 
Haunted High Book 1

The Wolf Within Me

By Cheree Alsop
Copyright © 2017 by Cheree L. Alsop

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN

Cover Design by Robert Emerson

Editing by Sue Player

www.ChereeAlsop.com

To my husband Michael

and our children Myree, Aiden, and Ashton:

I love you with all of my heart.

To my readers:

Never underestimate the worth and power

Of a single person. You have the ability to

Make waves that will touch shores you can't

Even imagine. Believe.
Chapter One

There was a split second between laughter and the sound of the car striking the cement bridge barrier. I gripped the steering wheel so hard I swore I felt it crack. The car pivoted upward and over the railing that was supposed to keep vehicles safe from the raging water below. I glanced in the rearview mirror and met Drake's eyes. My brother's gaze was filled with terror that no doubt reflected my own as we plummeted downward. A scream came from Sebastian in the passenger seat. I turned my head to look at him the same moment that the car hit the water.

The force of the airbags deploying along with the crash of the car into the water struck so hard I blacked out. I came to at the sensation of icy water flowing past my knees.

"Finn, help!" Drake shouted from the backseat.

My seatbelt wouldn't unlock. Panic surged through me as the water flowed higher. I struggled in my seat, but the button wouldn't give. In a moment of desperation, I yanked at the seatbelt. The buckle popped and I was out.

Sebastian's head lolled forward. His arms dangled in the water that was now past his waist. I stared at the blood that trailed down his forehead.

"Finn!" Drake's panicked voice gave me focus. The rear of the car was beginning to sink lower than the front. He struggled, but couldn't unlock the seatbelt.

I climbed between the seats and grabbed Drake's buckle. I jerked back and it broke free.

"We need to get Sebastian out," I told him.

The terror in my brother's eyes reminded me of one life-changing fact. Drake couldn't swim.

"Come on!" I shouted above the roar of the river. I put my shoulder against the door and shoved with all of my strength. It opened a crack. I pushed again and forced my shoulders into the opening. Putting my hands against the door frame and my back to the door, I pushed with all my might. The door opened grudgingly.

An ice floe hit the door with a resounding thud. The icy bite of the water lapped at my waist.

"Grab onto me," I told my brother.

He did so with wordless obedience. The fear on his face said he was moments from breaking down, then we would both be lost. If I was going to reach the shore and make it back for Sebastian, I had to act now. I gritted my teeth and pushed away from the car.

I immediately realized why rescue swimmers held onto those they rescued instead of the other way around. In his panic, Drake climbed on top of me, pushing me deeper into the water. I struggled with the weight of my younger brother and the crush of the ice-filled water. My sneakers touched the bottom of the river. Adrenaline filled me. I pushed off and fought my way back to the top

"Calm down!" I shouted at Drake. "You're going to drown us both!"

To my relief, he let me hook my arm around his shoulders the way I had seen in the movies. I kicked off the car and struggled through the water toward the shore. When my feet finally touched the ground, I shoved Drake ahead of me. He scrambled up the bank and pulled me with him. We both collapsed in the dirt.

"The car!" Drake gasped.

I shoved up to a sitting position just in time to see the car sink beneath the water.

"Sebastian!" I shouted.

"Finn, wait!" Drake said with terror in his voice.

I jumped off the bank without looking back. The water was so cold it stole my breath and made my muscles seize. Ice floes battered against me. I could barely make out the hood of the car against the dark water. I dove beneath the surface. Drake's door had shut. I pounded against it, but I couldn't break through the glass. I hit the window again and again, but the water hindered my strength.

My arms stopped responding to my commands and my paddling was no longer enough to keep me afloat. I tried to hold onto the car, but my frozen fingers couldn't find a purchase. Exhaustion stole through my sluggish mind. I knew in that moment that I was going to drowned.

"Finn!" I heard Drake shout weakly from the bank.

I couldn't let him down and I wouldn't let Sebastian die, but I didn't know what else I could possibly do. Hopelessness swarmed through my mind as black dots danced in my vision. My head sank beneath the water.

My shoes touched the bottom of the river once more. The heartbreak that would be on my dad and Julianne's face surfaced in my mind. Sebastian's family would be devastated, and all because of a patch of ice on the bridge. It was my fault. I had to fix it.

My body gave a jerk of protest at the air I wasn't able to draw in. Panic filled me, but despite my flailing arms, I couldn't find which way was up. My eyes closed against my will and my arms hung suspended in the water. The last bubble of air escaped from my mouth. Darkness filled my mind.

Live. The word was a demand from something deep inside of me, a voice I didn't know existed. It was more of a guttural growl than a word, and the feeling that came with it had such insistence that something had to answer. And something did.

An unfamiliar sensation welled up from deep inside my chest. My muscles tensed and pulled. My eyes flew open and my lips pulled back from my teeth at the pain, releasing the last precious breath of air I had. I doubled over, turning in the water as my joints pulled. A surge of agony jabbed through my skull with the force of a knife. I felt my clothes tear and my shoes slip away. I thought I would black out with the pain. I struggled not to pull in a breath. I was to the edge of what I could bear, and then it was gone.

I didn't have a chance to think about what had happened. My lungs screamed for air and the darkness stealing from the edges of my mind said I was out of time. I pushed off from the bottom of the river. It was easier to swim, but I couldn't figure out why. I reached the car with measured strokes and surfaced to take a breath. My lungs felt fuller and the darkness of the night was tinged with white and gray as though someone shone a spotlight on us from above. Perhaps someone had heard the accident. Maybe help was coming. But Sebastian didn't have time.

I ducked beneath the water and slammed into the front windshield. It shattered beneath the force and the panes of glass drifted free in the water. I pushed my way inside the car. Sebastian's head lolled forward, his eyes closed and mouth open. I reached for his seatbelt, and could only stare at the strange limb that had replaced my hand.

I blinked at the sight of the paw of a huge dog where my fingers should have been. It made no sense whatsoever. I must have hit my head harder than I thought when the car slammed into the water. I scrabbled at the seatbelt, but the paw was useless without a thumb. Frustrated and panicking, I bent my head and bit at the belt. My teeth sliced through the fabric easier than a knife. Sebastian drifted upward toward the top of the car.

Without hands, I had no other choice than to grab his shirt in my teeth. I yanked his body forward, forcing us both through the shattered windshield. I pushed off from my car toward the surface.

The instant my head broke the surface, I gulped in air; but I didn't hear the same response from Sebastian. My heart thundered in my ears. I grabbed his shirt again and pulled him toward the shore.

"Finn, where are you?" Drake called; his eyes scanned the dark water desperately from the edge of the bank.

I gave a muffled grunt when I neared the edge. It was the only sound I could force my throat to make. I saw Drake's dark form startle at how close we were. I could barely keep my head above the surface. He saw me struggling with Sebastian and waded out to grab him. I followed them both to the edge of the river.

Drake heaved Sebastian onto the side of the bank and knelt next to him. I pushed up as well. My legs shook as I fell onto the grass. I could barely force myself to crawl to Drake's side.

"Come on," my younger brother was saying. Tears streamed down his face. He patted Sebastian's cheek, but there was no response. The boy's lips were blue and his partially-lidded eyes stared blankly past my brother. The sight of the blood that continued to drip down the side of his face gripped my heart in a tight fist.

"Bast, please," Drake pleaded.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

"He's dead, Finn," Drake sobbed. He turned to me and his eyes widened. He scooted back. "S-stay away from me," he said, holding up his hands.

I tried to tell him that I was his brother, but the only thing that came out was a low growl. Shocked, I backed up quickly as well. I saw my paws in the moonlight. A glance back showed a tail and hind legs. I couldn't understand what was happening. Fear filled my limbs with ice colder than the water had been. I ducked into the trees behind me and ran.

"Finn, where are you?" Drake's trembling voice called behind me.

I shuddered at the sight of the paws stretching out before me. I felt too close to the ground. The smells of the forest I ran through were overpowering. Some detached part of my brain catalogued them as I ran, rabbit, grouse, pond overgrown with cattails, the musk of an ermine, the heady scent of the needle-laden pine trees. I could tell the age of the rabbit by how much scent it left in its tracks. I knew that several fat trout lazed beneath the cattails. I also knew the ermine was out looking for a mate by the scent of her musk.

I don't know how I knew these things. None of it was familiar. Even the smell of the pine trees above me was different. I could tell one was rotting from beetles by the sweet tang in its scent. Another served as a home for a hearty family of squirrels. They stuck their heads out of the hole and chattered at me when I ran past. I ducked my head and loped on, as afraid of the things my nose revealed as by the way my body felt when I ran.

My unfamiliar legs stretched out as if they enjoyed the motion. My lungs pumped, filling and letting out the air with anticipation for the next breath. I could feel the wind in the fur that covered my body, tangling through it as though a part of it. I easily leapt fallen logs and twisted around bushes with a grace that my human body could never have. The fact that the body I wore wasn't human pushed at me relentlessly. The irony taunted at the back of my mind. In running from what I had become, the act of running revealed it to me. The harder I ran, the more futile my flight.

