Page 5 of Ever Dark Academy: Volume 6

But he had. There was a time–not too long ago in the scheme of things–when to have a father’s love and protection would have meant everything. Grayson wanted to sink down onto the ground. He wanted to feel Ryder’s arms around him, holding him tight, making this feeling go away. He was strong now. Sort of. Loved now. Absolutely. Safe now. Yes and no.

Christian touched his arm. We should go someplace more private. Everyone’s been distracted by the ghosts, but they’re refocusing now. They can’t see the ghosts that follow you, but they’ll notice–

Me talking to the air? Yeah, yeah, I get it, Grayson said.

But once they were alone with these ghosts what then? He could barely meet his father’s eyes. This man had sacrificed over twenty years of his afterlife to keep Grayson safe from his stepfather. But what could a ghost really do to him? But he knew they could do something. Something malevolent. Maybe his stepfather already had.

Before he’d come to the school and remembered himself, he’d lived a very small, narrow life. It had hardly been a life at all. It had barely been an existence. He wondered if his stepfather had been pleased all this time watching him suffer and be alone until now. Now when Grayson was strong and had a family again.

He looked up right into his father’s eyes and he imagined that this man had stood beside him as he worked at the convenience stores all those nights. Sat with him when he curled up in a ball on the streets, trying to keep warm, and out of predator’s clutches. Crouched by the side of his bed while he slept or tried to. His father had likely suffered seeing how awful his life had been. And his stepfather had probably enjoyed that suffering, too. His frustration now came from Grayson’s new circumstances.

All this time, I thought I had defeated him. But here he is. Still wishing me harm, Grayson thought.

But his father–and now Sam–had been there, too, wishing the best for him. That ought to count for more. But he’d never wanted good people to suffer for him. To sacrifice for him. For their king. For their people. Yes and yes. But for him personally? No.

Thank you for showing me this, Christian, Grayson said.

I’m not done yet, Christian said.

Grayson raked a hand through his hair and nodded. His shoulders slumped. He truly felt exhausted and a little chilled. His father looked alarmed and stepped back from him quickly.

No, you don’t need to move away! Grayson was surprised–and displeased–at the almost needy tone in his voice.

He is worried that his nearness is draining you. You don’t need another source of energy drain, Christian said.

He’s not… That’s not why I feel this way, Grayson said.

Christian waited a beat for him to elaborate on that, but he didn’t. Regardless, I know you need to rest, but we need to start this at least. Come this way. We have a space that’s out of sight of the others and the cameras, Christian said and gestured down a path between some of the stone blocks.

Grayson saw some flashes out of the corner of his eye and realized people were taking pictures of him. Christian let out an angry hiss and went rigid as he saw it too. His silver eyes were shining. Grayson quickly turned his head towards the flashing lights.

“Grayson Duke? You are Grayson Duke, aren’t you?” A woman with a short bob of black hair asked. She was sleek with a predatory smile and a black skirt suit that fitted her lithe frame. She was approaching him with a cameraman in tow. “I was hoping to speak to you.”

“Hey!” Rachel cried from the top of the platform. “We’re not allowed to interview the students without prior consent of Balthazar Ravenscroft, Melinda!”

“You were speaking to him, Rachel,” Melinda tossed over her shoulder airily

“Speaking isn’t interviewing!” Rachel was having trouble clamoring down from the platform in her heels though hers were more a kitten heel compared to the stilettos that Melinda wore and walked in with an easy grace despite the uneven terrain.

“You’re friends, right? So, of course, you weren’t really speaking to him for a story,” Melinda said with a sharp laugh at the end that showed she didn’t believe that for one minute.

She was in front of Grayson now with all smiles and sex appeal. He recognized her from one of the cable nightly news programs. She covered court cases that were lurid or involved celebrities or, better yet, had both. His stepfather’s mysterious death was right up her alley. Who was he kidding? It was up every reporter’s alley. He’d just been lucky not to be around any of them until now.

His father was glaring at her. He clearly thought she was bad news. Sam appeared anxious as he rubbed his hands in front of his face. Only his stepfather appeared curious and alert. That wasn’t a good sign.

She’s here because of him. While I don’t think he relishes the idea of people knowing that a kid killed him, to see me punished for it? Oh, he would love that, Grayson thought.

“You’ve been told the rules,” Christian’s voice was crisp. He stepped up beside Grayson. “Repeatedly. No interviews with students without prior authorization and approved questions.”

“Yes, but we’re going to write stories about him anyway, Christian. He might as well have a chance to speak for himself,” Melinda practically purred as she looked at Grayson. “Your Master Balthazar is making sure that whatever those stories are, they won’t be Grayson’s truth.”

“You don’t care about the truth,” Christian said crisply.

“Of course, I do!”

“I can read minds, remember?” Christian practically growled.

“You have a little show with Prince Julian, don’t you? Where you want to report the truth of Vampires? But in an entertaining–and family friendly–way. So surely you understand that no one watches if it's not interesting,” she said.