The Order: Hit and Run by Emma Cole Page 0,32

of course, for the dean, but it doesn't have anything interesting to hold my attention either. Until it does.

My eyes are just tracking back to the oversized black marble-topped desk when I register what I saw. Two decent-sized indentations behind the dean near the wall, well away from the door and the rest of us. Being full-up from the last rite allows me to use an extra sense to feel out my surroundings. There's only the barest hint of malignant other before it disappears, as do the impressions of what I believe to have been footprints. It could have just been a fellow board member. But I don't believe my own excuse; things haven't been right since Damien went crazy on Cora a year ago. With his obsession escalating, to the point that Cora was granted an order of protection against him, and then the wreck, I've suspected that something was done to him to cause it. My bet is that the senior members of the Order were behind it, but so far I've been unable to find any proof of it. Finding out who was, or still is, in this room spying might be the lead that I need.

With the disappearance of the person or entity, the dean comes back to himself, seemingly having reached a decision. And now conspiracy theories run rampant in my head that there's someone else directing events behind the scenes. I'll have to talk to the others and hope like hell they keep it to themselves. Damien had been my counterpart, and adjusting to my new coterie is a work in progress.

"I expect weekly updates before the meetings. You're under a deadline, boys— if I suspect you're not doing your utmost to precipitate the awakening of the girl's abilities, the chairman will take matters into his own hands." We all remain frozen at the implications until the dean barks out a curt dismissal that has us giving short nods of respect and retreating to the hall. Cora had been in her room when we left— hopefully she hasn't had enough time to get up to anything that will have repercussions for all of us.

When I voice as much, the others pick up the pace to get back to the dorms.

Chapter Twelve

Cora

A herd of men nearly take out the door as they push in all at once. My last forkful of noodles plops back into their styrofoam cup, splashing broth up onto my hand.

"You're still here," Jag's declaration rushes out in a breath that sounds curiously like relief— which makes no sense to me. As far as I'm aware they'd prefer I throw the towel in and vacate the premises.

"Uh, yeah. Where else would I be?" My expression says it all— he's an idiot. While I wait for him to tell me where I could have possibly gone, my tongue catches the drops on the back of hand. Lifting my eyes at the prolonged silence, I find the idiot has multiplied by five, and they're all staring at me. "What the heck is wrong with you all? I won't eat on the couch if it's going to cause more problems. I'm sure it's seen worse than a ramen noodle or two… Oh, yuck, I sat on it." Lurching to my feet, I'm quickly reminded by my abused muscles to slow down.

"Wait, we just want to talk— clear the air." I pause next to the couch and eye Drake suspiciously, clutching my cup in front of my body. They try anything funny, and someone is getting forked.

As if he senses my thoughts— and that he'd be the first to get stabbed, Blaise extends a hand. "I can take that for you if you'd like."

I back away, not trusting his overture. "I'm not finished yet. And did you have a stroke? You're not nice."

Blaise's lips settle into a straight, firm line as his pupils flare in annoyance and something else I'm sure isn't meant for me. "I can be nice, Cora. I just rarely have reason to be." Nope, he has to be on something.

My feet shuffle backward, easing toward my bedroom door. Something has changed, and I'm not up to finding out what it is—there's zero chance we went from duking it out to… attraction? It's a prank. The thought makes my belly clench in trepidation as horror stories and movie plots about screwing with "the girl" run through my head. I should have expected a move like this.

Blunt and to the point, I ask, "What's