I collapsed against a tree as the sun rose. I blinked my unfamiliar eyes at the landscape that turned from black, white, and gray, to every hue of gray imaginable and unimaginable. I hadn't known such colors existed. As I lay there panting, I marveled at the beautiful shades of a leaf touched by the morning sun, the way the gray colors, for that was the only way I could describe them, shaded together with such perfection it stole my breath.

I knew deep down that I was in shock, that my fascination with the leaf was merely my mind's way of distracting me from what had happened. I wasn't in a place to cope mentally with the accident, Sebastian's death, or what had happened to me. Instead, I stared at the leaf, watching the shades charge with hues of light as the sun rose to its pinnacle and then descended with stark disinterest in what happened below.

As night fell, strange stirrings started beneath my skin. My muscles felt as though they needed to stretch. My paws itched, and the long muzzle that had taken over my nose and mouth ached. I wanted to be back in the form I knew, in the body that was my own. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and felt myself begin to change once more.

It didn't hurt as badly as before, but the pulling and changing was uncomfortable. Within the space of a few minutes, I lay on my back in my familiar body, gasping to catch my breath. A tear leaked from my tightly shut eyes and trailed down my cheek. I hated feeling sorry for myself, but I had never felt so helpless in my life. I wiped the tear away and told myself I was angry instead, but even I wasn't convinced.

"Finn!"

My dad's shout carried along the gentle evening breeze. I pushed up to a sitting position.

"Finn, where are you?"

The desperation in his voice brought me to my feet. I glanced down and realized that I was completely naked. Shame filled me and I crouched, wrapping my arms around my knees. I wasn't sure if I should let him find me, especially when I didn't even know what I was. Maybe I was dangerous. Drake had certainly backed away fast enough. Perhaps I should leave and never return.

The fact that I had nowhere to go kept me glued to the spot. I heard my dad walk closer and closer. As the sun faded away, the grays took over from the colors my eyes had seen. It was easier to make out objects in the darkness, but the reminder whispered that whatever had happened to me wasn't over.

"Finn, answer me, son!"

The sweep of his flashlight through the trees neared the small grove where I waited. Though I couldn't force myself to run, I found myself wishing that he would pass me by. Guilt that he had searched for so long warred with my fear of what had happened and my own part in it.

The beam of light reached through the trees and swept past my face. My father paused, then brought it back.

"Finn?" he said in a voice just above a whisper. "Oh, thank goodness, Finn!" He ran into the clearing; the expectancy on his face broke my heart.

I turned my head away and heard him slow.

"Finn, everything's going to be alright."

I shook my head. My voice broke when I said without looking at him, "Everything's a disaster."

My dad paused a few steps behind me. I heard his feet shuffle in the dead leaves that littered the forest floor. "I brought you some clothes," he finally said.

Whatever power of thought I had left was caught by the statement. I glanced back at him. "What made you think I needed clothes?"

Dad's face lowered, but not before I saw the truth in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat. "You know what happened to me."

Dad nodded. He looked at me again and held up the backpack he carried. "Put these on. We can talk on the way back home."

"I shouldn't go home," I told him.

He crossed to me with a look of understanding so stark in his gaze that I couldn't turn away. "Where else would you go? We're family."

I took the clothes and was inwardly grateful when he turned away to give me my privacy. I had to admit that pulling on the pants and shirt, and even the simple act of tying my old sneakers, made me feel more normal. The thought that my new sneakers now lay at the bottom of the river made me feel sick as more of a metaphor of my life than any regret for the sneakers themselves. They had always been a bit snug and the right one tended to squeak on the tile floors at school, negating the name sneaker.

"Finn?"

I shook my head to bring my thoughts back in order and glanced at Dad.

"Let's go home," he said.

"Sebastian's dead."

A sigh lowered Dad's shoulders. When he met my gaze, he looked as though my statement had aged him ten years. I realized at that moment how much of his calm demeanor had been forced for me. I wished I was still young enough to pretend with him.

"Yes, Sebastian's dead," he confirmed.

I blinked back tears and turned my glare onto the trees around us.

The crunch of the twigs and leaves beneath Dad's shoes sounded loud when he crossed to me. "It's not your fault," he said.

"I was driving," I replied. "I should have gone slower. I didn't see the ice." My breath caught as the memory of us plummeting from the edge of the bridge replayed in my mind. I could see Sebastian's arms dangling in the water, his head lolling forward. I opened my eyes, but the memory refused to fade.

"Bad things happen," my dad said. He put his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. "Accidents happen. It's not your fault."

"I tried to save him, but I had to get Drake to shore first."

Dad nodded. There was no judgement on his face at the tears that spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't seem to get them to stop.

"Drake told me what happened. You did what you had to."

"Did...did he tell you what I changed into?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.

Dad nodded again. I searched his face, looking for signs of fear or doubt at what had happened, but there was nothing. I studied the lines and creases that had grown over the years, the blue eyes that were a shade lighter than Drake's, and the salt-and-pepper stubble on the cheeks he usually shaved with care every morning but today revealed that other important things had been on his mind than pristine hygiene. In his gaze, I found the truth. Acceptance. He wasn't afraid of what had happened to me; he had expected it.

The truth made me take a step back.

"Dad, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," he replied. "You went through a traumatic experience and genetics took over."

"Wha-what does that mean?" I asked.

Dad crossed his arm and gave me the fatherly look he usually reserved for lectures when I stayed out too late. He started with the same tone.

"Finnley, you've been sixteen for four months now. I had hoped we were past this possibility, but it seems nature operates on its own timeframe. I think your body was just waiting for the necessary instead of the suggestion."

I shook my head. "Dad, you're not making any sense."

He uncrossed his arms and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. "Do you remember your mother?"

I nodded. "Of course." Most of my memories came from replaying the family videos over and over again, but the sound of her laughter and the smell of the cherry vanilla lotion she loved had stayed with me.

He shuffled his feet. "You may have, um, not known a certain detail."

I felt as though if he was any more elusive, I would go crazy. I shoved my hands through my hair that was the exact replica of Dad's black wavy mop at my age and said, "Dad, I don't have the patience for this."

Dad took a deep breath. When he let it out, he said, "Your mother was a werewolf."

I laughed. It was perhaps the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard him say, and he was a high school science teacher, so that was saying a lot. But nothing compared to the ludicrous statement that had just left his mouth. Except he wasn't laughing.

The laughter died away in my throat, which was good because the edge of insanity to it might have landed me in a straightjacket or with a colorful assortment of pills to add to my daily multivitamin. I had a weak grasp on my current mental state, and if the sincerity in my father's gaze had anything to do with it, it was quickly going to slip away.

"A werewolf?" I repeated.

"Look at this," Dad said. He used the flashlight to make a quickly check of the grove around us, found a grassy patch, and sat down. Before I could ask what he was up to, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and began flipping through pictures.

After about a thousand thumb slides, he looked up at me and patted a spot next to him. "Sit."

"Dad, I—"

"Finn, sit," he said.

The dad-tone had surfaced in his voice. I gave in and sat down, balling my hands in the grass to keep from arguing further. After everything, looking through pictures on my dad's outdated phone was the last thing I wanted to do. But maybe he needed some nostalgia to remind himself that I wasn't whatever monster I feared crept through my veins. I leaned over, needing the same reassurance myself.

With a speed that said he searched through the pictures often, I watched my childhood fly by backwards. I knew some of the older photos were from before his phone, mostly because I had destroyed his last one about a year ago. I accidentally dropped it out of the car window taking a picture of a girl on rollerblades to prove to Drake that somebody really could skate and be hot. Dad had threatened to ground me for the summer, but after Julianne sent me to my bedroom, he had followed me in and told me that at least I had broken the phone on a worthy cause.

The fact that he had moved all of the pictures to his new phone gave me the chance to see us at a barbecue years ago. Drake stood in a kiddie pool in a swimming diaper while I sprayed him with a hose. To his credit, the kid grinned instead of crying. Another picture showed us in the dark, our faces barely visible with fireworks in the background. A tombstone with roses on it flashed past along with pictures of a green cloth over the ground, an empty church interior with flowers on the podium, a hospital room, and a sunny day in the park near our house, my mother smiling on the hill while I rolled down it. She had a hand on her belly and a contented look on her face.

My dad's fingers scrolled past a dog, paused, then backed up two pictures.

"There," he said, holding it up. "It's the only one she ever let me take."
Chapter Two

I gave the picture of the big dog a skeptical look, then turned the same look on my dad.

"You're kidding me, right?"

His tone was flat when he replied, "Does anything you experienced today tell you I'm kidding?"

I let out a breath and turned my gaze back to the picture. It wasn't a dog. That much was obvious. There was a wildness about the animal's golden eyes and the way it held its head that said it wasn't about to submit to anyone.

"Mom's eyes were green." My admission was quiet, a plea mixed with a kernel of hope that perhaps Dad would tell me it was all just a big joke.

"Her eyes changed to gold whenever she was about to turn into a wolf, or phase, as they call it. Yours were gold when my flashlight shone on you here; that's why I hesitated. It caught me off-guard."

I heard it in his voice, a hint of uncertainty as if he, too, was coming to terms with everything he was revealing to me. I looked at the picture again, telling myself it was Mom, but the image wouldn't mesh with the memories of her I carried in my mind.

"She never mentioned it."

