Eternal Read online

  Cupping my face with his hands, he tipped my head up till our gazes met. He nodded once, then pressed his lips against my forehead. His kiss was quick, entirely chaste.

  “You got it,” he said.

  And this time, I believed him.

  “And really, Tyler—mano a mano?” I was smiling now, hoping to break the heavy tension in the air. “Does anyone actually say that in Texas?”

  He laughed, the familiar playful gleam back in his eyes. “Heck if I know. It sounded good, though, right?”

  * * *

  “What’s for lunch?” I asked, tossing my bag to the empty chair beside Sophie.

  “Chili,” Marissa said, pointing to the steaming bowl on the tray in front of her. “And it’s pretty good.” Beside her, Max gave a thumbs-up with one hand while he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth with the other.

  The spicy smell made my stomach roil. “Maybe I’ll just get a sandwich.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Sophie rose and fell into step beside me.

  “Hey, wait up!” Cece hurried to catch up with us.

  We were halfway across the dining hall when Joshua waylaid us, stepping into our path with a frown. “Hey, I just heard what happened to Aidan. You guys okay?”

  As always, bad news traveled fast at Winterhaven. We hadn’t even been back at school a full twenty-four hours yet. “Who told you?” I asked, curious.

  “Tyler. We’ve got third period Spanish together.” He glanced over one shoulder, toward the table where Jack sat surrounded by his football buddies. Shaking his head, Joshua turned back toward us. “He told me about Jack, too. Unbelievable.”

  “I know, right?” Cece shot Jack a deadly glare.

  “Dirtbag,” Sophie added.

  “So,” Joshua said, “what’s the plan?”

  I shifted on my feet, feeling vulnerable. I could have sworn that every pair of eyes in the dining hall was focused on us, watching us. “The plan?”

  “Yeah, you must have some sort of plan. Right? Oh, and Bronwyn and I kinda broke up over break. It’s a little awkward right now—do you mind if I sit with you guys?”

  “What? No, of course not. We’re just getting sandwiches.” I shook my head, confused. I was getting mental whiplash from trying to follow the train of conversation.

  “Thanks.” His mouth widened into a smile, and I couldn’t help but notice that his gaze shifted to Cece and lingered there a little longer than it should have. “Okay, I’ll see you back at your table and we can talk about the plan.”

  I nodded mutely. He was going to be disappointed to learn that I had nothing. No plan.

  When we finally made our way back to our table with our sandwiches and drinks, Kate, Tyler, and Joshua had joined Max and Marissa. Even without Aidan, it was going to be a tight squeeze.

  “Where’s the rest of the band?” I directed at Max. He always sat with them at meals—at least, he always had before now.

  Max just grunted, motioning toward the table behind us. Beside him, Marissa smiled sweetly. A battle hard fought, I supposed.

  Sophie leaned toward me. “Marissa told him everything,” she whispered into my ear. “Well, almost everything. Just so you know.”

  I didn’t have time to ask her what she meant by “almost everything” before Joshua launched right into investigative mode. “Okay, so you think this Tribunal is somewhere in France?”

  “Paris,” I said. “At least, that’s what I heard.”

  “And Cece tried to project to Mrs. G.?”

  Cece nodded. “A bunch of times. No luck, though. I think the place is protected, wherever she is. I can’t project to her or to Aidan.”

  “So presumably they’re in the same place,” Tyler reasoned.

  Joshua drummed his fingers on the table. “And you talked to Ackerman?”

  “Yep. No luck there, either,” I answered. “Ackerman had some story about a family emergency. Which we all know is a bunch of crap.”

  “The woman’s got to have a cell phone, right?” Tyler said. “There must be a faculty directory or something.”

  I shook my head. “Matthew says he’s never seen her with a cell. He showed me the directory, and it only lists her Winterhaven office number.”

  “Matthew?” Max asked, his brows drawn.

  “Dr. Byrne,” I corrected, my cheeks flushing hotly. “Sorry.”

  Max still looked confused. “What has Dr. Byrne got to do with this?”

