“What are you doing going around asking about Nia?” Roald demands.
“I’m not allowed to find out about…” I hesitate.
“What are you, part fairy? Can’t even lie to my face and pretend she’s your friend, huh? None of us are. You think you’re so much better than us, don’t you?”
I stare down at Roald. “You need to get out of my face.”
“That so?” Roald purposely closes the short distance between us, bumping his chest into mine. “I don’t think I need to take orders from the likes of you.”
I place my hands on his shoulders but—barely—refrain from shoving him back. “You need to back off now.”
“No, that’s your job, Robb. You need to sit your ass down. Tuck your tail between your legs and submit.”
I howl with laughter. “Submit? To you? I don’t think so. You aren’t alpha material.”
Roald releases a growl. He presses his hands together as if praying, brings them up, and then jerks his hands apart, forcing me to release his shoulders.
“I’m not alpha material, am I?” Roald asks angrily. “And just how can you judge? By what authority?”
“How about just because you aren’t a good leader. You aren’t even a good person.”
“What makes you say that?” Roald growls. His upper lip curls back even as his hands curl into tight fists.
I eye him. If he wants to fight me, he can go ahead. I’m fairly certain I can take him.
Or maybe not. My wolf is dying, and so am I.
“You pick fights with everyone you meet,” I start.
Roald laughs and lifts his chin. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”
“If you think that Nia will—”
“You don’t know Nia at all.” Roald gives me a smile that’s almost as chilling as any of Nia’s. “You think I’m nothing more than a bumbling fool, don’t you? You don’t know me either. You don’t know any of us, what we’re capable of.”
I don’t move a muscle, don’t blink, don’t breathe, nothing. Is it possible he’s been playing me all of this time? Theoretically, but I also can’t imagine that I would’ve missed his being as diabolical as Nia.
No. He’s just acting all big and tough now, but if he thinks I won’t fight back, he’s wrong.
My bite is worse than my bark.
It has to be.
“You don’t know me at all,” I say, forcing my lips to curl into a smile. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Roald lifts his chin. “If you think you can intimidate me—”
“I think you don’t know much of anything.” I start to laugh, wishing that the vampires hadn’t also been affected by the haze avitores so I could tease him about there being vampires who would recognize his scent and go after him if he’s foolish enough to return to Blood Haven.
“Why are you laughing?” Roald asks.
He shoves my shoulders.
I stagger back a step more than I would’ve liked to. He’s got some muscle to him even if he is mostly a bag of hot air.
“That the best you got?” I ask, cracking my knuckles.
“You want to go at this the old-fashioned way?” he asks around his fangs.
I grin. “Whichever way you want, I’m game. Prepare to lose.”
Chapter 23
Bellanore
I’m more than a little unnerved now after bumping into Julian, but mostly because of my earlier conversation with Nia. There’s something about her that makes my skin crawl. She hadn’t lied to me at all, but her aura is so dark that I’m wondering how it’s possible that she doesn’t have any demonic blood in her. Not one drop. Her soul, though, is as dark as any demon, and that terrifies me.
She is as dark as a werewolf can be for having two werewolf parents.
For the most part, paranormal species tend to marry those of the same kind. Fairies, well, they don’t mind who they marry quite as much as others, but werewolves especially tend to stick to werewolves, whereas the other shifters tend to not be quite as closeminded, but even they prefer to stick to other shifters. Are there exceptions to the rule? Yes, of course, but vampires and werewolves? That’s about as likely as an angel and a demon.
However, just as unlikely is a werewolf and a demon. Why do werewolves hate vampires so much? Because vampires are an abomination against nature because they survive through the destruction of another species. Yes, the earliest werewolves drank blood and ate flesh, but we evolved. We no longer need that to survive.
But vampires are a close cousin of demons. Some even say that vampires are a kind of demons, and that isn’t so far off, especially with the so-called living vampires—the offspring of a demon and a vampire.
Demons are also an abomination against nature. They shouldn't even be on Earth, considering their homeland is Hell, not Earth. All demons care about is darkness, devastation, and destruction.
Yet, they can love. It’s not just a claim. When my dad tells me that he’s proud of me, he’s not lying. He’s only told me that he loves me a handful of times, but I smelled no deceit on his part.
Unless I’m not quite skilled enough to detect when a demon is lying…
But, no. I’ve been able to tell when Dad’s lied before. The first time I did, Mom asked Dad if he added cow’s meat to the stew. He said he had, but he hadn’t. I never did ask him what he added, too afraid to learn the truth. Of course, Mom asked after we polished off the meal.
A simple white lie. Those are usually the hardest ones for me to detect, so that I spotted that one should suggest that I can see his larger ones, but maybe not. Maybe he’s too deceitful for me to be able to discern his truths from his lies.
Unless he wishes me to.
I swallow hard. The thought makes me even more nervous. My attempts to uncover my dad's plot have long grown cold, and I doubt I'll be able to pick up the trail again any time soon, if ever.
“There you are!” Ellamaria rushes up to me and interlocks our arms. “Come. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I mumble.
“Of course you are. Don’t be silly.”
