by Angel Leya
The creature laughed again, then bound across the snow. Of course he’d be light enough not to fall through. Ugh.
Kenzie pushed against the bank in front of her as best she could, trying to follow the creature, but it was of little use. She was stuck, as far as she was concerned, unable to push through the accumulated snow. The same could not be said for her little nemesis.
Footsteps scampered softly across the snow again, and Kenzie whirled—or rather swiveled her top half, since her bottom half was firmly stuck—only to find the imp flinging a Santa hat on her head. What kind of prank was this? Was Trevor behind it? It certainly seemed so. He’d never given her hat back, and now the imp had it. But how was Trevor controlling it? If this was payback because she was trying to get rid of him—
“Kenzie?”
Kenzie looked up, groaning as she realized Trevor was at the top of the steps, no doubt ready to gloat.
“Kenzie, are you okay?” he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“Oh, like you don’t already know the answer to that question.” Kenzie scowled.
Trevor’s face screwed up, his brows creasing. He looked like he’d just woken up, not like he’d been waiting in the wings for her to mess up. Trevor’s eyes grew wide. “Watch out!”
Kenzie tried to twist, but the imp was on her head now, holding on for dear life with one arm and both its legs, something in the other hand. Kenzie squirmed as the cool and wet zig-zagged across her face.
“Christmas is as Christmas does. Kenzie wants some Christmas fun,” the creature said as it did . . . whatever it was doing.
“Get off!” Kenzie cried, trying to dislodge the thing. But she couldn’t get it off, and even when she tried the fire spell again out of sheer desperation—she’d rather burn all her hair off than have this thing on her head—it fizzled and sputtered. What the heck was wrong with her?
The creature gave a self-satisfied nod, then took off down the hallway, laughing in a way that almost made Kenzie chuckle. What the heck was that thing, and why was it bothering her? At least it wasn’t out for blood.
Trevor was by her side a few moments later, and when she turned toward him, he put a hand over his mouth, trying desperately not to snicker. And failing.
“What?” Kenzie asked, her shoulders slumping. “What did that thing do to my face?”
Trevor’s laughter turned into a belly laugh, and he couldn’t answer for nearly a minute. Meanwhile, Kenzie started pushing through the snow again. Whatever this creature was, it needed to be stopped. As did the snow. Maybe she’d start with the snow. It was certainly the less bothersome of the two. Sort of.
“I’m sorry, but you look like a . . .” Trevor paused to squelch his laughter. “You look like a candy cane.” He erupted into a fit of giggles again, and Kenzie shook her head.
“Jerk,” Kenzie threw over her shoulder, which sent Trevor laughing again. “At least it has good taste.”
“I’m sorry. I just . . .” He cleared his throat. “What the heck was that thing?”
“I should be asking you.”
Trevor stilled behind her. “Um, why?”
Kenzie turned around, and Trevor hid his mouth behind his hand again. “That thing is your fault, isn’t it? This was all part of your elaborate ruse to get me to trust you so you could humiliate me.”
Trevor smirked. “If I wanted to humiliate you, I could think of better ways to do it.”
“And yet here you are, laughing at me like a freaking middle-grader who’s farted.”
“I said I’m sorry. And besides, who else is there to see all this? I only woke up because I drink so much water all the time. We can get the marker off you—hopefully—and no one will be the wiser.”
Kenzie peered at him from the corner of her eye, not wanting to be laughed at anymore.
“Why didn’t you magic it, or something?” Trevor asked after a few long moments had passed.
“I tried,” Kenzie grumped. “It didn’t work.”
“That’s weird, right? I mean, is something wrong with your magic? Or something blocking it, maybe?”
Kenzie shrugged. “My magic is fine, I think. And I never heard of anything that could block magic.” But even Superman has his Kryptonite. Okay, so she wasn’t some superhero, but obviously her powers weren’t working right. There had to be some reason for that.
