by A. K. Koonce
But so far so good.
I can do this.
Miraculously, I pass every class so far. My grades aren’t as good as Malek’s or even Phoenix’s—who knew my fake boyfriend was such a nerd?—but at least I won’t be getting the boot.
Yet.
Interdimensional Travels makes me want to throw up in an assortment of different realms and dimensions but luckily I hold it together.
Malek catches my hand when I walk past, just a reassuring brush of our fingers and it calms the rising anxiety within me.
Or at least it does until I’m side by side with a man who barely glances my way when I pull out the chair next to him.
Phoenix and I are... okay. Just not good.
His emotions are just as confusing as mine lately.
I wish we could just spell all of this out for everyone. Maybe I should distance myself from all of them. Would I be able to withstand the loss of all of them over the agony of having to choose just one of them?
I swallow that thought down as I lower myself into the seat next to his and he shifts slightly so our elbows don’t have the accidental misfortune of brushing.
Definitely not doing great in lover’s paradise
Professor Zent eyes us all one by one.
And then he lifts his long black wand and hovers it directly over his golden time piece. Particles gleam out of it and swirl in the air. The magic dances and sways before he lifts it higher and showers his watching class with…
“Is that pixie dust?” I ask with a curl of my lips.
“It’s Wizard’s Watch, Miss Izara. Today’s final will be timed. You and your partner have exactly five minutes to enter your dimension, collect a small object and return.”
“You—you want me to steal something from hell?”
“If that is where your heart takes you, Miss Izara, then by all means, bring me back a nice hot cup of demon’s Coffee. Just be sure to return before your sparking dust turns to fiery embers and burns. If you fail,” his monotone words ring out like an announcement at a Met’s game, “you will not return until the embers turn to ash and my magic dissolves away entirely.”
“How long does that take?” Saint asks at the table across from me, his eyes narrowed accusingly on the Professor.
“In your Interdimensional Travels, it could take no more than three hours. In this realm’s time, it takes about two years.”
Two years.
My wide eyes are pinned on the old man and his careless stature.
“The best of luck to you all. Your time starts,” a short glance at his pocket watch, “now.”
I barely glance at Phoenix before he grips my hand and we flash away in less than a second like he’s too impatient to even consult me.
My shoes stumble over the dirt and big hands catch me at the waist, pulling me against him before my nose skims the flickering hot flames.
“Center ring again. You’re starting to look like a show off now, Izzy.” His voice hums through me and I force myself to step away from his strength and stand on my own two feet.
“Okay. I need something to take back.” My gaze shifts over the soot at our feet.
It’s not dirt at all.
It’s ash.
I blink vacantly at the thought of what could have made this much ash. What nasty things did they burn down here to line this entire hellacious hall with a garden of ash?
“You might have to keep walking to get an actual object.” Phoenix doesn’t glance at me but his stance is so close to mine that he brushes my body with his with every small breath he takes.
Before he didn’t want our elbows to get too romantically involved and now that we’re in hell, his obnoxiously hard chest is glued to my shoulder.
I think he might be hormonal. Do soulless demons go through puberty differently than the rest of the population?
I shake his confusing behavior off.
We take slow soundless steps down the hall, flames flickering across his features and making him look every bit like a creation of sin.
What does that say about me?
“Why do you think I keep coming back here?” I ask.
“To hell?”
“Yes, to hell. Where else would here mean?”
“I thought you might be questioning why you keep coming back to me.”
It’s always about Phoenix. Even when it’s not. Even when it’s about me, it’s still about the selfish soulless incubus.
I roll my eyes and try again.
“Do you think I’m a demon?”
“You’re definitely heartless enough, baby.”
My head turns slowly so I can really fully appreciate my glare against his ridiculously handsome face.
The asshole.
“Do you think you could plot this out with me for a single second?”
He sighs dramatically. “You’re a higher demon. Specifically, one who’s powerful enough to bring us to a forbidden circle in hell. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The soft sinking of my white shoes sliding against the ash halts. My heartbeat pounds so hard in my chest it hurts.
“I’m a higher demon? What does that mean? Why do you think that?”
He turns to me, his gaze shifting over my features slowly in the flickering light.
“You know how many times I’ve seen the center ring of hell?”
My hair skims against my face as I shake my head slowly at him.
“None. I’ve never been to this part because it’s forbidden. Only hell creatures with immense power would have the ability to ward into here.” His features soften and his fingers slide into mine gently. “Come on. We can’t linger here. We’ll think about your identity crises after we get Professor Zent a souvenir shirt from hell.”
I swallow down all the things he just said to me and do my best to push the thoughts from my head. And for the first time in a long time, I just let Phoenix take care of me. I trust him as he guides us deeper into the fiery halls of the underworld.
Until his body goes rigid, and his palm slides over my stomach, halting me in an instant. His finger lifts to his lips, his jade eyes sweeping back and forth over the shadows of the darkness.
That sparkling magic the warlock washed over us is making a hissing sound like it’s catching too much heat.
And then the most terrifying thing creeps out of the shadows.
