by Cheree Alsop
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“You’ve been admitted as a student,” he replied, his voice level.
“They don’t feel safe with me here,” I said. I clenched my jaw so hard after admitting the words that I felt like my teeth would crack. “I’m dangerous.”
My words hung in the air like a fog, thick and cloying, forcing their way into the memory I hid from, tangling about me with unforgiving claws that seared into my mind and made my eyes burn.
“Come here.”
I crossed the space between us with heavy footsteps until I reached the desk in front of the one where he waited. He tipped his head to indicate the chair. I turned it around and sat facing him.
He was quiet for a few minutes. I heard students walk past the classroom and to the stairs, hundreds of footsteps unconcerned with what went on behind the closed door. Still I waited, wondering if I had finally said what would get me kicked out. I didn’t know if I wanted to return to a life where none of this existed. The thought scared me and beckoned to me at the same time. I barely dared to breathe. I was afraid of hearing the professor seal my fate.
Professor Briggs finally said, “Lyris can see the true nature of someone. My ability is similar. It’s more exacting and less, depending on how you look at it.” He tipped his head, his gaze intent on mine. “I can smell the amount of good or evil in a person.”
My heart slowed. It took all of my willpower to keep my eyes on him when I said, “With me here, you must know how Wolfsbane smells to a werewolf.”
He watched me in silence for so long my muscles hurt from the tension that filled them. He took a deep breath. From the look on his face, I knew he was aware of the fact that I could hear him pull the air through his nose. He held it in for the space of several seconds before he let it back out.
“I keep checking,” he said, his words quiet. “I keep testing because I was sure what I would find.”
I lowered my gaze to his desk. “If I can find my things, I’ll have my father meet me out front.”
“There’s no evil in you, Finn Briscoe.”
I stared at him. His words made no sense. “But I killed my friend,” I said. I shook my head. “He died because of me. I’m a beast, a killer.” I blinked back a sudden burn of tears. “And they’re afraid I’ll do it again.”
“Finn.” The way he said my name made the burning slow. “Finn, you carry a heavy burden on your shoulders.” He shook his head, his long dark hair brushing his cloak. “I don’t know what you went through to get here, but I know for certain that you are a good person.”
I willed myself to believe him. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to believe; yet I knew what I had done. I had heard Sebastian’s head slam into the window when the car hit the water. It was my fault. He would be alive if it wasn’t for me. I should be dead and he should be home with his family.
“You’re wrong,” I told him.
Professor Briggs shook his head again while still holding my gaze. “A warlock’s ability is never wrong.”
“It is this time.”
His eyebrows drew together. “You maybe believe that whatever happened is your fault, and maybe it is. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
I drew a shuddering breath and shook my head, unwilling to believe him.
“You’re supposed to be here,” he said. There was a wryness to his tone as though admitting it was hard for him. “I tried to keep you from coming here, and I’ve looked for any excuse to get rid of you, but you haven’t given me one.” He leaned forward. “Finn, you’re supposed to be here. Don’t give them a reason to kick you out.”
I couldn’t speak past the tightness in my throat. Instead, I nodded with my jaw clenched.
Professor Briggs nodded back. Something changed at that moment. Instead of scrutiny and suspicion, his critical gaze relaxed. He sat back and linked his fingers in front of his chest. “You’re going to have a rough time of it, but you can prove it to them. There are plenty of people here who would happily see you thrown out to never return.”
I studied the desk in front of me. “I thought you were one of them.”
“I was. Before. I won’t be a part of the efforts to remove you any longer,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I don’t believe the lack of evil in my scent is enough to change the hatred I saw in your eyes in the cafeteria. So before what?”
His answer was something I desperately needed. I reached for what would come next as if it was a lifeline.
He let out a breath. “Before I realized you were just another kid who doesn’t have a place in this chaotic world.” He met my gaze. “I was that kid, Finn. I know how it feels. Don’t let them win. Don’t take the easy way out. Fight with silence; fight with control. Don’t let the wolf take over completely. Promise me that.”
I asked the question that had haunted my steps ever since I walked into the Academy. “What is everyone so afraid of?”
The professor’s eyes closed. When he opened them, the sorrow in his gaze ate at me.
“You aren’t going to like what you’re about to hear.”
“I figured as much,” I replied. I was close to the answers I needed. No matter how hard they were to hear, I felt like they were pivotal to whether or not I stayed.
Professor Briggs spread a hand out on the dark wood of the desk. I noticed that the back was marked with white scars. “Do you know anything about your uncle?”
Surprised by his train of thought, I said, “Uncle Mark comes to visit sometimes with Aunt Tabitha. They—”
Briggs shook his head. “No. From your mother’s side.”
“My mother didn’t have a brother,” I replied, confused.
The professor’s hand clenched into a fist that drew the white scars taut. “That’s what they told you?” His voice sounded strained.
I felt as though I had given a wrong answer, even though it was the only answer I knew. I ran a finger along a wear mark at the knee of my pants to distract myself when I said, “She died when I was four. Dad didn’t talk much about her except to tell us how much she loved us. All I know is that if she had any family, we were never told about it and they made no effort to visit.”
