“If you don’t fear remembering, we shall be forced to call in the Void,” adds Tithe.
My insides churn with worry. As names go, the Void doesn’t sound like a friendly type. Still, I keep playing my sass card. Running away still isn’t an option, so it’s all I’ve got.
“Keep bugging me, and I’ll do something you don’t want, either.” An idea appears. “Since translating the Book of Isis is so important to you, tell your master that I refuse to translate another hieroglyph.” I set my fists on my hips.
This is a conversation that’s better had when you’re in a power pose. “I’ll tell you what I will do, though. I’ll take every battle class at West Lake Prep. I’ll learn how to use my magic, even when I’m asleep. And the next time you bother me in my dreams, I’ll destroy you both.”
For a long moment, the Shadowvin say nothing. My pulse speeds. Maybe I actually turned things around here.
“She isn’t afraid of us,” says Tithe. “Again.”
“I suppose we’ll have to try something different,” adds Slythe.
“We could trick her into helping us,” says Tithe. “You know how I love to play games.”
“No, I prefer more direct ways of changing her mind.”
“Agreed.”
Fear jolts through me. More direct ways. That sounds bad.
In unison, Slythe and Tithe lift their transparent arms. Pain radiates through my torso. Wisps of color and power rise from my palms, all in shades of red, gold, and silver. Agony spirals down my spine as colored threads of power float away from me … and into the outstretched arms of Slythe and Tithe.
My very soul feels torn from my core. My legs buckle, and I crumple onto my knees. Part of me wants to tell them this isn’t so bad, but I don’t trust myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll scream. There’s no way I want the Shadowvin to see my weakness.
“You’ll find the device and give it to us,” says Slythe. “Or we’ll make you comply.”
“Don’t forget your friends,” whispers Tithe. “And your mate. We can drain them, too. Do you wish to cause them pain?”
Finally, I’m able to speak one word. “No.” When I next speak, it comes out as a half-cry. “LEAVE!”
The next thing I know, I’m sitting upright in bed, my covers kicked onto the floor.
And I’m screaming. The noise awakens my wolf, who starts to whimper inside my soul.
Elle rushes into the room. “What’s wrong?”
It takes me a few minutes—because that was one terrible dream—but eventually, I stop screaming. I can only echo Elle’s words. “What is wrong?” With all my will, I try to remember, but I can’t quite find the words. For a while, it’s all I can do to breathe. Finally, I calm down enough. “Maybe I was having a nightmare about school tomorrow.”
“Maybe?” Elle shakes her head. “You’re guessing, Bry.”
My eyes sting. “I have no idea what’s happening. Something is wrong.”
Sitting beside me on the mattress, Elle pulls me in for a hug. “Hey, I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.”
A thought appears.
Danger. Elle, Alec, and Knox … they’re all at risk. I can’t remember why or how, but I do know one fact from the bottom of my soul. There’s only one way I can protect my friends and my mate.
“You’re right, Elle. Everything will be okay.”
And I know why. Because no matter what happens, I refuse to translate one more hieroglyph from the Book of Isis.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Knox and I stand on a wide stretch of sidewalk in front of a three-story brownstone. There’s a short flight of steps leading to the front door. A small sign sits by the door, reading “West Lake Prep.” You’d think a big high school would be inside a huge building, but this is Manhattan. We can fit half a skyscraper’s worth of stuff into a utility closet. And that’s with IKEA, not magic.
I straighten the folds of my blue blazer and plaid skirt. The emblem on the pocket reads “West Lake Prep.” It’s all an illusion, though. All students receive a charm to hide their real clothes from the mortal world. If humans knew there were Magicorum kids at this school, they’d be camped outside, waiting for selfies. What can I say? It’s New York.
In reality, I’m wearing a leather duster, cropped tank, black pants, and heavy boots. This outfit is something that Elle and I got from the fairies. It’s unshreddable, so even if I shift, the outfit will be whole when I turn back into my human form.
My inner animal grumbles inside me. “Why can’t we dress like we want to? That’s what Knox is doing.”
