DEVIL, DEVIL (Michael Langdon)

vii.

The morning that Judas left Hawthorne was one he would remember until the day he died. He would remember holding back tears as Baldwin informed him that his father was there to take him home. There had been no warning. No letter or phone call. His father had just appeared out of the blue, demanding for Judas to return with him.

He had listened. What was he supposed to do, deny his father, one of the only people to ever care about him? He couldn't do that, even if it pained him to leave Hawthorne.

He had stayed longer than he needed to, that much was entirely obvious. Judas had reached the highest level of power he could, and that was a level two. He had nothing more to learn. There was nothing that they could teach him anymore.

The other boys saw him out, clapping his shoulders with boyish enthusiasm. Some told him that they'd have to see each other again, though something deep inside Judas knew that he would never see any of them again. That thought didn't hurt him nearly as bad as he would have imagined. In fact, he was almost glad. He was free of Hawthorne, free of learning, and free of Michael.

The golden boy was not among those that chattered excitedly as they said their goodbyes to Judas in the sitting room. He was stood on the balcony, looking out over the scene, watching Judas smile and laugh at their jokes. Judas didn't see him, but he wasn't exactly looking. He had more to worry about than Michael Langdon at that moment. More pressing matters, such as his father, waiting for him outside with his patience wearing thin.

"I have to go," Judas said, but he was smiling as he pulled his arm free of the grip of another student. "You know I wish I could stay, but I can't. My father will get angry with me."

Michael almost stopped himself from speaking up. Almost.

"You don't want to stay here."

All eyes moved to him, confusion clear in them. All besides Judas, who set his mouth in a thin line and very nearly glared at Michael. "And how would you know that?"

Michael shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips. "Are you saying I'm right, Jude?"

Judas didn't answer. He wasn't going to give Michael the satisfaction.

Instead, he turned to the door, shooting one more tense smile back at the others, who had gone deathly silent. With a wave of his hand, the door swung open. He made for it, eyes closed. Of course Michael had to go and ruin the moment. Everything had to be about Michael, now. The Alpha, strongest of them all.

Behind him, Judas heard the sound of rushing air, and the room was bathed in darkness as all of the candles went out. He clenched his hands into fists so tight that he felt his fingernails digging into his palms, deep enough to feel blood blooming to the surface of his skin. He couldn't let Michael get to him now, not when he was leaving, not when he would never see the golden angel with eyes like oceans ever again. 

Judas made sure to slam the door once he was outside.

His father was waiting in the car, a tense look on his face as Judas climbed into the passenger seat. Before Judas could even get a word out, his father was speaking. "I lied to you."

"What?" Judas asked, a little blindsided by the statement.

"I lied. When I told you that I don't have the power, I lied."

"What do you mean?"

His father shook his head, looking at his hands. His eyes looked tired, rimmed red as if he'd been crying. "I see things. Things that haven't happened yet. I was never strong enough to need Hawthorne, I could never control it. It only happens sometimes. The last time was..." he swallowed thickly. "When you were fourteen. I saw the car, I saw your mother."

Judas opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. His father had seen what happened to his mother. Had known that she would die. And he had let it happen. Judas felt as if he could flip another car again, but this time, he wouldn't let it drain him.

He would have done it if his father hadn't started speaking once more. "I knew you had to find your power. I knew you had to realize it. And I thought... I thought that maybe the pain would be worth it. Your mother may have died, but you would be stronger for it. Better."

"That's insane."

"I know. I promise, I know."

Judas saw the way his hands were shaking. The way he wouldn't quite meet his eye. "You saw something," Judas said finally. "You saw something bad, didn't you? That's why you came to get me?"

His father nodded, taking a shaky breath. "I can sometimes change the things I see. Your mother, I couldn't change that, that was set in stone. But I'm hoping I can change this."

"What did you see?" Judas asked.

"I saw you, Judas. Here at Hawthorne. Bleeding. Dying. Laying on the floor in the arms of a man."

"A man?"

"Yes. With golden hair and eyes so blue that they didn't look real."

That was not very comforting to hear.