Wildfire

Chapter 28

28. Hope

My legs were like lead by the time I reached the lecture hall. As soon as I stepped into Dr. Barton's class, I knew I'd made a mistake. I was a few minutes late, which meant my entrance had garnered the attention of almost everybody inside. As I moved towards the steps, I could feel hundreds of eyes on me.

The urge to turn and run was almost impossible to resist.

If you run now, you'll always run, I told myself. Anxiety wrapped like a tight fist around my ribcage but I forced myself to place one foot in front of the other, moving further down the aisle. Dr. Barton continued his lecture as though there'd been no interruption, and I could see the curiosity waning on the faces of those close to me.

I found my eyes roving over the seats, my hands starting to shake.

But I knew he wasn't there. I had no idea how I knew, only that there was no pull, no tug of curiosity or awareness stemming from some prescient instinct inside of me. When Diesel had appeared outside, I'd had had my suspicions, but knowing for sure that he wasn't inside, I felt —

Relieved.

The thought of facing him was harder than the thought of making it to the front of the lecture hall. My heartbeat started to race at the thought and a tremor of pure panic rippled through me.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't even sure what to think about it, not yet. A part of me was still struggling to marry the person I thought I knew with the image he'd presented me with himself, even as the signs were becoming more and more apparent. I had been disillusioned before, but those circumstances had been vastly different. A part of me had expected it then, but for some reason, this time I had been utterly fooled.

And as angry as I was with him for what he did... I was just as angry with myself for not realizing it on my own.

I slid into a free seat near the front of the room next to a dark-haired girl. I tried to hide the shaking of my hands as best I could, but I could tell by the dubious look on her face that I hadn't fooled her. I pulled a notepad and pen out of my bag, and tried to settle into my seat.

"... One of the oldest accounts of Roman werewolf mythology is actually quite detailed," Dr. Barton announced to the class. He clicked onto the next slide, which was an image depicting a Roman officer and a taller, more muscular man with bright, golden eyes and a slightly elongated face. The painting was so eerily similar to Diego and Viktor, that I felt my heartbeat stutter in my chest. The man was wearing an emerald cloak, with strange black markings on the hood. "According to this legend, the werewolves were known as the Guardians of Rome. They were a secret force, not unlike our own Secret Service, under the command of the Emperor. The werewolf depicted in this painting was known as the Consul — their leader, and the only one who had direct contact with the Emperor. According to legend, this was how the empire became so powerful."

"Right," the girl next to me snorted. "Wouldn't the legend be more 'well-known' if a bunch of hairy mutts were running around fighting for the Romans?"

"Maybe they ate all the witnesses," her friend murmured.

I saw the corners of Dr. Barton's lips twitch, like he was amused, and I realized that he could hear them. Of course — he was a lupi. A flicker of anger rose in my chest, overriding my panic, as Diego's words flitted through my mind before I could stop them.

"When you enrolled in Robert Barton's class, I ordered him to sign me up too. He used his position to enrol me in a few other anthropology classes last semester, so I could learn more about you."