by LJ Swallow
“What? You have to go.”
“Why?”
“You’re on the committee.” He looks at me intently, his gaze stroking my features. “You should come with me. I’ll be your date.”
Have my cheeks turned as red as the heat I feel? We’ve barely mentioned the Winter Ball with everything else happening around us, and I never expected this.
“I—uh. Um. Probably can’t.”
I flinch at his crestfallen face. “Why not? Are you going with Jamie?”
“He hasn’t asked me.”
“Well, I asked first, so I guess I win.” He gives a cheeky grin and I’m a heartbeat away from saying yes.
“Why are you asking me?” I whisper.
He moves closer and his leg touches my knee. “Because I want to be your date for the night.”
I want Ash close almost as much as I don’t. I’ve played over the moment his body curved around mine outside the school hall, on Halloween. I’ve tried not to think about how his presence digs deep into a part of me willing to let go of the last piece of control I feel I have—over myself and my life. As he runs a hand across the top of his head, I picture that hand on me.
He may not be a pneuma vampire, but Ash’s powerful presence drags people into his thrall.
“Ash.” I look back at his hopeful face. The stomach-flipping excitement that Ash asks me to be his date is pushed away by a memory of my aunt’s words. “Marie told me something about you.”
His hopeful look drops, and he shifts slightly until he’s not touching me anymore. “Am I going to die too?”
“No, Ash,” I say in alarm. “But Marie has seen us together. My aunt thought she saw us in the past, but it was the future. She knew things about you.”
His body tenses. “What things?”
“She saw me with who she called my ‘shifter friend’.” I pause. Do I say this? “My dragon shifter friend.”
Ash doesn’t reply, and I look up at him. He stares at a spot on the wall behind me, face impassive. “How does she know this friend was me?”
“Who else could it be? I don’t know other shifters, and most want to stay away from me.” I almost add that we’re in a relationship in her vision, but decide not to.
He puts both hands on his head, elbows at right angles, and turns away. “No. Fuck, no. This can’t be true. I can’t be.”
His powerful shoulders stretch his academy uniform shirt with the movement, and I reach out to touch him, but change my mind. “You thought there’d be a chance, though,” I say gently.
“I know, but I mean I can’t be. I don’t want to be.” His voice cracks and my heart goes out to him.
Jumping down from the table, I place a hand on his shoulder. Tension tightens his thick muscle. Should I have said something? But after keeping my visions of Jamie’s future secret, and the issues that caused, I can’t keep another.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Explain to me why.”
He turns and takes my hand in his, his skin soft but heated. I think he’s about to push me away when he holds his other over the top. Am I about to get another lesson about this new world?
“You’re a future-sighted witch. You’re rare and in demand by the Confederacy and Dominion. Once you have full control over your powers, you could become more powerful than those instructing you. You become too dangerous to others.”
I wrinkle my brow in confusion. “I think I understand that, but why is this relevant?”
“A dragon shifter is similar, Maeve. They’re rare and hold powers other shifters don’t have. Dragon’s lives are more dangerous because shifting in sight of humans isn’t easily hidden. Imagine how much damage a bloody dragon can do. Sometimes they’re exiled, and not only due to their size and strength. Dragon shifters behave differently to normal shifters while they’re shifted.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
He links his fingers with mine. “They’ve more control over the primal instinct all shifters share when they transform. Instead, dragon shifters' human emotions are heightened and thought processes still happen when shifted. The problem is, those thoughts happen inside a mind without logic. They’re driven by emotion, and once the dragon takes hold, there’s no turning back.”
“But powerful is good for a soldier?” I suggest.
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Nobody can tell a dragon shifter what to do. They’re almost impossible to influence magically. This, their power, and their intelligence places them at the top of the shifter world.”
“And why’s that a problem?”
He sighs. “I don’t want to be at the top. Sure, in the academy I’m treated as if I am, but this is school. I’m working towards a career goal—and that goal isn’t a place as a high-ranking shifter on the Confederacy council.”
I blink. “You can say no, surely.”
Again, the wry smile. “Can you say no to your destiny? Can any of us?”
My stomach drops into my shoes. This is the lack of control I fought when I arrived, and I’ve learned that fight is impossible. “We can’t, but we can still stay true to who we are, Ash.”
“You lose who you are when you have visions, Maeve. I will when I shift. Everybody here is controlled by their powers, which is bullshit. The stronger the power someone has, the less control they have over their life.” Ash looks up at the ceiling and grips my hand as if I’m grounding him. “Shit. This can’t be true.”
His voice is quiet, his angry tension taken over by vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“No.” He looks down again. “I’m happy you said something. Well, not happy, but pleased you never hid this from me.”
“I’m not hiding what I see anymore,” I say. “That was a huge mistake.”
“Your telling me means a lot, Maeve.”
In this moment, I’ve pushed through something with Ash, but I’m unsure what. He told me he’s fearful of witches and blames them for his brother’s death. Has this conversation helped?
“I want to give you a hug. Is that okay?” I ask.
“Maeve, we’re always hugging. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Because this is different. Ash said he wanted to be my date, which makes this different. I never meant for my words to bring us closer; I expected them to pull us apart.
