Don't Just Speak Love

  * * * *

  “Time’s up,” Sasuke declared in a clear, loud voice, leaping off the treadmill he’d been on for the past hours, hardly short of breath.

  Sir Albion raised his wristwatch to his face. “You can return to the conference room,” he said. “Do it discreetly.”

  We were finally done for today. I heaved a sigh of relief as I stood up, extremely glad to ditch the circuit training—a series of short but intense exercises—Sir Albion was making me do despite my wrist injury.

  “Want to go back together?” Sasuke asked me, but before I could reply, Sir Albion answered for me.

  “I’ll be keeping Averie for a little longer.”

  I spun around so quickly I nearly lost my footing. Hoping the old man would realise how tired I was and change his mind, I stared hard at him. But he didn’t budge.

  “I’ll be going first then.” Sasuke gave me a sympathetic smile. “See you in class tomorrow.” Glowing red, he picked up his bag and zapped off.

  A tired grunt slipped out of my mouth. Although I was dreading putting in extra time with Sir Albion, I couldn’t really complain. Sasuke was a damn fast learner. Being able to grasp the trick of using his spiritual powers in a single try was impressive. And in comparison, I was just so lame.

  “Don’t just stop like that. Not only is it unbeneficial, you can actually harm yourself,” the old man lectured.

  I scoffed, but went back to the part of the circuit where I’d let off.

  “No, start over.”

  I shot the old man an angry glare before redoing everything from the beginning.

  He suddenly asked, “What made you enrol in Black Gold? You’re Singaporean, aren’t you?”

  “My mum left me a note, telling me to enrol so I could meet you. I was hoping you’d tell me something about her, but then you didn’t even know my name,” I complained bitterly as I laid myself on the exercise mat, preparing to do sit-ups.

  Mum must have sent me here because she knew I was a nephilim. But what did that have to do with her leaving? Why had she married Dad then left him without a proper explanation?

  Exasperated, I frowned; there were a million questions in my head, and I didn’t have an answer to a single one.

  “Who’s your mother?”

  “Evonne,” I replied quickly, with all my hopes up. Perhaps Sir Albion knew my mum but not me?

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know an Evonne,” he said, and the weak feeling in my gut returned.

  There went my last hope…

  Putting one hand over my eyes, I inhaled heavily. It seemed I had no choice but to stick with Sir Albion until I could see the light at the end of this long tunnel. Hopefully, that would happen really soon.

  Sir Albion made a low, impatient sound in the back of his throat, tearing me away from my thoughts. When I removed my hand, I jerked away at the sight of Sir Albion’s unsmiling, watchful eyes. The old man was hovering over my face, close enough that I could smell the strong espresso on his breath—a similar scent my father used to have on his before he went from coffee to alcohol—along with his cologne.

  “Averie,” he said gravely, “if you aren’t going to stop spacing out, we’ll be here forever.”

  I cleared my mind and straightened up. “All right. All right. I get it. Don’t have to make that scary face. I’ll start over now, okay?”