Academy of Shifters: Werewolves 101

by Marisa Claire

  I sank into the desk chair, letting the table cloth fall from my shoulders, and relished the ice cold air-conditioning blowing on my bare skin after a whole night and day stuck in a fur coat. My scalp itched wildly, and my right foot frantically tapped the floor until I clamped my hand on my knee.

  Be normal, Remi.

  I used my trusty human hand to tend to the itch, then forced myself to my feet, leaving the table cloth draped over the chair.

  First order of business: getting clean.

  Second order of business: getting dressed.

  Third order of business: staying that way.

  I figured I would just wear my pajamas to the restroom, but standing in front of the armoire, I caught another one of those strange mental whiffs and saw a fluffy white robe in my mind—right down to my name embroidered over the chest pocket.

  I flung open the armoire doors. The robe dangled from a wooden hanger, its sash tied in a perfect bow at the waist. I stroked the lapel, unable to remember ever touching anything so soft. My fingers moved to the right, tracing the blue thread spelling out my name.

  Goosebumps erupted on my arms, and not just because people shouldn’t be able to see hidden objects with their noses. In the limo, I had agreed to enroll voluntarily if the Gladwells agreed to look for my brother, but there was no way someone had sewn my name onto this robe in the hour or so that had passed since then. The robe had been ready and waiting, which made me wonder…

  What if I hadn’t said yes?

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, I leaned my elbows on the second-floor balcony and searched the faces at the tables below me for the one I wanted to find—Victoria’s—and the one I wanted to find even more—Winter’s. She needed to get a look at me now in my trusty lace-up boots, strategically ripped skinny jeans, and loose black V-neck top paired with two silver chains and my favorite stingray-shaped bracelet.

  The community bathroom had not been anything like the hellscape poor Hickoree was stuck with back at Keller Parks. Each toilet stall here had a solid wooden door, and the showers were made of stone tiles just rough enough to provide traction for the funny plastic socks we were supposed to pull over our feet to avoid spreading any fungus. The tiny, hotel-style bottle of shampoo nestled in a carved-out cubby had restored my gnarled rat’s nest of hair into something soft and silky and—yeah, okay, I’ll brag—sexy as hell.

  Bring it on, Davenport.

  I spotted her bright blond hair at a table in the center of the room—of course—surrounded by the same group she’d been with earlier: the preppy guy and his handsome-yet-brutish friend, plus three other girls. From this distance, they appeared to be sitting next to Winter in descending order of resemblance. I charted the course I would need to take to catch the boys’ eyes. Not because I was even remotely interested in either of them, but because I didn’t need a wolf in me to know that you’re lunch if a girl like Winter smelled fear. My first move after such extreme humiliation had to be one of absolute confidence.

  Closing my eyes, I practiced the Chancellor’s breathing exercise a few times, willing all the fibers in my body to stay like they were right now. Then I tossed my newly glossy waves over my shoulder and strutted down the stairs like I owned not just this campus, but the whole damn Smoky Mountains. I could have sworn I heard my personal soundtrack swelling in the background, rocking the kind of song I’d put on a playlist called Swagger.

  But somehow the stairs jumped up to meet me halfway down the first section, and I went cart-wheeling through the air and face-planted on the landing between floors, narrowly avoiding a collision of my boot heels with the majestic window overlooking the dusky front lawn.

  My mental music screeched to a halt.

  So much for my movie montage.

  “Someday I’ll meet you on your feet, but looks like today is not that day.”

  I rolled over, untangling my face from my previously perfect hair, and looked up at Victoria’s friendly smirk. Once again, her hand was reaching out to me.

  “Anything broken yet?” she asked as she pulled me to my feet.

  I swept my hair back over my shoulder. “Only my pride.”

  “You’re ahead of the game then.” She smiled. “Makes the professors’ jobs so much easier if you’re already broken on the first day of class.”

  I laughed nervously. “That tough, huh?”