Its small round stature is hip level but there are countless horns curling up from the bald crown of its rigid head. Warts and a charred rough exterior coats his nude body. The bulging mucus colored eyes that fix on me are enough to make the air in my lungs catch with terror.
But the slurred word he whispers over and over is the most terrifying thing of all. It becomes a hissing sound that I can’t make out, but it crawls through the hall the closer and closer he gets.
“What—what’s he saying, Phoenix?”
Phoenix takes a step back, kicking his shoe against mine.
“Ass. He’s saying ass. Now run.”
Ash flies up all around us, stinging my lungs as we weave down dark corridors with that sound following us every step of the way.
“We need to leave.”
“I have to get an item for Professor Zent,” I say in a rush.
“We can’t. We have to go.”
“I’m not failing!” I yell over my shoulder and he irrationally mumbles something about women always taking too long to shop.
“You have three seconds before I tear us away from here. I’m not risking a demonic ass fucking over a goddam gold star from Professor Marty McFly.”
He pushes me faster, our feet stumbling as I search the shadows for any little thing I can get my hands on.
“Three,” he growls as I frantically search the empty smoky floor.
“Two.”
I stop entirely.
His hand grips mine and I look up just in time to come face to disfigured face with the ass troll. Hot air heaves over my cheek with vomit inducing scent clinging to his sticky brea
th. The pull of interdimensional time tugs at me from the inside out.
It’s all slipping away into a darkness.
The flames die out around us.
The heat fades.
It’s all nearly gone.
My desperate need to pass is the only explanation I have to for what I’m about to do.
Phoenix’s far off voice counts down the very last second just as my palm grips the thing directly in front of me. And I take the only souvenir I have to offer.
The Warlock’s Watch sizzles above our heads, just turning to embers when we land directly in front of that big worn desk of Professor Zent’s. Dry ash clings to my face, my hair, and even my hand as I slap the item down in front of my Professor with the most triumphant smile tipping my lips.
The thing flops from my hand and rolls a bit, coating the white papers beneath it with a dark red blood that looks severely aged and rotting.
Professor Zent’s lips pull down into a heavy frown.
“What—what is that, Miss Izara?” His long finger points at the bloody member, but he doesn’t dare touch it.
“That is the cock of an exceedingly rare ass troll, originating from the very center ring of hell. It’s quite the collector’s item, Professor Zent.” My chin lifts high and a humming laughter rumbles out of the soulless man at my side.
“Rare indeed,” Professor Zent says, his dull disgust still lingering in his voice. “You’ve passed with five seconds to spare. Please exit my class and do not return ever again, Miss Izara.”
“Thank you,” I beam, but the old warlock simply glares at me.
“You are incredibly unwelcome.”
Twenty-Five
Izara
The finals drag out through the week.
But today is the day I dread more than any other.
Fucking gym.
Until now, Professor Shade has been infinitely patient with me and my dormant Prod, but when the final comes and we stand grouped with our teams, I notice the sad way his gaze settles on my face. It almost feels like a goodbye. The expression cleaves any confidence I’ve gained.
“Team one!”
He gestures to the group closest to him and hands their captain a tattered orange flag. The team is lead by the asshole shifter that tried to kill me outside of the gym on that first day. His members are equally massive and brutish and I pray to whatever god or demon is looking out for us that we don’t get paired with them.
I should wish less, because the universe just likes to do the opposite of every fucking thing I say.
“You’ll be going up against team four.” He hands me the thin yellow flag.
I want to cringe away from it, from this whole thing. We never announced a captain, and I’m not captain material. Holding the flag seems like too much responsibility. I turn and promptly shove it into Malek’s arms.
Team one’s members look at me slowly. Every team has a weak link.
That’s me for us.
I am the weakest. And I’m so fucked. So expelled. So thrown into Prod prison where I’ll get the death penalty for merely existing…
“Breathe, my heart,” Malek’s lips skim across my ear lightly. His rasping voice is instantly calming and distracts me from the rising dread inside me.
Phoenix passes the werewolf a death glare for nearly touching me but he thankfully brings his attention back to the task at hand.
“To monitor your progress in this final, I have asked the Headmaster, a few guards, and other professors to help me.” Professor Shade’s words are a warning to all of us not to break the rules. Not to maim or kill. To control our Prods, to try and not do nothing at all during this final.
Nothing. The one thing I excel at as a Prod.
After that, the Professor goes to each individual team and separates them into outdoor territories. He tells us where we will start the game and where we are allowed to venture within the woods and academy property. We can only hide our flag within our assigned territory and can only fight our opposing team there as well. Anyone who ventures out is disqualified. Anyone who attacks a team member they weren’t pitted against is disqualified.
If anyone fucks up—disqualified.
I don’t see myself attacking anyone, honestly. I see myself getting beaten into the dirt, though, so that might be a problem.
“Good luck,” Professor Shade says, staring straight at me as though he’s sure I’ll need it more than most. I probably will, but it’s still insulting.