That brought the ghost of a smile to Dad's lips. "What? Tell her sons that their mother is the big bad wolf?" He shook his head. "She hoped for a different life for you. She was the last werewolf of her lineage, and possibly in the world. She told me there were instances of werewolves never phasing. She hoped that maybe you would stay human and not have to deal with that side of things."

I swallowed the knot in my throat and asked, "And Drake? Is he a...a werewolf, too?"

Dad nodded, his gaze on the screen of the phone I held forgotten in my hand. "It's in his veins as much as yours. Only time will tell if he'll turn. Werewolves usually phase before the age of sixteen. When you passed your birthday, I hoped...." He rose abruptly. "Well, it doesn't matter. What is, is, and there's nothing we can do to change that. The sooner we accept it, the sooner we can deal with it."

He held out his hand. I took it and stood. "How do we deal with it?"

He used his flashlight to take several steps in the direction he had come. He then paused and glanced back at me. "Well, for starters." He clicked off the flashlight. "With a werewolf for a son, I suppose I should let you lead the way. Your mother always loved seeing in the dark. She used to turn off the lights and guide me with her voice when we went walking."

Realization dawned on me. "That's why you still go walking at night."

He nodded. "I haven't been able to give it up. It makes me feel closer to her memory." He shot me a sheepish grin in the darkness. "Although it took a few spills for me to accept using a flashlight. She always did say I was stubborn."

After I failed to warn Dad of several branches and a log, he gave in and turned the flashlight back on. We walked in silence, me processing everything he had told me and him left to his thoughts. I finally broke the silence.

"How do we deal with this, Dad? I don't even really know what this is."

He glanced back at me. "The Remus Academy for Integral Education."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"A school in New York," he explained, sweeping his light back and forth across the path. "Your mother went there. It's a place for students like yourself to learn in safety away from the dangers of the world."

I stopped walking. It took him a few seconds to realize it and stop as well. When his flashlight shone back in my direction, I couldn't help wondering if my eyes still reflected gold; the expression on his face was unreadable.

"You want to send me away."

Dad shook his head, but I cut him off before he could speak.

"You want to get rid of me because of what I am!" There was an edge of hysteria to my voice that I couldn't crush. "That's your answer to all of this. Send me away!" My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. I glared at him with my hands clenched into fists. A strange urging coursed through my muscles. I could feel the wolf fighting inside of me, struggling to get out, to force my form to change. It took all of my willpower to maintain control.

Dad crossed back to me. There was compassion on his face as if he knew of my struggle. "Finn, that's not it at all. The last thing I want to do is send you away." He lifted a hand to me but I backed away before he could touch me. He gave an accepting nod and gestured to indicate what was beyond the forest. "This is a dangerous world, Finn. There are so many ways you could be hurt. Your mother had to avoid capture from people who wanted to study her, duplicate her genetic structure, or kill her. She learned how to hide out, to keep what she was a secret." He lifted his phone. "But it's harder now than ever. Social media could be a death sentence to you, especially with the Maes Hunters searching every avenue. At that school, I know you'll be safe. They kept a spot open in case one of Silvia's children was ever in need of it."

I processed his words in silence. None of it made sense. I rubbed my eyes and asked a question to keep my mind distracted. "What are Mace Hunters?"

"Maes," he repeated, emphasizing more of a z sound like maize. "Your mother always feared they would find her. It's an acronym for Monster Abolition and Eradication Society. The Maes hunters are constantly searching for monsters to kill."

"You mean werewolves to kill," I said.

He shook his head. "There are different kinds of monsters out there, Finn. Most are good from what your mother told me. The rest, well, I suppose they're the reason for the Society. But from what I've researched, they aren't particular about the type of monster they kill."

My voice was quiet when I said, "So I'm a monster." It confirmed how I felt inside. The fight left me along with the anger, and with it faded the urge to change into the wolf I had been before. My aching muscles relaxed.

"You're my son."

I looked up at Dad's words. This time he put both of his hands on my shoulders. "Finn, you're my son and you will always be my son no matter what. I knew what your mother was when I married her, and we accepted that this could be an eventuality of having children, but I loved her and I love you." He swallowed and I saw the shine of moisture in his eyes. "Because of that, I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

A knot tightened in my throat. I nodded past the words I couldn't say. Dad pulled me in for a hug and I hugged him back.

I made myself ask the thing I had avoided. "What about Sebastian?"

Dad's voice was quiet when he answered, "His funeral is this weekend, but you can't be there."

I was about to protest, but his next words silenced me.

"Someone filmed you going into the water and the wolf coming out. The images were taken from the bridge; now they're all over the internet. With the time of night, they aren't very clear, but if someone recognizes the car or any of you, no one will be safe."

My chest tightened at the thought of bringing danger to my family. I followed him silently through the looming trees.

"I think it would be in the best interest of yourself and our family to have you ready to leave right after we get home. We don't need anyone asking questions about why you disappeared." He looked back at me. "I told the police you lent Sebastian your car last night while you were helping Julianne's sister move into her new place. Drake went along for the ride, the car went over the bridge, and Drake did what he could to save him, but it was too late."

I remembered the fear in my younger brother's eyes when he saw what I was. I grimaced at the memory. "And Drake?"

"He went along with it." Dad let out a sigh as if what we had been through burdened him, too. "I know lying to the police is a crime, but so is leaving the scene of an accident. There's no way to tell the truth and not have you questioned, especially if someone starts taking the pictures seriously." He snapped a twig off a tree we passed and glanced at me. "You need time to figure this out."

"So being a monster is a crime, too." I said it as a statement instead of a question; I didn't bother to hide the bitterness in my voice.

Dad broke the twig into tiny pieces before he answered, "Being different can evoke fear; people who are afraid tend to overreact. Overreaction can be dangerous." He dropped the pieces of the stick. "I'll figure out how to keep you safe like I did your mother, I just need time. The school can give us that."

There was a question in his voice, pleading mixed with hope. He had a son who was a monster. I couldn't blame him for wanting to send me away. He had the rest of the family to protect. Drake was normal as far as we knew and Julianne was pregnant. There was no holding it against him if he wanted to raise my soon-to-be step-brother or step-sister away from the dangers having a monster in the family would bring.

"I'll go."

Relief along with a light of pride showed in his gaze when he looked back at me. He nodded. "I'll let them know. I'm sorry about Sebastian." His voice lowered and said, "I know he was a good friend."

"He was a great friend," I replied. I swallowed past the tightness that filled my throat. "It's my fault he's dead."

Dad paused in his steps. "It's not your fault."

"I was driving," I said.

Compassion showed on Dad's face when he told me, "But accidents happen. You can't carry this guilt on your shoulders. I shouldn't have let you take the car out."

"You didn't know we were gone," I said. The truth showed in his gaze. "I should have told you we left. You would have stopped me."

"Maybe," he replied. "Maybe not. You can't blame yourself."

I pushed past him with a shake of my head. "I can't talk about this right now."

"But Finn," he said.

I fought back the urge to growl; it wasn't a sensation I was used to. "Dad, I can't go there. Please. Let's just get home."

The understanding that it wasn't my home filled me with a loss almost as great as losing Sebastian. I no longer had my friend or a home. It had all been taken away in one moment, one horrible, confusing, life-changing moment.

Julianne and Drake were gone when we got there. I had no idea where they had left to so early in the morning, but I was relieved. I couldn't face my step-mother or brother after what had happened. I didn't know what I would say or how they would look at me. I couldn't see the fear in Drake's eyes again. I had always tried so hard to be a good older brother; now I had lost him as well.

I caught myself standing in the middle of my bedroom staring at nothing. What did one take when there was no way of knowing whether coming back was even a possibility?

My gaze lingered on the trophies that lined the dresser. Track now seemed trivial, though I couldn't deny that the urge to run away from everything and never look back was tempting. I couldn't do that to Dad and Julianne, though. They were good parents; they didn't deserve what I had brought to them.

I forbade myself to think things through any further. I grabbed my barely used suitcase from my closet and threw it onto the bed. I tore shirts from their hangers and tossed them into a pile without bothering to check which ones I grabbed. Pants, underwear, and socks followed. I grabbed my favorite running shoes, a baseball hat with my high school's buffed out cat mascot on it, and the last book I was supposed to be reading for English class.

"I just called the school," my dad called from the kitchen. "They said they have room for you now."

"Does that mean someone died?" I muttered.

"What?" Dad asked.

"Nothing," I said louder.

"He'll be there," I heard my dad say. "Thank you very much."

Dad came into my room, which he hardly ever did because Julianne was big on giving boys their own space. I could feel him hovering in the doorway as I shoved everything into my suitcase and zipped it shut. I felt like it should have been harder to close. I glanced around my room, careful not to look at him for fear that the emotions I held tightly in check would break free.

"I'm sorry Drake and Julianne aren't here. They wanted to be," Dad said. "I just felt like, well, all things considered...."

"It's easier this way," I completed for him.

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. Relief made his shoulders slump as he leaned against the door frame. "Yes, easier. They know what's going on, of course, and they aren't afraid of you, they're just, well," he fumbled as if aware that he had taken the conversation where he didn't want to.

"They're dealing with a lot, too," I finished, glancing at him.

