by Gabby Fawkes
As a lull came in the braying of my classmates, I was finally able to hear the TV again. One of the Vanpari’s lawyers was on screen, standing on the steps of the courtroom.
“We will of course submit an appeal,” she was saying loudly into a microphone over the sound of clicking cameras. “There is not a scrap of evidence to convict my clients. A death sentence would be the biggest miscarriage of justice this country has ever seen.”
All the students around me started to boo. I couldn’t quite believe what I was witnessing. They were like a pack of vigilantes out for blood. The only thing missing were the flaming torches and pitchforks.
“Get off the screen, Vanpari-lover!” someone shouted.
I couldn’t hear the TV anymore through the noise. But I could still see the images.
The picture on the screen changed to the face of a young teenage Vanpari.
A bolt of shock struck me.
It was him.
There was no doubt in my mind. The Vanpari I’d seen in Bear Mountain was the fifth kid on trial, the one who’d gone on the run. My pulse quickened as the realization sank in.
I glanced around and caught sight of Nikolas. He wasn’t cheering. In fact, his jaw was rigid and his hands were clenched into fists.
I could tell just from his stance that he was opposed to the punishment, like Retta and me. We appeared to be the only three in the whole school who were.
It made me wonder even more about why he was so hostile toward me. Did he think I was another brat like Emerald? Would he still freeze me out if he knew what I was really like?
As I mulled my thoughts over in my mind, Nikolas turned on his heel and started to shove his way through the crowd toward the exit. That’s when I noticed something peculiar.
His sleeve had ridden up, exposing yet another tattoo. This one wasn’t in gold ink like his sun-class mark, but in black. It consisted of a series of intricate twists and twirls, arranged in a manner to form a circle.
Right away, I knew what I was looking at. A moon-class tattoo. Nikolas had both classes inked into his skin.
He tugged his sleeve over his hand, covering the mark, and continued striding away. He must’ve thought no one had seen it.
But I had. And suddenly I was more curious about Nikolas Storm than ever.
7
By some miracle, next period passed without fanfare, in no part thanks to my class being filled with nerd Mages (who were too unpopular to have been sent the footage of my altercation) and pious Celestials (who’d probably seen the footage but were too scandalized by my pink panties to mock me). Oil Slick was also in that class and she avoided eye contact with me. Clearly without Emerald or her Fae friends by her side she was a total wimp.
But when I walked into my final period of the day, I flinched with shock to see Nikolas — and only Nikolas — inside. His black owl saw me first, freezing me to the spot with its amber eyes. Then Nikolas himself looked up and locked his gaze on me.
My heart skipped under his glare. I recalled the intriguing moon tattoo on his forearm and the way he’d clenched his hands into fists during the sentencing announcement in the Vanpari trials. Finally, I recalled the way he’d glowered at me in Battle Class, like he’d had some kind of personal vendetta against me. I felt very aware of the fact we were alone.
As I hesitated in the doorway, Nikolas held my gaze. His stare was cold and hard.
“I’m really sorry about Battle Class,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Huh,” Nikolas grunted.
Was that all he had to say?
“It was an accident,” I added. “I’m a total newbie with magic.”
He looked at me with an unimpressed expression, his thick, dark eyebrows drawn slightly together.
I huffed. He really wasn’t giving me an inch. “What else do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice starting to sound harsh.
He just shrugged.
Man, this guy was infuriating! Was he really just going to blank me? What an asshat!
Then I suddenly remembered one way I could get him to acknowledge me.
“I saw your tattoo,” I said quickly. “The one on your forearm. It’s a moon-class design, isn’t it?”
I saw a flicker of emotion in his dark eyes. It looked to be a combination of anger and… fear? My mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind it.
“Don’t ever say that aloud again,” he hissed under his breath. “Ever.”
I blinked, stunned by the harshness of his tone. What was this guy’s deal?
Just like that, my crush on him went out like a flame doused in water. He might have fit the description of a dark-haired brooding hottie, but being a rude asshole was a total turn-off. I wasn’t one of those girls who liked to be treated mean. I preferred to be treated like a goddess. I wasn’t going to grovel for his attention. I was so done with him.
“You know what? I really don’t care about your stupid tattoos.”
I turned on my heel and took a seat where I wouldn’t have to even look at Nikolas Storm.
The other students started to stream through the door. Retta was among them. I brightened instantly, straightening in my chair as she slid into the desk next to mine and leaned over.
“I have an idea,” she stage-whispered.
“An idea for what?” I asked, curiosity sparking inside of me.
“For getting your bow back.”
I’d been feeling the absence of my bow all day. It was like a grief that only seemed to get worse the longer we were apart. At the reminder of it, I felt a dull jab in my heart like a bruise being pressed.
“I’ve already tried,” I told her, sighing with disappointment. “I spoke to the receptionist between periods.”
Spoke was an understatement. I’d practically gotten on my hands and knees and begged that emotionless, surgically-enhanced shrew to let me have it back. She’d informed me that my bow had been locked in the principal’s office, that I needed to request a meeting to discuss getting it back, and that there weren’t any meeting slots until tomorrow. The sting of frustration overcame me all over again at the memory.
