Eternal

whatever, she’s not going to just let him go. There’s no more ‘clearing’ him—she set him up, remember?”

Kate was right, of course. Telling Mrs. G. that Aidan was set up was pointless if she was the one who had ordered the sabotage. It wouldn’t matter, not one bit. Unless Jack was lying. “If I could just talk to him somehow. You know, make sure he’s okay.”

“We really should eat,” Cece said, and I glanced down at my untouched sandwich. “Lunch is almost over, and I’ve got to get over to the gym for tennis.”

Marissa pushed aside her bowl with a frown. “I thought you were quitting the tennis team.”

Cece looked glum. “Apparently not.”

“Parental pressure?” Max asked, reaching for his spoon and scraping out the remaining bits of chili from Marissa’s bowl.

“Yeah, even though college apps are already in. What difference does it make now?” Cece took a bite of her sandwich.

I shrugged, reaching for my own sandwich. I’d just taken a bite when everyone’s heads swiveled toward a spot just over my shoulder. I turned to find Matthew standing there.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys. Violet, can I see you after sixth period today in my office?”

“Sure,” I mumbled around a mouthful of tuna salad.

With a dazzling smile, Matthew raked a hand through his dark hair, mussing it. The girls surrounding me seemed to be holding their breath, mesmerized as they watched. “Okay, great. I won’t keep you long.” He clapped a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “And I’ll see you fourth period, right?”

“Right, you will,” Tyler answered. “Biochemistry and Molecular Studies, here I come.”

“Hey, me too,” Sophie said, smiling broadly.

“Good to hear. I’ll make it fun. I promise. Okay, later, guys.” He gave a little salute before heading back through the crowded dining hall.

“A science elective?” I asked Sophie, whose fair, freckled cheeks were now scarlet. “You mean, in addition to your regular science class?”

“I like science,” Sophie mumbled.

“And Dr. Hottie,” Marissa added, poking her playfully in the ribs.

Max rolled his liner-smudged eyes as he piled empty dishes on his tray. “What is it with everyone and Dr. Byrne? Seriously, he’s such a stiff.”

“I am so not going to touch that one. Not with a ten-foot pole,” Cece said with a laugh.

Marissa grinned mischievously, making me groan aloud—I knew what was coming. “No, we’ll leave that to Violet, won’t we? After sixth period.”

The table erupted in laughter. Luckily, I was saved by the bell that indicated the end of lunch period. Three more periods to get through—two of which I normally shared with Aidan.

It was going to be a long day.

6 ~ Mischief Managed

I was still sweaty from fencing practice when I knocked on Matthew’s office door later that day. I had no idea why he wanted to see me, but it was good timing, actually. I wanted to ask him about Tyler, Max, and Joshua—and how much I could tell them.

“Come on in,” he called out.

When I stepped inside, I found him leaning against the bookshelf behind his desk, talking on his cell. “I’ll be off in two seconds,” he whispered as I slid into the seat across from his desk. He turned his back toward me, but I could still make out what he was saying. “Okay, no problem. I’ll call you when I’m done. Yeah, you too.”

Turning back toward me, he ended the call and put the phone in its charger, looking slightly embarrassed. As if I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. Which could only mean . . . Charlie.

“How’s Patsy doing?” he asked, coming around to the front of his desk and leaning against it.

“She’s fine. Much better, actually. Believe it or not, she made a show of pretending like she wanted to drive me back to school herself. Said she could rent a car. Luckily, Paul talked her out of it.” The last thing I wanted was Patsy here at Winterhaven. She would ask about Aidan, want to say “hi” or something. And what could I possibly tell her? “Anyway, how’s Charlie?”

The sudden rise of color in his cheeks told me that I was right in assuming that he had been talking to her when I’d walked in.

He took a deep breath before responding. “Annoyed with me. As always.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound good. Care to elaborate?”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s probably not appropriate for us to talk about Charlie.”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, we’ve spent the past couple of weeks talking about how I’m supposedly your predestined ‘mate,’ and now you’re telling me that it’s not appropriate for us to talk about your girlfriend?”

I saw him wince as my words hit their mark. “Well, we probably should be a little more”—he shook his head—“I don’t know . . . formal . . . now that we’re back at school. And besides, Charlie’s not my girlfriend.”

“Really? That’s your answer? That she’s not your girlfriend? Because honestly, I’m not buying it.”

He rubbed one cheek with the palm of his hand, watching me closely—studying me. “Would it matter to you if she was?” he said at last, catching me completely off guard. “Seriously, dig down inside your psyche. Find the powerful Sabbat residing there. What does she think about it?”

For a moment, I just sat there goggling at him. And then I did what he asked. I turned off my mind and searched my instincts instead. It took only a moment to find the answer. There was a heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t really explain it, but the very idea of Matthew with a girlfriend just seemed wrong. Really, really wrong.

“It matters,” I blurted out before I thought about what I was saying. “I know it shouldn’t. Ugh, can I take it back?”

“Nope,” he said with a tight smile. “Sorry for pushing you like that, but I was just trying to show you what we’re up against. Natural instincts are powerful things, Violet. And that’s why Charlie isn’t my girlfriend—not really—and why she never will be.”

Catching his meaning, I exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Seriously.”

He shrugged. “Like I said before, it is what it is.”

“But . . . wait. Your dad is part of the Megvedio too, right? Second son of a second son.”

Matthew just nodded.

“But he’s married to your mom. What if he’d found a Sabbat after marrying her— his Sabbat? What then?” I was picturing all kinds of messy scenarios.

“There’s a very small window—just a decade. Sixteen to twenty-six. He married my mom when he was thirty-one.”

“You never told me that! Wow, so we just barely made it.”

“I’ll be twenty-six next week,” he said quietly.

“That sucks, doesn’t it?” I shook my head. “If you’d just been one year older.”

By the look on his face, I knew that we were headed toward the old argument again—the one where I went on about how awful and awkward our situation was, while he insisted it wasn’t that bad, really.

“Well, I’m glad that I wasn’t,” he said, confirming my hunch. “You don’t have to do this alone, Violet. You’ve got your stake, I’ve got my baselard, and we’ve got each other.”