Professor Briggs fell silent. I counted his heartbeats to twenty-five before he said, “I think this is a conversation for another time.”
Anger filled me. I couldn’t help glaring at him when I said, “Everyone around here avoids me like the plague. It’s as if they’re afraid of catching werewolfism or whatever it is I am as if it’s a virus, and all I hear is how all the students are afraid I’m going to tear them apart.” It was my turn to clench my hands into fists. “I’m sick and tired of being judged before I’ve even had a chance to do something wrong. What is everyone so afraid of?”
The professor held my gaze. He didn’t look away until I sat back, my chest heaving and my adrenaline flowing so that I felt the wolf pushing through my veins. I willed my heartbeat to slow, but I still glared at him. I wouldn’t leave until I had an answer.
“They told you your mother came here,” the professor said as more of a statement than a question.
I nodded. “My dad told me.”
The professor gave a slight smile that contained a hint of wistfulness. “Silvia Roe was beautiful, smart, and captured the heart of nearly every boy at Haunted High.” His smile deepened with embarrassment. “Including mine. We were the same age. I stared at the Academy shortly after her. She was so kind to a warlock with no friends and no idea what he was doing. We quickly became good friends.”
I stared at him, amazed to hear about my mother from before my parents were married.
“There were professors saying that she would be the next Headmistress of this Academy, if she chose to. She was that loved here.” His smile faltered. “But Conrad changed all of that.”
“He was my uncle?” I guessed.
Riggs nodded. “He was Silvia’s older brother, two years her senior. He had a hard time learning to cont
rol his wolf side. All of us tried to help and the professors did they best they could, but one day, he just snapped.”
I heard the professor swallow. His eyebrows pulled together and his gaze took on the cast of one who saw things in the past as they were happening. His voice lowered, speaking in a haunted cadence.
“We were sixteen. Conrad would have been eighteen. He was supposed to graduate that year. I think the thought of leaving Haunted High was too much for him.” Briggs closed his eyes. “A bunch of us were heading downstairs to breakfast when we heard a scream, then another.” His voice caught when he said, “I heard Zanie call my name and I took off running.” He shook his head without opening his eyes. “I turned the corner and there was blood everywhere. Conrad stood in the middle, no longer a wolf or a man, but something in-between. Professors were trying to save the students. The Headmaster’s body was torn in half. Zanie lay next to him, her stomach a bloody mess and one hand missing.”
He fell quiet, lost in the memory that held me in a grip so tight I could barely breathe. When I thought he wouldn’t say anything else, he let out a shuddering breath.
“Silvia came up behind me. I heard her gasp. She called Conrad’s name. When he…when he looked at us, there was only animal fury in his eyes. Conrad was gone; the beast he had become charged at us. I yelled for Silvia to run and I attacked him.”
I saw his scars in a new light. I wondered if the jagged scar down his face and the lines on the back of his hand told of greater scars beneath his robes. I guessed that his limp had something to do with the wounds he had received that night, but I knew better than to ask.
“I killed him.” The admission seemed to take a great deal out of the professor. He set an elbow on the table and rested his forehead on his palm. When he tipped his head to look at me, his eyes shone wetly in the candlelight. “I killed Silvia’s brother to save her life. I nearly died.”
I knew by the darkness in his eyes that the three simple words held far more pain than he expressed. I didn’t know what to say or do. I felt responsible for reasons I couldn’t explain.
“What did my mother do?” I asked quietly.
“She left.” The professor’s gaze remained on the desk. “She left and never returned. Now, twenty-five years later in walks her son with his mother’s green eyes and a forwardness so like her it makes the past I’ve tried impossibly hard to forget come knocking again.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me here,” I said, my voice heavy with the realization.
“It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you,” the professor replied.
I pulled a string from the tear at my knee. “There were no more werewolves after Conrad.”
I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. “Those few that were left were dismissed by the Headmaster’s wife when she took over the role. I think she did it for the right reasons, and when we stopped hearing about werewolves, it became easier not to ask.”
“Until my father called.”
He nodded.
I sat back in my chair. I couldn’t explain why I felt so guilty. I hadn’t been the one to kill students and teachers. I hadn’t given Professor Briggs his scars or slain Headmistress Wrengold’s husband. Yet I felt responsible for the actions of a relative I had never known. It didn’t feel fair, yet the burden was mine to carry.
My voice was quiet when I said, “I promise to keep the wolf under control.”
“I know,” Professor Briggs replied. “You’re stronger than your uncle.”
“How do you know?” I asked, looking at him with a new worry I hadn’t carried before.
“Because you are your mother’s son,” he replied.
Chapter Eight
I walked out of the room with a heavy heart. As I made my way toward the stairs, I stared down the hallway without seeing it. It wasn’t until I put my foot on the first step that I realized I wasn’t alone. A hand grabbed my shoulder with a strength that warned I shouldn’t resist.
“You’re coming with us,” Lorne said in my ear.
