by G. Bailey
There are signs directing us up a steep set of stairs and towards the main auditorium where the peace talks are being held. There’s already a crowd forming outside, although the number of students waiting to get in is surprisingly small; the others are likely more interested in the glamorous aspects of the conference than the messy political stuff, which only makes me feel even more out of place. Silas comes to a halt on one side of me, with Hunter on the other, and as we stand there, pressed body to body while we wait to be let inside, I feel more aware of their presences than ever before. On one side, Silas: big, thoughtful, and determined to find out the truth, even if it means walking into danger himself. On the other, Hunter: lanky and brooding, with an inferiority complex that he’s been nursing all his life that belies a more fun-loving side underneath. Both incredibly handsome, both so different… and yet both more similar than one would realise. And I’m what links them together, in more ways than one. It’s… a heavy notion, and it makes me feel something I can’t quite put my finger on. Once again, my mind drifts back to the kiss I shared with Hunter, only for me to be struck with overwhelming guilt at having done it behind Silas’ back; part of me wants to blurt it out right then and there, just to be rid of the tension, but I’m paralysed with indecision.
Finally, they let us inside the auditorium where a banner reading, “Human-Shifter Peace Summit” hangs over the stage. A roundtable sits in the middle, with well-dressed men and women on all sides, and I can see the Academy executives already sitting in prime spots in the front few rows. It’s silent inside, and the talk seems to have already started; a moderator is in the midst of asking whether the shifters’ policy of secrecy is sustainable in today’s culture.
The three of us are relegated to one of the back rows, and I slide in between Hunter and Silas, my eyes wide as I watch the politicians below us. “That’s hardly the point, and you know it,” says one of the speakers, a dark-skinned woman in an impeccably tailored suit. “The discussion isn’t about secrecy—it never was—and I think questions about shifter culture is a diversion from the real issue, here.”
“With all due respect, Ma’am,” replies one of the older men flanking her, “the issues are linked. We have to face the fact that keeping the existence of shifters a secret from humans is becoming less realistic by the day. It’s only giving these fringe groups more ammunition against us.”
“And why should that be our responsibility?” pipes up another speaker. “We should be addressing how this information keeps getting out, instead of throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”
I lean in to Hunter as the moderator struggles to keep a hold on the increasingly tense debate. “Do you know who any of these people are?” I whisper.
Hunter’s brow furrows. “I recognise a few of them from my father’s meetings. The ones on the left look like some of the shifter representatives. I’m guessing the others are the human ambassadors.”
“They’re the ones with the leverage here,” Silas states flatly. It’s not a question. I can see his hands gripping his armrests tightly, and part of me wants to reach out and smooth the tension out of them, but I can’t bring myself to, not with Hunter on my other side.
“You’re arguing in favour of secrecy,” the moderator says to the first woman. “Do you have any thoughts on protected communities, then?”
“If by ‘protected’, you mean ‘segregated,’ then yes, I have quite a few,” the woman replies shortly. “This isn’t an either-or situation. Humans and shifters have lived together for hundreds of years - there’s no reason to change that. It would just be caving to the humans who want us out of the way.”
“Who said anything about us wanting shifters out of the way?” replies a man on the other side of the table. “Everyone has to realise that we’re talking about a small fraction of humans who know about shifters, and an even smaller fraction of those who want to subjugate them.”
The debate rages on, replies firing back and forth so quickly that I can hardly keep up. Hunter watches them intently, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes occasionally moving down to where his father is, while Silas frowns, lost in thought as he listens. I’m left wondering how on earth anything is going to be resolved in the short time that this conference is set to go on… until my cell phone vibrates in my pocket.
Frowning, I dig it out and glance at the screen. It’s a text message from an unknown number.
Watch your back. It isn’t safe for you here.
Chapter 12
My body is tense as we emerge from the assembly room an hour later, my shoulders hunched and my fingers nervously carding through my hair as I stare down at my phone. I know I should have been paying more attention during the peace talks, but as soon as I got that text, it was more or less over for my focus. Could it have been a wrong number? Sure, but I doubt it; even after replying with multiple messages asking who the sender was, I received no response, and my mind has been a mess trying to figure out who it might be. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like a coincidence, especially now that the whole Academy has up and left the island to surround ourselves with humans for the next week in an unfamiliar city. The idea that the warning might actually be a threat has crossed my mind, although from whom? Hawthorne? That would be bold, even from him, especially considering that the number could be traced, in theory. Another student? That hardly seems more likely; if it were someone I knew, why wouldn’t they tell me to my face? I’m left spinning out with more questions than answers, and I think Silas and Hunter can tell that something is wrong. They keep shooting me glances out of the corners of their eyes as we head back down the stairs and make our way towards the entrance.
“Are you all right?” Silas asks, putting a hand on my shoulder as soon as we get outside and into the blessed fresh air. “You look a little shaken up.”