  Marissa kicked me under the table. I didn’t tell him everything, she mouthed. It occurred to me then that Tyler didn’t know about the Megvéd stuff either—which meant neither did Joshua.

  I swallowed hard. “He’s . . . my psychic coach, that’s all. I asked him if he could help me contact her.”

  Somehow, I was glad the guys didn’t know. It just felt . . . I don’t know, too personal to share with them. Of course, it also meant they were missing a big piece of the story.

  I glanced over at Josh, who was now busy debating the wisdom of asking other teachers if they knew how to contact Mrs. G. His expression was earnest, his concern evident. I remembered the sight of him standing beside Jack on the edge of that blood-soaked field last spring, remembered how he’d created—or somehow became—the distracting fog that helped save us all. He’d risked so much by joining us in the fight and all because Aidan and I had stood up for him and his shifter friends.

  Yep, I trusted Joshua. Completely.

  My gaze slid over to Tyler. He was a friend, no doubt about it. And yet it had been so easy to imagine that he’d been the one tampering with Aidan’s work. I didn’t trust him, not fully. And it wasn’t just that he’d hooked up with Kate when he was supposed to be at a dance with Cece. No, there was more to it than that. I couldn’t quite figure him out, wasn’t entirely sure what motivated him.

  What had drawn him into our little group? Was it just our connection on the fencing team? Or was there something more? I shook my head, realizing there was a lot about Tyler that I didn’t know.

  Still, there was no doubt that he was a part of us now. Max too. And if they were going to help me find Mrs. Girard and get Aidan out of wherever they were keeping him, then they probably needed to know the whole story, skeevy bits and all.

  They deserved to know. Which meant I needed to talk to Matthew and get his permission first. Because this was his secret as much as mine, and—

  “Violet?” Cece nudged me in the ribs. “What do you think?”

  “About what?” I shook my head, trying to clear it.

  “You haven’t been listening to a word Josh said, have you?” she asked.

  I felt my cheeks flame. “Sorry.”

  “We were talking about this whole ‘war’ thing,” Kate offered. She turned toward me. “Remember what Jack said yesterday, about how Mrs. G. might be trying to protect Aidan? It makes sense, really, when you think about it. If he’s her ‘greatest creation’ and all that. I mean, maybe this is just part of some big plan.”

  Joshua nodded. “Yeah, maybe she needed him to get into trouble so that she had an excuse to lock him up somewhere safe.”

  Tyler looked unconvinced. “Well, why wouldn’t he be safe here?”

  “Julius and those two female vamps were able to track him here,” Marissa said, suddenly looking pale. She combed a hand through her long dark hair, her fingers visibly trembling. “Wherever they’ve got him, it’s with a bunch of powerful vampires, right? Probably the best place for him, if something big is going down. If they want to keep him safe, that is.”

  “Yeah, but safe from what?” Sophie asked.

  “The war,” Joshua answered with a shrug.

  I sighed in frustration. “Which brings us right back where we started. And no closer to getting Aidan out than we were before.”

  “But think about it, Violet,” Kate said. “If we’re right and she’s got him somewhere to keep him safe or whatever, she’s not going to just let him go. There’s no more ‘clearing’ him—she set him up, remember?”

 
; Kate was right, of course. Telling Mrs. G. that Aidan was set up was pointless if she was the one who had ordered the sabotage. It wouldn’t matter, not one bit. Unless Jack was lying. “If I could just talk to him somehow. You know, make sure he’s okay.”

  “We really should eat,” Cece said, and I glanced down at my untouched sandwich. “Lunch is almost over, and I’ve got to get over to the gym for tennis.”

  Marissa pushed aside her bowl with a frown. “I thought you were quitting the tennis team.”

  Cece looked glum. “Apparently not.”

  “Parental pressure?” Max asked, reaching for his spoon and scraping out the remaining bits of chili from Marissa’s bowl.

  “Yeah, even though college apps are already in. What difference does it make now?” Cece took a bite of her sandwich.

  I shrugged, reaching for my own sandwich. I’d just taken a bite when everyone’s heads swiveled toward a spot just over my shoulder. I turned to find Matthew standing there.

