I’m pretty sure it looks worse than it is, considering he hasn’t bled much and it’s already clotting. I wonder if maybe their venom isn’t the only thing with a quick coagulant in it. Still, I clean it as thoroughly as I did his cheek. I have to admit I’m a little surprised no teacher has come by and tried to bundle him off to the nurse, but maybe there are people with worse injuries and I just don’t realize it.

It’s not until I finish bandaging his arm and step back that I realize there’s a very good reason no one has tried to take Jaxon for medical attention. It’s the same reason that the room is so quiet despite everything that’s happened.

The five other members of the Order have surrounded us.

They’re several yards away, but they have definitely formed a perimeter around Jaxon and me, one that no one but Macy has been able to get through. Not that many people are exactly trying. Flint’s getting into it with Byron, who isn’t budging, but other than that, everyone else is standing back. Watching and obviously waiting, though I’m not sure for what.

It’s an eerie feeling to know that they’re expecting something that I don’t understand, and it has my stomach dropping and nerves skittering along my spine. I assume it’s because I’ve done something wrong, but what was I supposed to do? Just leave him bleeding?

“I’m…sorry.” I say it haltingly as I’m packing up my first aid kit. “I guess I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jaxon growls as he stands up. “And don’t duck your head like that. No one in here has the right to say a damn thing to you.”

“I just wanted to help. And to thank you for saving me.”

“I wouldn’t have had to save you if you’d been in your room, where you were supposed to be. Where I told you to be.” He grinds the last sentence out between clenched teeth.

I take offense at the where I told you to be part of his statement, but considering he’s still shaking a little bit, I decide not to make an issue of it. Yet. Instead, I explain, “Macy and I were hungry. Plus, once we figured out the mystery of the bite, we figured it would be fine for us to come down to breakfast. It turns out the nurse—”

“Chandeliers don’t fall on their own,” he tells me. “And neither do tree branches.”

“The tree branch didn’t just fall. The wind was out of control.”

“There are at least two hundred people in this room alone capable of making that kind of wind. And almost that many capable of dropping that chandelier.” He’s speaking softly now, so softly that I have to strain to hear him, even though he’s right in front of me. “I keep trying to tell you, but you won’t listen. Someone is trying to kill you, Grace.”

   43

What Doesn’t

Kill You

Still Scares the

Hell Out of You

At first, his words don’t register. And when they finally do, it takes a few more beats for me to remember how to form my own words.

“Kill me?” I finally whisper back to him as my stomach plummets and a chill works its way down my spine. Or I should say, I try to whisper because it’s pretty hard to keep my voice super low now that the squeak is back.

I would be embarrassed, but to be honest, I feel like I’ve got a lot to squeak about. It’s been one hell of a morning, and the hits just keep on coming. “That’s ridiculous,” I tell him even as I wipe my suddenly damp palms against my skirt. “Why?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I take a deep breath, try to get my racing heart back under control as I struggle to think through the panic slamming through me. It takes a minute, but I finally get the anxiety to recede enough that I can answer, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m harmless.”

Especially at this school. I mean, I’m not a threat at a regular high school. I’m sure as hell not a threat at a school where a quarter of the residents can shoot fire and fly.

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you, Grace. ‘Harmless’ isn’t one of them.” He glances around the room, eyes narrowed, whether in thought or warning, I can’t be sure. “And if I know that, so do they.”

“Jaxon.” I wrap my arms around my waist and rock back on my heels a little as I try to convince him to see reason. As I try to convince myself that his words don’t mean anything. “You can’t really believe that. You’re just upset at the near miss. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I always think clearly.” He starts to say more, but then something over my shoulder draws his attention. His eyes narrow to slits that have my heart racing all over again.

I turn and follow his gaze, only to find him staring at the rope that ties to the chandelier so it can be lowered for cleaning. Or should I say what’s left of the rope, because even from here, I can see that it’s in two pieces.

“It broke,” I tell him, but there’s an uncertainty to my voice when I say the words. Because how often does one of those ropes actually break? “Sometimes ropes—”

Jaxon interrupts me with, “Your uncle’s here,” and a small shake of his head.

“So? I want to talk about this.”

“Later.”

Before I can voice another objection, Uncle Finn closes in.

“Grace, honey, I’m so sorry it took me this long to get to you. I was out on the school grounds.” He pulls me into a hug and holds me tight.

Normally, I’d find it comforting—the way he feels and smells so much like my dad. But right now, all I can think about is the look in Jaxon’s eyes when he said someone was trying to kill me. His face was completely blank, completely unreadable. But burning deep in his eyes, where most people don’t get close enough to look, was the most terrifying rage I’ve ever seen.

I don’t want to leave him alone with it, don’t want to let him stay trapped in his own head. But no matter how I pat Uncle Finn’s back and assure him I’m okay, my uncle doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon.

“I can’t begin to tell you how horrified I am that this has happened to you,” he says when he finally pulls back. His blue eyes, so like Macy’s and my father’s, are sad and shadowed. “Once is unacceptable. Twice in two days…”

I guess I should count myself lucky he doesn’t know about me falling out of that tree a few days ago. Three near-death experiences in a week are a lot for anyone.

Then again, when I think of it like that, suddenly Jaxon doesn’t seem so paranoid. And maybe I don’t seem paranoid enough.