Page 57 of The Villains of Winter

As Elliott’s eyes began to water at the corners, James refused to leave him. He rested Elliott’s head against his rigid shoulder until Elliott could gather himself. It was important that Elliott paid attention to everything. That his eyes were cleared. That his mind was prepared.

Elliott would never kill anyone, not even in self defense.

If James was fast enough, he’d do the killing for him.

Entertained by the sight of them, the vile serpent approached with a falsely empathetic inflection. “Do you need a moment?”

James was proud of Elliott for the bite in his voice. “Not at all.”

A light dusting of snow began to fall as the temperature lowered before the dawn. Lucien licked the snow from the edge of his lip, satisfied.

“I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” Lucien said, and James didn’t comprehend what he meant. “James Wilde is safe like I agreed to you.”

James’s mouth parted open in disbelief. It was impossible that Elliott was naïve enough to strike a deal with him. “Elliott, you didn’t…Tell me that you didn’t barter a deal with him?”

By the vengeful contortion of Lucien’s mouth, drinking in the sight of James’s distress, James knew he was telling the truth. However, James refused to believe it from anyone except Elliott.

“Tell me he’s lying, Elliott.” Elliott couldn’t be that idealistic and unaware. He couldn’t be that trusting, therefore James growled at Lucien. “You are a damned liar.”

“Do you really think I’m lying?” Lucien gleamed with gratification. “Ask Elliott, when he came to me on your behalf, out of the goodness of my heart, I agreed. Didn’t I, Elliott?”

Lucien departed with Elliott without another word.

James remained with slaughterous hatred broiled in his chest.

He concentrated as Elliott was taken from him. James checked his wristwatch, and he blew out a sharp profanity. It was 2:21 AM.

What felt like seconds had been over in twenty minutes.

Thysdrus was a twenty-five minute walk itself into the hearth of campus. The grand amphitheater domineered over the gothic architecture structures in the circlet of academic property.

If James sprinted, he would be there by 2:35 AM.

Instead, he committed himself to keeping pace with the rest of the theater students, accepting their condolences and sympathy. He even held hands with one of the actresses, who squeezed his hand for comfort. He’d slept with her last year, and he always confused her with her twin sister, who he’d also slept with last year, so he only nodded instead of risking her name. “Thank you for your condolences.”

“Death is natural.” She was mindless with platitudes. “Don’t linger the loss, linger on the memories. It could’ve been anyone.”

He was so sightless in loathe that he couldn’t see them, he couldn’t decipher any of their words after that. He heard the words, but none of them registered.

One of them assured him, “Everything’s fine. It’s over now.”

Another actor said, “Think of it this way, after this performance, the year ends soon. All of it will be behind you.”

James didn’t want Elliott behind him, he wanted him beside him.

All in bright spirits, one of them quoted The Crucible, and they all began to re-enact the famed scenes. “‘It’s winter in here yet. On Sunday let you come with me, and we’ll walk the farm together…’”

The theater students walked torturously slow, bantering incessantly, and it only served to remind James why he was grateful that he was a philosophy student. Even tech week with them had been insufferable.

Their promenade was so leisurely that they didn’t arrive until 2:57 AM.

James wanted more than anything to quit the theater right then and there.

However, Wulfram had lured him into the theater department.

If James ever had a splotch of blood on his shirt, or he had a shard of cartilage stuck beneath his nail beds, everyone would think it was due to theater props. The alchemy tomes were merely theater research books, if anyone questioned him.

Wulfram had been convinced by one of the theater professors to allow her to mentor James. She’d won over syllogistic Helmut Wulfram by pointing out all the best politicians were liars and performative actors.