My fingers curled around the door handle and twisted, but the door remained locked. I tugged, pulled, and shook the handle. But still, the door remained impenetrable.
Why did the shadow lead me here? What was inside? What secret was the House on North Lane keeping from me?
CHAPTER THIRTY
A week passed without a response from the God’s Soldiers Church.
Nathaniel assured me that the email had been sent, but I grew anxious. What if my plan to find my mother unravelled before it even began? What if I never found her? What if I never uncovered the truth?
That would be for the best, little monster.
Our assignment was near completion. The essay had gone through several drafts, and all that remained was a summary to be presented in PowerPoint slides. I had no other upcoming deadlines—aside from one online exam that I wasn't really worried about—so the stress that had plagued me weeks prior had gradually evaporated. It found Nathaniel, though.
Approaching deadlines had him picking at his lips obsessively and peeling off the skin around his nails until they bled. He didn't raise his hand to answer questions, nor did he follow Professor Haywood after a lecture in order to bombard her with psychological manipulation theories.
I'd asked him if he was okay, and he'd given me a dashing smile that should have lit up his eyes. But it didn't. He was overwhelmed with three upcoming medical exams and two research papers due on the same day. In order to ease some of his stress, I took the responsibility of finishing our presentation. We'd argued about it until I convinced him that I could easily put the slides together in between customers at work. If it meant Nathaniel would have one less thing to worry about, I was happy to do it.
And here I thought he was our rival…
The morning of the presentation, Auden and I walked to the bus stop together. Although we caught different buses with different routes, we stood side-by-side amongst a small crowd of school students and workers downing their morning coffee. I had flash cards in my hands, mouthing my speech under my breath as I shifted from one leg to the other.
“Are you nervous about your presentation?” Auden asked.
“Yes."
"Why?"
"I am not entirely fond of public speaking," I answered, "and since Nathaniel is, well,Nathaniel…my poor public speaking abilities will be even more noticeable."
"I don't like public speaking either," Auden sighed, reaching for my hand. He squeezed my fingers gently before adding, "But I am sure you will do well. You're just as good as Nathaniel. Don't overthink it."
I glanced down at our hands and squeezed back, lips spreading into a small smile. "Thanks, Audie."
You never thank me like that.
By the time I reached Dawnridge, the lecture hall was already crowded with students. I scanned the room for Nathaniel's floppy black hair and dimpled smile, shoulders relaxing when I found him near the platformed stage, head tipped back as helaughed at something one of his friends said. The sound brought a smile to my face, but an unexpected pang of jealousy followed. What didIhave to do to make him laugh like that?
I shook the thought away and forced my legs forward.
Nathaniel’s eyes found mine within seconds, and he paused mid-sentence, words vanishing in his throat. For a moment, I was confused by the way his lips parted, gaze darting in between my gelled hair and my freshly ironed clothes. And then I remembered the effort I had put into my appearance that morning. I'd trimmed my curls, coating them in just enough gel to keep them in place, whilst the small stubble I had been growing was cleanly shaven, my bare face moisturised with aloe vera to avoid an acne breakout. My usual black attire was replaced with a pair of white trousers, a brown belt, and a slim-fitting forest green sweater, knitted and thrown atop a white collared shirt. Knowing I was to present in front of the entire class, I intended to appear welcoming and trustworthy as opposed to moody and unapproachable. Nathaniel's own fashion and sense of style may have been an inspiration, but I'd never admit that out loud.
“Hey,” he greeted me, hands casually sliding into his brown trousers, "you cut your hair."
"Only a little," I shrugged.
"I like it," he said, "and your outfit too."
Heat flamed my cheeks, the compliment catching me off guard. "Thank you."
"I am running on caffeine and caffeine alone, could not get a wink of sleep last night. How areyou?"
"Wait, you're nervous?" I gaped at him.
"It appears so. I am not thrilled about having to present in front of all these people…but I'll be fine."
"What do you mean? You…present all the time! You're always raising your hand and bragging about how much you know!"
"I don't brag—"
