Page 37 of Shadow Caster
The corridors were empty on the way back to the nightblood and moonkissed wing. It looked like festivities had been cut short. Everyone probably knew about my mark now. News spread like chocolate spread on hot crumpets in this place. And news about the criminal was a gossip mill staple. I’d kept a low profile and refused to feed it the past few weeks, but now my name would be on everyone’s lips as they speculated over why I had the mark.
I’d just gone from criminal to freak.
I turned the corner onto my floor and slammed into a wide chest. My palms came up to brace against taut muscle.
A hand shot out to steady me. “Indie?”
I looked up into Harmon’s perpetual five o’clock shadow and the concerned face beneath. “That’s me.”
“What happened?” he asked.
I glanced down at the bulging bag in his hand.
He followed my gaze. “All shadow marked have been instructed to move into the shadow wing.” There was a question in his cocoa eyes.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Me too.”
He blew out a breath. “So, it’s real? The mark?”
“What’s real?” Thomas appeared behind Harmon. “Indie, shit. The mark is legit?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve got to pack and … move.”
Thomas looked torn for a moment. “Do you want us to wait for you?”
Was Thomas being nice to me? I narrowed my eyes. “Did you just offer to do something for me that didn’t involve mockery or humiliation?”
Harmon and Thomas exchanged an uncomfortable look.
I guess now wasn’t the time to call them out on all the shitty stuff said to me over the last two months.
I threw up my hands. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Of course you are.”
I looked over my shoulder to see Oberon descending on me, wrath blazing in his eyes.
“You took it. You took my mark.” He grabbed my shoulder, fingers digging into my flesh, and swung me round to face him. “Give it back.”
He lunged for the neck of my top but didn’t make it because Harmon’s fist was kissing his face. Oberon stumbled back, clutching his nose.
“Back off, man.” Thomas planted himself between Harmon and Oberon. “Trust me, you do not want to piss Harmon off.”
Harmon was positively vibrating with rage, but my attention was fixed on Oberon. Cool, calm, collected Oberon who had in the space of a few hours turned into a raging, paranoid lunatic.
He met my gaze, and the crazy sheen in his eyes ebbed. His shoulders slumped. “It’s over,” he said. “I failed.” He walked away without another word.
Thomas turned to me. “Way to take things personally.”
“He’s an idiot,” Harmon said. “He actually wants this shit.” He made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.
“Are you okay?” Thomas asked me, and yes, that was genuine concern on his slender face.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He blinked sharply in surprise and then had the grace to look sheepish. “Because things are different now. We’re in this together, and the rest of the world … what they think … It doesn’t matter.”
“It shouldn’t have mattered in the first place. Funny how it takes a death mark for you to decide to start thinking for yourself.” He ducked his head, and my anger melted. “Forget it. Look, I’ll see you in a bit. I need to … to say goodbye to Minnie.” My throat tightened.
