by D. R. Perry
I'd read theories that the soldiers inside the Trojan Horse were in fact the risen thralls of an undeath magus. I'd also read that the very first magus with this power created vampires, but that was widely believed to be pure fabrication.
However, practitioners like Faith were compatible with vampires—not in a romantic way, although that was possible. From what I remembered reading on the subject, even a low-powered undeath magus could draw enough energy from nearby vamps to strengthen their powers exponentially. With a powerful enough undeath magus around, a vampire could go without feeding for months.
No wonder the older Fairbanks girl ostracized her sister. With the right help, Faith could overpower Charity with her hands tied behind her back. A Sha familiar certainly helped with that. Given the bigoted sentiments I’d heard earlier, sibling rivalry could lead down dark paths in the Fairbanks family.
And there I was, getting caught in the middle. Charity probably wanted me constantly on edge, about to fly off the handle because my mere presence in that state would scare her sister into keeping her head down.
My eyes, already sore from crying so much that day, burned again with impending tears.
It wasn’t just me and Faith being pushed toward an inevitable conflict. The environment throughout the entire school made Grace sick. Dylan and Logan didn't have familiars but were both enrolled to work with them. Hal was so worried about being here, he had read everyone’s entrance essays over the summer. I had no idea what was up with the students in my year who I hadn't met yet.
Why was everything so hard for the new students here? Decks stacked against us on our first day?
As I sat rocking back and forth with Ember, the tears finally came, silently. She hummed softly in my ear, a musical yet mournful sound. It reminded me of recordings I’d heard of dragon-shifter mourning days, the keening they did for hours after one of them died. Maybe in a sense, some part of each of us had gone away. If only the feeling of loss would “move on.”
"No, you move." Faith sniffled on the other side of the curtain. "This is my bathroom."
"Oh, no." I held Ember protectively, crossing my arms over her. "That's not what I meant at all. And I'm only putting on pajamas. After that, I'm going to bed."
Seth whined again, much closer this time. I saw his muzzle bump the curtain's hem, pressing it in so it looked like a ghostly doggie nose.
"Well, okay then." Faith's voice came from my left now, meaning she was in the cubby next door. Seth whined louder and longer this time, almost a faint howl. The poor thing sounded almost as miserable as I felt.
Ember craned her head down at Seth's curtain-draped nose, then whispered, still trembling slightly, in my ear.
"Peep." She looked me in the eye, then moved her gaze to my arms and back again. She wanted me to put her down, but I didn’t want her getting in a fight with a Sha. I’d have to trust her to do the right thing and avoid a fight.
"Are you sure?"
Ember nodded.
"Okay, then."
I bent at the waist, lowering my arms. And just like that, I let her go.
"Peep?" Ember's voice was louder. In response, Seth's whine took an inquisitive turn.
I hurried up and pulled my other sock on because the last thing two miserable teenagers away from home needed was injured familiars. I stood, turning as fast as I could to sling my bathroom bag over my arm, prepared to scoop Ember up and hustle her out of there. But when I turned back around, she wasn’t in the cubby anymore. Pulling back the curtain, I saw the most amazing thing.
My dragonet and Faith's Sha sat quietly together, making small noises and looking for all the world like they were having a chat. Not a cozy one—it was too intense for that. But the sense I got was that they were commiserating.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Morgenstern?"
I turned my head left to find Faith in a near copy of my stance, holding back the curtain in the doorway of her cubby. We stood there, blinking at each other.
"Yeah. Two magi so stressed out that our familiars, who are natural enemies, have to vent to each other."
"I didn't think the first day would be this bad." Faith leaned against the tiled entrance on her cubby. "My sister's a total bitch. What's worse, I think it runs in the family."
"Same here." I sighed. "Except mine's an asshole brother. And ditto on the family thing."
"This doesn't mean we're friends."
"That's not world-ending for me or anything."
"Whatever." She crossed her arms, sniffling again.