  “Tougher than walking downstairs with your boot untied, anyway.” She pointed at my feet. “Better fix that.”

  I groaned and re-laced my boot. Properly. “I promise I’ll be a normal person tomorrow.”

  She laughed. “After tomorrow, you’re never going to be a normal person again.”

  “I’ve gotta be honest,” I said as we descended the second section of stairs, “that’s pretty much the last thing I want to hear.”

  Victoria chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I get it. I wasn’t wild about being here at first, either. It’s like, it was bad enough—well, I already had a lot going on.” She shook her head as we stepped into the Great Hall. “But once I learned to control my shifts, I never looked back. What we are, Remi, it’s amazing. Lean into it. Stop telling yourself it can’t be happening. It is.”

  Ha, nice try, brain! But you can’t fool me with this older, wiser character. I know this is a dream.

  We walked alongside the row of windows facing the courtyard, my mission to teach Winter a lesson aborted. The sun had sunk far enough behind the mountains for the lightning bugs to come out and dance among the twinkling strings of light hanging between the trees. Dark shapes moved along the sidewalk and laughter filtered around the edges of the heavy double doors we passed. At the next window, I caught a glimpse of two silhouettes entangled on a bench, seemingly trying to gnaw each other’s faces off.

  Not literally, I hope.

  Glancing around, I realized that almost none of the students gathered at the tables underneath the brilliant chandelier were paying any attention to us. Not even the ones we were sliding around and scooting by were throwing shade my way.

  Guess nobody recognizes you with your clothes on, Remi.

  “There’s Laith,” Victoria said, and I followed her pointing finger to a table up ahead, empty but for one male figure with his back to us.

  My heart, liver, and intestines immediately started trying to rearrange themselves. I dug my fingernails into my palms and ground my teeth.

  Don’t do it, Remi. Don’t you dare.

  Even with his clothes on, I recognized that back. He wore a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his long, sinewy forearms. Dark tendrils of hair flirted with his collar, and when he turned his head, his lips wore that same enigmatic smirk from the promo video.

  “Hey, babe,” Victoria said when we reached him, resting her hands on his shoulders and pecking him on the cheek.

  Well, this is an unfortunate plot twist.

  “Hey, babe,” he replied, rolling his eyes. They caught on me, and he shifted, cocking one elbow over the back of his chair. “What the hell, Vic? Didn’t I say no dogs until we have our own home?”

  “Excuse me?” I snapped, bristling at his casual insult, not to mention sexism.

  “He means you’re a wolf, not a, you know, woof.” Victoria made an ugly face over her shoulder as she took the seat next to him. “But he still shouldn’t judge people by their animal.”

  “I don’t,” he scoffed. “I judge animals by their people.”

  His voice had a southern lilt, not a twang or a drawl, just enough of an accent to make him sound like he probably knew how to fix a tractor or gentle a horse in whatever life this school had dragged him away from.

  Fix a tractor? Gentle a horse? What the hell is my subconscious into?

  He stuck out his hand. “Laith Brighton. And you are… wait, let me guess. Wind Runner? No, no, Night Crawler! Or maybe Moon Walker?”

  Victoria jammed her elbow into his side. “She hasn’t been here long enough to even get your stupid speciest
jokes. Could you try being nice?”

  “It’s okay,” I said, gripping Laith’s hand.

  Huge mistake. A prickling sensation swept up my arm and across my shoulders before spreading down the rest of my body. Like I’d fallen into a mound of fire ants and not only were they stinging me, they were injecting me with electricity.

  I yanked my hand back, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. He stared at with a quizzical, almost comical look that made my heart shrivel up with embarrassment. What if he felt my fur trying to worm its way out?

  “And it’s Lion Tamer, actually,” I blurted, frantic to distract him. “My name.”

  He dropped his hand and his smile skewed to the left while he bit the right corner of his lower lip. “You’ll have to bring your whip next time.”

  Heat rushed up my neck. Oh, good job, Remi. If you’re going to flirt with a guy in front of his girlfriend, just go ahead and make it kinky. Why not?