The cameras. Kenzie recalled Oberon had told her the cameras were blocked by whatever had vandalized the arch. Was this little thing the culprit? And was he using some sort of magic? If so . . .
Kenzie realized with a start that she hadn’t seen or heard the thing for a while now. She and Trevor were pushing through the snow—okay, so Trevor had taken the lead—heading toward the end of the hall. Thanks to Trevor’s size, and obvious physical . . . assets, he was able to clear a path more easily.
Trevor grunted, still pushing forward. “Too bad Mr. Suzuki’s snow isn’t made of ice, or I might be able to do something with it. This is impossible.” They’d nearly made it to the end of the Grand Hall, but the snow got deeper as they reached the more open part of the Dome. Hopefully the atrium would give them a bit of a rest.
“You’re doing better than I was. Wanna switch off for a little?”
“Can’t your magic do something?”
Kenzie sighed. “There’s always something in the book, but I don’t have anything memorized that will help with this.”
“How much further?”
“I’m thinking we should go to where the snow machine is and get that turned off first.”
“And where is that?”
Kenzie’s face reddened. “Um to the right, through the atrium, at the back of the space beyond.
Trevor groaned, throwing his shoulder into the snow with a little extra force. “It would have to be on the other side of the Dome. We’ll never get there before that thing returns.”
As if on cue, the little imp scampered by, laughing.
Trevor leapt back, hands out, head darting from side to side. “Where’d it go?”
Kenzie snorted. She couldn’t help herself. The little thing had already marked up her face. Unless it got violent, it couldn’t do much worse than that.
“Trevor wants a selkie queen, but jealousy will make you green.”
Kenzie spun around, trying to find where the voice was coming from, but she couldn’t find it fast enough. A green liquid splashed all over Trevor, spattering Kenzie in the process, and a laughing voice retreated into the darkness.
Trevor held his dripping arms out, flinging the liquid once or twice. “What the . . . ?” He grunted, and all at once the liquid drew away from him, but whatever had colored the liquid had colored him from head to foot.
It was Kenzie’s turn to burst out laughing. “You— You look like . . . like the . . . Wicked Witch . . . or Grinch.”
“You think that’s funny, do you?” Trevor lobbed the ball of green liquid.
“You wouldn’t,” Kenzie said, stepping back, her arm out to keep some distance between them. Not like it would help. “I’ve already gotten colored, remember?”
Trevor smirked. “Yeah, but green would look awful nice with that red.”
Her hair filled with the green liquid, and Kenzie squealed. Her hair was dark enough not to show much color, but the squishy sensation was making her skin crawl. “Eeeeewwwww. Get it off!”
“Say please?”
“Please!”
Trevor laughed again, flinging the liquid at the snow. At least it was good for something. He cut a green path through the snow. All the way to the atrium.
Kenzie squealed, forgetting about her hair and the imp and Trevor’s antics. She darted for the atrium, which was thankfully far less snowed in, and began pushing her way toward the door. A little conjured water did the trick, and Trevor helped manipulate it from behind her.
They reached the door in no time after that, and Kenzie placed her hand on the scanner, breathing out as it flashed green and the door slid open.
&n
bsp; Her relief was short-lived.
The machine lay on the floor like a mugging victim, sparking and smoking. Kenzie grabbed the nearby fire extinguisher—a Mr. Suzuki special guaranteed to smother even the craziest of flames—and hosed down the machine, careful to keep it away from the “brains” of the school. No need to make matters worse.
She cracked her eyes open as the smoke settled, trying to figure out where the switch was beneath all that foam. But then she thought better of it. “Maúgh,” she said, flicking her fingers as she released her magic. The machine’s whirring finally died. The snow was still there, but it at least stopped falling from the sky. Or the Dome.
Kenzie’s shoulders sagged, the tension in her shoulders starting to ease. One down, one to go.
“Nice job, Candy Cane,” Trevor said.
“What happened to Tinsel?” Kenzie asked.
Trevor grinned. “I like Candy Cane better.”
