chapter 4

danger lurks in the halls (and it's not just the exams)

The first rule of making it through the day when you feel like absolute death is simple: pretend you don't.

I am a master at this.

Mostly.

The problem, obviously, with losing the one thing keeping the ghosts from getting too close is that they are now very much getting too close. And while I would just love to be my usual effortlessly charming self, running on two hours of sleep and a steady stream of anxiety is starting to wear me down.

Visibly.

My limbs feel heavy, my brain still fogged from the aftermath of last night. Or early this morning. Time is a blur. I barely got any sleep after Varek left, the phantom echoes of whispers curling in the back of my mind every time I shut my eyes.

But the show must go on.

I drag myself into the academy's courtyard, blinking against the sunlight that feels too bright for once, and pretend that my legs don't feel like they're made of lead. Students mill about as always, voices blending into an indistinct hum, but none of them are what I'm paying attention to. No. My focus is on the very specific, unnerving sensation of being watched.

Not by the living.

I know they're closer now. I can feel it. Like the air is just a little too thick, pressing in where it shouldn't. I can't see them, but that almost makes it worse.

Because they can see me.

I trace the outline of Varek's ring on my finger that he gave me for the time being. This should keep them at bay, at least, he told me. For now.

There's a permanent prickle along the back of my neck, and I force myself to ignore it as I zero in on my best source of normalcy—Amaris. She's standing near the fountain, arms crossed, deep green coat draped elegantly over one shoulder, her usual expression of practiced disinterest firmly in place. But the second her eyes land on me, her brows furrow.

"Are you dying?" she asks, arching a perfectly sculpted brow at me because she is a beacon of warmth and kindness in my time of need.

"Good morning to you too," I say, flashing her my most dazzling, least convincing grin. "I appreciate the concern, really, but no. I am not dying. Not this time. Sorry to disappoint."

As always, she doesn't look impressed. "You look like you lost a fight with a crypt and then made out with the floor on your way down."

"Wow," I say, pressing a hand over my heart. "Such poetry this early in the morning. I'm moved."

"You look like shit."

"Alright, no need to get so sentimental about it."

Amaris narrows her eyes.

Before she can press further though, the atmosphere shifts.

The air lightens. The oppressive weight pressing against my ribs eases, like a string being cut. My breath comes easier, my skin no longer crawling with the sensation of unseen fingers trailing too close.

I don't have to turn to know why.

The angel.

I shiver from the abrupt relief that fills my chest.

Their silvery white hair is annoyingly pristine, robes gleaming in a way that shouldn't even be possible.

Their presence is unmistakable; a quiet, effortless sort of radiance, like the warmth of sunlight without the burn. I don't know if they do it on purpose or if it's just something inherent to them, but the effect is immediate. The ghosts—the things lurking just past the edges of my sight—recoil. I can feel them slinking away, dissolving into the background like mist under a noonday sun.

I cannot believe I still don't know their name. In fact, I don't know much about them at all, except that their presence is the only thing that'd keep the ghosts at bay when Varek isn't around. Which means, for the foreseeable future, I need to make a concentrated effort to keep them within reach without making it obvious that I'm using them as a shield against the endless swarm of the dead.

I'm nothing if not resourceful.

For now, I let out a slow breath, trying not to make it obvious how much better I feel with them around.

The angel regards me with that unnervingly unreadable gaze, head tilting just slightly. They don't say anything at first, but I know they're looking. Seeing. The way exhaustion drags at my edges, the way I'm just a little too tense, too aware of everything around me. I plaster on a grin before they can get any ideas.

"Ah, good, my favorite cryptic celestial being," I say breezily. "What an honor. What brings you to my humble corner of the world?"

Their eyes remain steady on me. "You are unwell."

I resist the urge to let out the deepest sigh this universe may have ever heard. "Um, rude? You guys really know how to make a guy feel good about himself. I think I look radiant as ever, thank you."

The angel does not dignify this with a response. Their gaze flicks briefly toward Amaris, then back to me, dipping down to my neck for a split second. I don't like how perceptive they are. I especially don't like how, when they finally do speak again, their voice is quiet. Measured.

"You aren't wearing it. Did you lose it?"

My stomach clenches. I don't let it show.

"I have lost many things, including but not limited to my patience, my dignity, and several important documents." I say smoothly, shifting my weight. "You'll have to be more specific."

