Chapter Five
1258 Words
Chapter Five
Artemis POV
The air outside the lecture hall is damp and cool, the drizzle from earlier clinging to the stone walkways of the campus courtyard. Students stream past in clusters, their chatter blending into a low hum. I keep my head down as I step into the current of bodies, gripping the strap of my bag. The guardianship folder presses against my spine, a weight I can’t ignore, even now. Bella is mine, legally, and I should feel triumphant. Instead, unease coils tight in my stomach, the memory of William Carter’s pale eyes burning into me through the entire lecture.
I tell myself to shake it off. To focus on tonight, on the pancakes I promised Bella. She’ll be waiting, her smile ready to fill the apartment with light. The thought steadies me for a breath. Then, as I cut across the courtyard, he steps out from between two pillars.
“Artemis Credence.”
My name freezes me in place. His voice is calm, steady, like he’s been waiting for me all along. Students pass around us, none of them pausing, none of them noticing the chill that slides down my spine. William blocks the path, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, posture easy but deliberate. His black shirt clings to his shoulders, his dark hair catching the fading light. Those pale eyes—silver-gray, cold as stone—fix on me.
“How do you know my name?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to.
He tilts his head, expression unreadable. “I know more than your name.”
A spike of irritation cuts through my unease. “You’ve been staring at me in class. That’s not normal. You don’t even belong here. You’re what—late twenties?”
One corner of his mouth almost twitches upward, not a smile exactly, but close. “I'm exactly where I belong."
I take a step back, trying to slip around him, but he shifts just enough to block me again. His voice drops, low and measured. “You aren’t safe.”
The words hang in the air, absurd. I let out a short laugh. “Safe from what? Exams?"
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Safe from them.”
Them? Who the f*ck is them? Is this guy on something? Like drugs?
“Them?” I cross my arms, though my skin prickles. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist.”
“Demons.”
I freeze, staring at him. For a second the world narrows to the shape of his face, the absolute certainty in his tone. Then the tension breaks, and I bark out another laugh, this one louder. “Right. Demons. Are you sure you’re in the right building? Maybe the drama department is holding auditions for the apocalypse play.”
He doesn’t flinch. He takes one slow step closer, and my breath catches despite myself. His voice lowers, a thread of command running through it. “You don’t believe me. But you’ve already seen enough to know something is wrong.”
I scoff. “You mean normal, explainable things?"
"No, Artemis. I mean unusually, unexplainable occurences. Do you recall flickering lightbulbs? Books falling in the library?"
"Faulty wiring and, according to some, a ghost." I force a laugh to show that there's no way I believe in ghosts.
His eyes narrow, unrelenting. “You don’t believe your own excuses.”
“Yes, I do.” I snap the words, hugging my bag to my side. “Because the alternative is believing you. And I don’t. You’re delusional.”
William leans in just enough that his voice brushes my ear. “Then explain the scorch mark in your notes.”
I jolt, heart hammering. My denial cracks, thin as paper. He shouldn’t know about that. No one should. How the h*ll did he figure that out? Did he see something?
I force a laugh, brittle. “That was... weird, granted. Just a glitch in the matrix." My eyes narrow. "How... how did you see it?" I could barely believe my own eyes.
“I didn’t need to see it,” he murmurs. “I felt it.”
My pulse stumbles. I stumble back with it, tripping over my own steps. He doesn’t follow, not physically, but his gaze holds me pinned.
“You’re not human, Artemis. Not fully.”
The words sink into me like cold water. What--the--f*ck?
I want to argue, to spit the word insane again, but my voice won’t come. My throat works soundlessly.
He lifts his chin just enough for me to see his eyes clearly. For a heartbeat, shadows wash through them, black overtaking the silver-gray, an unnatural darkness that chills my blood. Then it’s gone, as if it never happened. Students walk by only a few feet away, laughing, oblivious. My legs tremble and my heart drops. What the hell is wrong with him? Is he possessed?
“You saw that,” he says simply.
“No.” My voice cracks. I shake my head too quickly. “No. No, that didn’t—no. You’re insane. You’re some creep trying to scare me.”
“If I wanted to scare you,” he says, his voice still maddeningly calm, “I’d let Shane find you first.”
The name hits me like a stone. “Shane?”
William doesn’t blink. “Shane. He's already watching you. Already circling. He won’t stop until he has you.”
I bark out another laugh, but it’s hollow now. “You expect me to take your word for that? You’re out here throwing out demon stories and names like I’m supposed to fall at your feet? No thanks.”
His jaw ticks. “You think this is a game.”
“I think you’re a lunatic.”
“You’ll think differently when you wake to his shadow at your door,” William says, his tone almost quiet, but sharper for it. “When he comes for the child first, because he knows she is your weakness.”
No. Not her. Not anything happening to Bella--I'd die before letting that happen. No way.
“Don’t,” I snap, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare say her name.”
His expression flickers—something dark, something sharp. “I didn’t need to. You just told me she’s what matters most.”
The ground feels unsteady beneath me. I clutch my bag until my knuckles ache, anger mixing with something too close to fear.
“You’re sick,” I hiss. “Stay away from me. Stay away from Bella. If you even—”
“I’m the one keeping both of you alive and safe,” William interrupts, his voice low and precise. “You don’t have to believe me now. But you will.”
He steps back finally, slipping into the current of passing students as if he was never there. But his pale eyes linger, seared into me.
I force my feet to move, to carry me out of the courtyard, my chest tight, my face burning. Bella’s grin in the courtroom flashes in my mind, her small voice steady as she told the judge she wanted me. William Carter is insane. He has to be. But the scorch mark in my notebook, the books in the library, the lamp, the coffee—all of it presses in on me, whispering the possibility that I’m the one who’s wrong.
And no matter how many times I repeat the word insane to myself, unease gnaws deeper, refusing to let go.
- Writer