  “Sorry to interrupt, guys. Violet, can I see you after sixth period today in my office?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled around a mouthful of tuna salad.

  With a dazzling smile, Matthew raked a hand through his dark hair, mussing it. The girls surrounding me seemed to be holding their breath, mesmerized as they watched. “Okay, great. I won’t keep you long.” He clapped a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “And I’ll see you fourth period, right?”

  “Right, you will,” Tyler answered. “Biochemistry and Molecular Studies, here I come.”

  “Hey, me too,” Sophie said, smiling broadly.

  “Good to hear. I’ll make it fun. I promise. Okay, later, guys.” He gave a little salute before heading back through the crowded dining hall.

  “A science elective?” I asked Sophie, whose fair, freckled cheeks were now scarlet. “You mean, in addition to your regular science class?”

  “I like science,” Sophie mumbled.

  “And Dr. Hottie,” Marissa added, poking her playfully in the ribs.

  Max rolled his liner-smudged eyes as he piled empty dishes on his tray. “What is it with everyone and Dr. Byrne? Seriously, he’s such a stiff.”

  “I am so not going to touch that one. Not with a ten-foot pole,” Cece said with a laugh.

  Marissa grinned mischievously, making me groan aloud—I knew what was coming. “No, we’ll leave that to Violet, won’t we? After sixth period.”

  The table erupted in laughter. Luckily, I was saved by the bell that indicated the end of lunch period. Three more periods to get through—two of which I normally shared with Aidan.

  It was going to be a long day.

  6 ~ Mischief Managed

  I was still sweaty from fencing practice when I knocked on Matthew’s office door later that day. I had no idea why he wanted to see me, but it was good timing, actually. I wanted to ask him about Tyler, Max, and Joshua—and how much I could tell them.

  “Come on in,” he called out.

  When I stepped inside, I found him leaning against the bookshelf behind his desk, talking on his cell. “I’ll be off in two seconds,” he whispered as I slid into the seat across from his desk. He turned his back toward me, but I could still make out what he was saying. “Okay, no problem. I’ll call you when I’m done. Yeah, you too.”

  Turning back toward me, he ended the call and put the phone in its charger, looking slightly embarrassed. As if I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. Which could only mean . . . Charlie.

  “How’s Patsy doing?” he asked, coming around to the front of his desk and leaning against it.

  “She’s fine. Much better, actually. Believe it or not, she made a show of pretending like she wanted to drive me back to school herself. Said she could rent a car. Luckily, Paul talked her out of it.” The last thing I wanted was Patsy here at Winterhaven. She would ask about Aidan, want to say “hi” or something. And what could I possibly tell her? “Anyway, how’s Charlie?”

  The sudden rise of color in his cheeks told me that I was right in assuming that he had been talking to her when I’d walked in.

  He took a deep breath before responding. “Annoyed with me. As always.”

  “Hmm, that doesn’t sound good. Care to elaborate?”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s probably not appropriate for us to talk about Charlie.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I mean, we’ve spent the past couple of weeks talking about how I’m supposedly your predestined ‘mate,’ and now you’re telling me that it’s not appropriate for us to talk about your girlfriend?”

  I saw him wince as my words hit their mark. “Well, we probably should be a little more”—he shook his head—“I don’t know . . . formal . . . now that we’re back at school. And besides, Charlie’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Really? That’s your answer? That she’s not your girlfriend? Because honestly, I’m not buying it.”

  He rubbed one cheek with the palm of his hand, watching me closely—studying me. “Would it matter to you if she was?” he said at last, catching me completely off guard. “Seriously, dig down inside your psyche. Find the powerful Sâbbat residing there. What does she think about it?”

  For a moment, I just sat there goggling at him. And then I did what he asked. I turned off my mind and searched my instincts instead. It took only a moment to find the answer. There was a heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t really explain it, but the very idea of Matthew with a girlfriend just seemed wrong. Really, really wrong.

  “It matters,” I blurted out before I thought about what I was saying. “I know it shouldn’t. Ugh, can I take it back?”