I wind my arms around Ash’s waist and press my cheek to his chest. His heart beats slow and steady, and I squeeze, wanting to hold him together. Ash holds me tighter than he’s done before, more intimate than the friendly hugs we all greet or say goodbye with.
His arm slips around my waist and my insides liquify as his warm breath ruffles my hair. Is he holding onto me for comfort, or is this something else? I move my head to look up at him and there’s a hesitancy in his eyes, as if he wants to do or say something, but won’t.
The brief hugs never had this effect, his hard body lingering against mine, the large hand in the small of my back, and his heat running through me from where we touch. My mouth parches with worry—worry that he’ll kiss me and concern he won’t. What if I make an idiot of myself? Our lips move closer and we pause again, as if unsure we should step over this line.
A door nearby closes and footsteps tap towards us. I’m barely aware until someone clears their throat. I turn my face and meet Andrei’s eyes, where he stands a few feet away from us. Something flickers across his face as he studies the situation in front of him—not his usual sneer, but he’s unimpressed.
“Is this a shifter thing?” he asks and tips his head. “Sneaking away for sordid sessions in quiet corners?”
Ash drops his arm from my waist. “We’re not in a corner, and this isn’t sordid.”
“Uh huh.” He bites his lip and studies me closer.
I glare, pissed off because I don’t know what he interrupted, and embarrassed that I’m seen like this.
“I thought you’d left classes for today after screwing up in potions,” retorts Ash.
“I had a meeting with my house p
rofessor.” He jerks his head towards Tobias’s room.
“Oh?” I ask.
“Yes. Professor Turlington complained about my behaviour.”
“Because you were rude to him.”
He scoffs at my words. “I have no use for his class.”
“What Andrei means is he sucks at potions,” says Ash, eyes hard as he looks back at him.
“Whatever, dude.” Andrei hitches his bag up his shoulder and trains his gaze on me. “How did your potion-making go? Badly, I guess?”
I straighten. “Why badly?”
“You needed Ash to comfort you.” He looks between us. “You’d make a beautiful couple.”
Andrei emphasises the word beautiful before chuckling to himself and heading away. I wait for him to call back something sarcastic, but the only sound is his soft footsteps.
The moment between me and Ash shattered, I’m left unaware which direction we’d headed. Ash takes my head in both hands and presses his lips against the centre of my forehead. My breath hitches as they linger there a second before he sighs and moves away.
“You’re special to me, Maeve.” He says the words as if there’s a ‘but’. “I need to deal with what you told me.”
Ash steps back and my stomach clenches when I see the wariness in his eyes. Words from a different day echo, ones he doesn’t repeat but I’m sure he’s thinking: he can’t get close to a witch. Ash doesn’t trust them.
Chapter Seventeen
MAEVE
Amelia decides I need time away from the academy to take my mind off the meeting with my aunt. Students are permitted to leave the academy in the day time, as I saw when I first arrived, but with strictly enforced departure and return times.
I never attended the formal dance at my old school, which means I’ve never had a friend involved in and excited about organising one. Amelia begged me to accompany her to choose a dress a week ago, and I half-heartedly agreed.
Now, after my aunt’s visit, I’m keen to forget about the academy and what that life means for a few hours.
I voiced surprise to Amelia they’d let me visit the nearby town, and she explained Dominion rarely, if ever, attack others in the daytime. Their plans to control the human world involve blindsiding the authorities. The Dominion work hard on concealing themselves—attacking in public would threaten that.
We’re allowed to leave until sundown, but I plan to return much earlier than that.
In the cab, Amelia chatters about her favourite shops, and the cafe she always visits as if she’s headed on an exotic holiday. Mostly she talks about the ideal dress she’s searching for today.
We’re barely out of the cab when Amelia dashes along the cobbled pavements to the small shopping centre crammed into the town centre. We’ve chosen a quiet weekday, which puts me more at ease. I don’t know why, but I still expect the hunters to follow us, even though Tobias told us the matter is closed.
I’m on my guard still.
“Katherine must struggle to find a dress if she can’t shop in the daytime,” I comment as we stroll across the tiled floor between the indoor shops.
“Strictly speaking, as a lamia, Katherine’s fine in the day as long as she restricts her time spent in the sun. Only the hemia struggle with the sun instantly burning them.”
Weird.
“I usually shop online,” I say, and Amelia stares at me as if I told her I wear rags. “I presumed vampires do that.”
“But this is part of the whole experience!” She links her arm through mine. “I love touching and trying on dresses. Taking in the atmosphere. Don’t you?”
I blow air into my cheeks. “I did, but Tessa wanted to try on everything she saw when we went to the shops together. After four hours, I wanted to poke my eyes out, and most of the time she never bought anything.” Amelia chuckles and I side glance her. “Please don’t tell me you do that.”
“Not today, I guess.” She nudges me and we walk onwards.
She lies.
I should’ve guessed when Amelia made a beeline for the department store, and the second floor crammed with rows and rows of clothes racks. More dresses than I’ve seen in my life are displayed beneath the silver and blue Christmas decorations hung across the store.
