“It’s theBook of Bonds,” he responds in a soft tone.
“Are you shitting me? It came now?” I try to focus on everything but the sensation I was forced to endure.
It appears my life is being tested by their Gods, or at least it feels as such. The entire building had grown silent as they fixated on the transpired spectacle. Some drew closer while others were reluctant with their movements.Shit!I notice Rebirth’s House Leaders are all standing, including my enemy, who is nothing more than irritating.
“Are you opening it or leaving everyone in suspense?” Blaise asks, his attention switching between me, the book, and the onlookers.
“I can give two shits about everyone else.” My brows crease, lips curl, and head snaps towards him. Caspian divulged this would be more of a private matter. That students would have the privilege of signing under the comfort of solitude, but here I am putting on a fucking show.
To think, Death has her name written on my list for an abundance of unspeakable crimes, and now Destiny throws her–his–no, her hat in the ring. Whatever agreement she and Blaise has must have been a solo one because this shit is all kinds of fucked up.
“You need to sign it, Kyra.”
He opens his brown leather book, waiting to write with fresh ink until he spots the fear swirling around my irises, the rapid movements of my chest, and how the nails on my index fingers dig into the skin around my thumbs.
I’m terrified beyond doubt.
“Thank you for not writing this down,” I whisper. I do an awkward half smile–half lip twitch then huff.
“I’m out of ink.” He grins, and relief comes in the form of laughter. Out of ink my ass, it’s leaking all over the table, but I’m picking up what he is putting down, and I’m thankful, nonetheless.
Thrill meets panic in one splendiferous concoction, poured over ice cubes made of terror. I need to take this shot like a big girl. Recalling Caspian’s wisdom,Not everyone finds their eternal bond,Iplace a palm on its cover, and unfiltered, raw energy surges into me, tugging and wrestling my aura.
Letters, all red with purple and white accents, are embroidered over its jet-black cover. Gazing over the crowd and back down, I use trembling fingers to carefully lift open its cover to a blank page.“Prick your skin and write your name. The bond is yours, for you to claim.”
Clairvoyant beings have never been a thing worth studying or exploring, but if I was told in my near future that spirits, the undead, or ghosts would speak with me, nine times out of ten the conversation would end in me telling them to fuck off. But there is no misunderstanding the voices I often hear from things which are not present.
Unless I’m being haunted by a spirit I’ve wronged in the past.I remember Rosie and the gloom who used her likeness.
Retrieving the pen, Blaise simulates a pricking motion, and I’m left contemplating my life choices. The instructions are clear, so why he felt a demonstration is in order, hell if I know, but it’s funny watching his agitation as I pretend not to understand.
Without stalling any longer, I take a deep breath, grab the pen, prick my finger, then watch as blood is sucked into the pen’s compartment.
“Good, now write,”I’m ordered. Why not, I’ve come this far. Pen meets paper, and a blob builds.“Wriiiite,”her eerie, yet stifling tone demands, and I sign my name. Sensing a stir rippling through my aura, I gasp as the page flips to another blank one, and her voice returns.“Wriiiite.”
A bit confused, I spread the blood into a signature again–and again–and four more times until the book closes on its own and vanishes. All traces of it, gone from existence. Peering over the masses watching, I find a figure standing in the far back as my aura shoots to every limb and ligament in one rhapsodic flood of power, and I inhale, riding outthis internal wave.
Seconds pass as I stare at the darkened figure when the feeling subsides.
“Kyra?” Blaise speaks for only our ears.
“Uh huh?”
“Are you okay?”
“What just happened?” I swallow, evening out my breath. “Why did I sign my name seven times? Is that normal?” I rotate my head to him.
“No.” He frowns, opening his own book and hesitating. “Not normal.”
Nodding, my gaze returns to the back, but like the book, the figure too had vanished.Definitely not normal.
Chapter 33
I’m your entertainment
KYRA
Scratchingsignals that Blaise is annotating my inconveniences as a herd of fays make their way over. Different emotions are sprawled over their features, and the males I’m most concerned about are lost behind a sea of impatient students. But the one I’m not makes decisive strides my way.