He nodded. "Exactly. Julianne is helping with funeral arrangements and Drake is at Zander's house. I thought him being with a friend while I looked for you last night would help after what he's been through." He rushed on to say, "I'll pick him up, of course, after I get home. I just wanted to spend time with you before you go."

His words made my chest tighten. I wanted to hit something. It was an unfamiliar urge. I usually dealt with stress by taking things in stride. But I didn't recognize my stride anymore.

"I'm ready," I said.

"Are you sure?" Dad asked.

There was a note of uncertainty in his tone. When I looked closely, I could see it in his face. He didn't want me to go.

There was something about knowing my dad also didn't want me to leave that filled me with strength. I might have felt helpless myself in the situation, but I could be strong for him.

I nodded. "I'm sure, Dad."

He followed me silently to the car. He took the luggage from my hand without a word and placed it in the trunk. I slid into the passenger seat and stared out the front window, my expression carefully neutral as though we drove to the store instead of some unfamiliar school in a city I barely knew. My few trips to New York had been of the sightseeing, touristy kind. I never thought I would end up living there.

I lost track of how long I stared at the cars, power lines, and houses that passed by my window. Day changed to night with the steady hum of the tires along the asphalt. Not even the low murmur of the voices on the radio broke the haze of my mind.

"This is it."

Dad's voice jerked me from my unseeing stare. I blinked and my vision focused on the busy evening streets of the colossal city. The sky scrapers glowed against the darkening sky. Apartments, hotels, office buildings, and churches crowded out the stars hidden by the never-ending lights. I had to give my father credit. His usual tirade against the insistent taxi drivers and pushy traffic had been replaced with a nearly-patient expression as he wove in and out of the cars.

At my questioning look, he pointed ahead and to the right. I followed his gaze to a gate set between two buildings that appeared older than those around us.

"I guess I just park here," Dad muttered. He gave the space a few places beyond the gate a skeptical look.

I glanced back at Dad. He was notorious for his hatred of parallel parking. He once told me he picked the cul-de-sac we lived in simply because he would never have to parallel park. Though when his friends came over, they parked lengthwise to force him to do it whenever they could.

This time, instead of venting, he carefully pulled up to the car in front, turned the wheel, and eased our car back into the spot. I found myself staring.

Dad glanced at me. "I never said I couldn't parallel park, I just said I didn't like to do it." He shook his head at my amazed look and said, "Come on. They're expecting us."

I didn't know if it was his words or the ominous way the setting sun cast the gate in shadows that made the hair rise on the back of my neck. I told myself it wasn't the wolf within me struggling to break free. Our footsteps echoed against the sides of the buildings and bounced back. My ears picked up the tiny slide of sand and grit beneath our shoes, the rub of my suitcase against Dad's pant leg, and the small breath of trepidation he gave when we paused at the closed gate. The sounds should have been imperceptible, but my strange new hearing picked them up easily. I resisted the urge to cover my ears with my hands and shoved my hands in my pockets instead.

Dad pressed the button on a control pad near the gate.

"Welcome to The Remus Academy for Integral Education," a tinny voice said. "How may we be of assistance? If you are looking for the Pizza Palace, it's on the next block."

Dad glanced at me. "We're not looking for the Pizza Palace. I'm, uh, bringing my son Finn to check into your school."

"You mean Finnley R. Briscoe?" the voice replied.

Dad's eyebrows lifted and he looked at me. "Yes, that's the one." In an undertone, he whispered, "How many Finns do you think go to this school?"

I fought back a wry smile when I replied, "Hopefully not many."

The gate opened inward with a slow, silent grandeur. The thick metal bars bore the letters R.A. within their ironwork. The top of the bars, which reached to double my height, ended in pointed tips that told of a painful end to anyone who tried to climb them. I couldn't help but wonder if they were meant to keep people out or in. As soon as we passed, the gate swung back to its resting position. Instead of the resounding clang I expected, the metal gave a quiet snick when it shut.

"That was weird," I muttered.

"What?" Dad asked.

I wasn't in a frame of mind to talk to him about my new hearing abilities, so I pointed ahead. "This place. It's weird."

I realized the truth of my statement as soon as my eyes focused on where the gate had led us. We stood between the buildings still, but instead of old, cracked and faded bricks, the sides of the buildings on this side of the gate were green with moss. Each window was topped with gargoyles; I had the strange, distinct impression that they turned their head to look at us when we passed, but when I glanced back to check, they appeared normal. A chill ran down my spine.

"Your mother told me about this," Dad said. There was an air of wistful nostalgia to his voice as he looked around with wide-eyes and an expression of awe on his face. "I never quite understood why she loved this school so much."

"She loved it here?" The fact made the tension ease in my shoulders the slightest bit. I peered through the darkness of the alley to the building beyond. It appeared ancient like some of the churches in the city. A few spires reached toward the sky while arched windows complete with more gargoyles glowed in the rapidly falling darkness. An old cement sign with dragons crafted at the base read The Remus Academy for Integral Education. Dad and I walked up the steps. My ears caught the breath of hesitation he gave before he knocked on the door that towered far above us.

A moment of silence followed in which I heard the knock echo down a hallway beyond the door. Footsteps followed, and then the door swung inward. I forced a smile, but it faded when the door completed its circuit and rested against the far wall. Nobody stood at the entrance.

"That's weird," Dad said, his tone forcibly light.

"I heard footsteps," I told him. I stared into the empty hallway feeling baffled.

Dad stepped inside. He gave the door a searching look. "Maybe it's electronic," he guessed.

"Maybe," I said doubtfully. I followed him inside. There was no track or arm pushing the door open. I glanced back as we walked down the hall, sure that it would close the same way it had opened. Perhaps then I would see who did it. But my question went unanswered; the door remained open.

I shook my head as I trailed Dad around the corner. The hall we walked was tall enough for giants with carved wooden walls reaching high on either side. When I turned the corner, a wide staircase swept along the left side of the next hall while doors stood open to the right.

"I thought we were expected," Dad muttered.

"And file that under 'Potato Conundrum'," a woman said as she backed out of an office in front of us.

Dad stopped short but she bumped into him anyway. She spun around, the files and papers spilling out of her arms as she did so.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

Dad shot me a surprised look. "I'm here to check my son into school."

The woman's eyebrows rose. She glanced from Dad to me and her eyes widened. She adjusted her glasses. "Oh, yes, the um, well, yes. I see." She cleared her throat. "I thought that with the late hour, well, I appear to be wrong. Let me just...."

She dropped to her knees and began to gather up the papers. Dad knelt and I followed. We quickly picked up the mess. I rose and handed her my stack. When she reached to take it, I noticed that her hand jerked back quickly with the stack. I had the strange impression that she wanted to get as far away from me as possible.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

She nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, fine." She straightened her glasses and gave me a straight look for the first time. "Let's get you checked in. I know Headmistress Wrengold is anxious to meet you. I shall awaken her immediately."

"Awaken her?" Dad said. "Given the circumstances, I was told haste was important. I didn't expect to find the Headmistress asleep."

He gave me an apologetic look. I figured it was because of the haste comment. He hadn't mentioned that part to me. We followed the woman into the first office.

"Headmistress Wrengold is what you would call a night owl," the woman explained.

She set the untidy stack of papers on her desk and took a seat behind it. A nameplate bearing simply the name Mrs. Hassleton sat near the middle of the mess of pens, folders, receipts, a candy bar wrapper, and several pieces of yellow lined paper covered from top to bottom in scrawled handwriting. When Mrs. Hassleton sat, a sharp scent drifted into the air. I sneezed before I could catch myself.

The woman's eyes darted to me. "Clove. It keeps away the dark creatures."

"I'll bet it does," Dad agreed amiably, though the twitch of his lips said he doubted it.

I breathed through my mouth and fought back the urge to sneeze again and perhaps get myself banned as one of the dark creatures she feared. The woman picked up a telephone with a cord, something I hadn't seen since my grandparents passed away. She pressed a button, waited a moment, then said, "He's here." She hung up the phone before I could hear a reply. She then turned a flat look on me and said, "You may wait in the hallway."

She rose and walked around the table. Dad and I hurried in front of her. The door shut behind us with a resounding thud as though Mrs. Hassleton didn't care who she awoke.

Dad stood in silence for a moment before he said, "Well, that was...something."

"Maybe we should go home." The words slipped from my mouth before I had the chance to think them through. I tried for humor, my usual go-to when I felt uncomfortable. I forced a smile. "Though at home there isn't this pleasant aura of foreboding and doom."

Dad, fortunately, appreciated my sense of humor. A quiet snort came from him and he replied, "Yes, such a feeling must have taken them years to perfect. Your mother failed to mention it."

That brought a true small laugh from me. "Perhaps she wanted to keep it a surprise."

Dad laughed in return. "Yes, because words wouldn't describe it properly anyway."

"I'm glad you appreciate the aura."

I spun around so fast I nearly knocked the woman over. How she had snuck up behind us without my overly sensitive new hearing picking her up I had no idea. My heart thundered in my chest as I looked at her. I could see Dad's shocked expression out of the corner of my eye as I took in the woman's tall form wrapped in a brown housecoat, matching pants, sensible shoes, and a pair of spectacles that dangled on a golden chain from her pocket. Her hair was stacked on her head in a well-maintained nest of gray curls caught in bobby pins and held by a headscarf. She was tall enough that I had to look up to meet her gaze, which flickered from me to my father with an assessing light.

