RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,18
on school grounds. From Monday through Friday, leaving Wolf Hall for any reason without prior written permission from myself or another member of the teaching staff is taken very seriously. There are other items on the list that you can review at your own leisure. I take it none of that will be an issue for you, though?”
“No, of course not.” Jesus. Who does she think I’m going to be getting hot and heavy with? And I’ve never stepped foot in New Hampshire before; as far as I’m concerned, this place might as well be the seventh circle of hell and there’s no way out for me.
“Good girl. Now, if you don’t mind, I have some paperwork to catch up on. I believe you have a French class to be getting to. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that, given that it was your first language.”
“Actually, I never learned Fre—”
“Good, good. Off you go now. If you need anything, please let someone at the administration desk know and I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you. Have a lovely day, Elodie.”
I’m ushered out of Principal Harcourt’s office so quickly I almost forget to collect my bag before the door is slammed loudly behind me.
I take a deep, calming breath, slinging the leather strap up and over my head. I have no idea where my French class is or which direction I’m supposed to head in, and since Carina threw out my map yesterday morning, I find I’m at a bit of a loss. Carina had to get to class, and without my guide, I—
I see the dark silhouette, hovering at the mouth of the corridor that leads to the principal’s office and a cold sweat breaks out across my back.
Crap.
My scientific mind tells me that this old, crooked, rambling building isn’t haunted, but the shadowy figure looks distinctly ghost-like as it moves toward me.
I could be wrong, but I’m betting none of the training my father drilled into me will be useful against non-corporeal forms. Stilling my racing heart, I step forward, swallowing down the lump in my throat, and…Wren Jacobi steps into the circle of flickering, dim yellow light cast off from a sconce on the wall.
I don’t know if I should be relieved or twice as scared.
His black clothes contrast so dramatically with his pale skin that he looks like the negative of a photo, brought to life. I didn’t see him again after English yesterday, so I’d tricked myself into believing that I wouldn’t be seeing him today, either. Clearly a very stupid, na?ve thought, because here he is, larger than life and way more threatening than any apparition. The hallway’s wide but not wide enough for me to skirt around him without having to acknowledge his existence. I duck my head, tucking my chin into my chest, eager to get past him as quickly as possible…
“Stillwater.” My last name echoes down the hallway, ringing in my ears. His voice is cold and stiff. “They sent me to escort you to class. Come with me.”
Oh. That’s just…fucking wonderful.
He sounds pissed that he’s been assigned this task. I move closer, dragging my heels as much as possible, trying to delay the moment that I reach him and we’re standing face to face in the confined space, unable to avoid each other’s gaze. It comes all too quickly, though.
God, his eyes are so green. I’ve never seen eyes that color before. He doesn’t blink as he stares down at me, his top lip twitching like it wants to curl upward in disgust. He brushes a hand through his thick, wavy hair, blowing hard down his nose, his nostrils flaring. “Try to remember the way,” he says curtly. “I’m not doing this twice.”
I don’t even want him to do it once.
He spins, turning around and showing his back to me, and then he takes off at a fast clip, heading for the east wing of the academy. For every one of his long strides, I have to put in three in order to keep pace with him. Tension radiates off him as he marches ahead of me, clenching and unclenching his massive hands into fists.
With the heavy, solid oak doors to all the classrooms firmly closed, concealing the students inside, a thick silence floods the hall as Wren leads the way. Cursing myself for being so damn stupid, I rip my gaze away from his ass, telling myself that I wasn’t checking out the way his jeans hang a little too low,