Ellamaria actually pulls on my arm, trying to get me to walk with her, but I hold my ground.
“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly.
“I’m trying to think.”
“I thought I smelled something burning,” she quips. “I am hankering for some smores. What do you say?”
I hold up a hand, trying to remember everything Nia said when I realize what my best friend just said.
“Smores? But you hate chocolate.”
She giggles. “Yes, but maybe I can try a smores anyhow. I’ve heard so much about them, the gooey marshmallows, the cinnamon graham crackers, the melted chocolate… Maybe if I have an open mind…”
“You hate all forms of chocolate,” I protest.
“You can’t ever accept that, so for you, I’m willing to make an exception,” she says firmly. “I thought that would make you happy. Come on. Let’s go—”
“No.”
“Then let’s head off campus. You mentioned that place Robb took you to. Let’s go there. If we leave now, we can be back before the rest of the classes start.”
I shake my head. “Fine. Let’s go to the courtyard.”
We head that way, Ellamaria chatting up a storm, but then her steps slow until she halts entirely.
“I can make us something back at the castle,” she announces. She turns about so sharply that she nearly yanks my arm out of the socket.
“What? Why? You can’t cook—”
“I can. My mom’s been teaching me, and I—”
"Why are you being like this?" I ask. "You're being really strange. First, the smores thing, then wanting to leave when you know full well we'll never make it in time, and now this? You mentioned burning. That's what we'll actually smell if you try to cook anything."
Ellamaria’s face looks pained as she lifts her nose into the air. “I’ve never been more insult
ed in my life.”
“Sure you haven’t.”
She opens her mouth, but at that moment, I can hear the other students. They’re talking excitedly about something or other, and a lot of them are starting to leave, all heading in the same direction, well before the classes are to start up again.
Nia. Is she up to something?
I yank myself free from Ellamaria and grab an arm of a werewolf in the crowd, Anna Snowblood.
“What’s going on?” I ask desperately, somehow knowing that something very wrong is going on.
Anna’s eyes sparkle. “There’s a fight,” she says excitedly.
“Between…”
“Roald and someone.”
“Roald and Wyatt?”
She shakes her head and rushes to catch up with the crowd.
Dumbfounded, I glance at Ellamaria. Guilt clings to her like a second cloak. All she needs is a scythe, and she’ll look like a grim reaper.
“You knew about the fighting,” I say slowly. “You wanted to stop me from learning about it, which means…”
My eyes widen, and I race away, ignoring Ellamaria who calls for me to stop. I don’t know if it’s fear or rage or some kind of latent demonic ability, but I’m running so fast that I generate enough wind to make my face blubber, and I’m barely breathing hard as I reach the massive circle of onlookers.
“How much money do you want to put down?”
“Twenty.”
“On Roald, right?”
“Nah, I’ll do it on the other guy. He’s fighting like he’s demonic or something.”
My heart aches. They’re taking bets? Seriously? Why aren’t any professors here to stop this?
I glance over to see the speakers. One of them has his wallet out. Rage has me seeing red, and I slap the wallet out of his hand and onto the ground.
“What the…” He trails off as he realizes who did that.
I tilt my head to the side and bare my teeth. “Don’t bet on this and go get a professor.”
“You can’t tell him what to do,” the other werewolf says, bending down to pick up the wallet.
My heel slams down on his hand on the wallet that doesn’t belong to him. “Do not try me, or else there will be another fight.”
“You wouldn’t,” he says, trying to get his hand free from beneath my boot.
I press down harder and draw my other leg back so I can kick him square in the nose.
He winces and turns his face to the side.
I smirk. Coward.
I slowly release the pressure of my boot, and he yanks his hand free. The other werewolf dashes to retrieve his wallet, and he puts it away, which makes me feel much better.
Well, not much better. This is all so very wrong on so many levels.
Elbows and shoves help me force my way to the front, and then I can see them, two wolves, fighting hard. Neither has the upper hand, but even though I’ve never seen Roald in wolf form before, I can easily recognize him. What’s worse is that my fears are realized.
Robb is the one fighting Roald.
Ellamaria. Anger laces through me. She deliberately tried to distract me from the fight.
With only mild regard for my safety, I dash forward into the no man's land that contains only the two fighting werewolves. It might be suicide, but I dare to interject myself, putting myself between them.
“Stop this!” I shout.
My attempt to break them apart? Yeah, it’s not something I think will actually work, and the two werewolves eye me.
The first thing I notice is that Robb’s wolf maintains his scar. There’s a patch of fur along the scar that just isn’t growing. He’s lean for a wolf, but he looks mean too, and that might make all the difference in the world.
Robb moves, and I think it’s to try to go around me, maybe to protect me, but Roald’s already lunging. He’s trying to bite my head off.
Instinctively, I can feel it, my wolf. She wants to be let out, but there’s something else. Not that there’s another animal inside me, but the thought of turning into an eagle with sharp talons to drag across him comes over me, and I swear I can feel the start of feathers forming beneath my skin.
The shock that I might actually be able to shift into something other than a wolf startles me so much that I immediately stop, reverse course, and unleash my wolf. All of this happens in a mere blink of the eye, and I manage to duck, roll, and slash with my claws. I miss Roald, but his attack misses me too.