  Victoria grabbed my wrist and dragged me around to the chair on her other side. “Like I said, an acquired taste.”

  I sank into the chair, keeping my eyes on the place mat in front of me, but I sensed Laith leaning around her to look at me.

  “But seriously, who are you?”

  “Remi,” Victoria answered. “Saint James.”

  “Oh,” he said knowingly. “You’re the one.”

  Of freakin’ course.

  “Yep, that’s me.” I glared at him. His right elbow was propped on the table, making all the veins stand out in his wrist in a way that made me hate him because the alternative to hating him was now strictly forbidden. “Remi the Stripper. First show was free, next time I expect tips.”

  His hazel eyes danced behind his swoop of hair. He began counting off on his long fingers. “One, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Two, I am certainly intrigued. And three, I was referring to the fact that you held a beginner’s shift for eighteen hours. True or not true?”

  “I mean, yeah, I guess,” I stammered. “Wait, who’s saying that?”

  He shrugged. “I heard Belhollow telling Mardone.”

  Oh, no… what if Belhollow told him what brought on my marathon shift?

  “Who’s Mardone?” I made myself ask instead of blurting out an apology to Victoria for getting so worked up over her boyfriend that I literally lost control of my body.

  Victoria laughed darkly. “Lenore Mardone, Dean of Liberal Arts Education. She’s got enormous—” She made the universal gesture for a large chest. “And she’s not afraid to rest them on a cute guy’s desk. Total cougar.”

  Laith shot Victoria a withering look. “So are you, babe.”

  Victoria shot one right back. “You know what I meant, honey.”

  They held each other’s glares for a long second until they cracked up.

  Ugh. If the one thing I actually wanted out of this dream was going to make me a homewrecker, I was more than ready to wake up now.

  Victoria turned back to me. “Laith is her hand-picked T.A. this year.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That sounds like an honor.”

  Laith snorted. “I guess.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “He’s just grumpy because he’ll have to be nice to so many wolves at one time.”

  “Oh, well, don’t strain yourself on my account,” I told him curtly. “There’s nothing I hate more than a cat walking all over my desk while I’m trying to work.”

  That was supposed to be a jab, but it only made him smile that adorable smile again. “What about when it swishes its tail all over your face?”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “That’s when I throw it out the door.”

  Victoria guffawed at that and gave me a high five.

  Laith scowled at her. “Are you forgetting yourself?”

  There was this weird, like, nanosecond where Victoria looked stricken, but it passed in such a flash that felt like I must have imagined it.

  Victoria shrugged. “Gender before species, dude.”

  Someone tapped on a microphone, making it squeal. Every student in my line of vision cringed and covered their ears.

  “Sorry, yes, this thing is on,” the Chancellor’s voice boomed through the Great Hall. A hush fell over the crowd. “Hello everyone! Wow. Look at all of you. So many good-looking faces. Even the bears. Who knew?”

  Everybody laughed. Even the bears, I guess. Apparently it was a thing. I shifted in the direction they were all looking. The Chancellor stood in front of the courtyard doors, holding a microphone. He looked almost dashing in his burgundy jacket with his hair tamed back behind his ears.

  “Listen, I’m going to keep this short because we’re all hungry, and I don’t want another incident like ‘08. So much paperwork.” He groaned and slapped his forehead, earning more laughs.

  Victoria touched my arm and said, “He’s joking.”

  “Tomorrow I expect everyone to show up for class, ready to work hard and become the best beasts you can be.” He paused for a cacophony of human howls and growls. “But tonight, we feast! Let’s give a big round of applause for the upperclassmen who brought this bounty home! I hear we have venison from the wolves—”

  A group of older-looking students pounded on their table and howled.

  “Salmon from the bears—”

  Another table exploded with banging fists and heavy grunting.

  “And, holy cow, am I excited about this… Our mountain lion has brought us an elk!”

  Laith waved lazily at what seemed like a rather grudging round of applause.