"I am Headmistress Wrengold," the woman said with a lowering of her head that was both regal and welcoming. She opened her white-gloved hands in a simple gesture that indicated the school in which we stood. "Welcome to The Remus Academy for Integral Education, Mr. Briscoe and Mr. Briscoe."

"T-thank you," my dad said, collecting himself and holding out a hand. "I apologize. I thought Headmaster Wrengold would be the one to meet us."

The Headmistress gave his hand a single shake. "Yes, well, when my husband, the late Headmaster Wrengold, passed away, I inherited both the title and the school. It was easier not to change the letterhead." Her tone gave no indication as to how she felt about that. She turned to me. "And now we are pleased to welcome our first werewolf student in twenty-five years." She gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Welcome to our Academy, Mr. Briscoe."

Since she gave no effort to hold out her hand, I attempted a nod similar to hers and replied, "Thank you, Headmistress Wrengold. I'm looking forward to attending."

"I'll warn you now," she said, her tone level, "There are some who feel taking on a werewolf student isn't in the best interest of our other students." When I opened my mouth to ask why, she lifted one of her gloved hands and said, "I asked them to give you the time to prove your worthiness to stay." She lowered her voice, her gaze frank when she continued with, "All I ask is that you prove my faith worthy."

Caught off-guard, I nodded.

"Don't you worry, Headmistress. Finn is a good student. He works hard and won't let you down," my dad said.

The Headmistress glanced at him. "Yes. I expect as much from Silvia Roe's son." Her gaze softened a bit when she looked at me and said, "Your mother was an excellent student. My husband always thought she would be the next Headmistress of our Academy."

I stared at her, surprised by the information. "What happened?"

A hint of sadness touched the Headmistress's eyes. She shook her head. "That is a subject for another time. For now, I will have Mrs. Hassleton show you to your temporary quarters until we can make permanent arrangements." She nodded at my father. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Briscoe. Have a good night." She gave me another searching look and said, "And as for you, Mr. Briscoe, please see that you make my trust and the strings I have pulled to get you here worthy of the effort."

"I will," I said with a feeling that somehow I had already let her down.

Dad and I watched her walk up another hallway and turn out of sight.

"She snuck right up on us," Dad finally said, breaking the silence that was left when the echo of her footsteps faded away.

"I'll have to watch my back," I replied. I tried to keep my voice level at the thought of him walking away as well and leaving me in this strange place with even stranger people.

Dad gave me a sad smile as if he, too, felt the same loss. "I think you're going to have quite the adventure here," he said.

I nodded. "It sounds like it."

He glanced around as if looking for a way to stall, then his eyes lit up and he patted his coat pockets. He reached in one and pulled out a small black rectangle. "I almost forgot," he said in a loud whisper. "I got you this. I don't think it's allowed, but it'll keep us connected."

I looked down at the cellphone he had set in my hand. Warmth filled me. My eyes burned with unshed tears after everything that had happened. I shook my head, refusing to let myself cry. I gave him a hug. "Thanks, Dad. I'll be alright."

He hugged me tightly, then stepped back. "I know you will, Finn. You're the strongest of all of us."

"I don't know about that," I replied.

Dad's smile was warm when he said, "I do."

The door to Mrs. Hassleton's office opened. "Are you still here?" she asked as though she had expected us to vanish after talking to the Headmistress. She didn't wait for my reply and instead said, "Well, let's get you to your room, then. This way. Come along."

I looked at Dad with the faint hope that he would change his mind and tell me to return with him given my strange welcome into the school. Instead, he gave me a wave of farewell. "Take care of yourself, Finn. I'll be back at parent night, I promise."

"Bye, Dad," I said. I picked up the luggage he had set near the door and watched him walk back down the huge hallway. He looked so small beneath the sweeping reach of the carved walls. He gave one last wave before he turned the corner.

"Come along," Mrs. Hassleton said.

When I turned to follow her, a cold breeze swept past. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and my skin tingled.

"Welcome to Haunted High," a voice whispered in my ear.

I spun to look behind me, convinced that either Headmistress Wrengold or someone equally as silent had crept up behind me, but nobody was there.

"Mr. Briscoe, I'm waiting," Mrs. Hassleton said.

I tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding as I followed her toward the sweeping staircase.
Chapter Three

The room she left me in was lit with a single bulb from the ceiling. One bed, a dresser, and a circular rug on the bare wooden floor were the only furnishings. The small window against the far wall let in moonlight through the gap in the curtains. A shiver ran down my spine and I felt the wolf stir. I pushed the feeling down and looked away, afraid I would change form and give up the only place I had left to go.

"The bathroom's down the hall," Mrs. Hassleton said. She hadn't entered the room, merely opening the door and gesturing me inside with a quick flick of her finger. "Breakfast is at seven. You'll hear the bell to wake up at six-thirty. I wouldn't unpack. You'll be getting a room assignment tomorrow."

She left before I could ask any questions.

I set my duffle bag on the bed and glanced at the window. The moonlight that trickled inside called to me. I took a step forward before I realized what I was doing. I backed away until my legs hit the bed and I sat down. I was trapped. There was nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I ignored the urge to call my dad with the cellphone he had given me. I didn't want to admit to both of us that I couldn't handle the situation.

I kicked off my shoes, fell backwards on the bed, and closed my eyes. I willed sleep to come. I should have been exhausted. I had dozed in and out during the car ride, but not enough to really be called sleep. I told myself I was tired, that everything would be easier in the morning, and that maybe I would settle in once I had my real room. But the moment my mind started to drift, I heard the screams of Drake and Sebastian. Water closed over my head. I felt like I was choking. I struggle to draw in a breath and clawed at my throat. My chest burned. I gasped and my eyes flew open.

I stood in the middle of a cemetery. It was night; the cool breeze made the hair stand up on my arms. I blinked and looked around, trying to figure out if I was still in a dream. The scent of crushed grass beneath my bare feet touched my nose. I wiggled my toes and glanced down. The feeling of the cold grass was definitely real, which meant that everything else was real. But how had I gotten there?

I turned in a slow circle. Tombstones of every shape and size surrounded me. The cemetery was old, the gravestones covered in moss and overgrown. The words on the stone in front of me were illegible, weathered and aged until nothing decipherable was left.

Turning around, I saw the school behind me, its towers illuminated by the moonlight that blanketed my back and arms. But that made no sense. The school was in the middle of the city. There was no place for an ancient cemetery surrounded by trees. I had to be sleeping. I took a step toward the school.

"Ouch!"

I lifted my foot and stared at the twig that protruded from the bottom of it. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the twig free. A small dark spot of blood filled the hole it had left. Either it was the most realistic dream I had ever had, or I was awake. The thought terrified me.

"Why are you here?"

I spun around, but there was nobody in sight. The voice had been feminine and faint.

"I don't know," I replied. I felt stupid saying the words aloud, but talking to myself was the least of my problems at that moment.

"Nobody comes here except the Headmaster."

The voice was behind me. I turned, but again saw nothing.

"I-I'm new to the school. I'm supposed to be sleeping in my room," I said for lack of any other explanation.

A tremble ran through me. I could feel the way my body wanted to respond to the moonlight. The wolf was stronger here; instincts whispered that it would be easier to protect myself in this unknown place as a wolf. I fought back against the urge to change form and pain rolled through me. I hunched over and my breath caught in my throat.

"Are you alright?"

Colors caught the corner of my eye. I glanced to the left and saw a form standing near a tombstone. My heartbeat slowed and I rose, the pain pushed to the background at the sight.

"A-are you a ghost?" The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

A look of disdain crossed her face. "I'm a girl," she replied.

Her voice cut through me with the force of a winter wind. I took a step back in the face of her anger.

"I'm sorry," I quickly replied. "I was mistaken. I-I think I've been sleepwalking."

She nodded. "You must have been to be out here." She looked around as if just realizing where we were. A slight crease formed on her brow. "To be honest, I'm not really sure why I'm here, either."

"How did you get here?" I asked.

She shook her head with a small lift of her shoulders. It was then I noticed why she appeared so strange. Instead of settling on her shoulders, her hair floated around her as though she was caught underwater. When she shook her head, the strands drifted back and forth like seaweed. It was unsettling and beautiful in the same time as though the moonlight that haunted me held her in a watery embrace.

"What's your name?" I asked to distract her from the worry I read on her face.

"Mezania Brown," she replied. She dropped into a curtsey like I had seen on old movies. "And who are you?"

"Finnley Briscoe, but most people call me Finn," I replied. I gave a little bow. It felt ridiculous. Bowing definitely wasn't my thing. I had never done it before, and given the humored expression on her face, I wouldn't be doing it again.

"It's good to meet you, Finn," she said.

"You, too." I wasn't sure what else to say to her. I was about to comment on something mundane like the weather when another surge of pain tore through me. I gasped and wrapped my arms around my stomach in an effort to stop it.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

I looked up to see that she had stepped closer, though when I looked at her feet, they were a few inches from even sweeping the tops of the grass in which I stood. I tried to make sense of it, but another surge of agony brought me to my knees. A cry escaped my lips as I fought back the need to phase.

