“What I am?” I repeat, voice barely audible.
Constantine’s amber eyes meet mine, and I can see the knowledge burning behind them. “Your shadows don’t just move wrong, Ashley. They’re alive in a way no Dark Nephilim’s are. They reach for my fire even now.”
I glance down to see he’s right. Despite my best efforts, my shadows are stretching toward him, drawn to his fire energy like moths to a flame. The connection feels natural, inevitable, even as it terrifies me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I attempt weakly, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” He steps closer, lowering his voice until it’s almost intimate. “I’ve studied the historical accounts. I know what living shadows mean.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Are you going to report me?”
To my surprise, he looks offended, his expression shifting to something almost hurt. “If that were my intention, why would I have intervened just now? Or given you access to the restricted section?”
“Then what do you want?” My voice comes out sharper than intended, fear making me defensive.
“Understanding,” he says simply. “The historical accounts of Ascendants don’t align with official Hunter doctrine. Something doesn’t add up, and I’ve learned to question inconsistencies.”
He extends his hand, a small flame dancing on his palm like a living jewel. The fire doesn’t seem to burn him, just hovers above his skin with impossible grace. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“How your shadows interact with fire. I’ve seen glimpses, but never the full extent.”
I hesitate, every instinct screaming that this is a trap. But something in his expression—genuine curiosity rather thanthreat—convinces me he’s not immediately planning to turn me over to the authorities.
Cautiously, I relax my rigid control, allowing my shadows to respond naturally to his fire. They extend eagerly, reaching for the flame in delicate tendrils that swirl around the fire without being consumed. The connection feels electric, like two halves of something being reunited.
Constantine watches with fascination evident in his expression, his eyes tracking every movement. “They’re drawn to it. Like opposite polarities of a magnet.”
“It’s always been like that,” I admit quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Since my transformation. My shadows reach for your fire even when I’m trying to control them.”
“Vessel compatibility,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “The historical accounts mentioned it, but seeing it...”
He closes his hand, extinguishing the flame, and my shadows reluctantly retreat like disappointed children. Losing connection leaves me feeling strangely bereft.
“You need to be more careful. After today, you’ll have both Marcus and the light Nephilim watching for further slips.”
“I know,” I sigh, suddenly exhausted in a way that goes beyond physical tiredness. “I’m trying, but it’s exhausting maintaining this level of control constantly.”
Constantine studies me for a moment, his amber eyes searching my face, then seems to come to a decision. “Meet me in the east tower observatory tonight at midnight. There’s something you should see.”
“Why should I trust you?” I ask bluntly, crossing my arms defensively. “You’re a Hunter. Your entire purpose is to eliminate things like me.”
A shadow crosses his face, and for a moment, he looks older than his apparent years. “My purpose is more complicated than you realize. Midnight, east tower. Come alone.” He moves towardthe door, then pauses with his hand on the handle. “And tell your guardian I mean you no harm. I’d prefer not to have a territorial confrontation with an ancient vampire.”
Before I can respond, he’s gone, leaving me staring after him in confusion and wondering how the fuck my life became this complicated.
I sink into a nearby chair, allowing my shadows to swirl freely now that I’m alone. They dance around my feet in agitated patterns, clearly disturbed by the morning’s events and seeking comfort through movement.
Between Elara’s suspicions, Marcus’s deliberate provocation, and now Constantine’s unexpected interest, my precarious position at Greyson feels increasingly unstable. I’m accumulating too many people who notice my differences, too many threats to track simultaneously. It’s like playing three-dimensional chess while blindfolded.
And yet, Constantine’s fascination with my shadows seemed genuine. The way he spoke about historical accounts suggested he questions the official narrative about Ascendants.Could he actually be an ally?
Or is this just another, more sophisticated trap?
As I gather myself to face the rest of the day, one thing becomes abundantly clear: my time for blending in is rapidly running out. Sooner rather than later, I’ll have to choose between continuing this exhausting charade or embracing what I truly am—with all the dangers that entails.
The clock on the wall ticks toward the next class period, and I force myself to stand. Whatever Constantine wants to show me tonight, I’ll have to survive the rest of today first.
