and then headed inside without waiting for an invitation.

Back home, she’d have been slapped for just going in, but the man onthe other side of the desk didn’t appear agitated at her appearance. If anything, he just sighed and placed a thin box on the desk.

“I was in the middle of a call,” he groused.

“Nicholas, I want you to meet Eve.”

Merry cut me an expectant look, and unsure of what to do, I dipped down into a curtsey. She grabbed me and dragged me up again—she had a habit of doing that. I knew I’d have bruises on my arms later. “I didn’t mean to greet him like he was royalty,” she complained. “You really need to stop doing that, kiddo.”

“Oh.” I blinked at her. “What did you want me to do then?”

“Say hello?” She rolled her eyes.

Clearing my throat, I shot the older man a wary smile. “Hello.”

Merry grunted, but Nicholas cocked a brow at me, and I felt him scan my body. It wasn’t like Father Bryan’s stare, though, so I only stiffened up for a second. “What are you wearing?” he asked, surprising me with the question.

“They were all wearing that.” Merry’s tone was back to being grim. “It was as we expected.”

He sighed then pinched the bridge of his nose. “We were lucky to get the intel on her before it was too late.”

“She’s seventeen, Nick.”

“Shit.”

Why did they keep saying that like it was a bad thing?

I’d prayed for my eighteenth year for so long, and the way they made it sound, seventeen was the worst year imaginable.

Even though I wanted to ask, I didn’t. Interrupting my Elders was worthy of a slap, and I didn’t fancy being on the end of Merry’s true temper.

“She’s strong too.” Merry left me hovering in the doorway and headed to one of the two chairs in front of the desk. She slumped into it, then when I remained standing, shot me a glower. “Come on then. Sit down.”

I followed her impatient orders, perching on the edge of the seat and tucking one foot behind my other ankle. Resting my hands on my lap, I sat as straight as I could.

At home, I would have lowered my gaze also, but I was too curious about what was happening. The way I sat drew both Merry and Nicholas’s attention, making me wish I could sit like Merry—her back touched the armchair and she’d crossed her legs in a way that made her already short skirt ride up. I’d seen Nicholas’s eyes drop there too and wondered if the skirt was for her or for him.

Perhaps men in general.

How strange.

Damon had looked at Merry’s legs as well, whereas at the compound, we all wore long dresses that hid our more intimate selves from sight.

“She has to learn how to live in the real world in more ways than one,” Merinda told him sadly, as though the way I was sitting was something to pity. As though I wasn’t even in the room.

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