As Amelia wears the petite range, we spend time in an area with dresses that wouldn’t fit me.
I’m happy to indulge Amelia—right now, I need to spend time with people filled with positive energy. Amelia doesn’t realise, but her unusual love of normality helps me. She shows that it’s possible to meld the human and supernatural, which makes accepting my new life easier.
I change in the small cubicle next to Amelia as she tries on her fifth dress.
“I can see why Jamie and Ash didn’t want to come,” I call as I wriggle out of my jeans.
She laughs loudly. “Oh, man. They escaped this time, but next time they’re coming. They need style advice.”
I shake my head and imagine Amelia dragging the pair around shops and telling them what not to wear, like a TV fashion guru.
It’s ironic that Jamie is permitted to leave the campus during the day, but he doesn’t want to. He’s withdrawn more since Halloween. How much is his worry about the future affecting him?
I step into the sky-blue dress and struggle with the zip. The dress falls to just below my knees, and the short sleeves and sweetheart neckline flatter. I smooth the silky material and turn to look at the back of the dress in the mirror. If I pick this, I’ll need something warm and winter-themed. I saw a small bolero jacket with a faux fur trim, which would give my outfit a perfect winter look for Katherine’s wonderland.
“Ready?” calls an impatient Amelia from outside the door.
I step out onto the carpeted floor that’s rough against my bare feet and stand awkwardly in front of Amelia. She’s chosen a deep scarlet that contrasts with her dark hair and eyes. The dress is a similar shape to mine and between us we’d look perfect in matching jackets and accessories.
I smile. Listen to me, Amelia’s influence is rubbing off.
“You should be the one in blue,” I tell her. Her forehead creases with confusion. I look around the changing room, but the other cubicles’ wooden doors are open. “Water witch,” I whisper.
"Blue suits you better, and I don’t think we should wear the same dress.” She rubs the material between her thumb and forefinger. “I probably won’t buy this anyway.”
“What? This dress is perfect. It fits as if someone made this for you.”
Amelia sighs and adjusts the top. “I know, but there are others more in my price range. I can never help myself; I always try dresses I can’t afford.”
I’d presumed all kids at the academy were wealthy, although I know Ash’s background isn’t as privileged as many. Amelia mentioned her childhood in Scotland on a small estate. Isn’t it the home set in large grounds that I imagined?
“You’re on the organising committee; you should have the dress you want. Besides, I want you to have this one. I can help?”
Amelia frowns. “Please don’t.” I open my mouth. “Maeve. I don’t want charity.”
This is awkward. Why did Amelia put herself in the situation? I nod and end the conversation.
Amelia perks up again once we reach the accessories department and the pre-Christmas sales. Bouncing around with delight, she holds sparkly snowflake earrings to her ears and tries glittering metal headbands inset with fake gems.
With a basket full of accessories, and our dresses looped over our arms, we head towards the checkouts.
As we do, we pass a sales rack hung with dresses and blouses. The thrifty person in me pauses to search through the clothes.
“Amelia, you worked in the costume department for the academy production, right?”
She scratches her nose. “A couple of years ago. Last time I was backstage management. Until Katherine...did something.”
“You’re good with a needle and thread, then?”
“Why the sudden interest i
n my costume-making skills?”
I take a red dress on a hanger and hold the item out to her. “This is similar to the dress you tried on, apart from the label says the zip is broken and it’s marked down. The dress is the same price as that one.”
I point to the black chiffon dress that Amelia settled on—once she’d tried on three more.
She takes the new dress from me and examines the defect. “Well. I do like a bargain...” She turns her brighter eyes to mine. “Do you mind if I head back to check this fits me?”
“Of course not. Do you want me to come with you?”
“All good. I’ll be quick.” Amelia skips away into the clothes racks, leaving me with our basket.
I loiter close to the tills and a little girl dressed as a fairy wanders by, wide-eyed as she stares at the store's Christmas display. I’m close to a huge Christmas tree and the metal woven reindeers adorned with lights that surround the base.
“Mummy, Mummy,” she tugs on her mum’s coat sleeve. “Can we have a reindeer for our house?”
The mum crouches down and they sort through the smaller decorative reindeer until the girl finds the one she wants, which amuses me as they all look exactly the same.
A few minutes later, I see them walk through the exit doors, the girl holding the reindeer by the neck.
I glance back in the direction Amelia went. My stomach growls, and I’d love her to show me the cafe next.
The screech of tyres outside and a scream drowns out the Christmas music playing in the store. Nobody else reacts, and I dash to the doorway, stomach heaving.
A siren sounds in the distance, but I don’t see anything.
I look up and down the street for the accident, but the few shoppers ambling around with coats and scarves wrapped tightly around themselves, are unhurt.
What the hell?
I close my eyes and rub my temples before walking back into the store. Weird.
The vision hits like a rock to the head and I stumble towards a nearby shelf. The metal is cool beneath my hands and I fight the nausea. I can’t have a vision now. Not in public again.
But the first image is enough for me to want to follow where my vision leads. A girl in a fairy costume, holding a silver reindeer around the neck, walks along the street holding her mother’s hand. Dread floods through me as they pause at the edge of the road.