“We do dress the way we want; it’s just that humans can’t tell yet. It’s the glamour from this charm bracelet.”
“We should never hide. Our mate isn’t.”
Unlike me and every other kid waiting on the sidewalk, Knox left his charm bracelet at home. In other words, all the other boys are wearing a blue blazer and plaid pants. Not Knox.
I really don’t blame him, though. Plaid pants are nasty.
Instead, Knox wears his regular outfit of black pants, dark T-shirt, and a fitted leather jacket. It’s all couture—werewolves have a great sense of style, after all—but it’s most definitely not the school standard.
Inside my soul, my wolf paces in frustration. “We shouldn’t have to hide anymore. At least, we should dress like our mate.”
Now, I get where my wolf is going with this. After all, she was hidden most of her life. “Look, this is the first day of school. Let’s follow the rules for twenty-four hours and see how it goes.”
“But Knox does what he wants to now,” whines my wolf.
“True. I don’t know how he always gets away with it.”
I have my suspicions, though. As the warden for all shifters, Knox is the alpha of alphas. Everyone senses it on some level.
As if on cue, a teacher steps over. She’s tall and lithe, with long, white hair. Probably Fae. “Are you a West Lake Prep student?” she asks. Her voice has a jingle to it, which is another sign that she might be fae. “I’m Lady Pinkadacious, one of the para-enforcers here. We’re here to make sure everyone follows the rules.”
Lady Pinkadacious? Oh, she’s definitely fae.
“Yeah, I’m a student,” says Knox.
“Then why aren’t you wearing the school uniform?” Lady Pinkadacious tilts her head in a way that says, You need to do this.
“Nah.” Knox folds his arms over his chest. “No uniform for me.” His eyes flare golden with shifter power. Alpha energy rolls off him in waves. Knox really hates the idea of plaid pants. Sure, the pants in question aren’t actually there—it’s all an illusion. But Knox says that, if a human can still take a picture of him in plaid pants, that’s real enough. I get it.
Inside my soul, my wolf yips with glee. “See? We should take off that enchanted bracelet now so we can be seen in our leathers, too.”
“It’s only for while we’re outside,” I reply. “Once we’re inside, the bracelet will deactivate.” Each school has its own dress code. Shifters can definitely wear leather. Witches and warlocks don long robes. Fairies dress up in, well, whatever they want. So my leather ensemble will be fine.
“That a problem?” asks Knox.
“Oh. No. You’re fine.” After that, Lady Pinkadacious keeps staring at Knox. Sometimes, Knox’s alpha power has this kind of hypnotic effect on members of the opposite sex. Take Ty, for instance.
Now, it’s affecting Lady Pinkadacious.
A teacher.
Gross.
Knox and I ignore her. Sometimes, that helps. After a minute or two, Lady Pinkadacious should come to her senses and walk away.
While we wait, I watch the other kids mill about on the sidewalk. Most walked here alone or with friends, which is good. I was dreading seeing too many parents. Scanning the faces, I try to assign kids to their Magicorum classification. The hefty linebacker types are probably shifters. The more lean and lithe could be either fae or witches. And
then there are ones with no magic at all, who are still considered Magicorum. It’s weird, but it happens.
Why? Magical kids get born into non-magical families all the time. Now, suppose you’ve got magic, and your fairy-tale life template is the twelve dancing princesses. Trouble is, you’re an only child. In that case, you’d think you’re off the hook for having eleven siblings, right?
Wrong.
When there aren’t enough magical relatives to fill out your template, magic drags your non-magical human relations into the mix, such as aunts, cousins, and so on. As a result, regular humans can get subjected to our curses, evil stepmothers, and everything else.
Dead or missing parents are especially common. When that happens, an otherwise normal person becomes an official member of the Magicorum. That’s why some of the kids here today are non-magical, but they’re still attending West Lake. They’re here to learn the ropes and build alliances. It’s only fair.
Lady Pinkadacious pokes Knox in the shoulder. Her dazed look says she’s still under Knox’s alpha spell. “Hi. I’m still here. Lady Pinkadacious.”