“It’s just… everything they were talking about,” I reply, lying through my teeth. “It’s unnerving, listening to them discussing our futures like we’re just pawns in some game.”
“Is that not what we are to them?” The dragon shifter asks, crossing his arms. “To the humans, at least?”
“Maybe you should have more faith in them,” Hunter speaks up, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s only the first day of the conference. They’ve got more time to figure out a solution.”
“For all the good that will do,” Silas says, shaking his head. “I’ll be curious just how much of a say they give the shifters, at the end of the day.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him, brow furrowing.
“Do you really think the humans care about resolving this peacefully?” he asks. “I’ve seen how they operate. They made my parents disappear because they were talking about changing the status quo. I don’t expect this to be any different—the only question is how many people they’ll end up throwing under the bus just to make this all go away.”
Hunter looks like he’s about to reply, but we’re interrupted by the sounds of familiar voices approaching us from the left. I look up to see Hazel and the twins walking over to us. She’s laughing at something Xander said, and judging by the way they’re looking at one another, I’d say that their first foray into exploring the conference was a success - more of a success than mine, at any rate.
“Hey,” Ruby says as they come to a stop next to us.
“Hey,” I echo. “Where did you guys end up going?”
“This breakout session about integrating with human society,” Xander replies, “although it was all bullshit. Just a bunch of pro-human propaganda.”
Silas shakes his head. “I’m not surprised.”
“How are the talks going?” Ruby asks.
“About as well as you’d expect,” Hunter admits. “They’re deadlocked. Nobody can agree on anything.”
“Figures,” Hazel says, frowning. “I’m just surprised they’ve even been able to keep a lid on things as long as they have. I’m starting to see now why there’s so much tension between the two groups.”
“Which is exactly why this whole thing is pointless,” comes a new voice, and I turn around to see Shade coming to a stop on our other side, Landon following him. “I’m telling you, we’d be better off just fucking around for the next few days.”
“Easy for you to say,” Hunter mutters, looking at the ground.
For his part, Landon just turns to the blond boy. “What did you have in mind, Shade? I’ve already had about enough of this place.”
A sly smile appears on the wolf shifter’s face, and he leans back with mock thoughtfulness. “The seaport is just over there,” he says, nodding over his shoulder in the direction of the highway. “I say we go make some memories of this trip that don’t involve listening to politicians drone on.”
“But the witches-” begins Hazel.
Shade waves her off. “It’s less than half a mile from here. It’s practically in the backyard of the convention center. You think they’re going to notice us if we’re that close?”
I purse my lips. “You may have a point, there.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Boots,” Shade says, giving me a grin that can only be described as… well, wolfish. I feel my ears heat up a little.
Silas clears his throat. “I could stand some time away from the politics, myself.”
“So it’s settled, then,” Shade says, crossing his arms and looking from each of us to the next. “We’re gonna go have some real fun. What about you two?” he adds, turning to the Murakami siblings. “You in?”
Ruby and Xander exchange a look. “I could be convinced,” he says, winking at Hazel, who bursts out laughing.
“Better than waiting for someone else to tell us how kowtowing to the humans is our only hope of surviving,” Ruby adds.
“Right on.” Shade nods. “So what are we waiting for?”
Shade is right; the seaport is within walking distance, just on the other side of an underpass flanking the convention center. We probably look weird: a group of young adults in brightly coloured uniforms, a tour group that got separated from their bus, maybe. But it doesn’t matter; Shade’s instincts were right on the money. Being outside in the sun is what I needed right now, not being trapped at the conference ruminating over the text I received. A fresh breeze buffets us from over the ocean, bringing with it the smell of sea salt and old wood and putting a fresh spring in my step. It’s less than ten minutes before we arrive at the port, and although it’s not exactly picturesque, with a concrete walkway instead of a boardwalk, it’s a pleasant enough change of scenery. Behind us is a stretch of storefronts and well-tended greenery, and we find ourselves leaning against a rusted railing, staring out across the ocean toward the eastern part of the city on the other side of the channel.
We slowly branch away from one another, unbothered by the distance and each lost in his or her own thoughts. I remain where I am; the wind tossing my hair around as my eyes drift closed, slowly relaxing for the first time since the peace talk.
Landon’s voice breaks me out of my trance. “Looks like those two are getting on like a house on fire.” He nods in the direction of Xander and Hazel, who are standing in the shade of a nearby building; she’s jostling him playfully with one shoulder while he feigns outrage.
“I’m happy for her,” I reply. “Xander seems like a good guy.”
“He does,” Landon agrees, “although with only a week here, I wonder how attached she can afford to get.”
“Well,” I say, turning around and leaning back against the railing, “that’s what phones are for.”
Landon laughs. “Touche, Boots.” There’s a pause, and then he grins at me and asks, “So, do you think that would work on you?”
“What?”
