Academy of the Forgotten (Cursed Studies Book 1) by Eva Chase

Author:Eva Chase [Chase, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ink Spark Press
Published: 2020-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Jenson

“Wynter!”

The voice made my spine stiffen before I’d even looked around. Elias DeLeon was beckoning me from the doorway to the cafeteria with that authoritative attitude that raised all my hackles. He was hardly even a real teacher in his own class. He didn’t get to order the rest of us around out here.

I had been going to head out the door anyway, as soon as I’d tossed the remains of my soggy cereal with its battered berries into the trash. I set the bowl on the dirty dishes table and ambled over with no intention of sticking around.

As I reached him, I spotted an unmistakable head of shaggy green-and-black hair lurking just behind his shoulder. Elias had roped Ryo into whatever he was up to as well? I tensed even more with an uneasy prickling that collected in my gut.

“What do you want, Eli?” I asked in an offhand tone, marking down a point for myself at the tightening of his jaw. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that he hated that nickname.

The irritation didn’t sway him from his cause, though. “We need to talk,” he said, with a tip of his head toward Ryo. “The three of us. We can use my classroom. Come on.”

His demeanor still rubbed me the wrong way, but there was an urgency in his expression that I hadn’t seen very often. And I didn’t really want to get into a big argument about what this talk was probably about here in full view of most of our classmates.

“This had better be good,” I said, but I walked with them up to the second floor.

Elias, being the anal, overachieving ass he was, had already set the textbooks for today’s math class out on the desks. He propped himself against the teacher’s desk as if he were about to lead that class for just the two of us. Ryo hopped up to sit on one of the desks, nudging the textbook behind him. I stayed by the door.

Elias folded his arms over his chest, making the muscles under that ever-present suit jacket bulge. Even clean-shaven, the hard lines of his face and the commanding air with which he held himself made it clear he was older than either of us—probably one of the oldest “students” here. I’d wondered idly in the past whether he’d simply come to the college late or been here a while. He’d already been a fixture here when I’d arrived a year and a half ago.

How much longer did he have? I didn’t see any telltale signs of weakness, but he was the kind of guy who’d sooner off himself than let on that he was struggling.

“We need to discuss Beatrix,” he said.

The detached way he said her full name made me want to punch him in the nose. As if he could claim to be any kind of authority on her while he was using the full name she made faces at. How much time had he

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