Witch Born - LJ Swallow Page 0,69

murderous arsehole trick me into giving him my blood.

Or am I just telling myself that?

I’m also on edge waiting for Marcus to accost me again and ask for an answer. Whichever way I turn, I’m trapped. Should I worry that one of the others would kill me to save themselves? Ethan could easily, and I’ve already put myself in his grasp once.

I moisten my lips. Is that the reason they’ve triggered his powers?

And who are ‘they’?

The day began with sunshine, but rain now pelts the windows as I walk along the hallway towards the dining hall. I’ve fun times running around the courtyard straight after lunch and no jacket, so I veer away from the hall and towards the door. Rushing across the courtyard, I make my way back to the room and snatch my hoodie from the bed.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear two voices, one urgent and loud, the other plaintive. Pausing, I strain to hear where and who the people are.

But I’m determined to keep out of fights in case I’m forced to take sides, so I keep walking.

“No!”

I’m arrested again by Samuel’s voice and the pained tone hits my heart. I’ve a soft spot for this friendless kid; I’d often sit with him at meals when I saw him alone and refuse to let anybody bully him.

I creep along the hallway and locate the voice, behind a door that leads up to the top part of the building. Some of the academy’s turrets house rooms for the lucky kids like Zeke and Dorian who have their own place.

I pull open the door.

Thick silver chains are linked across the bottom of the steps, a clear indicator to keep out, even though stepping over them would be easy. Samuel and the person he’s with evidently did, because their voices are above me. Shrugging on my hoodie, I clamber over the chains and softly tread up the steps, my back to the wall, following the spiral.

“Let me go!” shouts Samuel.

“Come with me, you stupid fucker.”

Dorian?

“I don’t want to! Leave me alone.” The desperation in Samuel’s voice spurs me on and I rush up the last few steps.

The pair struggle beside an open door where daylight shines through from outside. Dorian has Samuel pinned against the wall by his shoulders and the kid thrashes as if he’s nailed to the stone.

“What are you doing?” I yell at Dorian. “Let the kid go.”

He looks over his shoulder. “Get somebody.”

I blink. “What?”

“Go and find someone. A mid. I don’t give a shit which one.”

Samuel whimpers and his body slackens.

“What’s happening, Samuel?” I ask.

“My head hurts,” says Samuel hoarsely and his reddened eyes meet mine. “I can’t do this.”

I stare. “Dorian, what are you doing to him?”

“Holding him here before he climbs onto the roof.” He holds Samuel’s shoulders harder, who cries out in pain.

Do I believe Dorian?

I glance at the door where the rain blows through and sprays across the two guys.

“Is that true?” I ask Samuel.

“He’s hurting me! Make him let go,” he whines.

“Close that door to the roof and find someone,” says Dorian through gritted teeth. “Before he jumps.”

I snap my head back. “What?”

“I caught the dumb fucker heading up here. Saw him in the hallway talking to himself about ending the pain.” I can’t see Dorian’s face, but his voice is terse. “The kid needs help.”

“Let me go!” Samuel wails again and attempts to lash out.

What the hell is happening? I shove the door closed and Samuel screams at me not to. I’m swayed towards Dorian’s side of the story. “Some morons in here deserve to go mad, but not the little kids. They shouldn’t be in this fucking place at their age.”

“What?”

“Everything hurts!” yells Samuel and finally I realise what’s happening.

Is Dorian trying to stop a suicide attempt?

“Take him back downstairs,” I say.

“He doesn’t look much but this kid hits fucking hard.” Dorian shows me the side of his face I didn’t see before and blood streaks his face from his nose.

Shit.

“Can you hold him?” I ask.

“Yes! Eloise, just fucking fetch a mid before he breaks free.”

The cloud of confusion in my head is scorched away by the heat of panic and I turn to run back down the steps.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

My wobbly legs propel me along the hallway, head jerking from side to side as I search for a mid. After a few minutes running through the building, I slam open the door and plunge into the courtyard before stopping for breath, heart beating hard in