"Look, if they can get along, can we maybe have a truce?" I gazed at the unlikely pair of critters as Ember patted Seth's head with the thumb claw on her wing and he headbutted her chest. I know Faith saw that too. "For their sake?"
"Also because our siblings are out to get us, but yeah." Her glare softened as she gazed at her familiar. "For their sake."
"Deal." I stepped out, crossing the tile floor. "Come on, Ember. Let's go to bed and finally end this day."
"Peep!"
She gave Seth one last pat, then sprang up from the floor, heading straight for my shoulder. As I reached the sink and toilet section, the Sha let out a single short bark. It didn't quite cover Faith's voice.
"Thanks."
I didn't look back. Maybe that made me a bad person, but I was about to cry again and wanted to hide it. I echoed the word of gratitude back at her, then opened the door to cross the hall.
When I entered my room, the light tried to come on. Grace's breathing was even and deep enough to tell me she was probably sleeping. But Lune's rear leg moved, thumping near the foot of the bed.
I shut the lights down before they turned all the way up. A fire magus like me will never have trouble getting around in the dark. I called a flame to my hand and used it to light my way.
That one familiar act reminded me that I needed to get a grip as soon as possible. The school wasn't a powder keg, but it was the next best thing. If I ended up igniting it because I’d never bothered to learn temperance and tolerance, I'd be no better than my evil Uncle Richard.
Ember settled in the space between my pillow and the wall. Once she curled up, I extinguished the flame and got into bed. After pushing my feet between the sheets, I turned my back to Grace. I bundled the blanket over the top and back of my head and stared into the dark.
I had no idea how to improve things.
But I could start trying the next day.
Chapter Seventeen
Mondays sucked.
The worst thing about them was how, no matter how much purpose and hope I wanted to start the week with, everybody else was going through the motions. Students in the cafeteria milled about, listing from side to side like extras in a zombie movie. We bridged the gap between the end of elementary in sixth grade to prep schools with middle school, which went from seventh through tenth. Magic academies went to thirteenth grade, while Mundanes only did twelve. At any rate, everyone had shuffled through breakfast back then, too.
The morning shamble was universal, probably.
"Peep." From her perch on my shoulder, Ember pointed with one wing at the cereal station.
Rows of containers sat on the counter against the wall, and just looking at them had my stomach growling like a pack of angry werewolves. Somehow, I had forgotten to eat dinner last night. This was why, when the person ahead of me finished shoveling raisin bran into her bowl, I went hog-wild.
If I'd already gotten a reputation as the class weirdo, I’d better have fun with it.
"Ember, go!" I pointed a finger straight ahead, then set my tray down.
"PEEP!" The little dragonet had a big voice when she wanted to use it.
She also had an enormous sense of adventure, which was one reason my little stunt worked beautifully. A mashup of gasps and other expressions of surprise sounded from various points behind me.
Ember pulled off her stunt, a series of divebomb attacks on the most important meal of the day. She got me one scoop from each cereal
container, using both feet, deposited them into bowls on my tray, then headed back for more.
I planned ahead for this by covering my tray with as many bowls as it could hold, which was five, incidentally. I didn't care that the cereals got mixed. In fact, that was part of the idea. Some people were corn puff purists. Me, not so much.
Corn, rice, wheat, and oat bits rained down like manna from heaven—if heaven produced cold cereal, that was. I grinned, chuckling softly to myself. Ember had a blast, as well as getting some early morning exercise, but she was clearly done with that by the time the bowls were full.
"Peep." Ember settled back down on my shoulder, stretching out across them so her feet fell to my right and her neck was on my left collarbone. I happily let her rest there; she'd earned it.
"I know, right?" With a wide grin, I picked up my tray and headed for the beverage section to get some kind of non-dairy milk.
On the way, I saw Elanor wagging a finger at her brother Logan.
"You'd better figure it out fast. Mom and Dad are gonna be pissed as hell, and I'm not covering for you anymore."
"Yeah, okay." Logan stared down at the floor.