Her voice was close to panic when she asked, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, unable to speak past my clenched jaw. Anything I did hurt. I closed my eyes tight, willing the pounding in my head to slow. Every surge of my racing heart sent more agony through me until I thought I would black out.

I couldn't fight it any longer. I released my control as tears squeezed from my closed eyes. The moment I gave in, the phase took over. My limbs pulled and changed, tearing my clothes away as they did so. I felt my chest deepen and my face change. The fur ran along my arms and back in a prickling sensation. I felt a tingling at the base of my spine as my tail grew. My fingers pulled into paws and fangs took over where my flat teeth had been, protruding further from my gums. My ears moved higher and my neck thickened.

I had no idea how long it took, but it felt as though only seconds had passed to leave me gasping on four feet instead of two, my head hung low and my bigger lungs pulling in massive breaths as I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I had changed form again.

A sound caught my ear. I took a breath through my elongated nose and let it out through my mouth; as I did so, I counted slowly to ten in my mind the way my stepmother had taught me to calm down. When I reached ten, I felt more centered and in control despite the fact that I was completely out of anything even remotely related to control at that moment. I lifted my head slowly and met Mezania's gaze.

She screamed.

I should have expected it, but for some reason I had hoped it would be different. I was standing in a cemetery that shouldn't exist behind a school that was apparently haunted; I had hoped I was still in a dream given all of the ridiculous facts, including the girl whose hair seemed caught in an ocean current and whose feet didn't touch the ground. Yet fear filled her blue gaze and made her hands tremble as she took several floating steps backward.

I wanted to tell her that I wouldn't hurt her, but the sharp whine that came out seemed to fuel her fear instead.

"D-don't touch me," she said, her voice shaking. "S-stay where you are."

I sunk to my stomach in an effort to show her that I wouldn't hurt her, but she continued to back away until she reached the closest headstone. When her back touched it, she spun around as if in fear that another wolf stood behind her. Her hair flowed with the movement, the black locks showing the purple of a raven's wing in the moonlight when she paused.

I thought she would feel better when she saw it wasn't another beast. There was a moment of pure silence in which even the crickets that had filled the cemetery with their night song kept quiet. But the stillness was broken by the tiniest catch in the girl's breath. She reached out a trembling hand toward the tombstone, then pulled it back before she actually touched it. A sob escaped her and she ran past the stone deeper into the cemetery. I watched her until she was out of sight. I couldn't hear her footsteps in the darkness. The thought made me wonder if her flight had made a sound at all.

I rose and padded slowly to the tombstone. It amazed me how natural it felt to walk on four feet. The feeling of the grass beneath my paws and the whisper of the breeze along my fur sent a thrill through me that I knew came more from the wolf than myself. I fought back the urge to bare my teeth and focused on the stone.

Maybe I should have been surprised to see the name Mezania Brown carved into the face of the gravestone that was nearly as tall as I was in my wolf form, but given the circumstances of the night, I think I expected something melodramatic like a flash of lightning or the howl of a wolf to coincide with the reading of her name. The silence that followed felt expectant, hollow, as if the lack of such heralds was almost a disappointment to whatever fate had led me to that moment. It almost made me lift my head and be the wolf who howled and sent shivers down the spines of any listening ears.

But I was the least dramatic person I knew. I had another urge, one nearly as ridiculous as the clichéd howling at the moon. I hesitated, humor lifting my lips in an expression I'm sure would have terrified anyone who saw it. I snorted and turned my back on the tombstone without peeing on it as the droll voice in the back of my mind had urged me to do. I wouldn't have appreciated a wolf or dog or anyone, for that matter, peeing on my grave, so I gave the girl the same respect. Whether this was a real situation or one my mind had conjured up during some very realistic dream, I was determined to maintain some semblance of humanity.

I turned toward the school just visible through the trees. It was the only familiar thing in the strange land. Even the scent of the trees and the moss beneath them didn't strike me as similar to anything I had ever seen. I had the strange feeling that even though I could see the school, I was further away than I knew. I broke into a run, pushing my wolven body far faster than I could run as a human. The unfamiliar form responded, stretching out and practically flying over the ground. It would have been euphoric if I hadn't been so terrified about where I was and the wolf form itself. Though I loved to run, I forbade myself from finding any enjoyment at doing so in such an effortless form.

I had no idea how I would open a door if the one to the Academy was closed. Fortunately, I reached the end of the trees and crossed the grass between the tree line and the school to find that the only door in sight was ajar. I nudged it open with my nose and padded inside. The thought that my wolf body wasn't even tired given the distance of the run pushed against my mind. I took a few steps forward and stared at the room in which I found myself.

Doors lined the wall on either side of the long room. There were at least thirty of them. Strange scents drifted from the cracks beneath them, tangling in my nose like an alluring tapestry that promised other strange locations. They stood tightly shut unlike the one I had just entered. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, the door behind me slammed shut with a bang loud enough to make me jump.

I loped through the room and out of the door at the end with my heart pounding in my chest. My tail had just cleared it when that door slammed closed as well. This time I turned with a snarl, hoping to tell whoever was doing it that I wasn't in any mood to be messed with.

Nobody was there, but when I glanced to the right, I realized I wasn't alone in the long, dark hallway.

A girl with pale skin and midnight black hair that fell past her waist stood near a small, winding staircase. She had her hand raised to her mouth and there was an expression of pure fear on her face as she stared at me.

I immediately dropped to my belly the way I had done with the ghost girl in the hopes of appearing less intimidating, but it was clear by her wide eyes that it didn't help. I could actually smell the sour tang of fear wafting from her. I stored the thought that emotions had scents in the back of my mind. I couldn't blame her for being afraid of my snarl. The ferocity had surprised me as well. I gave a soft whine for lack of anything else I could do and wagged my tail slowly.

To my shock, the girl's lips pulled back in a chilling rictus and a hiss escaped her. My heartbeat sped up at the sight of her elongated canine teeth. Along with the fear, I smelled a copper scent coming from her; my mind categorized it as blood.

Be afraid. The words of instinct whispered in my mind and sent a tremor racing across my skin. I backed up several steps, my muscles tense in case she attacked. Instead, she turned and fled up the stairs. Her feet barely gave a sound when she reached the top and disappeared out of sight.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. My muscles were so tight I had to will them to relax. I rose from my crouch with the awareness that my fur stood up on my shoulders and neck to make me look even bigger. I shook and felt the fur settle. The last thing I needed was to run into another student looking like some crazed animal from a nightmare.

I paused at the thought that I had no idea where to go. I could follow the path the girl had taken, but something told me that would be hazardous to my health. The scent of students filled the halls, some human, others something else entirely. They crossed every which way in a massive, confusing mess.

The unknown smells were concerning, but what worried me the most was that I couldn't locate my own scent. I had to have come that way given the single entrance to the forest. The fact that my trail was nowhere to be found made me feel entirely lost. I had to find my room. I couldn't exactly wander the halls spooking everyone I saw, and if my body decided to sudden change back to human form, I would be doing the wandering naked. I figured that would make me even less welcome at the Academy than I already felt.

At a loss as to where else to go, I padded slowly up the stairs. Silence met me on the second floor. The smell of highlighters, pencil lead, and the woodgrain of paper clued me in that classrooms occupied the majority of the floor. I turned and followed the girl's scent to the next level. The sound of snores and steady breathing met my ears. Relief that I had at least found some of the dorm rooms gave me the courage to walk down the hall. I hoped I could find which room was supposed to be my temporary one. The thought of spending the rest of the night in the hall made me pace faster.

I was almost to the end when the sound of footsteps made me pause. The slight rusted spring sound of a doorknob turning sent ice through my veins. I glanced around quickly, but there was nowhere to hide. I crouched in the hopes that whoever it was wouldn't see me, but missing the massive wolf in the middle of the hall would be nearly impossible.

A boy close to my age stepped out from a room three doors from where I waited. Stark white, mussed hair hung in front of his eyes and when he turned my way, he blinked and then shoved the hair out of the way as if it could have been at fault for the creature he saw.

"A-are you real?"

I couldn't say yes, and snarling hadn't exactly worked out well. Wagging my tail was apparently fear-provoking, and I doubted a howl would go over much better. I settled for the most innocuous sound I could think of. I gave a snort.

The barest hint of a smile touched the boy's lips and his pale eyebrows pulled together, creating a furrow between them.

"They said there would be a werewolf student coming. It created a bit of an uproar." His smile faded into an apologetic expression. "You are intimidating, but I suppose you can't help it."

I sat up, careful to keep my movements slow to avoid scaring him. I figured the fact that he hadn't bolted was a good sign.

"So why are you sitting in the middle of the hallway?" he asked.

I refused to whine. The sound would have been pathetic and the last thing I needed was pity. Instead, I just held his gaze with what I hoped was a not-so-intimidating stare.

"Oh, right. Wolf. I guess you can't exactly carry on a conversation," he said. A hint of red touched his cheeks. "Sometimes I can be an idiot." He paused, then said, "But maybe I can guess what's wrong. I don't know much about werewolves except...." His eyes lit up. "Moonlight! You're a wolf because of the moonlight, aren't you? You're stuck like that and you're trying to make it back to your room."