The little imp stuck his head through the door, then poked out his tongue. “Help you want, but helper’s done. Me-sah wants to have some fun!” And with that, his body began to contort. He scampered off, looking like an animal trying to outrun its own skin.
Kenzie’s magic tingled again, and she raced after the creature, but the green liquid that had cut their path had turned into a slime trail on the floor, slick with the fresh snow that had fallen while they disabled the machine. Kenzie hit it and fell face-first, her arms out as she slid across like she was on a slippy-slide. Trevor slammed into her a moment later, apparently no better in the stuff than she was.
Kenzie groaned, putting her hand to her side. Okay, so that smarted, but she didn’t need her magic for it. There was a pop in the air, and Kenzie spun around. The creature was nowhere in sight.
“Have you ever heard of someone shifting into something like that?” Kenzie asked.
Trevor shook his head. “It doesn’t even make sense. What good would shifting into an ugly little thing like that do? I mean, he was fast and annoying, but that was about the extent of his super powers. He was like a toddler on a pranking spree.”
“Yeah. He was.” But there was something else that niggled at the edge of her mind.
“And he thinks he’s a helper.”
Kenzie frowned, her mind latching onto that word.
Trevor was on his feet, holding out one hand as he relieved the floor of the green goo. “Come on. Let’s get everything cleaned up and head back to bed.”
Kenzie sighed as she took his hand. “Ugh, I can’t believe how much work this is going to be.”
“Hey, with your magic, and my power, we can get some paths cut through this in no time.”
“I guess you’re right.” Kenzie retrieved her hand and wiped it on her pants—which did no good, thanks to the slime caking her. It was like the green liquid and snow had turned into some gel-like substance. Not cool.
Trevor was chuckling.
“What?”
“This. It’s just the most bizarre thing I’ve ever experienced at this school, and we’ve seen some weird shi— uh, crap.”
Kenzie snorted. He had that right. “What about that . . . thing?”
Trevor shrugged, a glob of green goo dripping off his shoulder. “I don’t think we’re going to find it tonight.”
Kenzie nodded. Whatever it was had shifted into something else; she could practically feel it in her bones. Bones that also seemed to scream that whatever it was, was tied to her magic. It was a good thing she had Mastery Class in the morning. Which, judging by the lightening Dome, was closer than she would’ve liked.
Chapter 11
“Are you in there?” came June’s sweet voice.
Kenzie groaned. “Come in,” she called, pulling the pillow over her head.
The door quietly opened and closed, and the atmosphere in the room practically thickened with the gryphon’s indecision. “I’m sorry, the others said I shouldn’t worry, but I know how much you love food and breakfast is almost over.”
“It’s okay,” Kenzie croaked, rolling back over and trying to pry herself from the warm bed. She wasn’t much for mornings to begin with, and staying up half the night fighting faux snow and some crazy shifter creature had taken its toll. Her stomach would be recounting her misdeeds later, but for now it was as sleepy as she was.
June’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Are you . . . okay?”
Kenzie sat up and put her face in her hands—a face still covered with red stripes. She’d scrubbed at it for a while, which probably made her look worse, but she’d only succeeded in getting the color to fade. She sort-of hoped Trevor was more successful, as both of them being “pranked” on the same night might come off as suspicious, but part of her hoped he was still green so they could commiserate. Discreetly, of course.
“The vandals hit again last night.”
Kenzie peeked through her fingers, trying to gauge June’s reaction. Did Oberon know she and Trevor had been involved? Not in the vandalizing, of course, but if she got tied to this—
“Oberon’s threatening to expel whoever is doing this. He was also asking about you . . .”
Kenzie groaned and flopped back onto the bed.
“What happened to your face?”
Kenzie considered telling June what was going on, but she didn’t need to drag the Director’s niece into her mess. She didn’t think June would tattle or anything, but there was always the chance that something would slip. Besides, deep down, she knew this was her mess, and she was determined to clean it up before the thing ruined Christmas any more than it already had. She still hadn’t answered June, so she decided on something a little . . . less than the truth. “I was trying something out for Christmas and it wouldn’t wash off.”
