by Angel Leya
“It’s in the drawer to your left,” Wes said without looking up.
“I looked there.”
“Your other left.”
Kenzie scowled, but as she picked through the drawer again, she came up with the box of screws Wes had been asking for. Her jaw dropped open. “I swear I looked there!”
“No worries. Just hand them here.” He held out his hand, then curled his fingers in a grabby gesture.
Kenzie gave the box to Wes with a little extra force than necessary and huffed. She turned to look at the many gizmos lying around, wondering for the millionth time how Mr. Suzuki and his students kept anything straight. “I just want it to snow already.”
Wes chuckled. “Then head topside. Chicago’s covered in the stuff.”
Kenzie snorted. “You know what I mean. The snow is easy ambiance. It’ll make my job a whole lot easier if we can get this thing up and running.”
Wes grunted. “And I think that should do it.” He grinned at Kenzie, raising his brows.
Kenzie squealed and clapped. “Let’s plug this baby in!” She threaded her arm through Wes’s as they headed for the tech closet. It was behind the atrium, tucked in a “forgotten” corner specifically designed to keep students out. Apparently, Mr. Suzuki had granted her and Wes temporary access.
“I’m so glad you finally came around,” Kenzie said as they strolled through the lush atrium, the fountain singing a merry tune, flowers blooming in one corner.
“Came around?” Wes asked, though he seemed to only be half-listening.
“On the Christmas stuff. I mean, I know it’s extra work, but it’s fun, right?”
Wes slowed, biting his lower lip, then stopped. “About that . . . I’m just helping with the snow. I kinda hoped that would be enough.”
Kenzie scoffed. “Are you kidding? There’s no way a little snow is going to make this the best Christmas ever. If that were the case, all of Chicago would be Christmas spirit central, like, every year.”
Wes chuckled. “I was afraid you’d say that. Well, not that exactly, but you know.” He took a deep breath. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
He sounded serious. He looked serious. He even put the snow machine down. Dang, the boy meant business.
“You know I don’t buy into the rumor mill, but I heard you and Trevor have been hanging out.”
Kenzie shrugged. “He’s been helping me decorate.”
“It’s just . . . I didn’t think you liked the mer.”
Kenzie snorted. “I don’t mind them. It’s them that don’t like me. And besides, it’s not like he and I are becoming besties over it.”
Wes chuckled, but the sound was half-hearted. “I mean, come on, Kenz. Guys like Trevor don’t just help girls like you out.”
Kenzie raised her brows, unthreading her arm and taking a step back. “Excuse me?”
Wes ran a hand through his hair. “Ahhh, no, that came out wrong. I just don’t trust his motives. He might say he’s just helping you out, but he wants something else.”
“Or maybe other people in this place, besides me, would like to see some Christmas cheer.”
“Kenzie—”
“And just because I’m a selkie, doesn’t mean people are automatically required to hate me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And I’m a big girl! You know, I seem to recall a similar conversation from just a few days ago. One where you got all overprotective and I was like ‘I can take care of myself.’”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But?” Kenzie crossed her arms, fixing him with a raised-brow stare.
“But nothing. I just want you to be . . . careful.” He pulled her into his chest, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “You’re my girl, and I’m not giving that up without a fight.”
“There’s nothing to fight about. You and me, we’re a team. Right?”
Wes nodded.
“So, wanna tell me what really happened over Thanksgiving break?”
Wes pulled back, his brows drawn. “I was sick.”
“I’m not the only person featuring in the gossip mill.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kenzie pursed her lips. “I mean, people have been talking about you and Ms. Vex.”
Wes’s hands dropped, his head rolling back. “Not this again.”
“Hey, you brought it up first. I just want you to be careful.”
“Kenz, there’s nothing there. She’s helping me with my telepathy. That’s it.”
Kenzie folded her arms and pinned him with a playful glare. “And what am I thinking now?”