I snorted again and a grin spread across his face.

"Alright, I suppose opening a door is beyond your current pawed state, so show me to your room and I'll open the door for you."

I let my head hang with the dejection that filled me. I could only guess that I was the first student to ever get lost inside the Academy. Who misplaces their own room? It was ridiculous and embarrassing.

"You don't know where it is?" the boy asked.

I let out a breath.

"Well, you can't stay out here."

I wanted to point out that his ability to state the obvious was astounding. Luckily, my wolven state forbade me from completely destroying the only shred of friendship I had found so far at the school.

"There's an extra bed in my room."

I looked back at him.

He swallowed and said, "All of the rooms are doubles, but I have a hard time keeping a roommate."

The offer of a bed was more generous than I could have hoped for. Phasing into wolf form took a toll. Sitting there in the middle of the hallway, I found I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Despite the fact that he was a complete stranger, something told me that I could trust him. My other option was to try to get back out to the forest, but the thought of the slamming doors and strange corridors wasn't a welcome one.

I rose and walked toward him.

"Oh, okay," he said, backing up slightly. "Does that mean yes?"

I paused and gave a short nod.

"Ha!" he said. "If my parents could see me now; I'm communicating with a wolf! They might even be impressed."

He opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open behind him.

I followed him into the room, aware of how he took an additional step to place himself behind the door when I passed by.

It was clear by the crumpled blankets which bed was his. I climbed onto the other one and fell heavily on my side. The trickle of moonlight through the window brushed my paws. I pulled them in so the light couldn't touch them and glanced at the boy.

"The moonlight reveals our truth," he replied, giving the light a knowing look. He held out his hand so that it fell on his palm. To my surprise, his flesh disappeared to leave gray bones. He shut his hand and the bones curled inward. He pulled the limb back out of the moonlight and the flesh returned.

Since I couldn't do more than stare, that's exactly what I did.

The boy looked around quickly. I didn't know what he was searching for. He shut the door behind him and held out the same hand. "I'm Alden Grim."

He paused as if the name usually elicited some sort of reaction. I gave a snort at the proffered appendage.

He pulled it back and another blush of embarrassment showed on his cheeks. "Right. I guess you can't exactly shake, well, not in the human sense. Dogs can shake, right?" His eyes widened as if he realized what he had just said. "N-not that you're a dog. I mean no offense. I-I'm sorry."

A yawn escaped me, baring my teeth as my mouth opened so wide my jaw felt like it would crack.

To his credit, Alden didn't so much as flinch.

"Sleep, then," he said. "You'll hear the bell in the morning. Morning's better here; trust me."

I hoped he was right. My eyes shut against my will. He waited for a moment, then I heard him climb into his own bed. I wondered how long it would take for my thoughts to slow down enough for me to sleep. My mind drifted off before the question could take shape.
Chapter Four

A bell jolted me from sleep. I sat up so fast at the unaccustomed sound it took me a moment to realize that I wasn't wearing any clothes. I pulled the sheets closer around me and met the gaze of the boy sitting on the bed across the small room. The events of the night before hit me in a rush. I didn't know what to say or do.

Alden was already dressed, his black and blue school uniform buttoned up and his hair combed. He looked away as soon as he met my gaze.

"Sorry. I was wondering when you'd be up," he said. He rose and held out a bundle of clothes. "I hope you don't mind. My old roommate left these. He was taller than me, so I thought they might fit." He paused, then said, "Though I thought, given your wolf form, that you would be taller than you are. Professor Tripe said matter can't change mass, only form during a phase, so it must go somewhere." He gave me an expectant look as though hoping I would have an answer.

"I don't know what happens," I told him. "It's all new to me."

He nodded quickly. "Right. It's an age thing with werewolves, isn't it? That had to be quite the surprise, unless you were expecting it."

I shook my head. "Not really."

He gave a whistle. "I can't imagine how that went. Thinking you're human and then whoosh, you're a wolf. Crazy." He seemed to realize he was rambling and held out the bundle. "Here."

I took the clothes. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He nodded and hurried to the door. "I'll give you some privacy," he called over his shoulder. "Though if we don't hurry, the warlocks will eat all the breakfast."

I was left to muse over what a warlock was as I shrugged into the shirt and pulled on the pants. I wished I had shoes, but at least I wasn't naked any longer. The school uniform was worn but clean, even if it smelled slightly of dust.

I opened the door to see students rushing past. Several still wore pajamas and had mussed hair as if Alden wasn't the only one worried about missing breakfast.

"Thanks for the uniform," I told him as I followed him down the stairs.

"You're welcome. We'll get you some shoes and your own uniforms after we eat," he replied.

My stomach growled at the smell of maple bacon and sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, buttermilk pancakes, hardboiled eggs, hash browns, buttery grits, orange juice, and chocolate milk seasoned with cinnamon. My mouth was watering by the time I followed Alden through the door to the cafeteria at the far end of the first floor.

I forgot my hunger at the sight that met my eyes.

Rows of school lunch tables occupied most of the room. Students walked through doors to my right and came out carrying trays laden with food. Near where I stood, another set of doors contained the drop-off area for used trays, plates, and utensils. There, the similarities to my previous high school ended.

Students with green skin sat next to several who looked as though their hands, arms, and faces were covered in scales. Tables were filled with boys and girls with spikes instead of hair, along with horns, feathers, extra arms, tentacles, hair that looked like it was made out of flames, faces with double sets of eyes, beaks instead of mouths, and one who had eyes on the back of his shaved head. They blinked at me when I made eye contact.

"Come on," Alden urged, ushering me forward. "The warlocks will be here soon and then we'll be out of luck. They have huge appetites."

I followed him numbly through the door, was handed a tray by a boy with pink eyes, and shuffled behind Alden to food that looked boring compared to the men and women who served it.

"T-thank you," I mumbled when a woman scooped scrambled eggs from a bowl using lobster-like claws instead of hands.

At the next station, a man with oven mitts on several blue tentacles served grits, gravy, a sprinkle of cheese, and a slice of butter in a wave of utensils. His eyes narrowed and I realized I was staring instead of moving along like the rest of the students.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

I had no idea what else was put on my tray as I slid it along behind Alden's. I grabbed it and walked through the door at the end in a haze.

The moment I cleared the door, a hand slammed down on my tray, knocking it to the floor. I found myself surrounded by a group of students. The sight of their pale skin and piercing yellow eyes sent a chill down my spine.

The one who had knocked my tray from my hands glared at me. He appeared to be close to my age, but it was hard to tell for sure. His lips revealed elongated fangs when he said, "You're the one who scared my sister last night in the hallway."

I shook my head. "It was an accident. I wasn't trying to scare her."

He looked over his shoulder and I followed his gaze to the girl with the long black hair I had seen the night before. She stood near the furthest wall with her arms held tightly around her waist. She gave a barely perceptible nod.

"See," the boy growled. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me closer. "We don't like werewolves here."

A heavy scent of blood rushed across my face with his breath. The feeling of being in danger surged through me with a tremor of instinct that bade me to turn into wolf form.

"You're a threat here, weremutt," the boy said, his face inches from mine. "You can't stay."

I struggled to keep the wolf in check. Thoughts of tearing his throat open with wolven fangs longer than those I saw in his mouth forced their way into my mind. I closed my eyes, but the images became more pronounced. I couldn't hear anything beside his ragged breathing and the gurgle of my own breath past his tight hold.

"Attack me," he said, his voice now a taunting whisper. "Attack me and you'll be gone for good."

His grip tightened. I thought for a moment that my only option would be to phase and do as he wanted. But I had nowhere else to go. I opened my eyes and met his gaze. A hint of surprise showed in his yellow irises and I felt his grip release slightly.

"I'm staying," I said. "There's nothing you can do about it."

His eyes narrowed and he replied, "There's plenty I can do about it."

A hiss sounded through the others surrounding us before a calm voice said, "Mr. Ruvine, do we have a problem here?"

The boy released his hold and spun around so quickly I wasn't able to follow the movement.

"No, Professor Briggs. Everything is fine," the boy said smoothly. "I was just welcoming our newest student to our esteemed Academy." He gave a slight bow of his head and continued with, "I'll leave the rest of the welcoming of our new resident werewolf to your capable hands." The word werewolf came out as though it tasted bad. The boy threw a look over his shoulder that threatened worse things to come, then he strolled away with his friends.

His departure left me face to face with the professor who had rather convenient timing, all things considered. Though when I met his gaze, something in their dark depths said he wished he hadn't shown up at all.

He wore long dark robes that, if at any other location, would have made him the center of conversation. Yet in the low-ceilinged lunchroom which was silent far past the ability such a number of students should have had, it felt fitting to the point that the hairs rose on my arms. The robes clung to him as though they were a part of him, black and flowing with each movement; his smallest gesture sent ripples down their depths.

I followed the robes to the clasp at his neck. It was a raven's claw, cleverly designed to close around the cloth and hold it in place. From the clasp, I looked up into his face. He wasn't that much taller than my five-foot eight, but it could have been two feet of difference for the way I felt looking at him.

