Chapter 30 30- Never Pick Him As Your Lab Partner
BLAKE
My phone goes off in class. Defence class, of all places. Normally, this would be the only class worth paying attention to. In theory. In practice, it’s mostly me standing around while everyone else pairs up, spars, and pretends not to notice the massive, obvious problem sitting at the edge of the room. Me. No one will spar with me. They avoid my eyes, shuffle their feet, suddenly find something fascinating on the far wall. The instructor keeps assigning partners, then pausing, glancing at me, and deciding, very deliberately, to look the other way. So I practice alone. Again. Running drills that were beneath me years ago. Lexi sent me off earlier with that hopeful little smile, saying at least I liked this class. I didn’t correct her. There was no point. She was enjoying herself, and I’m not in the habit of ruining things she enjoys. Besides, it would have worried her. She’d apologise. She’d feel bad. None of that helps. The instructor snaps his head up at the sound of the phone, already gearing up to bark at someone about rules and respect. Then his gaze lands on me. He stops. Literally stops. Redirects his attention like the noise never happened. Coward. For a split second, I almost wish he’d say something. Call me out. Tell me to hand the phone over or leave the room. I wouldn’t have listened, but at least then I might respect him for trying. Instead, he pretends I don’t exist. Fine. I glance at the screen. Of course it’s Lexi. It’s always Lexi. And then I read the message.
Lexi: Hey… So it’s a long story. But I’m in the infirmary. I’m fine. Promise. There was just an incident in potions. Can you come see me at lunch?
The world narrows. I’m already striding for the door when the instructor finally finds his voice.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks. I don’t answer. I don’t even look back. I’m out in the hall, moving fast enough that people flatten themselves against the walls without thinking about it. My blood is hot, my mind racing, already slotting possibilities into place. Incident. Infirmary. Those words don’t belong anywhere near Lexi.
‘She’s fine’ doesn’t mean actually fine. It means she’s trying not to worry me. It means she’s minimising. She does that. I’ve noticed. I should have checked all the students in her class before leaving. I should have insisted on making sure that she was safe. I should have- I skid to a stop halfway down the corridor… Where the hell is the infirmary? I force myself to slow, just enough not to tear the place apart looking for it. Panic is useless. Rage is inefficient. I need information. But the thought keeps circling, sharp and ugly. Lexi is hurt. I don’t know how yet. I don’t know why. But I will. ‘It’s a long story,’ she said. FIne. But I am going to hear every single word of it. And once I do, I’m going to make sure it never happens again. One way or another.
I don’t hesitate. I call her. The phone rings twice while I pace a tight line down the corridor, my steps too sharp, my claws itching to come out even though I force them back. When Lexi answers, her voice comes through soft and familiar.
“Blake?” She answers. She sounds… Okay. Mostly. But there’s tension there, a faint tightness she probably doesn’t even realise is present.
“Where are you?” I ask, blunt and unfiltered.
“Huh? I told you. I’m in the infirmary. Aren’t you in class? Where are you?” She asks. I growl under my breath, low and sharp, frustration flaring.
“I know you’re in the infirmary. Where is the infirmary? I’m on my way.” I tell her clearly. Because I am. Or at least I will be as soon as this ridiculous building stops rearranging itself like it’s trying to test my patience.
“What? No! You have classes! I said come at lunchtime.” Lexi protests immediately. I don’t answer. Silence stretches between us for half a second, and I know she hears everything she needs to in it. She sighs, long-suffering already.
“Fine. I assume you’ve already walked out of your class. But you can only come for a few minutes. You have to go to our other classes. I need you to take notes and tell me what I miss.” She says stubbornly. The idea that she’s more concerned about coursework than the fact she’s sitting injured in the infirmary makes something in my chest tighten unpleasantly.
“Sure.” I say, flatly.
“Don’t lie to me, Blake.” Lexi immediately answers. I stop walking. Interesting. She caught that lie instantly. Although I suppose that it wasn’t that subtle. I exhale through my nose, slow and controlled. There are a dozen questions sparked by that alone, how she knows, whether it’s instinct, intuition, something else entirely, but now is not the time.
“Fine. I won’t lie. Now tell me where you are.” I concede. She gives me directions as best she can remember, landmarks and turns and vague references. I follow them, adjusting instinctively when the layout doesn’t quite match her description. The closer I get, the sharper my focus becomes. I don’t knock. I shove the infirmary door open hard enough that it bangs against the wall. Lexi looks up from the bed immediately and rolls her eyes. Of course she does. Across the room, a tiny red-haired woman jumps like she’s been struck by lightning. She stares at me for half a second too long.
“Told you so!” She blurts out. Then she immediately clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide with horror. She goes pink, then pinker, clearly regretting every life choice that led her to speak out loud. I don’t spare her more than a flicker of attention. My eyes are already on Lexi. I cross the room in long strides, scanning her automatically. Her skin is flushed in places, red patches along her arm, shoulder, a faint line near her collarbone. No open wounds. No blood. No visible damage beyond that. Still not acceptable.