Wes’s eyes narrowed and he slinked closer. “I’m not sure I should repeat that in a public place.”
Kenzie blushed from her head to her toes, slapping his arm. “Wesley Easton Shulz, that is not even funny.”
Wes full-on belly laughed, bringing new warmth to her. It had been a while since she’d heard him laugh like that, and she had to admit, she loved the sound.
“Not even a little?” Wes said when he caught his breath again, though he was still chuckling.
Kenzie rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was definitely smiling. Some things she just couldn’t hide. Like how much she loved this guy. Even enough to let the Thanksgiving thing go. For ow. “The gang is planning a Hallmark movie marathon slash sleepover tomorrow. I’m sure Jesse would love the extra testosterone.”
Wes let out an amused huff. “That boy? I think he’d rather have you lovely young ladies all to himself.”
“Maybe.” Kenzie paused. “Why don’t you worry about him?”
Wes shrugged. “I think he’s still secretly hung up on Piper. Besides, he’s not your type.”
“Oh? And what exactly is my type?”
“Strong.” He took a step toward her. “Handsome.” He took her in his arms. “A good kisser, with just the right amount of sweetness.” And he planted another one on her lips, making her toes curl and her heart sing.
“Rrrrr,” Kenzie said when he pulled away, rolling her r’s. “And you think Trevor has all that?”
Wes’s face darkened. “I think Trevor is a little too much like Adam.”
Kenzie’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t comment further. Sure, Trevor was a little darker in appearance, and he had a certain smoothness to him, but she’d chosen Wes over Adam. So what made Wes think Trevor would be different? Besides, she felt his mark as keenly as he did. He had to know that. Right?
Wes grabbed the snow machine, and they made their way through the atrium and into the space beyond in silence.
Kenzie was lost in her thoughts. Adam had been a delicious slice of rebellion—what felt like a lifetime ago. She might have enjoyed every minute with him, especially when he became a vampire, but the toll that relationship put on her was astronomical. Being fed on might have felt good at the moment, but the aftermath . . . Kenzie shook off that thought. Adam was dead now. She’d seen Wes stab him with a copper knife, which was deadly to vampires, and presumably their hybrid counterparts. Seeing Adam turn into an ursa that night still occasionally gave her nightmares, but she couldn’t imagine he survived, no matter how powerful he’d become. His body had disappeared, and no one had seen or heard from him since. That chapter of her life was closed. It had to be. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she believed Adam still roamed the streets of Chicago. Or anywhere.
“You okay?” Wes asked, pulling Kenzie from her gloomy thoughts.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She pasted on her best smile. “Just wondering what everyone’s going to think of the snow.”
“It’s not like it’s new to most of them, but it’s still pretty cool. Mr. Suzuki said it’s not cold. Something to do with a simulation matter hybrid process.”
Kenzie’s smile widened into something that felt a little more genuine. She had no idea what Wes was talking about, but it was hot hearing him go all techy on her. “It’s going to be so fre
aking cool.”
“Or not cool.” Wes winked.
Kenzie groaned. “You’ve been in Tinkering class for far too long.”
“What? Mr. Suzuki is funny. I take that as a compliment.”
Kenzie snorted. “You would.”
Wes smiled as he placed his hand on the scanner—located on a door in the far corner of the odd space. It was weird, being in a part of the Dome that few shifters saw. She’d assume none, but most of the students were teenagers. There was a reason Mr. Suzuki had locked this room.
The scanner flashed green, and the door hissed open, revealing a room that was incredibly unassuming. Kenzie would’ve expected more switches and screens and flashing lights. There was a single computer tucked in one corner, and a glossy black table next to it.
Wes waved his hand over the table, and a green wire-frame image of the Dome popped up.
“Woah,” Kenzie said, impressed at last.
Wes smiled at her. “I wish I could show you more, but Mr. Suzuki wouldn’t allow it. He said I could pull up the schematics, though.”