That made it impossible to catch his eye to see if he needed a rescue, so I continued on my way to the counter with all the drinks and saw another familiar and much friendlier face.
"That was, er, something." Dylan was there, but not for breakfast. He was restocking the coffee urns from a rolling cart, swapping out full insulated containers for the empties. "Are you really going to eat all that?"
'Why not?" I set my tray down and lifted a bowl, holding it under the oat milk dispenser and letting it rip.
"Because it looks good." He reached one hand toward my unconventional breakfast feast. "And I'm a hardworking growing boy, you know."
"Bad magus!" I swatted his hand away. "No biscuit!"
We laughed together. There, so close to the scene of yesterday's drama, that felt like a righteous protest.
"Mondays don't get you two down, apparently." Hal stood nearby, empty glass in hand as he held it up to the juice dispenser. He clicked it off halfway through filling it with orange juice, then moved it to the cranberry. "It's inspiring."
"Thanks, my dude." Dylan smiled.
"When do you get to have a bite?" I waved a hand vaguely at the various food stations.
"After I bring the empties back to Kayley." Dylan heaved the last two full urns off the cart and set them beside the others. "Professors need their coffee because I don't want to risk them dropping letter grades."
"Okay, well, you can sit with us when you get back, then." Hal smiled.
"Awesome. See you in a few shakes." Dylan put the empties on the cart, then pushed it toward the exit.
"Us?" I blinked. "Figured I'd be alone after yesterday."
"No way." Hal set his two-toned juice on his tray, picked it up, and beckoned. "Hawkins family honor code says nobody has to sit alone."
"Oh."
I followed him, passing the roped-off table that still had scorch marks. I shouldn't have looked at it, but it was as compelling as that time a tour bus fell on its side down by the wharf. Disasters were magnets for attention, so, I wasn’t surprised when heads turned. My presence might have that effect for a while.
Everybody stared. Even the familiars spared me a glance. I refused to look away, keeping my head up and my eyes open. I owed it to myself to just keep going. Even the biggest disasters were recoverable to some degree with time and effort. If I gave in, I'd be a hot mess for the next three years.
Hal led us to a booth and sat on the outside of the bench. I saw this for the strategic move it was. He knew that random people, whatever their intentions, couldn't sit next to us unless we allowed it. I followed his lead and took a seat on the opposite side.
After I took about twenty bites of cereal, I looked up to find Hal playing with his food. Half his juice was gone, so at least he’d gotten some fuel for the morning. Before speaking, I washed down a mouthful of crunchy goodness with water.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Dunno. I'm not that hungry to tell you the truth." Nin poked her sleek head out of Hal's sleeve and deftly snatched a sausage off his plate. Instead of wolfing it down, the Pharaoh’s Rat held it up in one paw and pointed it toward her friend’s mouth. "Well, I guess my familiar disagrees."
He smiled, cooing at her and patting her head. Then he took a bite of the sausage but passed the rest to his familiar. It occurred to me that in this battle against my reputation and the strictures of magus society, Hal Hawkins was a good ally.
"Do you know what we’re supposed to do in there on the first day?" I gestured with my spoon toward the doorway. "In Luciano's homeroom, I mean?"
"Not really." Hal shrugged. "I don't read the curriculum, just watch and listen."
"You don't read, huh?" Grace stood at the side of the table, bearing a plate piled high with home-fried potatoes and a side of ketchup. A smaller plate with something green lurked beside it. "Could've fooled me yesterday."
I moved over to let her sit. As she settled in beside me, Grace left extra space at the end of the bench, patted it, and helped Lune hop up beside her. Picking up her fork, my roommate stabbed some potatoes, then shook her head and set it down. She reached out and picked up the side plate full of carrot tops, leafy green strands trailing off its edges.
"There you go, Lune." She set it down in front of him, then picked up her fork again to dip the home fries in ketchup. “Are you two going to be okay in Luciano's class?"
"Well, at least we’re not going it alone." I shrugged, taking another bite of cereal.
