NADIA DUPONT || BEFORE

“You will read this,” Simone says, expression soft but otherwise unreadable, “until you can recite it from memory.”

When they first proposed investigating her, Nadia had expecting giggling library dates and study sessions ending in a different sort of studying, lingering glances across cafe tables and endless flirting. Much to her dismay, however, she soon learns Simone’s true meaning.

She regards the book they’ve offered her, brow quirked and bare skin buzzing. The cover is all worn brown leather, the title once gold-plated and now rubbed beyond recognition.

“I know you’re a serious student.” Nadia pauses to finish reading the title, To Be Loved By Gods, with a snort. “But I never took you for the religious sort.”

Simone’s mouth quirks. “I’m not. This is part of your Divination and Mysticism assignment.”

“I wasn’t aware I had one.”

“I know.”

Nadia takes the book from them after a moment of hesitation, wincing at the sudden weight. Still, she doesn’t let go. “How did you find out what I was assigned?”

“I have my ways.”

“And I’m supposed to read this whole book?“

A playful twinkle lights up Simone’s eyes. “Of course not.” Then, more serious, “You would know this if you’d been paying attention in your classes.”

This is another part of the deal they’ve forged. Simone had looked on the verge of combusting when they learned of Nadia’s awful attendance history, let alone her grades.

“We cannot continue this relationship,” Simone had said, much to Nadia’s dismay. Then, as tears pricked her eyes, they had continued, “Not unless you start performing better.”

And so an arrangement was made.

Simone’s gaze is a persistent prickling between her shoulders for a long while. Between sly glances, she stares at the pages until the letters—and she—refuse to sit still. Whenever she looks up, Simone brandishes their thin switch rod and arches a brow.

After a couple of lashes, she learns to keep her eyes on the pages.

Before long, she’s lost in the rhythm of the words. The cadence rolls over her like water. The longer the session goes on, the less she feels the lick of Simone’s switch at her back…and the more she aches for its sting.

The end of the hour is punctuated by Simone’s sharp, “Stop.”

The word comes to her from some faraway place, like a misted-over dream. It isn’t until Simone is perched over her, delicate fingers caressing the rounded nub of her chin, that she registers their command at all. She wants them to touch her like that. Or, perhaps they could swat her until she cries.

What is she thinking? She’s been to the occasional session with people who direct her with a stern word, or stretch her emotionally and sexually, but nothing like this. And yet, she likes it. She craves it.

“Do it again,” she wants to tell Simone. “Hit me again.” Would they think her odd if she begged?

“Stand.”

Shrugging the post-meditative numbness and the ache in her hips, Nadia is quick to obey.

“Stay.”

Her breath hitches as they cross the room and sit on the edge of their bed. The frame creaks as they settle into a comfortable position. Then, eyes shadowed, they flip to the beginning of the book. “Tell me what you read. Summarize for me.

Nadia’s gaze swims. The words on the paper jumble together in her mind’s eye and, for a moment, is lost behind a thick fog.

Their voice sinks sharp claws into her conscious and drags her back. “I gave you a command, Nadia.”

She shivers, and not just because she’s stripped bare in her room in the middle of winter. From her bed, Simone is reading through the book, quirking their brow every time they look up.

“It goes over the, um…”

The lash of wood on her thigh stops her. “Without the use of filler words. Again.”

She struggles to conjure the pages in her mind’s eye. How can she not remember the last hour she’s spent, the words she’d carefully packed into her memory?

To Be Loved By Gods. She chews her lip. It was a study on the differing deities who had Ascended a couple of centuries prior, as well as the consorts They kept. Who amongst Them had she just read about?

Simone sighs, tucking the book under their arm. “Would it help if you read it again?”

Though their tone is light, she notes the undercurrent of disappointment. Her stomach drops. Above all else, the last thing she wants is to waste more of their time.

“No,” she replies. “Give me a moment longer.”

The switch smacks her forearm and she hisses.

“’Give me a moment longer,’ what?”

Her gaze lowers on instinct. “Professor. Give me a moment longer, Professor.”

“Very good. Again.”

#

The next few weeks pass in this fashion. After the final bell for class, Nadia claws her way through the throngs of people and into Simone’s arms, though more often she ends up on her knees, or balancing objects while trying to recite passages. To her amazement, though, and that of her professors, she’s improving.

She’s getting ready one morning to meet Simone for tea when there’s a knock on the front door. Her brows knit together. Was she expecting company today?

Etienne stands on the other side, hands buried in his pockets. His hair, normally soft as bird down, is ruffled with sleep. Something must be bothering him. Etienne is renowned in their gaggle of friends for his preening. He would rather leap from the rooftop of the library than be seen in less-than-perfect condition.

She smooths out the front of her dress to avoid staring at him. “Etienne. I was wondering when I would see you again.” In truth, since she had started seeing Simone more, it had been some time since she’d been to seen Etienne. Had she really let their friendship lapse?

He steps into her apartment and shuts the door. “Yeah,” he replies, smoothing back his hair. “Me too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His lips press into a thin line. “You haven’t spent as much time with me is all.”