“How does the snow machine work?”
“USB port.”
“Seriously? It plugs into the computer?” Okay, so Kenzie wasn’t nearly as impressed anymore.
“Hey, that’s the brains of the Dome. Be nice to her.”
Kenzie raised a brow.
“The projector, the climate control, oxygen support, everything. It’s all controlled from here.”
Kenzie’s mouth formed a soft O. Okay, back to impressed. “That little thing can do all that?”
“Mr. Suzuki built it himself.”
“So, you could project anything you wanted on the Dome?” An idea was brewing—half-formed, but definitely there.
“Yeah. I guess so. He even live-projected the northern lights last year, from what I heard.”
So cool. Yeah, she’d have to figure out a use for that.
Before long, the snow machine was all set up, a soft drift of temperature-less snow building all around. As they made their way back through the atrium and toward their dorms, it fluttered softly between structures and through the lattice-like arch over the Grand Hall. It was almost magical. Kenzie had the sudden urge to wrap a soft scarf around her neck and sip a steaming cup of hot cocoa. Okay, so the scarf was unnecessary in the always-temperate Dome, but there was never a bad time for hot cocoa. She deviated to the kitchen and grabbed a cup before heading up to her room for the night. Wes decided to retire without the extra “sugar load.” His loss.
She was taking a ginger sip of her cocoa as she entered the Oceanid common room, which was probably the reason she bumped directly into Trevor. Hot cocoa burned her face and spilled over her shirt, and she jumped back, pulling the fabric away from her body to try to keep the damage from spreading.
“Watch where you’re going!” Kenzie hissed, though she wasn’t sure if that was directed at Trevor or herself.
“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. Let me help.” Trevor flicked his wrist, and the hot liquid lifted off her, forming an orb that hovered in front of her. He guided it back into the cup. Too bad it did nothing to lift the stain.
Kenzie sighed. She was grateful to have the cocoa off her, but there was no way she was drinking it now. Such a waste. “Thanks.”
“Are you okay? Do you need to see Ms. Heather?”
Kenzie shook her head. Her chin smarted, but she had a fix for that. “Leasheth’asa,” she said, and a glow lit up her hand. She lifted the hand to her chin and let the magic do its work. The pain faded, leaving a tingling sensation behind. She let go of the magic, and the light faded, returning the room to the dimly lit state they kept it at this time of evening.
Trevor stared a long moment, as if he were studying for some test.
Kenzie squirmed. “I was just gonna go . . .” She pointed over her shoulder, then twisted in the same direction, as if Trevor needed the visual to comprehend. She couldn’t understand why the mer was always throwing her off-kilter. One minute they were laughing at stupid stuff, the next she felt about ready to bolt.
“Nice snow, by the way,” Trevor said, halting Kenzie’s attempt at retreat.
“Oh, thanks.”
“I guess you didn’t need a mer to help with that.”
Kenzie shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Wes’s. And he had to do some tinkering with it to get it to work.”
Trevor dug his hands into his pockets—based on how tight his skinny jeans were, she didn’t think he’d have the room. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said, though his eyes didn’t seem to agree.
Kenzie scuffed her shoe on the floor, wishing she could put down her ruined cup of cocoa. She kept trying to bring it to her lips to drink, but then would remember and lower it again. But she had to say this before she lost her nerve. “About the whole Christmas decorating thing.”
“Yeah?” Trevor met her eyes, and he looked so hopeful.
Kenzie nearly caved. “I, uh, I’m thinking maybe you should just forget about it.”
“What? Why?”
Kenzie shrugged, unable to look him in the eye. “I just think it’s better that way.”
Trevor’s look darkened. “Why? Is it because of that hunter?”
Kenzie bit down on the first words she wanted to spit out. “Ex hunter. And no. It’s my decision.” Sure, Wes had brought it up, but she did what she wanted, and she didn’t want Wes uncomfortable. Or herself, for that matter.