“Yeah, I got that.” Knox loops his arm around my shoulders. “I’m Knox. This is my mate, Bry.”
“Do you need help with tutoring or anything?” Lady Pinkadacious is still staring at Knox and not getting the hint. I almost feel sorry for her.
“You know what?” I ask. The rest of my words become lost. A flash of white light appears in my mind’s eye. An ethereal cold crawls over my skin. Magic.
A voice sounds in my head. “Find the device.”
On reflex, I speak back. “No, I won’t translate another word.” And, I might say, I’m a little too loud. A bunch of people stops chatting to turn and stare.
Lady Pinkadacious shakes her head. My outburst seems to have snapped her out of whatever spell she was under. “What did you say?”
My face burns red. Did I just say that out loud? “I said, I think I saw someone breaking a rule over there.” I point in the general direction of the opposite area of the sidewalk.
“Um, okay.” Lady Pinkadacious narrows her eyes, looking at me like I’m nuts. But after all I’ve been through, I won’t be intimidated by someone named Lady Pinkadacious. She winks at Knox. “Bye for now.”
“Bite her,” says my wolf.
“No way. We’re not shifting and biting anyone.”
“You’re no fun.”
“True, but the last thing we need is to change into wolf form on the sidewalk. There’ll be a dozen humans here in heartbeat, and all of them will be asking for autographs and taking selfies. No way.”
“It still would be worth it. Just one little nip?”
“Not a chance.”
My inner wolf sniffs. “If you’re going to be boring, I’ll do something else for a while.”
The ability to shut each other out is a two-way street with my wolf. A heartbeat later, I sense her going into her own version of stasis. It’s her way of saying she’s ticked.
Knox gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Your wolf giving you trouble?”
“She’s gone into stasis.”
“Let me guess: she’s not happy that she can’t bite Lady Pinkadacious.”
“How’d you guess?”
“Because my wolf is howling about it.” Knox shakes his head. “I envy you and your wolf.” I know what he means. As far as I know, I’m the only werewolf who can shut out her wolf and vice versa. Knox is stuck with his in his head twenty-four/seven.
I go on tiptoe. “Where are Elle and Alec, by the way?”
Knox is a head taller than me, so he has a better view of the crowded sidewalk. “About ten yards off, trying to get through the crowd and find us.”
“Trying?”
“All the wizards and witches want to talk to Alec.”
“And Elle can’t get past Alec’s posse?”
“Not exactly.” Knox frowns. “No, Elle’s surrounded by fae kids.”
My protective instincts kick in. “Are the fairies hurting her?”
“No.” Knox shakes his head. “They’re being … nice.”
“Huh. I guess the fae can be nice. I just didn’t expect it.” A mixture of surprise and concern battle it out inside my nervous system. Fae being nice. There has to be a catch.
Knox turns so he’s facing me nose to nose. “What was all that before with Lady Pinkadacious? What did you mean, you won’t translate another word?”
I rub my temples, like the action will shove the needed thoughts back into my head. “I don’t remember.”
“Let me guess,” says Knox. “You feel pressured to keep translating the Book of Isis because you feel guilty about me and Alec.”
“I don’t think that’s it. Honestly.”
Knox eyes me for a long moment. “Okay. Just do what you want to do, not for me and Alec, yeah?”
“Agreed.” I go up on tiptoe again, but this time to give Knox a gentle kiss on the cheek. As I lean in, I catch the barest scent from his skin.
Copper and smoke.
I know what that means.
Knox is in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You’re hurting.”
Knox scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s been getting worse since I got to school. I think it’s because the equinox is getting closer.”
“But Alec said he wasn’t in pain because of that, only that his magic was getting weirder.”
“Alec isn’t a shifter.” The veins in Knox’s forehead throb. “Az will know what to do; you’ll see.”
“That’s right. We’ll see him after school today.” I try to slap on a smile, but the scent of Knox’s pain only grows stronger. Worry tightens up my neck and shoulders. Last night, Knox said he wasn’t feeling well, but I certainly didn’t scent any pain. There’s no avoiding it.
