The Blood of a Nightlock

Chapter Six

Emmet and I were under the oak tree doing our psych homework together. I normally didn't share my space under the tree, but Emmet said he needed to take psych seriously. I figured it had something to do with his meeting with Dr. Harden. We were both noses in a book taking notes and swapping different thoughts. It was actually kind of nice. I valued Emmet's perception of everything. 

I hadn't seen Mitchel in four days. He hadn't shown up to training since the kiss, which helped me keep my distance, and we hardly ever saw him on campus as it was so that was promising too. No one had mentioned anything to me and I wanted to keep it that way. Inside though, I was a little sad. Deep down, I wished it would have meant something to him like it had me. That was childish of me. The man was our highest-ranking superior officer who told me that the day he saved my life he was simply just doing his job, there was nothing special about it, and not to mention, he was ten years my senior. Reason enough to prove that I was being immature by thinking there was something more there. Mitchel went after women of the same caliber as him. He didn't go for novices that he sponsored and now I just went and made everything so much more awkward. The only interest he had in me was that he saved my life and he promised my Dad that he would protect me. That's it. Our paths had crossed at a very hard time for me. 

The kiss had obliterated the respect that I should have been showing him. After the murder of my parents, Mitchel went to bat for me. There was a trial regarding my late acceptance into Briarwood and they asked Mitchel his opinion about my ability to train at such a late stage in my life and to train at the caliber of peers that had studied at Briarwood their whole life. They thought I'd fall behind and be lost. Mitchel told them otherwise. He assured them that I was worth the investment and the time. That I would be a top contender at Briarwood and I deserved the chance to prove it. And here I was thanking him by kissing him without consent. I was such a mess.

"Grayson!" Fremont bellowed across the yard causing Emmet and I to jump. He always knew how to disturb the peace. "Let's go!"

I frowned.

"Now!"

I hurried to my feet while gathering my things and shoving them haphazardly into my bag as I crossed the yard. I zipped my bag up as I went, jogging to get to Fremont. "W-what's up?" I asked, there was an agitation etched into his features and I was praying it wasn't about the kiss.

"You've been called up to Walsh's office."

"Walsh?" I asked, surprised, my chest enclosing in itself internally. "Why?"

"Let's go."

Did Mitchel go to the board? Did he tell them about the kiss? Why would he do that? I really thought he would just talk to me. I was doomed. My whole future- gone. We were silent as we crossed campus and made our way into the administration building. The anxiety in my chest was uncontrollable. The ache that started and my inability to effectively breathe were the only things I could focus on. My hands were shaking as we climbed the stairs to the top floor where Walsh's office was.

Dr. Walsh was the headmaster. He was our very own personal Dumbledore. Except we saw him only slightly more than we saw Mitchel. He wasn't sending young hunters off on curious missions risking their lives with cryptic messages on how to save the day. He was known for being a very logical and factual person who didn't care for the bullshit. He didn't spend time around any students unless he felt like he hadn't shown his face enough lately. He reminded me of Charles Xavier from X-Men. Very intelligent, well-spoken, and very intimidating.

Fremont opened the door to Walsh's office and we stepped inside. I was surprised by the faces I came in contact with. Fremont behind me, Dr. Harden standing beside Walsh's desk facing the door, and Walsh in his big plush chair. On the left side of the room, there was a Victorian-style couch. Mitchel occupied it. He had one foot up on the small coffee table in front of him and he leaned back with his left arm propped up on the arm of the couch, his head tilted against it. He was in his typical black cargo pants that were cinched at the ankle and tucked into his white tennis shoes. The black long sleeve he had on was pulled up to the elbows revealing his tattoos and a black watch sat on his left wrist. His eyes swung to mine as I entered. I looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze. I was beyond embarrassed and I had a feeling that the meeting had everything to do with the kiss.