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⊹ Book 1 of the Aldergrove Duology ⊹
After being told he has only six months left to live, Clementine decides to track down his sister's murderers, leading him to Aldergrove Academy, a place...
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Shimmering, golden eyes. That was all Clementine could remember of his attacker's face—all he could remember of the moment everything he desired to do might have come to an end. He looked around the art studio, hiding behind his blank canvas. He searched for a student with those eyes, white hair, and a navy turtleneck. But no one fit the picture.
He massaged his bruised neck with his hand, resting his other arm on his knee. Last night, he'd deduced that he should find a crowd in order to avoid suspicion, and now, he thought he should do so for safety, too. He had come here assured that he was the hunter, but it was only his second day and someone had tried to take his life already. It would happen again, and next time, he might not get so lucky. He was strong and confident, but he knew there were students here that were stronger, and he couldn't afford to be naïve.
"Having trouble, Mr Darlington?" came Professor McMillan's drawling voice.
Clementine looked up at the lanky professor, who was standing beside him, glowering down at his blank canvas.
"I'm going to assume you've spent the last hour envisioning your piece, but I'd suggest you make a start," he said, placing his hand on Clementine's shoulder. "Pick up your brush."
He picked up his paintbrush and set his eyes on the clothesless model posing in the middle of the class with a stag skull on her face and that of a human in her hand. Then, as McMillan sleeked around the class once more, Clementine sighed and got to work.
With each stroke of his brush, however, he sunk deeper into his thoughts. His attacker was smart enough not to get caught and to remove any suspicion from himself, too. He'd kissed Clementine and made it look like that was what had been going on the whole time. The kids that had found them had been so disgusted by what they'd seen that they hadn't suspected a thing. They'd had no idea they'd just stopped an attempted murder.
Clementine rolled his eyes, glancing at the model in the centre of the class. He needed to focus on creating cover. But who was he going to try to get close to? Elliot? No. Clementine would rather walk around and risk his life than pretend to be that guy's friend. And not only did he have to consider his ability to be around someone intolerable for very long, but he also had to take into account what these kids were. Seelie, wolf walker, Ravenblood; they were all different. If Clementine chose the wrong person to approach, he might be setting himself up for a re-enactment of the bathroom stall.
There were only seventeen students in this class. They were hidden behind their canvases, and the glances he caught of their faces when they looked at the model weren't enough for him to try and work out what they were. He'd have to wait until lunch.
