All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [127]
Louis strode alongside her. “Have I told you lately how much you remind me of your wonderful mother? But yes, midterms, precisely what I came to discuss.”
He waved at the fog ahead and it curled and spiraled like the ocean surf . . . hypnotic.
Fiona blinked.
“Stop it,” she hissed.
She touched her wrist and the rubber band there. Louis’s silver bracelet was still safely tucked into her bag. It seemed to have a mind of its own, and she no longer trusted it.
“Just leave me alone,” she said.
“I wanted to talk about your potential,” Louis said, ignoring her request, “within the League . . . and outside of it.”
She scoffed. “You mean with your side of the family. No thanks.”
She thought about Jezebel, so effortlessly stunning and confident, and she also remembered how she really looked as an Infernal: those inhuman eyes and claws—a monster.
“We’ve been over this,” Fiona said. “The League’s declared me an Immortal—not Infernal. Everyone knows that.”
But something in her words rang hollow in her ears.
“Yes, I’ve heard. And how do you like your new fame at school?”
There was a sarcastic edge to his tone that made the back of Fiona’s neck prickle with irritation.
“How did you know . . . ?”
“I hear things. Like how you dealt with that trifling duel, so wonderfully ruthless and humiliating to the Van Wyck boy. A very Infernal thing. But as much fun as it might have been, you should have cut off his head. Now you have an enemy for life.”
Fiona slowed. Donald Van Wyck had vowed never to come after Team Scarab. Well, of course, except in gym—where she suddenly remembered there weren’t rules about first blood . . . where he and the rest of Team Wolf could kill them.
The ire drained from her as she realized her miscalculation.
But what alternative was there? She wasn’t about to just kill someone.
Louis held out an arm in her path.
She halted, only now noticing she had almost walked off the curb into a busy intersection.
“Red light, my dear.” He waggled a finger. “Mustn’t jaywalk. What would your mother say?”
Fiona pursed her lips at this taunt. She shouldn’t let Louis get to her so easily. But he did. Just as Audrey always got under her skin. It must be a skill they teach parents.
Well, she couldn’t do anything if Louis wanted to walk on this sidewalk. It was a public place. She just wished he would shut up.
“Enough niceties, eh?” Louis’s smile faded a bit. “I came to warn you about midterms. Some Paxington students will do whatever they must to pass . . . even cheat.”
Fiona dismissed this notion. She imagined Plato Hall, the entire class bent over their tests—all under the unnerving gaze of Miss Westin. There was no way anyone was cheating. The Headmistress had made a special announcement about her zero-tolerance cheating policy last week—all the time looking at Jeremy and Sarah Covington.
“Let them try,” Fiona said. “They’ll get caught.”
“But there are other ways to influence Paxington’s precious grading curve,” Louis murmured. “For my sake, please keep your eyes and ears open for danger. What harm could that do?”
“I suppose. . . .”
Fiona got the feeling that Louis knew more than he was telling, and just as important, that his concern for her was genuine.
She sighed. “I want to believe you. I want to trust you. You’re just so . . . untrustworthy! Why did you steal Eliot’s phone? He got into massive trouble.”
Louis’s smile entirely vanished and his gaze dropped to the ground. “Oh, yes . . . that. It was the only way I could reach your mother. She is good at covering her tracks, and I needed to know where you lived.”
He took a deep breath and continued. “So when I saw Eliot’s phone . . . I borrowed it.” Louis looked up, and there was none of the usual mocking in his eyes. “I had planned on returning it the very next time I saw him . . . but that never quite happened. His phone, though, it had your address programmed into