Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy, #1)

by I.V. Marie

The dead weren’t meant to dream. Though she supposed they weren’t dead—not really. They existed in the place between. The place parallel to life and death, the one right on the cusp of birth and the dawn of the afterlife.

Once all four trials were complete, the nominee would be awarded a choice: formally graduate as a student and become an official Ascended, or venture into the unknown and cross over to the Other Side, putting their soul to rest. Permanently.

“Well. I’m sure I’m not the first girl to tell you this, but faster isn’t always better.”

“You could stab me,” August commented with an impartial shrug. “That always puts you in a better mood.” “Though tormenting you does bring me great joy, you don’t need to worry. I’m not risking my nomination just so I can snap your neck or push you off a building again.” Wren smirked and crossed her arms. “Publicly, at least. I might consider privately maiming you every once in a while. You know, just to keep our spirits up.”

It was why they tormented each other mercilessly, desperate to find ways to somehow, despite everything, still feel alive.

It was his guilty pleasure. His favorite high. The intoxication of knowledge.

He was sunshine. A crack in the darkness. A simmering flame in a cold and unforgiving tundra. Maybe Olivier made Emilio feel normal. Like a real, tangible person and not just some floating entity stuck in a vessel of flesh.

“Knowledge is everything,” Olivier challenged. “It’s a source of power. An echo of life itself.

“Come on, Loughty. Where’s your sense of adventure?” “Dunno.” Wren shrugged. “Must have left it back where you left your common sense.”

“You’re the one who started it,” he replied coolly. “And I’ll be the one to end it,” she snapped. “The second my skin stitches back together, I’ll jam this blade straight into your back.” “If this is you trying to flirt with me,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “then I have to admit…it’s working.”

Because whether or not she’d ever admit it out loud, Wren knew that her body wasn’t telling her to run away or hide. It was telling her to close the space between them. And that terrified her more than anything.

August was overcome with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her. It was so strong, so startling, that he took a rigid step backward, terrified that he might actually do it. What was wrong with him? Daydreaming about grazing Wren Loughty’s cheek? Running his fingers through her hair? He was losing it.

August was, whether he was proud to admit it or not, constantly aware of her presence. It was agonizing. The desperation to be near her. The ache that begged for her attention. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, if Wren Loughty was nearby, he knew.

She was an angel in every sense of the word—vengeful, heartbreaking, beautiful. Dangerous.

The half that begged him to tell her that the only thing he could ever think of, the only thing he could ever dream of, was her. That from the moment she’d appeared before him, from the moment he had first laid eyes on her, he’d known, beyond doubt, that Wren Loughty would become the immovable force that would redirect the trajectory of his life forever.

Because if there was one thing she had learned within the halls of Blackwood, one thing she’d never forget, it was that there was nothing more heartbreaking than time wasted. Nothing more harrowing than moments you could never get back.

“You’re…somebody who avoids getting too close to people because you’re afraid.” “Of what?” “Them seeing you for who you actually are, and not whatever act you’ve decided to put on for the day.”

Grief isn’t the villain. It just wants to help you remember that despite losing someone, despite the sadness and heartache and pain…there was also once love.”

“If this is the last time we speak to one another,” she said, a rueful smile forming on her lips, “then I just want to say I’m glad we became…unfortunate acquaintances. It wasn’t a lot of time, but…it was enough.”