Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,71
reflection to wipe the smeared mascara from the bottom of my eyes. My eyeliner is smudged, my lashes slightly clumped, hair tousled from the wind into a wild tangle.
Somehow, instead of looking like a hot mess, I look vengeful. Raw. A pissed off queen who’s just crawled from the depths of Hell ready to exact revenge on the one who put her there.
A quiet sort of anger takes over, filling the hollowness left by Valerian. Giving me purpose.
Hellebore might have pricked Inara’s ego for his own cryptic reasons, but she’s far from destroyed.
And I’m not leaving tonight until she’s on her knees.
29
After pulling out my phone and responding to the twenty texts from Eclipsa and Mack, I follow the signs for the hotel elevator. I’m so focused on finding my way back to the top floor that I almost miss the angry voices. They’re coming from around the corner, down a dead end hallway.
Curiosity draws me closer. Especially when I make out a female voice saying, “Stop.”
The voices are loud enough that they probably can’t hear my footsteps on the carpet runner, but just in case, I slip off my heels.
The argument is coming from a dark alcove where, according to the signs, there’s an icemaker. Holding my breath, I peek around the wall. My eyes take a second to adjust. When they do, I see Freesia pressed against the wall. Her eyes are unfocused, black lipstick smeared and head lolling.
Drunk—she’s drunk.
A male vampire has her trapped, his corded arms pinned on either side of her body.
“Stop,” she slurs, her eyes closing.
Maybe it’s the rage already coursing through my body, or the way this asshole reminds me of Cal, but I launch myself at the bastard. His Fae hearing gives him the advantage, and he whips around, his cruel grin showing off his long, curved fangs.
My magic purrs in anticipation, but I force it back into its cage and hold up my fists. If I use my magic now, Hellebore will find out.
The vampire laughs. “The fuck are you doing, little shadow?”
Freesia’s eyes sharpen as she focuses on me. It takes her a second, but recognition flares to life in her gaze. A hyena laugh bubbles up her throat. “You stupid bloodsucker. That’s my brother’s fiancé.”
“Brother?” He squints at me, and then his smug arrogance gives way to fear. He pivots to face Freesia, who’s still laughing, cackling really. “You crazy bitch. Why didn’t you tell me who your brother was?”
She snorts, listing side to side but managing to stay upright. “Oops.”
He shoves past me, mumbling, “You’re both insane.”
Once he’s gone—and I’ve made sure he isn’t lurking nearby—I rush over and put my arm around Freesia’s delicate shoulder to steady her. “You okay?”
“Sure.” The alcohol can’t hide the bitterness in her tone. “Better than you. I’m not chained to an asshole for the rest of my life like you are. Not yet, anyway.”
She stumbles forward, jerking out of my reach.
“Wait. Let me help you.”
She careens around so fast I’m sure she’s going to collide with the wall. She stops herself an inch from smashing her face, righting herself on a vending machine. “Help me? What can you do? You can’t even help yourself.”
I can’t deny the truth in her statement. “Why do you hate him so much? I mean, he’s a dick, even by Fae standards—sorry. But he’s your brother.”
The hyena laugh returns, and she sways as she slurs, “You are so clueless. It’s almost adorable. I see why he was so happy to do her bidding.”
Ouch. I’m trying not to take her words personally, but it’s hard not to when I’m being roasted by an angry teenager who can hardly see straight. Then my mind filters through the insults to her last statement. Bidding? “Who’s bidding, Freesia?”
“What?” Her attention wanders to the snacks inside the vending machine. Pressing her face against the plexiglass like a kid, she releases a magical vine from her palm. The vine crawls over the glass toward the little opening at the bottom. It takes her three times to guide the vine into the opening.
When she’s done, she has two packets of iced Honey Buns.
She’s pretty much forgotten about me at this point, but I can’t let this opportunity go. Maybe wasted she’ll be more apt to answer my questions.
“So,” I say, casually following beside her as she stumbles down the hallway. “What was Hellebore like at Whitehall?”
Ripping open the first pastry, she starts shoving the Honey Bun straight into her mouth.