Chapter 93: _Control
Atlas’ POV
*****
8:40 AM, Bloodoak Academy Grand Library.
"The Dean moving pieces?" Luther echoed his words. "Are you insinuating... He’s behind all the crazy things happening in the academy these past couple of weeks?"
Atlas kept his expression plain.
So far, Luther was the only mate unaware of the reappearance of Miss Benedicta’s body. Plus its disappearance—and those two notes found in Azrael’s suite.
Celeste was the one who insisted it stay that way and he wasn’t about to go against the wishes of his woman.
"I’m not insinuating anything yet, Luther." He kept his voice low and careful. "Just be observant. Stay low and make sure you don’t do anything foolish."
"Foolish?"
"Like questioning the Dean," Atlas warned. "Until we understand what exactly we’re dealing with, be mindful. Your Alpha status won’t be able to save you if it’s truly something ominous."
Ever since last night, he’s been troubled by the words that the mysterious woman said. But also had a plethora of questions.
What if she or someone close was behind Miss Benedicta’s murder? And the notes.
After that night at Azrael’s balcony—the blood, his eyes and the wrongness—he’d almost been led to suspect the witch. By the spirits, he’d begun thinking he wasn’t even a witch.
This woman’s sudden appearance added a new, dangerous suspect to the fray.
"Goddess," Luther scoffed, fingers drumming on the desk. "Last night’s Vein beast attack struck me as suspicious too. What if the wards were shut down intentionally?"
Atlas gave a defeated shrug. "Again, there’s no way to know. It’ll be wise to stay quiet and observe. For now, at least."
Luther shook his head. "Easy for you to say," slowly, he got on his feet. "Thanks for your... Insight, Atlas. You know, you’re smarter than most people give you credit for."
The latter merely arched a brow. "I am a top student for a reason, Alpha."
With a dry laugh, Luther stretched his limbs before walking away. Atlas watched him leave, taking note of the exact moment he stepped out of the library.
He shut his book, rubbing his chin. "That should’ve been enough..."
With a flick of a wrist, a spell he’d kept active throughout the conversation activated. Images flashed into his mind in waves. Images extracted from Luther’s recent memories.
It wasn’t direct mind reading—more like taking residual memory flashes left behind on objects. In this case... Luther’s hands which he kept on the desk for minutes on end.
"Well, well..." Atlas’ lips quivered as his mind paused on a scene. "He didn’t lock her door properly."
What he was about to do was something he wouldn’t have even thought of two weeks ago. But here he was—unremorseful and ready.
.
.
Upon stepping into Celeste’s suite, the door shut silently behind him. He’d made sure the hallways were empty and kept an invisibility spell on for this.
The balcony door was half open as well, making him sigh. "Just how good was Silas’ offer that made her forget security?"
Maybe he should be out taking notes like Luther.
But this was better.
While the rest warred over petty things, he was out here ensuring she wasn’t in any danger. And also answering some questions that bothered him while at it.
If anything happened to her while they were busy posturing, he’d never forgive himself.
Stretching out his right hand, he weaved a series of complex runes. They floated above him, enlarging until they swallowed the bedroom in a soft golden light.
Within seconds, the real magic happened.
Across the walls, even more complex runes appeared. White and bright. They were connected, creating formations that made him marvel for a few seconds.
Wards.
Every suite, hall and room in the academy had them. Although most students forgot—Atlas always made himself aware of this fact.
The main purpose of the academy’s wards was protection and security. Surveillance wards were placed in the hallways or between buildings.
Never in suites.
’If her suite has any, it’ll confirm my suspicions even further.’ He thought, eyes squinted as he scanned the intricate runes and the wards they formed together.
Alas, after almost a minute of searching, he was left disappointed. There was no ward out of the ordinary and they were all very active.
One wrong move and they’d activate, neutralising him.
"So he’s relying on his spies then?" He folded his arms. "Come on, Dean Thorne. What are you hiding? And how do I uncover it?"
Perhaps the clue he needed wasn’t in his mate’s private space.
Sighing, his eyes shifted to her bed. He knew it was hers because the familiar lingering scent of spring clung to the sheets. He could almost imagine her form stretching as she got up for a new day.
With every shred of self-control, he stopped himself from walking to her bed. He was already overstaying here.
However, when he turned to the door, something caught the corner of his eye. Lying on the lamp stand beside her bed.
Tilting his head, he locked his gaze on it.
A... A piece of paper?
Unease spread through every inch of his being. If there’s anything he’s learnt this past week, it’s that a piece of paper was bad news.
Especially one so small.
"There’s no magic residue," he held his breath, picking the paper. Slowly.
When he turned it over, his jaw tightened.
One word. Again—just like the ones left in Azrael’s suite—this had only a word.
And it would’ve been negligible if it wasn’t written with blood.
"Control..." He whispered, suddenly afraid that whoever dropped it was listening. "First it was Confess. Then choose. Now... This?"
None of them had been able to crack what those first two meant. The only recurring pattern was how they all started with the letter "C".
Still, that could just be a coincidence, right?
"Celeste needs to know." He slipped the paper into his front pocket, pivoting to the door.
Unfortunately, the moment he took a step forward, the door clicked. It opened, a figure he least expected creeping into the room with a boldness that made him step back.
Spirits have mercy.
—Azrael.