Nadia frowns. She guesses she hasn’t been able to be around him as often, given how often she goes to work on homework now. Or, gods forbid, engage in Simone’s study group—personal or otherwise.

“I guess I haven’t. I’m sorry, Etienne.” She fingers the myriad of bracelets she wears and says, “We’ll have to do something.”

“Right now?”

His eyes gleam with something not unlike hope. Her stomach clenches at the thought of quashing that emotion. Still, sighing, she says, “I can’t. I promised Simone I would meet them for tea before class.”

A shadow crosses his face at once. His gaze drops to the floor. “Do you fancy them?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” she replies. Warmth pools in the pit of her stomach. “A lot.”

“I was worried you would say that.”

Her stomach boils with indignation. “Why?”

He still refuses to look up, but his cheeks turn the color of a autumn moth. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” she replies without missing a beat. Lest I forget we’ve had this fight before.

Lest. She represses a snort and shakes her head. Simone is getting to her. Not that she minds. If they can keep making her toes curl and bring a halt to the tedium her life has become, then she welcomes their influence.

“Need I repeat myself?”

Nadia’s brows pull together. Incredulous, she takes his face in one hand and forces him to look up. “Are you serious? You’re jealous?”

He tries to jerk away, but her nails keep him pinned. Then, “Yes.”

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“What is there to be jealous of, Etienne?”

He rolls his eyes and breaks their contact. “You know what, I shouldn’t have come here. You’re too busy for me, right?”

Her fingers twitch. She has half a mind to slap him, to grab his shoulders and shake him until the foolish thoughts flow out of his brain. Doing either would make all this worse, though. “That’s not it at all!”

“Then what, Nadia? You are replacing me. That’s clear enough to fucking see.”

Another flex of her fingers. Shards, he makes it incredibly difficult to remain civil. “Is that what you think this is?”

This time, when he pulls away, she doesn’t stop him. His fists curl and uncurl at his sides. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe.”

The way his voice cracks sends shivers down her spine. How could she have become so self-absorbed so as to neglect him? How could she let him think he was being replaced?

No, a different section of her conscious argues. The time I’ve spent away has been to my betterment. Who is he to think he can stand in the way of it?

Sighing, Nadia reaches across the chasm yawning between them. Though Etienne stiffens, he lets her take his hand. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Please don’t stay mad at me.”

Etienne’s pout deepens. “Kind of hard not to be.”

“I’ll-I’ll redeem myself, okay? I’ll tell Simone that I can’t make it to their study group tonight. Just me and you.”

He flinches at the mention of Simone, then slouches once more. “Fine.”

“I mean it, Etienne. Just the two of us.” Nadia lets his hand drop, scanning her living room for her satchel. How strange, she thinks as she catches sight of it, the way I’m changing.

In the distance, a bell tolls, a warning to Casters all across the campus. Etienne stuffs his hands back into his pockets.

“Tonight,” he says. “Be there in my apartment.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to say more, but then he shuts it with the shake of his head. Before she can confirm, he stalks out of her apartment, leaving her to tremble like a mouse from her newfound spot on the couch. Her body refuses to still for a long while afterwards.

#

Her final class can not end fast enough. As soon as the bell chimes, she’s stuffing her books in her satchel and walking as fast as her aching joints will allow her.

Simone was surprisingly civil about her last-minute cancellation when she told them this morning. She had expected them to scoff at her, or to make a statement about her wasting their time again. Instead, they had smiled.

“Okay,” they had said, crossing one leg over the other. “You have made good progress, after all. You’ve earned some time away.”

The way they had said “earned” had made her blush, but it was permission enough and she wasn’t about to argue.

Still, despite her quickness, Etienne isn’t waiting for her. On a good day, he would somehow be outside the building of her final class in time for her to meet him. Perhaps he’s more upset than she thought.

Tugging her capelet tighter around her, Nadia strides for the towers with a frown. We’ll make up, she tells herself. We always do. Still, the first kernels of doubt sow themselves in her breast.

She takes her time going up the stairs of the Enchanter’s tower, but she still ends up panting at the top. Faculty has met recently regarding installing a lift to go between the floors, given the rise in disabled students in recent years. As she catches her breath, Nadia wishes they would hurry up and install the damn things. What are people going to do, fornicate in the lift? In front of everyone?

Mood soured, she marches up to Etienne’s door and knocks harder than intended. It takes a long while for him to answer. The kernels of doubt take root.

The instant she sees his face, she throws herself into his chest.

Etienne gasps, arms closing around her on instinct. Together, they take uneasy steps backwards into the room. The door swings closed.

“Welcome back, Etienne,” says a voice at her back, muffled by her capelet. Her heart clenches. Though the mural is a weak imitation of his mother, she knows as much as he does it’s not as good as the real person. Still, he can’t seem to get rid of it.

Etienne eases her back after several moments. A soft frown tugs at his lips as he regards her.

“Say you don’t hate me,” she blurts. Even as she speaks, the first of what she is sure is many tears come to her eye and threaten to fall.

“W-what?”

“Say you don’t hate me. Say I haven’t fucked up too badly. Please.”

Etienne scoffs, shoving his glasses further up his nose. “What are you talking about? Of course I don’t hate you.”