“What happened?” I demand, my voice low and tight. She sighs, like this is an inconvenience rather than something that could have gone seriously wrong.
“There was an issue in potions class. Another student tipped a potion on me. It’s not super dangerous, just a numbing salve. But it was hot when it spilled, and I’m kind of off because I can’t feel half my body right now. So I’m staying here to be safe.” She explains.
“Numb?” I repeat, sharply. She nods.
“Yeah. Definitely weird.” She says it lightly. Too lightly. I narrow my eyes, studying her face. She’s calm. Smiling, even. But I can see the tension in the way she’s holding herself, the careful stillness. She’s trying not to panic. Trying not to make this a bigger deal than it already is. I don’t like it.
“Who spilled the potion on you?” I ask. Her hesitation is brief, but it’s there.
“Another student.” She says vaguely.
“The professor is looking into it.” She adds. That answer is technically correct. It’s also useless.
“And what did the professor say about it?” I press. She shrugs.
“He’s going to look into it.” She repeats. Right. I glance away for a moment, jaw tightening as I catalogue the situation. A potion spill. Hot. Numbing. Enough to warrant hours of observation. And somehow, conveniently, no clear accountability yet. Someone did this. Accident or not, it doesn’t matter. Lexi shouldn’t be hurt. Lexi shouldn’t be sitting here missing classes that she wants to be in, missing lunch with me, missing anything because someone else couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be careful. I turn back to her, my expression carefully neutral, my voice steady.
“Okay. You stay here. I’ll handle everything else.” I say. She opens her mouth, clearly about to argue. I don’t give her the chance.
“Rest. I’ll be back.” I add, firmly.
“Blake! You had better be going to class.” Lexi calls after me. I pause just long enough for her to notice. I don’t turn around. I sigh quietly, more to myself than to her. It’s bothering her. I can hear it in her voice, the way she’s trying to sound firm instead of worried, the way she’s pushing responsibility at me like it’s a shield she can hide behind.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll go to classes.” I answer, deliberately vague. Not a lie. Just… Incomplete. I feel her eyes on my back, sharp and assessing. She’s suspicious. Of course she is. She always is. There’s a brief moment where I wonder if she’ll call me on it again, if she’ll hear the hollow space in my words the way she did on the phone. But she doesn’t. After a second, she nods. Accepts it. Interesting. So it isn’t deception itself that she catches, it’s certainty. A clean, deliberate lie rings wrong to her, but a half truth? A technicality? That slips through unnoticed. Good to know. Because I will go to classes. Eventually. After I make sure she’s safe. After I decide what to do about the student who spilled a potion on her. After I ensure that this doesn’t happen again. I step out into the corridor, already planning, already rearranging my priorities. Lexi thinks she’s letting me go back to class. In reality, she’s letting me hunt.
I head straight for Lexi’s potions classroom. I arrive just as the session is ending. Students are filing out in loose clusters, voices low, eyes averted the moment they notice me standing in the doorway. The flow around me stutters, then widens instinctively, like water parting around a rock. No one bumps into me. No one even comes close. Good. Inside, the room smells of boiled herbs and residual magic. A faint haze still hangs in the air. At the front of the room, the professor is gathering materials, clearly winding down for the day. There’s a neat stack of small glass jars on the desk, today’s project, all identical, all carefully sealed. He looks up. The moment he sees me, the colour drains from his face. So he does recognise me. Good. I don’t waste time with pleasantries.
“Lexi got hurt today. What is being done about it?” I say flatly. The professor exhales slowly, like a man already exhausted by this conversation. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck.
“All the other students insist it was an accident. Without corroboration, there really isn’t much that I can do.” He says. His voice carries genuine frustration. I can tell he doesn’t like it. That he knows exactly how flimsy it sounds. I don’t care. I take a few steps into the room, my boots echoing softly against the stone floor.
“So… You’re telling me the student who hurt her will continue to sit in this classroom. Continue to have access to her.” I say calmly. The professor hesitates.
“Without proof-” He starts. I turn away from him and begin to walk slowly through the room, fingers brushing the edges of desks, eyes taking everything in. A burner is still lit near the side of the room, a potion simmering unattended. Probably the professor’s own work. Interesting.
“I asked a very simple question.” I say quietly. He swallows.
“Yes. For now.” He admits. Well, at least he’s braver than my defense teacher. I stop at the burner. Pick up a loose sheet of parchment from a nearby table. Casually, I lower one corner of the page into the flame. It ignites instantly. I don’t look surprised. I don’t rush. I simply turn and walk back toward the front of the room, the burning paper curling in my hand, ash drifting lazily to the floor. The professor stiffens. I stop directly in front of his desk.
“I suggest that you ensure Lexi is safe in this classroom.” I say evenly, meeting his eyes.
“Because if she isn’t, you won’t have one anymore.” I continue, voice still calm, still controlled. I don’t wait for a response. I drop the burning paper onto the desk in front of him, turn and walk out.