In seconds, I’m rounding on him. My wolfish mouth foams, and I snap at Roald, my canines clanging together. My mouth salivates at the possibilities of sinking my fangs into his flesh, and before I can consider if it’s wise or not, I chase Roald away. He can’t be anywhere near Robb or any of the other students, not if he’s going to be so destructive and vindictive. There’s no place for that here at Moonstone Academy.
Honestly, there’s no place for that anywhere on Earth.
My wolf is faster than animal wolves, which max out at about thirty-five to thirty-seven miles per hour. Dad’s clocked me at forty-three miles per hour once.
Roald’s faster than wolf animals, too, but he’s lagging. I’m catching up. He’s maybe thirty-eight, thirty-nine miles per hour. I nip at his heels, almost making a game of it, trying to see if he can go any faster, but he fails. Pathetic.
Why don’t I just end this? End him?
That’s the demon in me talking, and I’m content to chase Roald to the edge of the campus. He has a paw on a tree, hunched over, breathing hard. Then, he straightens on all fours again and takes a step toward me. I growl a warning, and he steps back.
I inch backward, watching him, pinning him there beneath the tree with my gaze. He doesn't move, watching me as I am him. A few more steps back, and he doesn't move, and I can't help the feeling of smug satisfaction that rolls over me, especially as Roald sits beneath the tree.
It’s almost as if he’s submitting himself to me, showing respect even though I’m not his alpha.
I’ll take it, but it’s not enough. He attacked Robb, and that won’t stand.
But why did he attack Robb? What has Robb gotten himself into? Is Ellamaria right in her worry over what’s going on with him and that rough crowd?
What will it take to break Robb away from them? It’s not as if any one of them is his alpha. Robb should be able to walk away at any time.
Maybe Robb can walk away from me.
I’m not sure where the thought comes from, but with it comes that sense of foreboding I felt earlier. Somehow, someway, I just know Robb is hiding something from me, something huge, something that could change everything.
I haven’t a clue what it might be, and I’m not even sure I want to find out. Why can’t things continue as they are?
No. No, things can’t stay like this because if they do, it’ll only get worse. Roald and Robb came to fight each other as wolves. They didn’t seem to seriously hurt one another this time, but the next…
Because if nothing changes, there will be a next time, and I might not be there to play peacemaker.
By the moon, next time, I might not play peacemaker.
I might play gravedigger.
Chapter 24
Bellanore
For a couple of feet, I walk away, still as my wolf. I can smell better in this form, and I can tell that Roald is staying put. Maybe he's still in his wolf, waiting to see when I've gone far enough away for him to venture and leave that spot.
Why? Why don’t I just go back there and fight him myself? I know I can take him down. That’s not a question.
But if I do that, Robb will never forgive me. It’ll wound his pride, and I won’t do that to him. I won’t fight his battles for him.
Not that I even know what the fight had been about.
I exhale a snort through my nose. My dad always told me to never interfere in another’s battle, that I will have enough of my own to fight. Every so often, my dad would ask if I ever stuck my nose in a fight that didn’t concern
me, and the answer has always been no.
It still is no.
A fight with Robb is a fight with me. Pure and simple.
Dad won’t see it that way, and that’s fine. He’s been wrong before even if he won’t admit it.
The wind shifts, and I smell another wolf. Robb. He stands on a hill, in his wolf form. His fur is as black as his hair, and his eyes are a lighter amber than most wolves'. The vast majority of werewolves have amber eyes when in their wolf forms, but I'm pretty sure mine might remain glowing green. His eyes still glow a bit too.
His wolf nods at me, and then he turns into his human. I wait until I slowly climb up to stand beside him to transform into myself. I’m careful with the transformation. The thought that I might be able to shift into an eagle or anything other than a wolf alarms me. It shouldn’t, but it does. Why hasn’t Dad taught me how to shift into other animals? Is he afraid of what the other students will do if they learn I can do that? No, that can’t be it. My dad doesn’t fear anything.
On second claw, he has to fear something. I just don’t know what it is.
Robb reaches out and holds my hand. He squeezes it, and then he starts to lead me away. I allow him to take me along, far more willing to be directed by him than I had been Ellamaria.
Eventually, we leave the campus. We’ve been silent this entire time, and I look straight ahead. From the corner of my eye, though, I can see his aura. It’s silver and gray and black and white, all meshed together, and it’s beautiful and unique and unlike any other I’ve ever seen.
I've become very adept at seeing a person and seeing them, their body, without always noticing their auras, and this is the first time I fully see his even if it is indirectly. A person's aura is a personal thing, very private. I probably should ask before looking at someone's.
Finally, we spy a place with outdoor seating. We’re deep within a human town, and we don’t wait to be seated. We just claim spots beneath a large red umbrella.
A waitress approaches right away, but Robb merely flicks his wrist, and she walks away.
We’re still holding hands, resting them on the table, and Robb places his other hand on top too. I do likewise with mine, and now, we’re holding both hands.
Moonstone Academy: Year One: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 15
