Eternal

empty.” Especially now, with Aidan gone.

“Good idea. Want to make it a little earlier, though? Say, ten, so we have a couple of hours to work before lunch?”

“Sure, why not?” Cece was up early for tennis practice anyway.

“Okay, then—Saturdays at ten. But if you have any sort of problem in the meantime—anything at all—don’t wait till Saturday, okay? You’ve got my number. Call me, text me, whatever. Whenever. Got it?”

“Got it,” I replied, standing and reaching for my bag. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He nodded, and my gaze was involuntarily drawn toward his left pecs, to the spot where I now knew his silver dagger—his baselard, I corrected myself—rested in its sheath. I reached for my right wrist, rubbing it with my thumb, picturing it inked with the tattoo that would mark me as a full-fledged Sabbat.

Just a little more than two months from now.

I turned to leave, but suddenly remembered something he’d said earlier. “Wait,” I said, turning back to face him. “What day next week?”

He already had his cell back in his hand. “What day what?”

“Your birthday,” I clarified. “You said it was next week.”

“Oh, right. Thursday. Why?”

“Just curious.” With a wave, I sauntered out, already plotting a surprise as I left him to his phone call.

To Charlie, no doubt.

* * *

“Wow, student council went really late tonight,” I said, glancing at the clock by my bed when Cece strolled in later that night.

Cece tossed her bag to the floor and collapsed onto her bed facing me. “Nah, we got done a couple hours ago. I ran into Joshua on the way back to the dorm, and we ended up going over to the cafe together. I have no idea how it got so late.”

I scooted over to the edge of the bed. “Just you and Josh?”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Yeah. We got to talking, and next thing I knew, the cafe was closing.”

“Um, okay.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I’d noticed the way Joshua was looking at Cece earlier in the dining hall, but I wasn’t quite sure if I should mention it. I didn’t want to jinx anything. If there was anything to jinx, that is.

“What?” Cece said, grinning now. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?” I hedged.

She wrinkled her nose, making a face at me. “Okay, fine. So I’m kind of crushing on Josh. Just a little bit,” she added, holding up a finger and thumb to indicate about an inch. “But ho-ly crap! When did he get so cute? Seriously, the boy must’ve shot up a foot and a half since last year, and he filled out nicely. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

I was grinning now too. “I noticed. I just wasn’t sure that you did.”

“It’s just . . . you know, the whole shifter thing. I mean, I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” She waved one hand in dismissal. “But I dunno . . . it’s kind of out there, right? As far as abilities go.”

I shrugged. “My boyfriend is a vampire, remember?”

“He asked me to the early movie on Saturday.” She was literally bouncing on the bed now. “I said yes, so we’ll see.”

“This is an interesting development,” I said. “I like it.”

“I somehow figured you would. Anyway, we were talking about the whole Aidan situation, and we had an idea. There’s got to be something in Mrs. Girard’s office—a note, a book, maybe an e-mail—some sort of clue to help us figure out where she is. Or where the Tribunal is, at least. I’m going to project there in the morning, before Ackerman gets in, and take a look around.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if someone catches you?”

She looked almost insulted. “How’s someone going to catch my astral bad-boy self? My body’s going to be right here, in bed.”

I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. What about other projectors? Couldn’t they somehow see you?”

“Yeah, but there’s not that many of us here. I mean, what are the chances? I won’t take long—just do a little bit of snooping, and then I’ll come right back.”

I glanced over at the window. Outside, the ground was covered with the season’s first snowfall. Not much, just a few inches, but enough to remind me of my vision, the one where Cece had been expelled. “No,” I said resolutely. “You can’t risk it. I’m serious, Cece. It’s too much like the vision. You know how badly I want to find him, but there’s got to be another way. If you get expelled, I’ll never forgive myself. Just . . . promise me you won’t.”

“Okay, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. You and your visions.”

“My visions are going to save your butt,” I said. “Look, I’ve already lost Aidan. I can’t lose you, too.”

She leaned over and reached for my hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the offer, though.” I gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Hold up. You’ve been at the cafe all this time and you didn’t bring me back anything? Where’s my decaf mocha?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. I texted you three times asking if you wanted anything. Don’t you ever check your phone?”

“Crap, I turned the sound off and forgot about it.” I’d been talking to Whitney, and then I’d switched it off so I could read my English assignment—several poems by Wordsworth and Coleridge—in peace. Even though they should have been quick, painless reads, my brain had been stumbling over the words, and what should have taken an hour ended up taking two. “Are you going to bed now?”

“Nah, I’ve still got homework.” Cece stood, stretching her arms toward the ceiling before hurrying across the room to retrieve her bag. She tossed it to the bed, pulled off her shoes, and then sat back down with a groan. “It’s not fair—the first day back should be a homework-free zone.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to bed anytime soon. I’ve still got some history to do.” I was giving up on the poems. It was a losing battle—I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for romantic poets and their jibber jabber about sunsets and moonlight and the delicate curve of their beloved’s cheek.

Cece pulled a thick paperback from her bag. “Okay, I’ll read my English assignment, and then you want to go over the French homework together?”

“Sounds good,” I said, reaching for my history reader and turning to the first assignment. The British Peerage System, the title read. A quick scan of the first page made my heart sink. If it wasn’t love poems, it was barons and dukes and viscounts, oh my.

Why did everything have to remind me of what I’d lost?

7 ~ Family Ties

What’s this?” Matthew asked as we all filed into his office the following week bearing a cardboard tray of cupcakes purchased at the cafe. Max lit the candles—I wasn’t asking where he got the lighter—while we all broke out into a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.”

I set the tray in front of Matthew. “What, did you think I’d forget?”

He blew out the candles and then leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head. “Actually, I was so sure you wouldn’t that I skipped dessert and came back to my office early,” he said with a grin. “I’ve just been sitting here, waiting.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t go getting all insufferable on us.”

“Wow, ‘insufferable.’ I’m impressed,” Matthew said. “Are you reading Jane Austen in English or something?”

“I wish,” I said. “No, we’re studying the romantic poets right now. Actually, Sophie and I have a test tomorrow, so we can’t stay long.”