Of Life and Death: [A Dark Academia Paranormal Romance]

Chapter 21

The woman blows her nose noisily, discarding the soiled paper towel only to reclaim another one, dabbing at her eyes. "She was loved by all."

There are a few dutiful nods from the students.

Our professor continues. "Her death was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Faerin Campbell was a model student, excellent in her academic pursuits and unbeatable in the fields."

She picks the bright yellow basket we've all been eyeing curiously off the desk. "The school has decided to host an exercise. In this basket are folded papers containing the names of your potential partners. I want you to open up to yourselves about loss. You are to do a presentation on what it means to you through whatever form of expression you choose." She hands it to the first student. "Please send this around."

The yellow basket makes its way around the class. When it is passed to me, I hold it awkwardly.

Tentatively, I put my hand in, riffling through it to grab a paper. I send it onward, watching from the corner of my eyes as it gets to Rylan. Our conversation from last night flits in.

Another girl is sat next to him. She looks just like the girl Sabrina. But where the other girl always had her shirt buttoned nearly up to her throat, this one has more than a few buttons loose. The outline of her pink bra is visible. Something hot spreads around my stomach.

She claps her hands, bending over Rylan's arm to get a peek at his paper. I bring my attention back to the piece in my hands. Carefully I unfold it. The name written there has my breath stopping.

Ezra Miller.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the door pushes open. And I see him.

He wears an oversized hoodie but that does nothing to hide the broad width of his shoulders. Slanted amber eyes stand out against smooth, dark skin, tight cornrows offsetting a patrician nose, a pair of high cheekbones and full lips.

I don't think I've ever seen someone so... Bewitching.

The professor's gaze softness when it lands on him. "Mr Miller," she calls. "I was just talking to the class about Faerin. I'd love it if you shared a few words about her. I... I know you both were close."

He pauses at the entrance. He's almost as tall as the door. Cool eyes fix on the professor. "No." A long pause. "I'm not going to pretend like the school has nothing to do with her death."

Murmurs roll through the room instantly.

Judging from the gazes that shoot to him, I can tell they'd all had similar thoughts--but were never going to air them. And certainly not in front of a staff of the school.

"Mr Miller," the professor stutters. "I am aware you're grieving and it is only normal to want to lay blame for her death, but I can assure you, you're barking at the wrong tree."

He says nothing, walking over to his seat. Setting his bag down, he puts his head on the table. He remains like that for the rest of the class.

When the bell rings and students start to pour out, I head over to his table. Just then, he lifts his head, grabbing his bag off the floor.

"Wait!"

More than a few people stop to look at me. My face heats. Feigning disinterest, I breeze over to him, plopping down on the seat next to his. "Hi, I'm Emma--"

He takes in my casual wear. His face darkens. "You some journalist?"

"No, no. I'm a student, like you, I haven't gotten my uniform yet. I'm your partner. For the exercise."

A brow quirks up. "You some athlete?"

I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. But I can't resist saying, "Yeah. I do high jumps when I put on my jeans."

Surprise colours his expression before he throws his head back and laughs. Even the sound is musical. I find myself smiling, mirroring his good humor. When I feel eyes on me, I snap alert. Turning, my gaze connects with Rylan's dark ones.

The expression on his face is cool.

He walks by I and Ezra, the girl at his side. Who's the new girl?

When they leave, I bring my attention back to Ezra. I echo Mrs Walter's words, "The 'exercise' is hosted by the school. We're to open up to ourselves about loss, using any medium of expression."

Whatever trace of humor that'd been on his face wipes clean. He pushes his chair back. "Well, tell Mrs Walter I'd like to use my middle finger as a form of expression." He rises. "Nice meeting you, though, Green."

My hands go to my hair on instinct. The roots have started to show.

"Wait!" I call after him, the sound whip-sharp in the empty room.

He stops.

"There's something else."

When his attention lands on me, I stand, drawing draw level with him. "It's about Faerin," I say quietly.

His jaw locks. "And I thought you were different."

When he turns to go, I grab his wrist immediately. "Wait, you n--"

His eyes bleed to black. Cracks fork across his face and terrifying pools of red forge to the surface. I stumble away, fear skittering through me.

"Don't," he grits slowly. "Touch me."

"I'm sorry," I stumble out. "I'm sorry."

His face transforms back to smooth, uncracked skin. "Good."

What is he?

He moves. Before he has the chance to leave again, I rush, "I know what your friend was. I... We're the same."

He stares at me for a long moment. A shrug. "Well, what was she? You think I'm going to fall for that? You tell me you know what she was just so I can spill? Not happening. Prove it."

"I..." Frustration wells. "I don't know how to prove it, okay? I don't know anything about my powers yet."

"Yeah. Because you don't have them."

I snap, "If you'd just give me one f*cking chance I--" The table beside me gives a terrifying creak. Our heads snap in its direction to see the wood collapse into itself. Before our eyes, it degrades at break neck speed, fragments falling away in decayed lumps. My heart speeds.

"Your hands," the boy says in shock.

I bring them to eye level. Past the lengthened claws, black, vine-like strips stretch down my arms like a disease. I feel my gut tighten in fear. This has never happened before.

When flies start to gather around the decayed table, I panic. "Oh, my God! What are we going to do!?"

Ezra snaps into action. "Hold on." He unstraps his bag quickly. My eyes widen when he tugs out a bottle of gasoline and a match. He pours it over what's left of the table. Standing back, he lits a match and throws it in.

I draw away once the flames burst forth, eating away the remains of the table greedily.

We stand on in silence, watching the fire.