“Oh. Bummer.” June looked at the ground. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to make it to Mastery Class in time.”
Kenzie nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks for checking on me.” At least they wore uniforms. That made getting ready a snap. She just had to make sure she didn’t stink, and she was set.
“And I brought you one of the breakfast wraps.”
Kenzie’s head snapped up, and she lunged into June’s arms. “Bless you, child.” She took the wrap from June and took a swift bite.
“It’s not one of their better ones,” June warned.
Too late. Rabbit food. It wasn’t half bad, but where were the eggs? The bacon? Whatever. She didn’t have time to complain. “Thanks anyway,” Kenzie mumbled around a mouthful. “I should . . .”
June nodded and quietly slipped out as Kenzie flew around her room, getting ready.
Wrap in mouth, she jetted straight to the Avian Training Room, finishing the last bite as she jogged through the door.
Ms. Heather smiled at Kenzie and nodded. Good. Not late, then. Or at least not too late.
Kenzie found her spot and hunkered down with her book. She’d almost pieced together where the creature had come from. She just had to—
“Did June find you?” Leya asked, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her wings were unfurled, her feet giant, creepy claws. Kenzie could see how people could mistake harpies for angels back in the day, seeing how gorgeous all these shifters were—until you looked at their feet, of course. Maybe that’s why so many of the harpy girls favored dresses and skirts.
Kenzie slammed the book closed, smiling a little too broadly in Leya’s direction. “Yep! I was up a little too late figuring some stuff out for project Make Christmas Great Again—”
Leya groaned.
“—and slept through my alarm clock. But all is mostly well. June brought me some rabbit food, so I just have to survive the rest of the day without completely humiliating myself.”
Leya laughed, shaking her head. “You’re such a spaz, you know that?”
“Better than being a pigeon.”
Leya scoffed, folding her arms. “I’m not remotely close to a pigeon.”
“Annoying, persistent feminine creatures who are rumored to steal food?” Kenzie winked.
“I think you fit the bill. Literally.”
Leya stuck her tongue out. “Hey, at least I could do some damage in harpy form. You’d have to sit on someone to do any damage as a seal.”
“I don’t have to be in seal form to do damage sitting on someone,” Kenzie retorted, wearing a smirk.
“Whatever.”
“Are you ladies learning much?” Ms. Heather asked, landing next to Leya.
Leya turned crimson. “Sorry, Miss Heather,” she said, then turned and launched into the air.
“Do some target practice,” Ms. Heather called after Leya, then turned back to Kenzie. “Not that I don’t love that you have friends, but now isn’t the time. Is there anything I can help you with before I get back to the others?”
Kenzie shook her head. “No. I think I’m good for now. Thanks, Ms. Heather.”
The avian teacher nodded, suddenly looking very tired. But she took to the air again before Kenzie had time to really think any further on it, the grace of the harpy’s flight a thing of wonder. Okay, so Ms. Heather could definitely pass for an angel, and any stranger would probably be too distracted by her sweet face to even notice her feet.
Kenzie cracked open her book again, thumbing to the page she’d found the other day. It was the helper spell, and the creature had said something about being a helper. With a sinking feeling, she read over the spell and notes again, scouring for anything else that might clue her in on what had happened and how to fix it.
But as she scanned the notes, new ones seemed to squeeze between the lines, as if part of the instructions had been hidden. Oh . . . no.
Apparently, the creator of the spell had meant to hide the entire thing. The helper spell worked well on most creatures, but cast on sentient life—like humans or shifters—the spell turned into a curse. The helper was supposed to be a conduit of her magic, but that also left the imp immune to it. And unlike when cast on creatures, the spell continued to change the cursed into the creature. Great. So, the thing would be back for more. Which also meant that it was the culprit behind the vandalism the other night. It was her fault Christmas was getting ruined. Again.
