The Trainees. They knew stuff we didn’t.
My eyes went to Josh, settling in the seat next to me. He knew stuff that I didn’t.
I watched him, waiting for him to look over. I didn’t feel like talking, though, and he must’ve sensed that. When he finally did look at me, instead of his usual giddaying, he simply said, “Judge. ”
Judge had been a good guy. We’d miss him. We were scared, and something about teachers getting killed made things feel out of control, but we couldn’t safely say any of that. For a moment, though, our eyes stayed connected, and we shared all that.
I held his gaze for an extra, pregnant moment before agreeing, “Judge. ”
“There are many ways to die,” Ronan said, calling the class to order.
“Oh great,” I muttered, sinking low in my seat. A lecture on death and the many possible flavors of my inevitable demise was just what I needed. Not.
First Amanda, now Judge. But there Ronan stood, essaying on blood loss. It was just like him to power through grief by slamming into it head-on. Discussing exsanguination. Pinching veins, compressing arteries. The jugular. The carotid.
I thought of Carden, and my fear for him was a physical pain. I grazed my fingertips over my neck, feeling for those veins, remembering how I’d longed for Carden to kiss me just there. To taste me.
How was he? How long could he last without feeding?
I shoved my fist against my mouth, keeping my emotions in check. Carden could’ve claimed me as an alibi. He couldn’t have killed Tracer Judge if he’d been kissing me in a cave at the time of the murder. But here I was, still skipping around, going about my business, which meant he didn’t tell. He was protecting me.
I’d protect him, too. I might’ve been reckless, but I wasn’t stupid—I knew I couldn’t do it alone.
But who could I trust? I considered the options.
Mei-Ling. She’d seemed eager enough to play Nancy Drew when we’d talked in our room. The girl had hidden depths—not to mention some not-so-hidden resentments at being kidnapped and forcibly brought here.
Emma. I trusted Emma with my life. But…
Yasuo? I trusted him, too. But lately there was something missing. I sensed he’d give his life to help Em, but friendship wasn’t sophomore geometry. There was no Yas trusts Emma, Emma trusts me, therefore I trust Yas. Trust wasn’t transitive.
Josh. Odd that he was in the running, because I sure hadn’t trusted him at first. I glanced over at him. He’d helped me before, sticking his neck out to save me from hazing. Might he help me again?
He felt me looking and caught my eye. And yet again, rather than shoot me one of his signature doofy boy nods, there was something somber and supportive waiting for me in his gaze.
Josh, then.
Making like I was taking notes, I scribbled on a page of my notebook, tore it out, and passed it to him.
His eyes practically bugged out of his head as he snatched it up before anyone could see. Not a lot of in-class notes were passed on the Isle of Night.
“What the fuck?” he mouthed to me, then stole a quick look at the scrap.
I’d written: “We need to talk. ”
He gave me an incredulous duh look and mouthed back, “Later. ”
I tore another bit of paper, writing, “I want to know about the castle on the hill. ”
He crammed it in his pocket. “Not now,” he mouthed impatiently.
I carefully ripped another tiny scrap, coughing to cover up the sound. Passing notes was a pretty stupid risk to take, but I was obsessed. And what was the worst that could happen—they’d lock me up with Carden? Though I knew instantly that wasn’t the worst punishment. Maybe, deep down, I felt okay taking the chance because it was Ronan up there at the front of the class—and wouldn’t he just blow a gasket to know I thought that way?
Either way, I needed to find out where Carden was being held, and the mystery began at the vampires’ keep. “Promise you’ll tell me about it,” I wrote.
Josh kept the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “Stop,” he whispered, not even looking at me.
I needed to get him to promise. I wrote on a new slip of paper, “No. ”