"Yeah, but you can't copy off me." Hal chuckled. "You aren't alone either, Grace." Hal waved his nearly unused fork. "Hey, Dylan!"
He slid over to make room for our friend. Dylan had four paper-wrapped packages, which he dropped on the table before sitting. Unwrapping the first, he took a quick bite and chewed, leaning back and closing his eyes like this was the best food in the world.
"I guess I wasn't the only one who was starving this morning." I peered at my five bowls. A few stray oat rings and flakes of bran floated at the edge. My stomach audibly growled.
"Maybe you should go and get more?" Grace lifted her tray, displaying her now-empty plate. "That's what I'm gonna do, anyway."
"In a sec." I began pouring dregs of oat milk from four of the bowls into the fifth. After that, I picked it up and chugged.
"Where do you two put it, honestly?" Hal blinked at our empties. His plate of sausage and cantaloupe was still almost totally intact.
"Oh, yeah, I got a hollow leg." Grace quipped, then moved Lune's now-empty plate back up to her tray as he hopped down to the floor. She got up, grabbing it and moving aside to let me by. "Should have written that in my essay and then you’d have known, yeah?"
"Um." I set my bowl down, exchanged it for a napkin, and dabbed my lips. "Growth spurt this summer."
"Peep!" Ember held her head up, swung it in front of mine, and nodded. She swayed slightly as I stood to move out of the booth.
"Are you sure you're not part-giant?" Hal slouched on the bench, craning his neck up at me.
"Not sure about that kind of thing, really." I stared down into the five empty bowls, reminded of that tarot card Izzy sometimes pulled for me. The Five of Cups, about loss and leaving things behind. "Mom left an awful lot out."
"Oh, crap." Hal sat up, peering past me at something on the other side of the room. "Sorry, didn't mean anything by it."
"Okay." His joke had attracted some unwanted attention, and I was all too glad the excuse of second helpings let me make an escape.
Grace was shorter than me but managed to be faster on our way to drop the empty plates and trays at the dish window. The middle-aged woman who took them nodded. Grace looked her straight in the eye and said thanks, which I echoed.
"Could have been me," she said. "Still might if I don't keep my wits about me here."
"How do you mean?"
We headed toward the pastry and toast counter, where Grace put two slices of bread in the toaster and turned the dial to eleven. I snagged a plate and added a trio of banana-apple mini muffins. There was also apricot rugelach, my favorite, so of course, I took five.
"If Lune hadn't found me at such a young age, I'd be doing a job like that instead of studying here." She snagged a butter knife and stood there, brandishing it at the toaster while she waited. "It's important to count blessings."
"Sounds like something my friend Izzy would say."
"You've got a good friend, then."
"Yeah, known her since kindergarten."
"Is that grade one here?" Grace gathered a heap of jam packets, setting them on the tray beside her plate. "Your schools are different from ours, right?"
"That's the year before what we call first grade."
"Peep?" Ember wasn’t trying to agree. When I checked, she was looking down at Lune, who stamped the floor.
"Okay." She wrinkled her nose, then popped the toast early, wincing as she put it on the plate with her bare hands. "I think we need to go back to the table."
We hurried, Grace taking three steps to each of my strides. We must have looked silly, like some scene out of Tolkein with the height difference. But when I came around the corner, all trace of humor faded. Charity stood at our table, flanked by the mean twins. Her cat perched on the edge next to Dylan, whose mouth was full of egg and cheese sandwich. The sandy feline hissed at Nin, who was trying to hide in Hal's blazer.
"Better teleport that deformed rat before it's cat food." Charity sneered.
Hal couldn’t. He’d had trouble teleporting fruit the day before. If someone didn't act, Nin could end up in the infirmary or worse.
Fortunately, Bubbe had taught me how to deescalate magical critter confrontations, and my reputation ought to do the trick on Charity too. If I played things right, she might leave us alone for good. At least, that was my plan. But first, I set my tray down on the table.
"Hey!" I put my hands on my hips, standing as tall as I possibly could.
