chapter forty-three
So there’s this thing. Gods and goddesses don’t know how to teach. They have to go to school just like us to get a skill. Living as immortals in a mortal world for millennia, you’d think they would have mastered all kinds of them. But our studies bore them.
To save immortals from having to teach us—us meaning Risers—they send us to an American international boarding school just outside Paris. Except for the few gods and goddesses who do enjoy it. Like Oyá and Lugh. They pose as teachers at the school to keep an eye on us. Make sure we’re safe.
Along with my new wardrobe and textbooks, I have a new name on my passport.
Ana Ryan.
My Vans squeak against the very polished wood floor in the long hallway. The school looks like a castle on the outside. The inside has more of a university vibe, with high ceilings and lavishly furnished classrooms.
Dalton sidles up beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulder, and leans closer. “I have a surprise for you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Ah, come on,” he whines. “I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”
Sid comes up on my other side. “She hates surprises, remember? Don’t tease her. Now me, you can tease all you want, honey.”
Dalton’s smiles are bittersweet to me, but I savor every one of them. I want to hold on to him for as long as I can. Protect him from knowing about his future. Keep that nightmare from haunting him as it does me.
“It’s a good one,” Dalton taunts.
I shake my head. “Uh-uh. Your last surprise involved anchovies and pizza.”
“Okay, then.” His arm falls away from my shoulder. “I’ll just tell him you won’t ditch math to see him.”
“Him?”
“Yes.” He gives me that coy smile of his.
Dalton loves to torture me. I’m an easy target. “Who? Stop teasing me.”
“If you don’t want him, I’ll keep him.” He winks.
“Marek? Where is he?”
“Out front.” He stuffs his hands in pockets, a wide grin stretching his face.
Oyá’s going to be pissed if I miss her class, but I don’t care. Marek is here.
I kiss Dalton’s cheek, then Sid’s, and take off down the hall. “Thank you,” I call over my shoulder.
“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Someone has to get some around here.”
“Go get him, girl,” Sid calls.
The hall seems longer as I sprint down it. I reach the door, yank it open, and stop on the porch.
Marek waits at the bottom of the stairs. His face brightens when he sees me. His hair is a little longer, and it looks like he’s been in the sun. His eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors in the light, are on me. It makes my pulse race, my heart frantic, and I can’t get to him fast enough.
With each step down, wings take flight in my chest, and he has all of my heart. At the bottom, I jump into his arms, and he catches me. Our mouths connect as if they are magnets finally brought back together. His lips are soft and warm and taste like basil and honey. And I don’t want to stop kissing them.
I drag my fingers through his wavy hair, clenching fistfuls. It’s soft like the plush blanket Jane got for my bed. He smells fresh like the morning dew clinging to the grasses and plants around us. And I’m not dreaming. Like every night since he left.
He’s here.