Had she imagined this morning, after all? Had it all been some strange, sour dream?

As she’s still ruminating, he continues, “I mean, I was upset… I still kind of am.”

It’s a shock of cold water down her spine. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No,” Etienne says after an uncomfortable pause. “I suppose not.”

He’s let her into his apartment. It’s a start. Still, his expression remains guarded as they face each other. He crosses his arms tight across his chest. The soft clicking of his tapping heel fills the room.

This is stupid. Her jaw sets. How is it my fault he’s jealous of my…

She stops. Are Simone and her partners? Kinky classmates? Would they consider the two of them a romantic relationship? They fuck her every so often, but does that mean they’re dating?

Nadia makes a note to have that conversation with Simone. For the moment, though she can’t understand why he’s so disgruntled, she needs to make things right.

Disgruntled. Ha. Simone really has changed her.

“I’m sorry,” she says at last. “I guess entering a relationship did make me distant from you.”

With a sigh, Etienne unfolds his arms. “Thank you.”

As soon as it’s come, the gloom between them is gone once again. Nadia sweeps closer once more, the force of her hug more gentle this time. A soft sigh escapes as Etienne holds her to him. His fingers, like spokes on a spindle and all too cold, thread through her hair and tangle it.

“Promise you’ll make more time for me, Nadia.”

She buries her face into his chest, positioned just so to keep the buttons of his coat from injuring her. “I promise.”

After a second longer, Etienne shrugs out of her hold. “Enough of this stoic shit.”

When she meets his gaze, he’s practically bouncing on his heels. An excited Etienne is a dangerous Etienne. “What is on your mind?”

He digs a hand into his breast pocket and produces a small vial, the contents black as pitch. Nadia’s pulse quickens at the sight. Her throat dries.

“Serenity,” she says with a soft sigh.

His grin turns wolfish. “I’ve kept this on hand for weeks.” Then, after a pause, he says, “…For you.”

It’s all the invitation she needs.

Minutes later, Etienne has his arms thrown across the back of his couch, eyes the size of tea saucers and impossibly dark. She smiles at the sight of him, at how at ease he seems to be in her presence. A pang of guilt lances her, not the first she’s felt all day.

Then her eyes close again and she is drifting within a strange, warm void. Sparks dance on her tongue. Her mouth fills with the scent of the earth. A hand closes around her own. It’s not until Etienne’s thoughts bleed into hers she recognizes him, but then it’s as though a part of herself has been re-fused to her. It’s the way the two of them should be, always and forever.

That is, until a headache forms at her temples.

The pain is a foreign enemy in her blissed-out state, an errant fly buzzing around her mental feast. She carves craters into the couch with her nails, clinging to the peace she’s fought so hard for.

In these moments of twisted desperation, the pain intensifies. It blooms into a storm of sensation behind her eyelids. The blackness she’s previously been suspended in comes alive in a wash of oranges and reds and greys. A dull roaring like the approach of a storm fills the silence. After several seconds, she recognizes what she thinks are words.

Meat. Consume. Food. Bite. Meat. Meat. Meat.

Nadia snaps back to with a gasp.

Etienne raises his head from the opposite couch with a giggle, his body wreathed in darkness. “Are you okay?”

“I-I think so.” As she speaks, she runs a hand through her hair. With a hiss, she realizes she’s dragged her nails too hard across her scalp. She untangles her fingers and examines them for blood.

Before she can think, an ear-piercing shriek escapes.

The skin on her hands is ink-black and gnarled like the bark of an old tree. Each finger ends in claws the size of daggers. The veins in her arms have blackened and pulse in time to her racing heartbeats.

Etienne bolts upright. “What’s wrong?”

She holds her hands out for him to touch. When he brushes against her, a maelstrom of memories and thoughts surges through her brain. His memories. Her memories. Images from some foreign life she cannot recognize. A cold breeze rolls over her skin. Blood, sharp and metallic, coats her tongue.

“Am I supposed to be seeing something?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It’s an effort to keep her voice level. “My hand is—“

And yet, as Etienne rolls his thumb over her knuckles, she realizes her skin has returned to normal. Only the darker hue to her veins gives her a hint that anything has happened at all.

“It’s what?” His thumb stills. “A bit wrinkled, sure. You’re growing up.” For now.

The thought floats to her through the bond, a sharp, sudden reminder of her ever-dwindling lifespan. Nadia pulls her hand back with a harsh swallow, eager to sever the connection. Massaging the skin some more, she says, “No. It… I can’t describe it.”

“You’re getting too into your psyche,” Etienne says with a half-hearted chuckle. Though he means to be encouraging, doubt clings to his words and flickers through the remnants of their link. Shocks of green light up the turmoil boiling behind her eyes.

“Yeah,” Nadia replies, as equally unconvinced. “That’s all it was.”

Reality waltzes away from her once again. When she closes her eyes, her visions are thick with disembodied shadows and the howling of dogs. Something dark and undefinable lingers in the fringes of her mind, disappearing when she focuses too hard on it. And then, when her mind drifts away, it looms over her once again.

Whatever it is, it’s enough to make Nadia shiver.