Demon Heart (The Darkworld Series Book 3) (6 page)

“It’s not for you to question our leaders.”

“Precisely the same mentality that got you totally fooled by a traitor right under your nose. If you’d actually had minds of your own enough to question, a bunch of people might still be alive.”

“We aren’t responsible for the actions of traitors!” David shouted, his voice hoarse and almost desperate.

“Excuse me,” said Claudia, “the testosterone is kind of choking me. Can’t we just call it quits and get the hell out of here?”

“Yes, you should leave.” David nodded, pulling himself upright in an attempt at dignity.

“Don’t you dare think about reporting me to your boss,” said Leo aggressively, as he stalked past.

The girl met my eyes in a stony glare. I looked back equally stonily.
Jesus. What’s with these people?

We walked out in silence. Leo didn’t take my hand or even turn back to make sure the rest of us were keeping up. My chest ached to see him like this. It was usually Howard who went out of his way to start fights; Leo had never snapped at anyone like that. Did he blame the entire Venantium for their failure to realise Jude was a traitor? As much as I disliked David, I’d hardly put the blame on him. He hadn’t been involved this time.

“For God’s sake,” came Leo’s voice from up ahead.

I caught up to see that the drizzle from earlier had turned into a raging storm. Within seconds of leaving the tunnels, the rain drenched us to the skin. We ducked into the Coach and Horses, where Leo proceeded to order what seemed an excessive amount of Jagerbombs.

“Might as well make a night of it,” he said to my questioning glance. “Let the bastards rot in their tunnels. We’re
living
.”

“You’ll be dying in the morning,” Cyrus said, but his brother ignored him.

I ached to ask Leo what was on his mind, but Claudia got there first.

“The hell’s up with you?” she said.

“Too many dickheads in the world,” he said, slamming a beer down on the table so foam overflowed everywhere.

I didn’t think that was it, but I felt awkward asking with the others there. Besides, a part of me was afraid he wouldn’t answer, or lie and say he was fine. If Leo didn’t want to talk about it, then I wasn’t about to push him.

Hell, I knew a thing or two about secrets.

Even though I was soaked, freezing, and tired, I stuck around until closing time to keep him company. I also wanted to get a closer look at that diary. Thankfully I’d had the presence of mind to slip it into the pocket of my handbag, which was waterproof―kind of a necessity in a place where the sun shone once a year.

By the time we left the pub, Leo could barely string a sentence together, so I knew it was no use questioning him now. The three of us had to guide him back to campus, and all the way up the hill, he leant on Cyrus, who bore it with a mutter of “You owe me for this, bro.” I thought Leo was going to stumble off to his room alone, but he turned and suddenly hugged me so tight it squeezed the breath out of my lungs, and kissed me hard.

The confusion went away, for a moment at least, and the voice in my head was, for now, silenced.

dreamed of the fire again that night, the Blackstone house burning. Again, I watched the girl throw herself into the flames and scream as her skin ignited. The demon screamed with her, a harsh, cold cry lost in the roaring of the fire.

Then the dream pulled me out of the house, and suddenly, I stood outside on the scorched grass, next to the fortune-teller. Clouds of billowing smoke poured from the tall windows before us. Sorrow was etched on her face as she watched the house burn.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, so quietly I barely heard her over the crackling flames. “I’m sorry you had to die.”

She turned to face me―and my heart plunged into my feet as she looked at me with violet demon eyes.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
Not her. No.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, but her voice was her own, not the demon’s.

Then she screamed, a high-pitched, inhuman cry. Darkness spread around her, forming winglike shapes extending from her shoulders. Her arms opened wide, and she cried out something unintelligible as the shadowy wings turned to flame and engulfed her.

I still felt the heat licking at my skin as I awoke to the siren-like bleep of my phone alarm. I rolled over, heart pounding, skin sticky with sweat.
Dreaming. Just a dream. Chill out.

Even after showering, I still itched all over, and the crackle of flames sounded in my head as I dressed and picked up my bag.

“Morning.” Alex yawned as I came out of my room. “You look like hell.”

“I’m entitled to. It’s too early for human beings to function,” I said, locking my door. Nine a.m. seminars were a bitch on a good day.

Sarah looked even worse than me. Her new job at the campus shop had once again put her on a late shift despite her protests.

“You,” said Alex, “need to tell them where to shove it next time they give you a late-night shift.”

“I’m fine,” said Sarah, bumping her head on the doorframe as she passed it. “Sleep is overrated anyway.”

“You’re as bad as Ash,” Alex told Sarah, glaring at me as though it were
my
fault.

“What?” I said innocently.

“You were sneaking around last night again. I heard you.”

“Sneaking around?” I said, with a feeble attempt at a laugh. “What is this,
Mission Impossible
? Leo and I went to the pub with GameSoc people last night, that’s all.”

Another rainstorm greeted us outside. I pulled up my hood and resigned myself to spending another lecture dripping water everywhere.

“Hmm. What do you even do on those socials, anyway?”