They pulled me into the now-dark cafeteria.
Vicken waited with his arms folded and a solemn look on his face.
“I didn’t know you were sentimental,” I told him when Lorne let me go. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of the vampire coven block my chance at escape.
Vicken’s unsettling yellow eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“This is the first place we met,” I reminded him. “You were angry about your sister.” I made a show of looking around. “Is she here? I’m sure she’d like to see who she should really fear at this school.”
He moved so fast I could barely see him. His hands slammed into my chest with such force that I hit the wall behind me. I slid to the floor in a seated position. He was on top of me before I could move. He grabbed my uniform shirt and picked me up so that my feet couldn’t touch the ground.
“Don’t you dare mention my sister,” he growled.
I pretended not to by shocked by the speed and strength of his actions. The wolf inside me warned that I was outnumbered and far over my head on this one. It struggled to break free, for me to defend myself and take out as many of them as I could along the way. I gritted my teeth against the urge and fought to break Vicken’s choking hold.
“Fight me,” he said. “Fight me and prove that you’re another animal like the last werewolf.” His yellow eyes flashed as he looked up at me. “Prove that letting werewolves into Haunted High again was a bad idea and that your kind isn’t to be trusted.” His grip tightened. “Prove that I’m right.”
I struggled to draw in a breath, but my shirt collar was so tight it shut off my windpipe. I kicked the vampire’s legs, but he merely laughed.
“Come on, weremutt,” he challenged. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I clawed at his hands, but he merely tightened his grip. He pulled me closer to his face and said, “Give in.”
I shook my head. Dark spots danced in my vision.
Vicken shook me, hard. My head wobbled on my neck like one of those figures they sold at comic book stores.
He pulled me close again and said, “Alright, if you won’t turn into a wolf of your own will, I’ll beat you until you have to turn.”
He hit me in the stomach and then threw me against the brick wall with full force this time. My head rebounded off the bricks and I bit my tongue. When I hit the ground on my knees, I tasted blood.
“Like that, weremutt?” Vicken demanded.
He kicked me in the ribs. I doubled over and saw drops of blood from my mouth hit the ground.
“He’s bleeding,” one of the vampires said.
There was a feral hiss to the vampire’s voice. I glanced up to see the boy lean close. He drew back his lips to reveal that his fangs had gotten even longer. There was an animalistic light in his yellow eyes.
A hand grabbed him around the throat and shoved him back.
“Don’t drink blood from a werewolf,” Vicken spat. “Haven’t you learned anything?” He glared down at me. “They’re practically dogs. Do you want that in your veins?”
“No,” the chided vampire said; his head hung in shame.
Vicken kicked me again so that I rolled onto my back.
“You see that,” he said with a sneer. “Even your blood isn’t worth anything. Give up, Finn. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
My head hurt, several of my ribs were at least cracked, and every time I breathed the air rattled through my bruised throat. I couldn’t remember ever hurting so badly in my life. It would have been a good reason to leave, if not for my conversation with Professor Briggs.
“You are your mother’s son.” His words echoed in my head along with the ringing in my ears and the flashing lights behind my eyes.
I clenched my hands into fists and glared up at the vampire. “I’ll never give up, Vicken. Ever.”
A cold fury washed over the vampire. His hands clenched like mine, but instead of hitting
me again, he straightened.
“You’ll wish you had,” he said. He turned his gaze to the other vampires. “Make him regret his words. He’ll phase into a wolf if he gets close enough to death.”
My sight of Vicken was lost in the vampires who swarmed over me. Boney knuckles pounded my back and shoulders. A diet of blood didn’t give a vampire much padding. Feet kicked without mercy, and even though I curled into the fetal position with my arms over my head to protect it from the worst of the blows, my head was still battered against the floor.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from crying out; I didn’t want to give Vicken the pleasure of hearing me in pain. Yet towards the end, when tears leaked from the corners of my tightly shut eyes and my thoughts came from some fuzzy place in the center of my mind, gasps escaped with my breath, betraying me.
“Phase, werewolf,” Vicken taunted near my ear. “Phase and it’ll all be over.”
Over for them. The growl in my mind promised a toothy way to end the punishment I didn’t deserve. It sent images of tearing the vampires apart, tasting their blood, strewing them across the floor. The wolf inside me gnashed its teeth, fighting to break free. A moan left me as I fought back. I told myself that Vicken didn’t know what he was doing, that he would regret it if I phased.
He would definitely regret it.
I shuddered. The cafeteria floor was slick with my blood. One of the vampires slipped when he hit me and fell onto his back on the floor. The others laughed as though it was a big joke. The beating continued. I felt my control slipping. A growl sounded in my chest even though I fought to hold it back.
“That’s it,” Vicken said with triumph in his voice. “Keep it up! Hit him harder!” He snarled when he said, “Break him.”
“What are you doing?”
The quiet voice didn’t hold any of the shock I felt pertained to finding a coven of vampires trying to beat a werewolf into submission, or kill him. It felt more like the latter at the moment.