  “Whoa, settle down over there, Laith. You’re getting too worked up,” the Chancellor joked, but Laith just turned back to the table, sneering.

  “What is he talking about?” I whispered to Victoria.

  But before she could answer, a cart loaded with lidded dishes rolled up beside Laith, pushed by a young server with a sort of vacant look in his eyes. Glancing around, I saw other servers with other trays alongside the table with the wolves and bears we’d just applauded.

  “I’m shutting up now, but remember…” the Chancellor said, and then the entire student body joined in as he finished, “Tradition. Transition. Transformation!”

  I swore the building shook with the force of their applause. I clapped my hands together too, of course, but felt incredibly lost and more than a little creeped out. I had never been much for group chanting.

  The server beside Laith whipped off one of the silver lids, revealing a plate loaded with brown and pink hunks of meat. There were veggies, too—steamed asparagus and roasted potatoes—and some buttery rolls, but when the smell of the game hit my nose, I nearly blacked out.

  Victoria gripped my arm and whispered, “Stay with us. Breathe.”

  In through my nose. Out through my mouth. Victoria’s fingers dug into my skin, grounding me in this body. The world came back into focus.

  She patted my arm and smiled. “Don’t worry. It happens to the best of us.”

  I shook my head and swallowed the embarrassing amount of saliva collecting in my mouth. “What is all this? What was he talking about? I am like… so lost.”

  Laith was already tearing chunks of meat off what appeared to be a rib in his hand. I simultaneously wanted to fight him for it and throw up.

  The server slid a plate in front of Victoria. My stomach growled wildly.

  Victoria started cutting up a slab of salmon with her knife and fork. “Every summer, the junior and seniors—well, some of them, I was rounding up freshmen instead—they go on a hunting trip and—”

  My plate landed in front of me just as I nearly jumped out of my chair.

  “Everything okay, miss?” the server asked blandly.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I waved him away and whipped my attention back to Victoria. “A hunting trip?”

  Laith looked up from his plate and snorted. “What? Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian.”

  “No, I just…” My eyes trailed down to my plate. The slab of salmon. The set of blackened ribs. T
he fried venison medallions. I had never craved anything so desperately, yet I could never allow myself to eat them. Tears stung my eyes.

  “What the hell? Is she crying?” Laith muttered, and Victoria shushed him.

  “I can’t… I mean, I don’t…”

  I am so hungry.

  Victoria touched my shoulder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t believe in hunting,” I blurted.

  Laith laugh—no, he guffawed. He dropped his rib on his plate. “You don’t believe in hunting? But you eat, like what? Burgers and chicken nuggets and crap?”

  Frustration closed up my throat. “No,” I squeaked. “I try to eat healthy…”

  Laith stabbed one of the medallions on his plate. “Doesn’t get any healthier than this. No hormones. No processing.”

  “Yeah, but… listen, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, I’m just not cool with hunting. It’s not fair.”

  He dropped his fork and gaped at me. “And you think a cow has a sporting chance?”

  I dropped my head into my hands, fighting the urge to bury my face in my plate. “No.”

  “Well then,” he resumed his bite. “You don’t have a problem with hunting.”

  Anger welled up inside me. I slammed one arm on the table and leaned around Victoria to glower at Laith. “Yes, I do. I have a problem with grown men dressing up like bushes and sitting beside a watering hole with a gun—”

  He laughed with his mouth full. “That’s your problem?”

  My jaw twitched from the effort of not lunging at him. “Yeah. That’s my problem.”

  He leaned forward, mimicking my position. “Well, you’re in luck, Poodle.” He held up the rib. “Because I killed this guy with my teeth.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Remi St. James, Gray Wolf

  Freshman. Semester One.

  Intro to Therianthropy: Fact vs. Fiction

  Professor Daniel Helms

  M/W 1:00 PM – 2:30 PM, Therian Hall 101

  Exploring the Mindscape

  Dean Lenore Mardone