by Patti Larsen
She actually seemed to be considering it a moment. When she finally nodded, I smiled. Way to ease the tension.
A rush of students pushed past me as I turned, my bodywere at my back, to enter the class. Naturally I was now one of the last inside. I had a lot to thank the brothers for and this was just one more slice of joy.
At least the teacher of my Mixed Magicks lab wasn’t crazy. But, she was an ally, too, at least from an ally family. Easton Hensley smiled at me as I entered, but didn’t go all freakazoid, thank goodness. She let me find my own seat, at a low table with two stools, the one beside me vacant. I looked around, caught students staring and realized, with a huge surge of regret, most of them had been in my last class.
This was going to suck.
“Students, you’ll be pairing up.” Easton’s magic sent slips of black paper flying toward each of us. I glanced down at my page, saw a list of names. As the people around me started pairing off, their names disappeared like magic—okay, it was magic—from the page until only my name remained.
Oh. My. Swearword.
What was this, elementary school? No one wanted to pick me for their team? Fine.
I didn’t care what anyone said, witches were big jerks, just like normals.
Easton’s discomfort was obvious. “We normally have an even number of students,” she said as if that made a difference. “Last minute drop out.”
I bet. The Brothers Jerk sniggered at me from two tables behind and I wanted to spin and smash them both into the ground. So did my demon. And Shaylee. And Charlotte from the way she watched them like they might be tasty to eat once she’d gutted them.
Easton was nice enough as we proceeded with the lab, most of what we were doing pretty basic so I could handle it on my own. But the isolation was getting to me, the way the others glanced my way when they thought I wasn’t looking. The whispers and giggling and the growing sense I wasn’t wanted, actively disliked in fact, forcing me to raise a shell of protection around myself.
That old familiar shell I’d worn in high school.
Damn it.
At least the defensive and offensive magicks Easton had us practicing were an outlet for my hurt. And though I’m sure my proficiency and the power behind each technique, from raising glowing shields humming with multiple layers of power to blowing apart a candle inside a warded space, wasn’t endearing me to my classmates, by the time the door swung open to let us out, I didn’t give a crap what any of them thought.
I left the moment I could, ahead of them all, not bothering to thank Easton for the class. I felt a little badly about that, considering how nice and not all gooey she’d been to me. Instead, I marched right to the exit door and out into the real world again, head held high though my soul quivered unhappily inside me.
***
Chapter Six
Lunch was another quiet hunch in the impressive cafeteria followed by a slow, slumping return across the Yard toward the library and more torture. I was recognizing faces at least. Yeah, sure was. Only because those faces glared at me like I was some kind of freak who’d ruined everything.
The really crappy part in all of this was how so very far I’d really come. I wasn’t the complaining, poor-me girl who wanted to be normal anymore. I really felt like I’d grown up a lot in the last two years, learned things about myself, who I was and, more importantly, who I could be some day. And I’d embraced my future, or at least told myself I had.
Why then was it back to the same old, same old with me retreating all over again, afraid, willing to not be me just for a chance to fit in? Nothing about how I was feeling seemed right or natural anymore. Sucked how easy it was to backslide into old habits.
I felt my shoulders go back, lifted my chin again on purpose, but this time not to hide the struggle inside, but to face the world and be okay with who I was. Let them judge me, criticize behind their backs, make assumptions. This Hayle witch had saved her family, the world twice and had a Sidhe Gatekeeper and a vampire blood clan leader as friends. Not to mention a hound of the Wild Hunt and a mother who led the entire North American Council and a father now in line for the rulership of Demonicon.
I had nothing to be ashamed of or nervous about.
Charlotte chuffed softly behind me. I could feel her approval sliding outward to touch me and wondered just how close her bond to me really was. I’d never considered maybe there could be more to her guarding me than just the physical. Had she attached herself to me in some way magically? If so, it was a one-way street. And that made me sad.
I stopped and turned to face her, so fast she actually looked surprised for a flash of an instant. Score.
“Listen,” I said, my confidence back with a vengeance. “I’m tired of this slave/master crap you’ve got going on.”
Charlotte looked like I’d slapped her and I wondered what boundary I’d just stepped over.
“I’m not your slave,” she whispered.
Hmmm. Not exactly what I meant, but I understood at least. The Dumonts held her and her family in literal slavery. Clearly our relationship was nothing like that.
I actually tsked in frustration that she’d chosen to go there. “You know exactly what I mean.”
She glanced away from what I hoped was my steely gaze after a moment and sighed. “I do,” she said.
“Okay then.” Arms crossed over my chest, I prodded her with magic. My demon hummed softly, reaching for her and, to my surprise, Charlotte opened up and let me in. A little. But enough for me to see just how much control she had over herself on the surface, hiding a churning wealth of emotion underneath.
She firmly pushed my demon back and closed off the connection. “I’m responsible for you,” she said. “My family owes you a debt. As our pack leader, my father should be fulfilling this role.”
We’d had this conversation, back when she’d saved my life when my little blue Cooper Mini exploded during Mom’s trial, thanks to Jean Marc and Kristophe playing with explosives. Charlotte told me she owed me then.