Retta raised her eyebrow. “Not officially, dummy.” She lowered her voice even more. “I mean we steal it back.”
I paused, letting her words sink in. I was liking Retta more and more.
“I’m listening,” I said, my intrigue piqued.
“School ends at three-thirty,” she began. “Sunset isn’t until seven-thirty. So we have a four-hour window before the school goes through its transformation into Eclipse. That gives us plenty of time to sneak in and steal it back.”
I liked where this was going. Beyond just getting my bow back, I was eager to spend more time with Retta.
But there was a snag.
“Surely there’s tons of guards in a school like Zenith?” The lockers had been hard enough to get into. A safe in the principal’s office would surely be harder.
Retta shook her head. “Not during the switch-over. That’s my point. Everyone clears out.”
“What about security cameras?”
“Zenith and Eclipse are too paranoid about each other to do that. If they installed cameras then they’d be able to spy on one other.”
It reminded me a bit of how the Twilight Curfew had come about. Sun-class and moon-class not being able to come to an agreement on how to share something, so abandoning the idea altogether.
“The school will really be empty?” I asked.
Retta nodded enthusiastically. “All we have to do is open some doors, which you can do with your huge, white, light ball magic thing, and pick some locks, which I can do with my nimble pixie fingers.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis.
“Now even I know the P-word is offensive,” I said with a laugh.
Retta grinned and jerked her thumbs at herself. “Re-appropriation, remember?”
I was just about to remind her that I had no control over my ‘huge, white, light ball magic thing’ when the te
acher walked in, breaking up our conversation. Retta leaned back into her seat and tapped her nose to indicate this was our secret. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
I spent the rest of the class mulling it over, my excitement growing. Even if the plan failed, it was worth a shot. I’d prefer to get expelled attempting to retrieve my bow than spend the whole night pining for it. In fact, I’d kind of like to get expelled anyway. Then I’d have a legit excuse to go back to Sunny’s.
When the bell rang for the end of school, Retta and I went outside to find somewhere we could wait. We found a discreet spot under the awnings of a grocery store that had a clear view of the school’s entryway and parking lot. As soon as it emptied out, we’d make our move.
“Shit,” I said, noticing Emerald in her convertible.
Retta looked over at me. “What?”
“Emerald. She’s supposed to be giving me a ride home. I’ll have to get rid of her.”
I streaked across the parking lot to her idling car. Heidi was already in the back monologuing about how awesome her first day at school had been. Nikolas was in the passenger seat glaring moodily out the window. He didn’t even look at me as I knocked. Either he was seriously lost in his thoughts or he was a petulant child. Whatever. I’d already decided I no longer cared, even if he was hot, with mysterious dual tattoos.
“Why are you hammering on my window like that?” Emerald snapped as she buzzed it down. “Just get in the damn car.”
“I don’t need a ride,” I told her. “I’m going to hang out with a friend.”
She raised an eyebrow as if in disbelief that I’d made a friend. But it was quickly replaced by a look of relief that she didn’t have to share the same air space as me.
“Fine,” she said, dismissively. “Just get home before dark or Dad will flip. Last time I missed curfew he sent a whole frickin’ search party out for me. Trust me, it’s not worth the hassle.”
She roared off, her tires kicking up dust. I watched her go, wondering if mean-girl Emerald had just offered me a piece of friendly advice.
I headed back to my hiding spot with Retta and we watched as the stream of students filing out the doors begin to dwindle. After a short while, the teachers began to leave, then the security guards — including my Baphomet nemesis and the awe-inducing Giantess who could barely squeeze into her oversized truck — and then the parking lot was empty.
“Ready?” Retta asked me, a mischievous glint in her eye.
I grinned. It was time to strike. Now or never.
“Let’s do this,” I said.
Our first task — getting through the entryway door — proved to be surprisingly easy. Retta picked the lock with the efficiency of someone who’d done it a million times before, then used the emergency crank-style lever to open the doors wide enough for us to slide through.
Inside, the smell of lilies was even more overpowering now that it wasn’t masking the smell of sweaty teenagers and hormonal pheromones.
Our footsteps echoed on the marble tiles as we climbed the steps up to the top floor.
The Zenith principal’s and Eclipse principal’s offices stood side by side. I could just imagine the principals of yesteryear squabbling over who got the office with the best view before deciding on building a wall right down the middle so they both could. That seemed to be the way things were resolved these days; with walls and borders and segregation.
I was just about to try the door when I heard an odd whooshing noise.
I gripped Retta’s arm. “Someone’s here.”
She smirked and plucked my hand off her arm. “That’s the sound of a floor polisher,” she said in a jokingly condescending voice. “As in, it’s the janitor.”
“You said the school would be empty!” I hissed.
She shrugged. “Emptyish.”
Her blasé attitude was starting to concern me.
Retta grabbed the handle of the principal’s door and pushed it open. We tumbled inside.