  “Nope,” he said with a tight smile. “Sorry for pushing you like that, but I was just trying to show you what we’re up against. Natural instincts are powerful things, Violet. And that’s why Charlie isn’t my girlfriend—not really—and why she never will be.”

  Catching his meaning, I exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Seriously.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said before, it is what it is.”

  “But . . . wait. Your dad is part of the Megvédio too, right? Second son of a second son.”

  Matthew just nodded.

  “But he’s married to your mom. What if he’d found a Sâbbat after marrying her—his Sâbbat? What then?” I was picturing all kinds of messy scenarios.

  “There’s a very small window—just a decade. Sixteen to twenty-six. He married my mom when he was thirty-one.”

  “You never told me that! Wow, so we just barely made it.”

  “I’ll be twenty-six next week,” he said quietly.

  “That sucks, doesn’t it?” I shook my head. “If you’d just been one year older.”

  By the look on his face, I knew that we were headed toward the old argument again—the one where I went on about how awful and awkward our situation was, while he insisted it wasn’t that bad, really.

  “Well, I’m glad that I wasn’t,” he said, confirming my hunch. “You don’t have to do this alone, Violet. You’ve got your stake, I’ve got my baselard, and we’ve got each other.”

  “Baselard?” I asked. “That’s your dagger, right? You’ve never shown me. Did you have it that day in Central Park?”

  He nodded. “Since I met you, I’m never without it.”

  “Show me,” I demanded, but I wasn’t expecting what came next.

  Without a word, Matthew started unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

  Uh-oh.

  “Wait,” I called out, half rising from my seat. I stopped myself when I saw the form-fitting heather-gray T-shirt he wore beneath the more conservative button-down.

  “What?” he asked. “You didn’t really think I was going to strip shirtless right here in my office, did you?” There was an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, mocking me.

  He shrugged out of the shirt, revealing a shoulder-harness sheath over his left pecs, worn over the T-shirt. From the sheath, he removed the most beautiful weapon I’d ever seen. T
he handle was dark gray, H-shaped, the narrow, silver double-edge blade sharpened to a deadly tip. My breath caught at the sight of it. I rose, inexplicably drawn to it.

  He held it out to me, and I took it with trembling hands, tracing a finger down the length of the blade and back up again. I paused just above the hilt, where an intricately scripted M was engraved into the metal. I glanced over at his right biceps, where the dagger was depicted in ink, and then back to the weapon itself, amazed at the likeness.

  “It looks so old,” I said, my voice full of awe. “So fragile.”

  “This one is old. Probably late fifteenth century or so, forged in Switzerland specifically for the Megvédio. But don’t be fooled by its age or fragility. I’ve been assured that it can still do its job as long as I hit my mark. And I promise you I can. I’ve been training with it since I was twelve.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “But I don’t understand. I didn’t think you could kill a vampire.”

  “I can’t. That’s your job. It’s my job to strike the vampire’s eye with the baselard. That disables it long enough for you to get a clean shot at the heart.”

  “But . . . but the blade’s so short,” I stammered. “Wouldn’t you have to get awfully close to a vampire’s fangs to reach its eyes?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, looking somewhat amused. “Not if I throw it.”

  “Ah, I see.” Goose bumps rippled across my skin as I imagined it, trying to picture a scene where Matthew and I worked in tandem to take out a vampire. Would it come to that?

  Of course it would. There was no hiding from destiny.

  “I’ve already killed three vampires,” I said, my voice shaky now. “All by myself.”

  “I know,” was all he said, but the pride in his voice spoke volumes more.

  I swallowed hard. “You better put your shirt back on.”

  “That’s what she said,” he quipped, slipping the dagger back into its sheath. “It’s a joke,” he added, looking suddenly embarrassed as he reached for his shirt and slipped it back on.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve seen the show.”

  In seconds, he’d buttoned up. Only now . . . now I was hyperaware of what the plaid shirt concealed. I wondered briefly if it was as uncomfortable as the makeshift sheath I’d worn to carry my stake back when Julius had been threatening us.