“No. We have to stay in public places,” I whispered, leading her down the hallway away from Mr. Malhotra’s open door, near the stairway. It was still close enough that one good scream would send teachers and students pouring out of the classrooms.
“Because of that psycho monster chick, right?” Travis spoke quietly.
I nodded, and Travis looked down at his scuffed brown uniform shoes—the shoes he was destined to wear until the time his natural life would have ended.
“Travis, I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” I said, my voice hoarse with regret.
“It’s not your fault.” He shrugged weakly, and I slumped against a locker at the end of the hall, guilty. “I’m just glad one of us escaped.”
Then Travis’s blue eyes popped open wide, spinning around the hallway in panic. “Is she here? Blaise?”
“She’s dead. She can’t hurt you anymore. I—I killed her,” I admitted in a shaky voice.
“Good. Because I would have messed her up,” Travis said with false bravado, cracking his neck from side to side. I steeled myself for what I had to say, my fingers clutching the fabric of my plaid uniform skirt so tightly, I thought it might tear.
“She was there for me, Travis. It’s my fault.” I braced for some kind of verbal assault, since a physical one was out of the question. But instead, Travis gave me a rueful smile.
“Like I said, it’s not your fault. We’re cool. She’s the one who kill—who put me here,” he said, unable to utter the words. Dottie gently squeezed his shoulder, earning a grateful look from him and an audible gasp from me.
“What?” Dottie asked, then followed my eyes to where her hand was and gave me a knowing smile. Of course Dottie can touch him. They’re on the same side now.
“Dottie, I have so much to tell you. I even wrote it all down in a note so you could read it over my shoulder in class.”
“I was with Travis all morning, trying to convince him to come over to your side.” Dottie gave Travis another sympathetic shoulder squeeze, but he just continued to stare at the floor, his shoe tracing patterns in the cracked checkered floor.
“Wait until you hear what I found out about your side. Blaise, and others like her, came from the Dark World,” I revealed in a hushed voice. Dottie’s pink-painted mouth dropped open in surprise. Travis looked paler—if such a thing were possible.
“What else did you find out?” Dottie asked, eagerly reaching for my arm, then pulling back before her fingers could pass through my skin and give us both chills.
I had only begun telling Dottie about the Dark World and demonslayers when Travis lifted his head with a low, pained moan. He wasn’t just pale—he was transparent, the marked-up beige walls of the hallway visible through his form. Dottie began to waver, too. She flashed me a panicked look, her brown eyes glistening with terror before she vanished.
The last time Dottie had disappeared, it was because a demon was near. So I screamed, feeling my voice painfully rip through my throat as I unleashed my loudest, shrillest wail—the kind of screech that would be heard at the end of the hallway, and on another floor. In my panic, I thought I could even see it leave my mouth, wispy white curls of smoke that spun through the air, twisting with the ferocity of my shriek even though it wasn’t even cold in the hallway.
But no sound came out. My scream should have echoed down the empty corridor, bouncing off the dull metal lockers and sending teachers and students streaming into the hallway. Instead, the hallway remained empty—so I screamed a second time, so forcefully I could taste blood on my tongue, but again the scream floated through the air, until it swirled in a tight spiral, coiling in the outstretched hand held in front of me. Aiden’s hand.
“Neat party trick, isn’t it?” Aiden asked, closing his fist around the smoke and shoving it in the pocket of his navy pants. “A particular talent of mine. I have to say, it comes in so handy sometimes!” he added with a conspiratorial wink, as if we were old friends.
If I couldn’t scream, I could run. Which I did. I made it about ten feet before I collided with Della, who grabbed my arm.
“We don’t have much time. I tried to slow him down, but he’s coming,” Della growled, taking her hand off her slashed-open face and scowling at the powderlike blood staining her palm—an injury I had no doubt Logan had given her.
I reached over my shoulder for my sword, but Aiden grabbed me from behind, pulling me back into the stairway at the end of the hall. I tried to scream, tried to yell—but even my grunts were silent.
“She’s feisty for a little brat,” Della sniffed, watching me struggle against Aiden, who wrapped his arms around my torso. I clawed at his skin, my nails breaking off in his forearm as he dragged me up the stairs, the loud banging of my heels against concrete echoing in the stairwell. I flailed in his arms, hoping to make enough noise to get someone’s attention. Once they got me alone, I’d be gone.
Reaching over my shoulder, I grabbed the handle of the sword, which materialized instantly. I yanked it down over my shoulder as hard as I could, sending the broad side of the long sword flying upward into Aiden’s chin with a forceful smack.
He cried in pain, releasing me as he reached up to cradle his face. I stumbled forward, tumbling down the few steps Aiden had hauled me up. I landed hard on my right side, ignoring the agony in my shoulder as I scrambled to my feet, lurching for the staircase door.
“Della, stop her,” Aiden grunted, clutching his sore chin. Della caught up with me as I flung the door open. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back, shoving me against the wall as the door slammed closed. I swung for her face, but Aiden caught my hand and grabbed my other wrist. He held both of my hands tightly behind my back as Della gripped my chin and stared into my eyes.
“Listen to me,” Della began in a low, commanding voice, wrapping my hair around her fist and pulling down, so I was forced to look into her eyes. “You want to come with Aiden and me. It’s so much better with us. So peaceful.
“Look at me!” she ordered, and something in my brain yelled—screamed—at me to keep my eyes shut. I felt her thumbs pressing on my eyes, pulling my eyelids up as I thrashed against Aiden’s grip, my throat raw from my silent screams. I struggled to turn away, to tune her out—but those hypnotic eyes that seemed so cold earlier now looked warm. Inviting. Safe.
“Stop fighting it, Paige. You don’t remember anything—just us. We are what you want.” The words swirled around me like a soft blanket, like fleece and down wrapping me in warmth on a cold day. I felt like I was falling—but when I saw the depths of her deep black eyes, I felt stable again. She was right. Della was always right.
“Give Paige her voice back. She needs to speak her assent.”
Suddenly, I could talk again. Della made Aiden give me my voice back. And there was only one word I wanted to say.
“Yes.” Agreeing to go with her was almost nourishing.
The pain in my wrists disappeared as whatever was holding them immobile released me, and I happily followed Aiden and Della up the staircase.
Chapter 7
“HURRY UP,” DELLA ordered, pacing the floor of a classroom that faintly smelled of sweet smoke. I sat on the tall stool where Della had told me to sit, swinging my legs as I studied the large beige room. It seemed familiar to me. Foamy, black noise-proofing strips were bolted to the walls, and the chalkboard was dotted with the simple three-note scale of “Hot Cross Buns” and other childhood rhymes. The melody echoed weakly in my head as I peered out the door window at the classroom across the hall. It was blocked off with yellow tape, the walls outlining the door blackened with soot. Something had happened there. I couldn’t really recall what, but I knew it was important. Significant. I vaguely remembered someone screaming....