But she was forgetting part of that particular conversation. “I told you we were going to be friends,” I said. “That I don’t want or need a bodywere.”
A tiny smile quirked the corner of her mouth at the term I don’t think I’d ever spoken aloud, but she nodded slowly. “I remember,” she said. “But Sydlynn, I’m your protector. And whether you know it or not, accept it or not, you are an important person, with a great destiny. It’s the job of those like me to make sure you are able to do what you need to without worry for your safety.”
That was the longest speech I’d ever heard from her. Not to mention she’d just told me what she thought of me. Great destiny? Yeah, if I could somehow stop stumbling from one disaster to another, maybe.
I took a step closer to her, in her space but not crowding her, just enough she could feel the pulse of my power around me and how little I thought of her need to protect me.
“I need friends more than bodyguards,” I said. “And if you’re going to be around me all the time, I’d really like for you to be someone I can talk to.”
Charlotte’s cheeks pinked, her gaze sliding from mine before she met my eyes again. She was smiling, a real smile, not a half-hidden grin or a sarcastic, momentary smirk. The pleasure lit her eyes and made me smile too.
“I’ll try,” she said, voice soft and girly, not the usual flat, controlled tone she typically used, making me wonder just how young she was. “When you said that, last time, I thought… I didn’t think you meant it.”
Her accent was more pronounced, the eastern-European influence of her birthplace showing up as she let down her guard. I took it as a great sign.
“Well,” I said, turning and hooking my arm through hers, forcing her to walk beside me as we moved on. “I did. And I do. Friends.”
Her gait wasn’t as smooth as I was used to and I know what I was doing made her uncomfortable, but she was softer, in her expressions, in her whole being, so I was fairly sure I’d gotten through
to her at last.
Even when I released her arm she stayed at my side, no longer following three steps behind.
I loved winning arguments. Especially since I didn’t very often.
The day was looking up. And when I heard a familiar voice call my name, I actually did a double take, wondering why the tall, handsome guy with the almost shaved head triggered a moment of recognition. He lumbered to a halt, breathing a little heavy, dark eyes smiling as much as his wide mouth, tanned skin glowing with good health. He shifted his backpack over one wide shoulder before reaching out to hug me.
Um. Hello? Hug me? I retreated immediately, Charlotte falling right back into protection mode, though this time I didn’t mind. Not that I needed her help, but the guy kind of freaked me out.
His eyes flew wide, hurt crossing his face a moment before he froze. And started to laugh.
I knew that laugh. Knew it. But from where? Nothing about this guy seemed familiar at all. I’m sure I would have recognized him if we’d met before, especially if he knew me well enough he thought hugging would be acceptable. There weren’t many people who fell into my “willing to touch” category.
“Syd,” he said, voice dropping to a low, slow drawl, chin tucking down as he purposely stooped his big shoulders and let his head bob up and down a little.
Cogs ground, gears made connections, that voice, my name spoken, the way he carried himself. It couldn’t possibly be. But it was.
“Blood?” His name came out in a squeal of girlie joy as I lunged forward and hugged him. My Goth friend—well, former Goth—was definitely on my huggable list.
He picked me up, swung me around, set me back down, still laughing. “Hey, Syd.”
I forced myself to take a step back, not bothering to hide my shock as I looked him up and down. “The last time I saw you—”
“I was the King of Emo.” Blood grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that.” His natural voice was actually a little higher than I remembered, less gravelly. I smirked, wanting to torture him for being a poser, but let it go in favor of enjoying a happy moment just being with my friend.
It felt like so long ago he and Simon, Pain and Beth had roped me into their peculiar little group, composed of brainiacs, Goths complete with black makeup and pierced everything and fallen cheerleader angels. They were my first real friends and, standing there, looking up at the guy I knew as Blood, all of the nasty, pathetic, horrible stuff that happened today finally faded completely.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, I’m sure grinning like a lunatic. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” We still emailed occasionally, though not so much over the summer, not after I told him Alison had died.
“Wanted to surprise you.” His grin was just as loopy, so I was in good company. “Worked, right?”
“So worked.” I punched his shoulder. Turned suddenly to Charlotte who observed with her flat, empty gaze firmly back in place. She better not have backslid on me or she was in big trouble. “Charlotte, this is…” I turned back to him, suddenly stumped. “You’re not Blood anymore,” I said. “And you know, I never heard your real first name.”
He made a face, one of those long-suffering faces meaning he didn’t really want to tell me. “Yeah,” he said, one big hand running over the stubble of his hair, a blush rising to his cheeks, “about that.” He hesitated one more minute, to which I laughed.
“Dude,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster, “my mom named me Sydlynn Thaddea. How freaking bad could it be?”
His blush faded, grin back as he nodded. “Rupert.” He held his hand out to Charlotte who took it firmly. “Rupert Salinger.” He glanced at me, as if expecting me to laugh. He really had to be kidding. I’d heard way worse. “But call me Rupe, yeah?”
“Rupe,” I said. “But don’t be pissed if I mess up and call you Blood from time to time.” I shook my head at myself as he gave me a gentle, lop-sided smile. “Never mind. You look nothing like your old self.”