The faerie girl on our team is slow moving when we all start walking. I trail at Syko’s side just behind Malek, Saint, and Phoenix. The air is so cold out, I shiver the moment the doors open and we step outside. The skyline is that dark white color that threatens snowfall at any given moment. The three up ahead talk quietly about our opposing team, but they’re walking so fast I can barely catch a word they say. This is the last exam, and it’s very clear they just want to be done.
I hunch into my thin uniform as we walk and Syko slips his arm loosely around my waist, feeding my body his delicious warmth.
Once we’re far enough away from the gymnasium, we all stop and I can’t help but shift almost to the very center of them all just to claim as much body heat as possible.
“So,” I let out a shaky breath. “What’s the plan?” I look from Phoenix to Malek, the smartest of all of us, and I’m surprised to see that none of my teammates seem to care about the final.
Saint’s staring up at the pale sky above us like a cat bored out of his mind, his hair sticking up on end, his bright eyes glowing almost manically. Syko looks too tortured to want to take part. He’ll give it an effort, I’m sure, I know he’s passed every class so far, but he clearly doesn’t really care. Phoenix treats this as he’s treated every other final. Effortless. The bastard doesn’t even have to try and he passes with flying colors. It’s the same with Malek, but at least he keeps up the pretense that he’s anxious with adrenaline. The faerie girl with the resting bitch face stares at her nails, acting like us and this whole situation is beneath her.
“Does no one care about this final?” I dig my nails into my bare arms. We’re all freezing our asses off, wearing our gym uniforms, dark blue sweatpants and white shirts with gold and red hems and the academy’s insignia on the breast. Comfortable clothes to kick ass in. If I knew how to kick ass. There’s an endless irony in this whole situation. I need to pass this if I want to live. I can’t pass this class without a Prod or a team who cares.
Saint smiles, revealing long pointed teeth that gleam in the light. “Should be fun. I don’t know about you guys, but that shifter fuck looked like he’d be fun to play with.”
He said the word play the same way a psychopath would say the word ‘murder’ or ‘torture’ with unabashed glee.
I think our cat’s found a dead mouse to entertain himself with.
“You don’t really think we can win against them, do you?” the faerie girl snaps, dropping her hands to her side. She hasn’t bothered to tell me her name, and it’s been months now, but she has had time to discredit us, it seems.
Her eyes are too bright; an ethereal blue that looks like diamonds on sapphires on diamonds. “Their Prodless is growing into his powers while ours is…” She looks me up and down, pulling her lip back into a vicious sneer. “...pathetic.”
My face flames hot. I wish I had a reply to that, but I don’t.
She’s a gorgeous fae and I’m just some kind of badass demon from a forbidden ring of hell.
I’m epic. Or at least...I will be.
My lips part to tell her just that but Malek beats me to it.
“I think that could work to our advantage.” Malek sends me a half smile and an apologetic look. He bends down to the ground and uses his finger to draw a small map of our territory in the light layer of frost that rests against the dirt. He draws the rectangular building that marks Dormitory J and the treeline surrounding it. “I think the best plan is to let Izzy carry the flag.”
The only one who
protests is faerie girl… and me.
“I can’t guard that.” It would brand us the losing team before we even begin, not to mention get me killed, expelled, and arrested. Not necessarily in that order. “I’m Prodless.”
Malek’s smile is reassuring. “Which is precisely why you’re the perfect person to guard it, out of all of us. They’ll be expecting the strongest of us to be guarding it. They won’t expect this.”
“Pretty good plan, Scooby,” Saint compliments, leaning over to stare at the map. He doesn’t bend down, though. It’s like he doesn’t want to stain his academy provided sweats. How can he look so pretentious in sweats? “But what happens when they realize Phoenix isn’t guarding the flag?”
“Who said Phoenix is the strongest?” Malek asks and when all five of us of stare back at him without a word he simply carries on. “We need to separate into three groups. Phoenix and Sasha, you’ll stay here.” He bends and marks a small X in the middle of the drawn out stick forest.
Her name is Sasha?
When he keeps going I shove the name aside, prepared to forget it already. “It’s fortified with trees, and Sasha can make thorns grow around it. Perfect for protecting the flag.”
“But I’m protecting the flag.”
Confusing, sweet, sexy werewolf shifter. His plan makes no sense.
“But the other team won’t even consider that a possibility. The goal is to capture the flag. They’ll separate into teams, too. They’ll come directly to Phoenix and Sasha’s location to get it. And they’ll have to fight through a tangle of thorns and one pissed off demon just to realize, we’re protecting nothing in that spot.”
“Ooh, distraction. Very good, Snoopy. You’re smarter than you look.” Saint disregards the knee stains it will probably leave as he bends low.
Malek ignores his comment and continues, “Izzy, you’ll guard the flag, but you’ll circle the territory discreetly. They won’t expect the flag to be carried by a Prodless so you should be safe.”
“Should be? They’ll fucking tear her apart.” It’s the first time Phoenix speaks, but I can hear the hard anger and possession in every brittle word. He crouches on the ground bringing his face so close to Malek’s it’s clearly some game of dominance. “Perhaps you didn’t notice, Fido, but the other team’s shifter has been looking for an opportunity to rip my feck to pieces. Send her off alone and you’ll be sending her to her death.”