They don't answer. They don't have to. Because we both know what they mean. We both know what's missing. And we both know exactly what that means for me.

I force a laugh, rolling my shoulders. "Listen, I appreciate the concern, really, but I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. Just a long night." I plaster on my best lazy grin. "You know me. Never a dull moment."

Amaris looks skeptical. The angel looks... well, they look like an angel. Which is to say, like someone who can see right through my nonsense and has no intention of letting me get away with it.

Their gaze doesn't waver even once. "You're being followed."

"Bold of you to assume I don't always have an adoring audience."

Amaris shoots me a look. The angel, predictably, does not react. "You're weaker without it," they say instead.

My breath catches.

I shove my hands into my pockets and force a lazy shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Their expression remains impassive, but the air around them shifts, something colder curling beneath the warmth of their presence. "Then you are even more of a fool than I thought."

Ouch.

I should move.

I should. I have places to be, expectations to meet, an ever-looming class schedule that refuses to care whether or not I'm being stalked by an invisible audience of the dead.

But out there, beyond the fragile sanctuary of this courtyard, they're waiting.

The ghosts aren't pressing in anymore, but I can feel them at the edges of my awareness, shifting, waiting for me to step out from under the angel's light. They'll be there the second I leave. I know it.

The obvious solution would be to stay put. Find some excuse to linger, ignore the call of responsibility, and bask in the effortless shield of their presence. It's not my worst plan, honestly.

But Amaris is already watching me like she knows exactly what's running through my head. She's annoyingly good at that. And the angel...

The angel hasn't looked away from me once.

I clear my throat, square my shoulders, and turn to Amaris. "You know, on second thought, do I really need to go to class? What's one day, really? Time is fake. The concept of education is a construct—"

"No."

"That was fast."

She doesn't dignify me with an answer.

I can still feel the angel watching me. Not in a way that should feel so tangible, but it does. It always does.

I exhale sharply, shifting my weight. "Listen, I just think—"

"You're afraid," they say.

The words hit harder than they should. Not because they're wrong, but because they're not.

My stomach twists. "Wow, that's presumptuous."

They don't answer, but their gaze flicks toward the archway leading out of the courtyard, as if they can sense what waits beyond it. Maybe they can. I wouldn't put it past them.

I resist the urge to shift my weight. Resist the urge to fidget. I won't admit it, but they're right. I don't want to leave. Because if I do, the things lurking past the edges of my vision will close in again, and the day will drag on, and I'll be left to deal with it all again.

Alone.

And then—

A touch.

Fingertips at my wrist. Barely there, light as breath, but impossibly, devastatingly present.

I freeze.

They're... warm.

Not just warm in the way hands are supposed to be, but warm in a way that seeps beneath my skin, a slow, golden heat curling low in my stomach, winding its way up my spine. Like sunlight bleeding through frost, like something deep and ancient and steady, settling into my very bones.

My breath escapes me in a slow, uneven exhale.

It's nothing. A simple touch. A quiet point of contact.

It feels like a command. A promise. A shield.

They hold it for just a second longer; long enough that I can feel my pulse kick, traitorous, traitorous, traitorous and immediate, before their fingers slip away, leaving nothing but the ghost of warmth in their wake.

"You'll be fine," they say.

It's not a suggestion.

It's not even reassurance.

It's a fact. Decided, absolute.

And somehow, I believe them.

The tension in my chest loosens just enough for me to breathe. Not entirely, not completely, but enough.

"...Right," I say, a beat too late, a little too uneven. I roll my shoulders, recovering as best I can. "Fine. Sure. But if I get eaten by something, I'm haunting both of you."

I ignore the meaningful look Amaris throws my way, and I don't give myself time to reconsider. I turn, striding toward the archway, bracing for the inevitable weight of the ghosts the second I step out.

But it doesn't come.

The air doesn't press in.

Nothing follows me.

And I spend the rest of my time at the academy haunted by the warmth still lingering at my wrist.

a/n

i had entirely too much fun working on this chapter 😋

another favorite book from this year's onc that i'm looking forward to the most is Warm Hands by violadavis so if you haven't checked it out already, Please do yourselves a favor and do it right now. i'll link it in the inline comments right here --->

thank you so much for reading! your comments fill me with so much joy 💙

-

wc: 9083 (7329 + 1754)