Demon's Mark (The Solomon Legacy: Book One)

Chapter Eighteen

The three of us spent the night in the infirmary.

One of us spent it in a ridiculous neck brace. Nate tried his best not to laugh in my face as they Velcro-ed the thing in place.

Rhys didn't bother to hide his amusement.

"All you need is a cone around your face and the look would be complete," he laughed as he high-fived Nate.

I had to wear the stupid thing for twelve long hours, which made sleep nearly impossible. When they finally released us and removed my collar, the neck stretching the demon kid had given me left me sore through the entire weekend. I didn't bother mentioning what had happened when I talked to my mom Saturday night. There was nothing she could do to help and it might worry her into a frenzy. That's the last thing she needed. I did tell River what happened.

"Was the hot guy wearing a shirt?"

I think she meant Rhys. She'd never seen Nate as far as I remembered.

"When?"

She sighed dramatically.

"When he ran out of his room to rescue you! Was the hot guy wearing a shirt?"

I sighed.

"So, first of all, it wasn't this chivalrous scenario you've probably created in your mind," I said. "It's more like some sort of odious task he's required to perform from the way he treats me. And second, yes. He was wearing a shirt. Pants, too, in case you're wondering. He probably even had on socks and shoes."

River wasn't impressed and told me so before we eventually hung up.

"I want hot guy ab pictures," she demanded and I laughed at her. She was kidding. Mostly.

On Sunday night I was streaming a random subtitled anime that I'd read about last month when a familiar pounding shook my room's door. A normal knock might have made me curious. The fact that the door shook in its hinge made me roll my eyes.

"What do you want, Putnam?" I yelled without bothering to get up.

"Get down to the Professor's office," he said. "Now."

He punctuated the now with another punch to my door.

"Holy crap, I hate you," I whispered as I un-piled myself from underneath my comforter and found a matching pair of tennis shoes underneath my bed.

A few minutes later, I was knocking on the door into Michael's office, as ordered.

"Come in." It was Michael. He was waiting on me.

I pushed the heavy door forward and was taken a little aback by what I saw. I'd been perfectly expecting to be alone in this meeting. To see Rhys, and he was there, wasn't a huge shock. But sitting in a plush leather chair to the left of Michael's desk was Callan.

I made a face when I recognized him and he merely winked. Rhys stood to Michael's right, his hands behind his back and his feet braced neatly shoulder length apart. Always the good little soldier, this kid.

Knowing he wouldn't look my way anyway, I made a face at Rhys as I took the chair next to him that Michael pointed to.

I waited for this odd little meeting to begin, even sneaking a questioning glance at Callan now and then, but no luck. We waited in heavy, awkward silence for an eternity.

When the door to Michael's office finally swung open, my left foot was asleep and I'd gotten up to the 47 out of 99 bottles of beer on the wall (in my head, of course).