Rupe’s head bobbed again, though his shoulders straightened, pulling up to his full height, so tall I had to strain my neck to look up at him. “It’s all good, Syd.”
“You found each other!” And then Simon was there, just like that, and there was more hugging and smiling. Though I noticed immediately there were also changes in my young, brilliant friend. He’d grown finally, at least two inches over the summer since I saw him at the funeral, and he’d actually put on a little weight, in a good way. Gone was the super skinny kid, all knobby knees and pointy elbows and black glasses.
Speaking of which, as Simon met my gaze, our faces at the same level, I actually noticed his eyes. He blinked furiously a few times, brown eyes watering.
“No glasses.” I gently punched his shoulder and he grinned.
“Wicked, right?” His blinking continued at a rapid pace. “New contacts.” It made me wonder how comfortable they were. His shoulders went back, chest puffing outward, a slightly arrogant twist to his smile. “They were Darin’s idea.”
Who? Didn’t matter. Suddenly I had part of my posse back together. How cool was that?
“What are you doing in the Yard?” Rupe shifted his backpack again, the thing bulging with books. I hadn’t asked him what courses he was taking. Simon either, for that matter.
Simon flushed a little, but his new, strutting posture didn’t soften. “Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be in one of the Houses,” he said, “but they decided because of my age I should stay in the freshman dorms one more year.” He didn’t seem deflated by the news, and it made me wonder.
“I’m in Matthew Hall,” Rupe said.
Simon’s cockiness broke as he grinned again. “Me too! So awesome. You’ll love it there.” The new arrogance was gone, my old Simon back again as he snorted softly when he laughed. “I can’t wait to show you guys around. Harvard is the bomb.”
I was about to comment when I heard Charlotte growl next to me, the same instant I felt a touch of magic. Someone prodded my shields even as three guys in designer everything came to a strutting halt beside us.
Simon’s whole attitude changed like a switch had been flipped. The arrogance I’d noticed was back, and double what I’d already witnessed, everything about him suddenly bored and snobby.
Simon? Really? I almost snorted a laugh the idea was so preposterous. But the witch who’d invaded my little reunion wasn’t anyone to laugh at. Not from the way he pressed his disgusting power against me. It was the equivalent of a solid fondling and, worse, he thought it was okay to do so. From the way he smirked at me, one cold green eye winking, he was sure I liked it.
Hell, no.
My demon took care of it and I let her, knowing I could get in trouble for it, but confident enough in the fact I was protecting myself I didn’t let a little thing like worry stop her from having her way with him. With a deep, vibrating growl, she slashed through the edges of his shields, leaving them gaping wide and bleeding energy out into the world.
Maybe overkill, but he got the message. Fury and terror warred with shock on his face as he struggled to reseal his wards. Every time he did, my demon cut another path through them until his shields hung in tatters around him.
Personal shields aren’t something one just creates out of the blue. They are forged over years, built up and fed from personal power. From the condition his were now in, he’d have to start from scratch. Sucked to be him. And since I hadn’t actually harmed him any, aside from showing him just how much he needed to learn to respect others, I was fairly confident no one would back him if he decided to complain.
Whoever this witch was, he’d just learned not to piss me off.
All of this happened in the space of a few heartbeats, so my normal friends sensed nothing but the tension between us. As a parting shot to his ego, I took the guy’s name from his mind without permission.
Don’t ever, ever touch me, jerkoff.
“Darin Mavore.” I let his name roll off my lips with a small smile even as he glared at me like I’d k
icked his puppy. Or something more precious. He probably would have preferred I had to the full emasculation I’d just handed him.
I kind of liked the new and improved me. No more holding back. Evil joy lit my heart as I thought about all the wonderful things I could accomplish now I didn’t give a crap what others thought.
Where were the Dumont brothers again?
Simon broke my train of thought. “Of course you know Darin,” he said like it was obvious. “Everyone does. His parents own most of the world or something.”
Darin’s reptile eyes flickered to Simon and back to me, a calculation in them making me want to allow my demon to finish what she started. He was attractive with his trendy haircut and model’s body, but his soul was black under those ruined shields and the very taste of his magic stirred feelings of violence in me. “And you must be Sydlynn Hayle.” He nodded his head ever so slightly, meant it as an insult, I was sure of it, but I nodded back, using Mom’s most queenly poise.
“Delighted, I’m sure.” This was all kinds of fun. Especially since the two witches with Darin wouldn’t meet my eyes and seemed afraid. Well, that wasn’t so fun. Unless they were creeps like Darin. Then they could bite me.
I turned to Simon, suddenly concerned. What was my normal friend doing hanging out with witches? Especially witches like these? Simon had already circled around Rupe and came to stand next to Darin, like he needed to show where his real loyalties lay.
Heartbreaking. What had Darin done to win so much loyalty from a lost and lonely boy too young to be at college? I was not only determined to find out, when I did, if it involved anything remotely resembling bullying, I would personally see to it that Darin Mavore suffered a slow and painful death.
Darin didn’t give me a chance to ask questions. “Heading to the café,” he said like he was going to play polo with the queen or something. And I’d thought Rupe was a poser when he wore his Blood persona. Not.