He sidles up next to me, his arm brushing mine. “Oh, you know, gentle touches, long, meaningful looks, telling bad jokes and then pretending they’re the funniest thing in the world… It’s sort of flirting 101.”
“Well, unfortunately I’m not familiar,” I reply, meeting his dark eyes. “But I’ve never thought flirting should be reduced to just those things, either.”
“Thank god for that,” Landon replies, the corner of his mouth turning upward as his eyes sear into mine.
I’m on the verge of asking him what he means when a new voice pulls my attention away. “Look who it is.”
I turn around, and my heart immediately sinks; Lyle is standing behind us, on the other side of a bench. His arms are crossed, and there’s a haughty look in his eye that I don’t like. “What?” I ask, my tone short.
“Just out for a stroll,” he replies, “same as you. Is that not allowed?”
“Depends on your reasons,” I shoot back.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I wasn’t following you,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I know better than to pick another fight with the infamous hybrid, right? Knowing when to fold ‘em was always my strong suit.”
“Good,” I reply curtly. “Then you’ll leave me alone.”
Landon looks from me to Lyle, raising his eyebrows. “Is there a problem, here?”
“No,” I tell him, not breaking eye contact with the older student.
“And who might you be?” Lyle asks, turning his attention to the siren shifter. “Another one of her boyfriends? You know, Millie, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were some kind of slut.”
“Seriously?” Landon crosses his arms. “Do people seriously still say things like that?”
“Evidently,” I reply flatly, mimicking his posture.
Lyle ignores the dig, taking a few slow steps closer to us. I can feel myself tensing up, but Landon’s presence steadies me, and I force myself to calm down; I don’t want this turning into another fight. “You know, I’ve been asking around about you,” Lyle says, staring down at me with derision in his eyes. “Call it… professional curiosity. Especially after you sent me packing the way you did after class the other day. They always hype hybrids up, you know? But you’re never expecting them to actually be able to do it.”
“Well,” I reply, “I’m happy to disappoint.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Lyle says, a cruel smile appearing on his face. “I did some digging on you, Brix,” he continues. “By the sounds of it, you stirred up all sorts of trouble back at your home school. What was it I heard, again…? Something about top-secret experiments?”
“Not so top-secret now, I guess,” Landon remarks dryly.
“How the hell did you find all this out about me, Lyle?” I demand, staring defiantly up at him.
The older boy sniffs. “It’s not that hard to find information, if you know where to look. Working for the school administration doesn’t hurt, either.” He turns back to me. “You know, it’s almost enough to make me feel bad for you. Almost. A poor little human girl, abandoned by her parents, left to the whims of a bunch of sadistic human scientists… it almost makes up for the fact that you’re just like all the other girls at this school.”
My eyes narrow. “Abandoned? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Boots,” Landon says, taking hold of my arm and tugging at it gently, “leave it. Just ignore him.”
I shake his hand off, taking a step closer to Lyle. “What the fuck are you saying?”
Lyle raises his eyebrows. “You mean… you didn’t know? Your boys here didn’t tell you? Granted, they were just babies then, too, so I guess they wouldn’t know either, but still…”
“Know what?” I can feel my nails digging into my palms, my heart leaping to my throat. I’m taking the bait, and I know it, but I can’t help it. There’s something in Lyle’s eyes that gives me pause - a look that says he knows that he has the upper hand.
“Boots,” Landon warns me again, “he’s not worth it.”
“I think that’s for her to decide,” Lyle says, not breaking eye contact with me. “What do you think, Brix?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask him. “What did you find out about my parents?”
“If
you thought the humans took you away from them, you were wrong,” Lyle replies, his tone sharp and cutting. “Your parents were the ones who gave you up. They abandoned you.”
Chapter 13
“You’re…” I swallow the lump in my throat, trying desperately to fight off the dreadful sensation I can feel rising in my chest. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Lyle crosses his arms. “I took a little field trip to the registrar’s office. I’m an RA, so they won’t let me look at everything, but… I saw enough.” There’s a pause, and he furrows his brow thoughtfully. “It’s funny, though. The one thing I couldn’t find any information on was the witch shifter - you know, the baby. You’ve got one of every form, so there had to have been one. It would’ve had to have been a girl, since witches are always girls, but it sounds like she’s long gone… Although maybe that suits you just fine, Millie. This way you don’t have to share the rest of your little boy toys with anyone else.”
“Shut up.” My hands are clenched into fists, and I realise that I’m shaking, although not from anger, but from dread. “You don’t know anything about me, Lyle.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, advancing on me. “I know enough about you, Millie Brix. Enough to tell you with complete certainty that you never had any chance of having a normal life. I guess that’s what happens when your parents don’t want you, though, right?” He shakes his head in a mockery of sadness. “Poor, sweet, little Millie, with no one to love her… except for the people who had their powers dumped on you.”
