Chapter 67 — What Did Melissa Know

Chapter 67: Chapter 67 — What Did Melissa Know

~ Dante ~

"COME ON, THEN, YOU FUCKERS!"

Dante laughed.

The Linkslate sat propped against his knee, and the recording had reached the part the whole academy had already watched, several hundred times, since dawn. The Bellringer had been running it on a loop between items. Somebody had even set it to music.

The clip froze where it always froze.

Raven Rivers, mid-scream. Blood down her chin. Her hair everywhere, half of it stuck to her face. One eye squeezed shut against whatever had just hit her. Six or seven runic balls caught in the air around her, all of them thrown by people twice her size and three years her senior, all of them arriving at once.

And her, filling her lungs to invite more of it.

Dante dragged the marker back and let it run again.

The first time he had watched it, it had simply been funny. Rivers, overwhelmed by an entire wall of upper-years, responding to the situation by demanding they try harder.

The third time, something else started showing.

She had a pattern.

He set the slate flat against his thigh and watched the clip again, this time paying attention to more than the swearing.

During the assessment, Raven had come at him with a kitchen knife, a failing classification and enough common sense to know she had no business winning. None of that had stopped her.

The Blackthorn twins had been Vanguard-ranked, furious and had once been bonded to her besides. She had still stood there and mouthed off until Dante had started wondering whether fear had simply forgotten where she lived.

Then Rowan House put a sealed writ in front of her this morning, filled the cafeteria with witnesses and handed her every reason in the world to bow her head.

Raven had told them no.

Now half the upper-years were emptying the racks at one first-year, and there she was on the ground, palms torn open, dragging herself toward the platform because apparently getting knocked down only offended her.

Dante watched another ball catch her.

She folded.

Stayed there for perhaps a second.

Then started crawling again.

A slow grin pulled at his mouth.

There was a pattern here.

The stronger the person standing over Raven Rivers, the more determined she became to make their life difficult.

Dante considered that for a moment.

There were really only two reasonable explanations.

Either Rivers possessed an extraordinary amount of courage...

...or the Moon Goddess had somehow forgotten to install a survival instinct.

He watched her haul herself forward another foot.

Both, probably.

The clip ran out and froze on the frame the Bellringer liked best.

White hair across her face. Blood on her mouth.

Nascent.

And that took him, the way it kept taking him, somewhere he had not intended to go.

Melissa.

The thought of Melissa came back with ease.

That old seal had been strange enough on its own — spear over a hunting horn, stamped onto a letter from a woman who had not set foot in Valerius for eight years.

What Dante remembered more clearly now was the letter itself.

It had barely asked for anything.

Just one chance for Raven Rivers to stand in the assessment court and prove whatever Melissa apparently believed was there.

Dante looked back at the girl on his slate, still dragging herself toward the platform.

At the time, he had wondered why Melissa would bother.

Now he was beginning to wonder what the hell she had already known.

Dante scratched at his jaw.

Had Melissa known the classification would miss something?

Dante’s thumb went still against the edge of the slate.

That was the part bothering him now.

Melissa had spent time with Rivers before sending her here. Long enough to see whatever the academy had somehow failed to measure properly.

Maybe she had seen the power.

Maybe she had only seen the girl.

Either possibility irritated him.

Because Melissa’s letter had been careful. Too careful.

She had not claimed Raven was powerful. Had not accused Valerius of misclassifying her. She had only written that the records did not fully represent her abilities and left everyone else to discover what that meant.

If Melissa knew something, she had gone out of her way to keep it off the page.

And Dante hated being left outside information that involved his own wolf.

His mind wandered back to the study before he could stop it.

Nikolai standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame, looking between Raven and him.

I think you’ve borrowed from my Wing long enough.

Dante’s mouth tightened.

He did not care what Wing Rivers belonged to.

He genuinely didn’t.

Valerius had sorted her. She had picked Nikolai’s. End of story.

So why the hell was hearing my Wing irritating him?

Dante scowled at the slate.

"Fuck Nikolai."

That improved nothing.

Because once his mood had started going downhill, apparently Rowan was waiting at the bottom.

Dante’s fingers tightened around the edge of the slate.

He had made things very simple for Rowan. After the fight with the Blackthorn twins, he had told them exactly what to take back to their House.

If Rowan had a problem, come find him.

Instead the bastard had gone after Rivers.

His jaw worked.

He would deal with Rowan.

Not today.

Soon.

The promise should have settled something.

It didn’t.

There was too much shit competing for space in his head now. Melissa and whatever she knew. Rivers and whatever she was. His wolf acting like it had developed opinions of its own. Nikolai’s irritating fucking my Wing. Rowan. The Founders’ Hunt in eleven days and a roster Dante had apparently been expected to begin preparing sometime before discovering the Hunt was in eleven days.

His temple gave a dull throb.

Dante closed his eyes.

Of course.

"Not now."

The pain answered by spreading slowly behind his eye.

That damned headache.

He pressed two fingers against his temple and rubbed hard, already angry at it. He could deal with broken bones. Burns. Claws. Those were honest problems. They had locations. Causes. Things he could hit back.

This useless pressure simply appeared whenever it pleased and stayed until it got bored.

He reached automatically for the small vial on the table beside him.

His hand stopped halfway there.

Dante frowned.

Something had just occurred to him.

He lowered his hand.

The Headmaster’s office.

He had been in there long enough to get irritated with Rowan twice, laugh at Cassian, discover he had somehow missed an entire Founders’ Hunt announcement and get thrown out by the Headmaster.

Rivers had been there the whole time.

Dante searched the memory again.

No headache.

He sat a little straighter.

Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed.

There had been plenty happening.

Then another memory came immediately after it.

The study.

Raven standing too close. Her palm against his chest. His fingers around her wrist while his wolf pushed forward hard enough to make him wonder what the hell had gotten into it.

No pain there either.

Dante’s frown deepened.

That one was harder to dismiss.

He knew his headaches. Distraction did not make them disappear. If anything, being irritated usually made the bastards worse.

He thought through those minutes again, deliberately this time.

Nothing.

Not even the faint pressure that usually warned him one was coming.

The pain behind his eye throbbed again.

Dante slowly looked down at the slate.

Raven was frozen halfway through screaming at the upper-years, white hair wild around her face, blood streaked across her mouth and absolutely no sense in her head.

He stared at her.

Coincidence?

Probably.

Adrenaline could do strange things. So could distraction. He had no intention of adding Raven Rivers somehow fixes headaches to an already ridiculous list of questions without considerably better evidence.

Another throb struck behind his eye.

Dante’s expression flattened.

He looked at her again.

For once, there was no smile.

Because the more he tried to remember it, the less uncertain he became.

His head hadn’t hurt when she was there.