“Are you sure he’s cut all ties with them?”
Kenzie placed one hand on her hip, once more wishing she could just get rid of the drink. “Do you think he’d be at this school if he hadn’t?”
“I think love—or what we think is love—can blind us. You don’t have to do what he says.”
Kenzie jutted out her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you very much.”
Trevor winced, relaxing his posture, stretching his neck. “I didn’t mean— Look, I thought we were cool. I’m not asking for anything more than friendship. I think you could use one.”
Kenzie smiled. “Surprisingly, I have those, too. But there is one thing you can do for me.”
Trevor cocked a brow.
She pushed the cup into his hands. “Get rid of this. Thanks! And bye.” She turned on her heel, and was grateful when Trevor let her walk away. But she couldn’t help but glance back, finding him shaking his head with a wide-eyed, dazed look. Good. Served him right.
An ounce of guilt swept through her as she made it to the safety of her room. She had promised to give Trevor a chance. But despite her desire to always stick to her word, sometimes things changed and promises couldn’t be kept. If it meant protecting her boyfriend, and especially herself, then she had every right to call things off with Trevor. Besides, if he just wanted to be friends, why would he be so upset? He couldn’t possibly be that lonely. Right?
But her biggest regret was letting go of the one person willing to help her with Christmas. Whatever. She had snow. And there was still time to do more, even if it was ticking by faster than she’d anticipated.
She just had to figure out what her next move was.
Chapter 10
It took Kenzie longer than she would’ve liked to fall asleep, and even when she found it, it seemed to slip through her hands like water. At one point, she woke from a nightmare with a strange feeling in her gut. It took her a minute to remember what it reminded her of. She’d awoken last night with the same internal twisting.
Kenzie growled as she threw off the covers and grabbed a sweater. She was probably being stupid, probably wasting her time to sleep by wandering around because of some dumb feeling, but she wasn’t sleeping well, anyway.
She crept into the hallway, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t see anything amiss. It wasn’t until she came out of the common room and into the Grand Hall that things started to click.
There was far too much snow. Wes had put it on a timer, bu
t it had never turned off. The snow was built so high that the place almost looked like a one-story. And she was standing on the second-floor landing. Kenzie let out a little groan, then headed into the snow. Good thing it wasn’t cold; she wasn’t equipped for it. But despite the comfortable temps of the Dome, she pulled her sweater a little tighter as she plunged in, sinking until she was nearly waist-deep in Mr. Suzuki’s faux snow. Which felt incredibly real, despite the lack of temperature.
Dang faulty tech. She should’ve known better than to trust Wes’s fix without more testing.
She was halfway down the hall when a figure bounding across the snow stopped her cold. The dim lighting made it hard to see at first. It was too small to be a shifter, and too large to be a rabbit, which her still-trying-to-wake-up mind kept going to, even though the thing obviously didn’t have bunny ears. Or race around on four legs.
She stayed frozen, unsure what to do, afraid to move for fear of scaring it off—or worse, inviting it to attack. The magic in her veins thrummed in anticipation. Maybe she should just try to restrain it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a vampire, so she decided to go with the shifter binding spell, on the off chance it could help.
“Fiácsha na baethíoc,” she began, barely breathing the words as she rolled her wrists to create the mental vortex necessary to aim her magic. The creature stiffened, turning slowly. “Coisc’an draíchot éist le’do dhéntóirah,” she said quickly, no longer worried about being heard. The being had turned toward her, piercing yellow eyes locked on hers, a grin on its small and sort-of cute, but still ironically creepy face. She almost choked on the words of the spell, but spit them out and aimed her magic before her mind could seize up.
The creature flinched, but finding itself unharmed—and unbound—it started laughing. Which just made her angry.
“Dóicheáhn,” Kenzie said, aiming again at the creature, but the fire that shot from her hand sizzled and squelched before reaching its destination, not even taking out any snow with it.