Knox is getting worse.
Suddenly, it seems really selfish of me to refuse to translate any papyri. If I can translate the Book of Isis and help Knox find the fountain, it might end Knox’s agony. If there’s even a chance I can help my mate, I should do it.
I stiffen my shoulders. “I want to help you, Knox.”
“Let’s focus on school first, yeah? The papyri can wait.”
I press my palms against my eyes. “It’s hard to focus on anything.”
“It’s ’cause you’re worried. I am, too.” He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got an idea. When I get anxious about a mission, Az makes me talk through each step of the plan.”
“Doesn’t that make things worse?”
“Nah. Gets you focused on what you’re about to do instead of picturing everything that can go wrong. Willing to give it a try?” He leans in and runs his nose along the length of mine. It makes my knees turn to jelly. The scent of Knox’s pain lessens. “Work with me here, yeah?”
For the first time in what feels like hours, I exhale with relief. Talking through school. This is something I can do, and it doesn’t involve hieroglyphs. For whatever reason, that makes it a fine choice. “Sure.”
“So here, today, everything starts once the teachers open the front door. After that, what happens next?”
“Once the teachers open the doors, we march up the steps and go inside the school. West Lake Prep is actually three schools, each with its own principal.”
“Shifters get two principals, though. Because we’re the best.” The vein in Knox’s forehead has stopped pounding, another improvement.
“No question, weres are the best,” I say with a wink. “Inside the school, there’s the Wolf’s Den for Shifters, the Silver Galleries for the fae, and the Crimson Keep for witches and wizards.”
“Good. And how do you get into your school?”
“After we pass the threshold, the first stop is a reception room with three doors, one each for the Crimson Keep, Silver Galleries, and Wolf’s Den.”
“And that last one is the best doorway,” says Knox, bobbing his brows. “In case you change your mind.”
Since I hav
e all three kinds of magic inside me, I could theoretically go through any of the three doors. I’ve already decided to go with Elle, though. “It’s tempting, but you can use your alpha powers on other weres. Alec is the most powerful warlock around. But fairies are crazypants. No way am I letting Elle go in there on her own.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Knox kisses my temple. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Two of Knox’s were buddies, Abe and Hollywood, rush up to us. Abe reminds me of a younger version of Abraham Lincoln, what with his lanky form, messy black hair, and big ears. He’s also terminally honest. Hollywood is tall and buff with amazing blond hair. This is a stunning genetic gift, by the way. Usually after we shift, werewolves look like they have a week’s worth of bedhead. Or, at least, I do. Hollywood always appears camera ready.
“Good morning, alpha,” gushes Abe.
Knox shakes his head. “I’m not your alpha.” There’s no anger in the words, though. Knox is slowly warming to the idea of Abe and Hollywood being pack.
Hollywood bows slightly to me. “Your Princessness.” This summer, Abe and Hollywood decided that since I was a Bryar Rose life template—and Bryar Rose is a princess—then they would be knights in my court. I think it’s their way of saying they’re pack so Knox won’t snarl at them.
Clever wolves.
I roll my eyes. “I am not your princess.” Even so, I can’t hide my grin. Abe and Hollywood are sweet.
I take a few steps away from our little not-a-pack. “I need to find Elle.”
Knox gives me one of his classic chin nods. “Find me if you need me, yeah?”
I wink. “Yeah.”
A knot of kids blocks the sidewalk. Even so, I’m able to elbow my way to Elle. I suppose in other places that would be rude. But in New York, if you can’t use your elbows to get around, you’ll spend your days huddled in a corner.
Stepping up to Elle, I wrap her in a huge hug. “You look gorgeous.” Most people look dumpling-esque in the little blue jacket and plaid skirt, but Elle makes the ensemble seem fantastic. It’s one benefit of being a Cinderella life template, I guess. The negative side is the whole evil stepfamily thing. Yipes.
Shifters And Glyphs Page 6