I braced myself for an onslaught of white but instead found that the room was decorated in a dark, almost regal way. Tall mahogany bookshelves. A huge matching desk. It didn’t look like the clean and stylish office I’d expected from a high-ranking member of the sun-class.
As I paced farther inside, I noticed a series of paintings on the wall. They had gilded gold frames and depicted the principals of the past. The last and most recent one showed Sister Celeste.
My stomach hit the floor. What the actual heck? Sister Celeste, my bigoted History teacher, was the principal of Zenith? It was bad enough she was able to spout her bullshit nonsense in the classroom, but for her to be running a school was really a step too far. No wonder everyone here seemed so bigoted. It was coming from the top down.
Retta made a pst noise to get my attention. “Here it is!”
I hurried over to where she was standing beside a large glass cabinet. Inside was my beautiful bow, nestled amongst a whole plethora of weapons.
“Who brings nunchucks to school?” I asked wryly.
Retta scoffed. “That would be the Mage nerds. There’s a reason I told you to avoid them.”
I laughed. Then I noticed the huge electronic keypad device keeping my beloved weapon imprisoned. I immediately sobered. “Now what?”
“Let’s check to see if the passcode is written down anywhere,” Retta said.
“I doubt Sister Celeste would do something that dumb.”
“You never know. She has been alive for hundreds of years. She’s probably not particularly cyber savvy.”
A sudden inspiration hit me. I clicked my fingers. “That’s it!”
Retta flashed me a confused expression. “What’s it?”
“Sister Celeste’s been alive for so many years I bet she’s a total technophobe.” I thought of Gran. She was so suspicious of cellphones and the internet she refused to use them, and she was probably half Sister Celeste’s age. If Gran hated technology, surely an Immortal would too.
I reached forward for the keypad, gripping it between my fingertips, and yanked.
Sure enough, it lifted right off. It was just a front for the lock beneath.
I turned to Retta and waggled the fake plastic box triumphantly.
“Genius,” she said with grin.
“All we need now is the key,” I added.
We began to rummage around Sister Celeste’s office, nosing in drawers and cabinets. Now that I’d seen my precious bow, any sense that I was behaving immorally seemed to evaporate.
I rattled the drawers in Sister Celeste’s mahogany desk. They were all locked.
Knowing that the principal of Zenith was Immortal, the dark decor now made sense. Immortals weren’t supposed to be affiliated to either the sun or moon. They relinquished their powers in exchange for immortality. It made them kind of vulnerable, considering the types of powers the people who populated our world possessed, but I guessed that was why they employed Demonborn like Baphomet as security staff. They surrounded themselves with numbskulls who’d provide the muscle and ask none of the questions.
“Hey, look at this,” Retta said.
I strode over to where she was rummaging through a drawer. “Did you find the key?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s a photo of Sister Celeste.” Then in a dramatic voice, she added, “With a kid.”
I craned my neck to see. The photo was clearly taken decades ago, although Sister Celeste herself didn’t look any different than when I’d seen her this morning. There was a kid sitting on her knee. She was cuddling it in a very maternal way.
“Is it just me or does it look like that could be her kid?” Retta asked. “A nun. With a kid. Something doesn’t add up.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a niece or nephew?”
“Then why hide the photo at the bottom of a locked drawer?”
She gestured to the other framed photos on the nun’s desk, each depicting family events from different eras, with Sister Celeste’s face unchanging.
Retta wa
s right. Sister Celeste had specifically hidden this one photo away. I could only speculate as to why. Perhaps she’d had an accidental child out of wedlock and didn’t want anyone to know? Maybe she’d had a kid and abandoned it to become Immortal? Either way, the child in the photo would be long dead by now, considering how aged the picture was and how many years ago she’d been of child-bearing age.
But there was no time to mull it over anymore because Retta suddenly shouted, “Oh shit, is that it?” She reached into the open drawer and pulled out a bronze key.
Anticipation made my pulse quicken. I took the key from her and ran to the cabinet where my bow was locked away.
I tried the key in the lock, my heart leaping as it slid right in. Perfect fit.
I turned the key and heard the lock click.
“That was too eas— ”
But before I could finish my sentence, a high-pitched wailing noise sliced through the air. I’d set off an alarm.
“Oh crap.”
8
The alarm drilled into my brain. It was so shrill, it made me wince. Even dialing down my hearing as low as it could go didn’t help. The noise was piercing.
“Let’s go!” Retta cried, jamming her fingers in her ears. She ran over to the door. When she saw I hadn’t moved, she beckoned me emphatically. “Theia! Come on!”
Quickly, I turned back to the cabinet. I’d come this far, there was no way I was leaving without my bow.
I yanked the cabinet door all the way open and shoved the staffs, scepters, swords, (and an actual Grim Reaper style scythe), out of my way. Then I wrenched out my bow.
A feeling of rightness spread through my body the second my hand tightened around it.
“Come on!” Retta hissed from the door.
I rummaged around for the quiver and my arrows. They were wedged right at the back. I grabbed the strap and pulled as hard as I could. The quiver popped out, sending an ornamental dagger and a scimitar clattering to the floor.
