CHAPTER FOUR–The Shape of a Lie....
I locked the door.
Then I checked it.
Then I checked it again.
My back slid down the wood until I was sitting on the cold floor, knees pulled to my chest, breath coming too fast and too shallow. The room smelled like laundry detergent and dust and something else I couldn't place something sharp, almost electric.
Found you.
The whisper replayed in my head, soft and intimate, like it had been spoken directly into my skull instead of heard with my ears.
"No," I whispered. "You didn't."
My shadow lay flat against the floor in front of me, perfectly still. I stared at it, half-expecting it to rise again, to peel itself away and reveal teeth or claws or something worse.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, the panic ebbed, leaving behind a dull ache in my chest. I forced myself to stand, to move, to act like a person who still believed in normal explanations.
Stress. Hallucination. Adrenaline.
I repeated the words like a prayer.
I showered with the bathroom door open, jumped at every sound in the hallway, and nearly screamed when Mila finally came in, tossing her bag onto her bed like it was any other night.
"Why are you sitting in the dark like a horror movie extra?" she asked, flipping on the light.
I squinted. "You knock now?"
She frowned. "I did. Twice."
That sent a fresh ripple of unease through me.
"You good?" she asked again, quieter this time.
I nodded. "Just tired."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Mila had a talent for knowing when questions would only make things worse.
Later, when she was asleep and the dorm had fallen into its late-night hush, I lay awake listening to the building breathe. Pipes creaked. Someone laughed down the hall. A door slammed.
Normal sounds.
Except my heart refused to believe them.
Sometime after midnight, my phone buzzed.
I flinched so hard I nearly dropped it.
Unknown Number:
You should not have gone into the restricted wing.
My fingers went cold.
Me:
Who is this?
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Unknown Number:
Someone who locked that door for a reason.
I sat up slowly.
Me:
You let me in.
A pause.
Then:
Yes.
I swallowed. Seraphina.
Me:
Why?
This time, the delay was longer.
Because the door responds to blood before it responds to permission.
My pulse roared in my ears.
Me:
What does that mean?
The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
It means the lie you've been living is thinning.
I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.
Me:
Tell me the truth.
Three dots blinked.
Not yet.
Anger flared, hot and sharp. My hands shook as I typed.
Me:
Everyone keeps saying that.
The reply came immediately.
Because the truth is not passive, Aera. Once spoken, it does not leave you alone.
My phone buzzed again before I could respond.
And you are being watched more closely than you realize.
I threw the phone onto my bed like it had burned me.
Sleep didn't come after that.
---
The next day, Blackridge wore its normal face too well.
Sunlight filtered through tall windows. Students complained about assignments. Professors lectured like the world hadn't tilted off its axis. I moved through it all like a ghost, present but detached.
I felt different.
Not stronger. Not special.
Just… off.
Like my body was a badly tailored suit.
Between classes, I stopped at a bathroom mirror and studied my reflection. Same dark eyes. Same tired face. Same faint scar on my chin from falling off my bike at ten.
Human.
Still, when I lifted my hand, I hesitated before touching the glass, half-expecting my reflection to move on its own.
It didn't.
"Get it together," I muttered.
When I stepped back into the hallway, I nearly collided with someone solid and warm.
"Easy," a voice said.
Caelen's hands hovered near my arms, not quite touching. His eyes searched my face, sharp and focused.
"You look worse than yesterday," he added.
"I could say the same."
He huffed a quiet laugh, then sobered. "Did anything happen last night?"
I hesitated.
"Define anything."
His jaw tightened. "That's not an answer."
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Someone whispered my name."
Every trace of humor vanished from his face.
"Did you see anyone?"
"No."
"Smell anything strange?"
I frowned. "Like metal. And smoke."
He swore under his breath.
"That's bad, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Care to explain why?"
He glanced around, then gestured with his head. "Walk."
We moved through the hall side by side, pretending to be two normal students on their way to class. No one paid us any attention.
"They shouldn't have noticed you this fast," Caelen said quietly. "You were supposed to have more time."
"Time for what?"
"For your blood to stay quiet."
My steps faltered. "My blood?"
He stopped walking.
I turned to face him. "You don't get to say things like that and keep going."
For a moment, he looked torn. Then he exhaled slowly, like he was making a decision he'd been avoiding.
"There are rules," he said. "Old ones. About what can exist and what can't."
"I'm guessing I break them."
"Yes."
My throat tightened. "How badly?"
Caelen met my eyes. "Enough that if the Covenant decides you're real, they'll erase you."
The word hit harder than I expected.
Erase.
Not kill. Not punish.
Erase.
"As in… death?" I asked.
"As in no record you were ever here."
A cold settled deep in my bones.
"And Lucien?" I asked. "Where does he fit into this?"
Caelen's lips pressed into a thin line. "Vampires love exceptions. They think they can own them."
"And you?" I asked quietly. "What do you want?"
His gaze softened, conflicted. "I want you alive."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," he admitted. "It isn't."
A bell rang, loud and sudden. Students surged around us, breaking the moment.
"We can't talk here," Caelen said. "Meet me tonight."
"Where?"
"The old observatory," he replied. "After dark."
"That sounds like the beginning of a murder story."
"Trust me," he said. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have lasted yesterday."
I didn't know whether to be reassured or terrified.
---
The observatory sat at the edge of campus, abandoned and half forgotten. Most students thought it was closed due to structural damage. The truth, I was learning, was usually less innocent.
The path up the hill was poorly lit. My shadow stretched long and restless ahead of me, shifting when I wasn't.
I found Caelen already there, standing near the cracked dome, hands in his pockets.
"You came," he said.
"I want answers."
He nodded. "Fair."
Before he could say more, slow footsteps crunched behind me.
I spun.
Lucien emerged from the darkness, coat immaculate, smile in place.
"I do hope I'm not late," he said pleasantly.
My heart sank. "You followed me."
"Of course," he replied. "Did you think you were invisible?"
Caelen stepped forward, shoulders tense. "This doesn't concern you."
Lucien laughed softly. "On the contrary. It concerns me very much."
He looked at me, eyes gleaming. "Do you know what you are yet?"
"No," I said.
"Pity."
He moved closer, and the air seemed to thicken with him.
"You are a contradiction," Lucien continued. "A convergence. Something that should not have survived gestation, let alone adolescence."
Caelen growled low and dangerous.
Lucien didn't even glance at him. "Your blood carries echoes. Wolf. Witch. And something older still."
My vision swam. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Lucien asked gently. "Or simply inconvenient?"
I backed away, my heel hitting stone.
"Enough," Caelen snapped. "You don't get to dissect her like this."
Lucien smiled. "You don't get to hide her."
The ground beneath my feet vibrated.
I gasped.
The observatory lights flickered, then shattered, plunging us into darkness broken only by moonlight.
Something moved beneath the earth.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
A deep, resonant sound rolled through the hill, like a breath drawn after centuries of silence.
Lucien's smile faded.
Caelen went very still.
I clutched my chest as something inside me answered the sound sharp, aching, awake.
Far below Blackridge, something ancient recognized my heartbeat.
And this time, it didn't whisper.
It called.
---