“Drink and talk about nerdy stuff,” I said.

“Y’know,” said Alex, “that does sound fun. Rex was telling me about it. He’s just joined up. I did wonder why he was looking for Sonic the Hedgehog costumes on eBay. He said it was for a social.”

Crap.
If Rex were a member, he’d know I never showed up for meetings. It looked as though I needed a new alibi. I supposed I could just say I was with Leo.

Still, the way Alex looked at me, I had a feeling she saw through my excuses. We’d lived together five months now, after all. I pictured Alex’s face if she saw me doing magic. She loved that kind of thing.

Demons, though? Not so much.

“Anyway, I’m thinking of joining the self-defence club,” said Alex, totally changing the subject.

“Um… why?” I said. “Aren’t you already in every society? I thought you loved archery.”

“Shit, their meetings clash, don’t they? Dammit. Maybe next year, then.”

“What do you need to defend yourself from?” said Sarah.

Alex shrugged. “Aliens. Weirdos like that Terrence. Did you know he’s been marked as missing?”

My heart skipped a beat. She didn’t think
I’d
had anything to do with that, did she? Only six―eight counting the fortune-teller and David―of us knew he’d been a power-obsessed sorcerer who’d tried to take my demon heart and use it himself. If I hadn’t been immune to possession, the demon he’d summoned would have killed me. As it was, it had turned on its summoner, and at one touch, Terrence had died.

I knew nothing about him, really, whether he’d had a family, nor how he’d become involved with illegal magic. He’d vanished from existence after that night, but I guessed that the Venantium would have had to come up with a cover story.

“That other guy disappeared a couple of weeks ago, too. It’s weird.”

“Who, that politics student?” said Sarah.

Jude,
I thought. He’d been in his final year here as well as working as a receptionist for the Venantium… but he was actually a murderous psycho. He’d fled in the chaos after the doppelganger’s death. It didn’t sit well with me, knowing he was still out there. He wanted me dead, too, since I was a human-demon.

“Yeah, it’s strange. Especially for a university this small. You never know, there might be a dark history buried beneath campus.” Alex gave me a ghoulish grin.

“If there is,” I said, not sure whether it was a joke, “then tell me in advance so I can plan my ambush.”

“Don’t you try that again,” said Alex. “You almost gave poor Sarah a heart attack.”

“Hey, you were the one screaming,” said Sarah. “You hid in Rex’s sleeping bag, if I remember rightly.”

“I did
not
!” Alex hit her with her bag, and the two ran shrieking across the quadrangle.

“Honestly,” I said, rolling my eyes when I caught them up at the building where we had our seminars.

“Hey, Miss Mature Student.” Alex pouted. “I’ll bet you haven’t done the reading.”

“Nah, she’ll have done it a week ago,” said Sarah.

“Two days,” I admitted.

“You give students a bad name,” said Alex. “When else are we going to get to be childish?” She hit Sarah with her bag again.

“Cut it out!”

“People are staring,” I said. Or, one person in particular. Berenice had stopped in the corridor to give me a snide look.

“Ash, did I ever tell you how middle-aged you sound?”

“Frequently.” I glared back at Berenice, who stalked off, to my relief.
Don’t be stupid
―
she wouldn’t say anything in front of my friends.
Would she? “Anyway. I’ll meet you guys out here in an hour, right?”

“Sure thing.”

I was far from in the mood for an intelligent discussion of Victorian poetry, with Leo’s behaviour last night still weighing on my mind. I had the feeling he wouldn’t be making it to any classes today.

After my seminar, Alex, Sarah, and I headed to the library to do some research for our essays. I was surprised to see Cyrus there, up to his neck in books. I’d forgotten his final deadlines were approaching soon. Right now, he was surrounded by a mountain of complex-looking psychology volumes. Third year looked like a barrel of laughs.

Still, this was what I’d signed up for when I came to university. Not narrow brushes with death. Not demons.

Not freaky anonymous messages.

Speaking of texts, I decided to send Leo one around midday, figuring that was an acceptable time:
How r u?

Fucked
, came the reply.

Figures.

And that was all I heard from him all day. After several hours in the library, Alex, Sarah, and I returned to the flat. The other two swiftly disappeared again―the former to Rex’s flat, the latter to her shift at work. I logged into my laptop and tried to find something to occupy me that wasn’t work related. I’d been experimenting with blogging lately, as it seemed a good way to get some writing experience outside of my course. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do after I graduated, but I’d considered journalism, or maybe reviewing books.

That would do. I opened Word and started typing a review of a book I’d read recently.

Needing to check something, I reached up towards my bookshelf and another book fell onto the desk. It was the journal I’d found in the library. Melivia Blackstone’s diary. I picked it up carefully; the binding was fragile and looked as though it could crumble at a touch. The edges of the pages were slightly darker, as though… they’d been singed.

A shiver ran through me. I opened the book, flipping through page after page of cramped, intricate handwriting, the review forgotten.
This might take a while,
I thought, turning back to the first page.