His eyes were hooded, their depths a brown so dark they were nearly black. It was the emotion in them that made me take a step back. Anger was clear in his gaze along with scorn. I didn't know if either was directed at me, but it felt as if he disapproved of my very soul, if I still had one. There was a scruff of black along his cheeks as though he hadn't shaved that morning. A deep, jagged scar marked his cheek to the left corner of his lip, pulling it slightly. The effect gave him more of a snarl than a smile.

"So you're the werewolf who has the Academy in an uproar," the man said.

The accusation in his tone made me want to drag my toe on the ground like a small child caught stealing. I couldn't decide if his statement required a response. Fortunately, I was saved by a familiar voice.

"Oh, good," Headmistress Wrengold said. "You've met Mr. Briscoe. I came to make introductions."

Professor Briggs lowered his voice for only the Headmistress to hear. "I am against this."

The Headmistress nodded with a smile. "Your reticence to add a werewolf to our student body has been dually noted, Professor Briggs. I assure you his presence won't be as disruptive as you fear."

Professor Briggs glanced at me as if aware I could hear their conversation no matter how quietly they whispered. His eyes narrowed and he turned away without another word.

The Headmistress appeared not to be bothered by his actions and faced me with a smile. She didn't need to raise her voice to be heard across the still-quiet cafeteria. "Students of The Remus Academy for Integral Education, please welcome our newest student, Finnley Briscoe."

Silence followed her words, but at her stare, a few mumbled welcomes and hellos followed. She gave an approving nod and turned back to me.

"I'm sure you'll find your stay here pleasant," she said as though she was welcoming me to a hotel overnight instead of the fact that my entire life had been uprooted. "Mrs. Hassleton has your room assignment, and—"

"Headmistress?"

We both turned at the small voice. Alden lowered his gaze at the sudden attention.

"What is it, Mr. Grim?"

A few whispers caught my ears, but when I looked back, I couldn't see who was talking.

"Could he stay in my room? He took the extra bed last night," Alden said. His voice wavered slightly.

The Headmistress' eyebrows rose as if the boy's words were a surprise. "Did he, now?"

Alden nodded. He shot me a quick look before he said, "And it was fine, really. There aren't any problems."

A smile touched the Headmistress' lips. She nodded. "I'm pleased to hear that. I'll inform Mrs. Hassleton to make the change." She watched me with an appraising light in her eyes as if I had exceeded some expectation. She gave another nod that made her gray hair bounce beneath her bright scarf and lifted her voice to say, "Have a good breakfast, students. I'm sure your professors are anxious for your classes to begin."

She left to a chorus of groans.

I bent to pick up my tray and utensils from the floor.

"I'll get you another tray," Alden said.

I carried my dirty one to the sinks.

"I'll take that," a boy with whiskers said. He turned away before I could thank him.

"I just want to know one thing," Alden told me when he met me at the door.

"What?" I couldn't help the flat tone.

"How did you already manage to make yourself the target of Haunted High's resident vampire coven?" he asked.

I followed his gaze to the group at the furthest table. They didn't bother to hide the fact that they were talking about me. A boy speaking to the one whose sister I had scared turned and shot me a glare that I could feel across the lunchroom.

"Luck, I guess," I muttered.

Alden gave a short whistle. "Keep it to yourself. Vicken's not one to mess with. He plays dirty."

"How so?" I asked.

He didn't answer as he took a place at the closest table. A few students at the end scooted further away. Alden appeared not to notice. It made me wonder if it was me or him they avoided. Either way, the same berth followed us down the hall to Mrs. Hassleton's office after we cleared our trays.

"Mrs. Hassleton?" Alden said from the doorway.

The woman was busy shuffling through a huge stack of files on her desk. The movement ruffled the clove she had sprayed heavily again everywhere. I couldn't stop a sneeze at the thick scent.

The woman screamed and backed up so quickly she upended both her chair and a large plant. She peered at us over the top of the stack breathlessly.

"You should warn a person before you sneak up on them," she said, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Then it wouldn't be sneaking up," I replied before I could stop myself.

Alden laughed, then covered his mouth at her straight look.

"What has brought you to my office again?" she asked in a tone that was almost accusatory.

"Finn needs his schedule," Alden said. "He doesn't know where to go."

"Oh, yes," she replied. She rummaged through another pile of papers behind the files. With her head hidden from view, she mumbled something that sounded very close to, "I know where he should go."

"Where?" I asked.

Her head popped up behind the pile again. Red spread across her cheeks and she forced a smile. "To Professor Seedly's first period class," she replied. She held out a paper with my schedule printed on it. "You better hurry, or you'll be late."

"Yes, Mrs. Hassleton," Alden said.

He elbowed me. I repeated, "Yes, Mrs. Hassleton," before I followed him out of the office.

"I have Seedly also," he said. "So that'll be easy. What other classes do you have?"

I handed him the paper and he scanned over it. "You have Briggs for second."

The thought of being in a classroom with the professor who had apparently been against my attendance in the school wasn't a pleasant one.

"Great," I said.

"But you've got Mellon for third. That's good. She's great at creature languages."

"Creature languages?" I repeated. "What kind of a class is that?"

"Being a werewolf, I'll bet you have a knack for it," Alden replied. "Especially the dragon tongue. It's the hardest."

I stared at him. He continued down the hall as if he had said something perfectly normal. I shook my head and told myself that perhaps dragon tongue was another name for pig Latin, though given everything else I had seen, he could have told me Professor Mellon was a dragon herself and I might have believed him.

"Tripe for fourth. You'll be in with me. It's a boring class with lots of memorizing, but lunch is afterwards." He continued with his eyes on the paper, "You've got Human Interactions with Manis, M.I. with Professor Rexus—"

"What's M.I.?" I asked.

"It really stands for Mythical Identification, but we call it Monster ID." Alden lowered his voice although most of the other students had already gone into the surrounding classrooms. "We're not supposed to use the monster word here, but everyone does. Just don't let a professor hear you." He glanced at the paper again and shook his head. "You're ending with Professor Briggs."

"Again?" I said, unable to hide my dismay.

Alden nodded. "You have him for Black Cat Philosophies. They usually don't put a student in with the same teacher twice, but maybe the others were full."

I accepted the paper unhappily. "Yeah, maybe they couldn't switch anything around since it's the middle of the school year."

Alden gave me what I could tell he thought was an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. We're partway through. Once the year is over, you'll have another schedule. Maybe we'll get more classes together."

"Maybe," I replied.

I followed him toward a classroom on the first floor. The scent of rich dirt and fertilizer touched my nose before we reached the door. He pulled it open and we stepped inside. I paused and stared.

Every type of plant I had ever seen fought for space in the classroom. It may have been quite a large room once, but with the amount of leaves, vines, trunks thicker than my wrist, and even cactuses interspersed among the other plant life, I couldn't tell where the walls were. The entire classroom had a greenish hue. Vines spread across the ceiling and along the entire far side of the classroom which appeared to be made of windows but were obscured by the plants. Small chirps sounded from the leaves, telling of feathered inhabitants living happily among the vegetation.

"I've never seen so many plants in one place," I said.

The moment the words left my mouth, every person seated on the chairs spread amongst the florae turned to look at me. I took a step back at the realization that I had said the wrong thing.

"Plants?" a voice rang out from somewhere among the trees in the back. "Did somebody say plants?"

"Uh-oh," Alden said under his breath.

"What did I do?" I whispered.

"Professor Seedly hates the word plant," he whispered back.

"We do not use that word in here," the voice rang out.

From between the vines stepped a man nearly as tall and thin as the trees in which he had been hidden from view. His white hair stuck out in every direction and leaves and sticks were caught in it so that he looked like a human bird nest. As if to confirm the thought, a small bird's head popped out from the top of his hair, gave a peep, and ducked back out of sight.

"We do not use that word in here, young man," he said, his light blue eyes showing his dismay as he stepped past the students toward us.

I had the impression he was more careful with the vegetation around him than the boys and girls who watched with smirks on their faces. This impression was solidified when he lifted a foot just before crushing a tiny purple flower. He pivoted and set his foot down on the foot of a girl with blue skin before continuing on his way, oblivious to the squeak of pain she gave at being stepped on.

"Who are you?" he demanded when he reached us. "And why do you clutter the aura of my garden with your obscene word choice? That is the name given by those who feel these delicate multicellular organisms have no feelings. It is the word they use to justify cutting down forests and trampling meadows and thickets for their own spreading overpopulation. It is the foul means by which they rationalize chopping down ancient topiary giants to put up apartment buildings."

"He had no idea," Alden began.

The professor cut him off with a sweep of his hand that I realized carried a sprig of mint leaves. The scent tickled my nose when the leaves brushed past.

"I need to hear it from him," Professor Seedly said.

I found myself craning my head to stare up at the tall, slender man. His eyes narrowed at my silence.

"I, uh, I apologize for saying p—uh, the word you don't want to be said," I correct quickly. "I'm new here and I had no idea." A thought occurred to me. "What word should I use?"

The professor's eyes widened. "No one's ever asked me that before," he said. He looked around the classroom and a smile touched his lips. "Let's ask them, shall we?"

I thought at first that he meant the other students, but he strode past them, stepping on several feet in the process before he paused at a row of bushes. He glanced back and motioned impatiently to indicate that I should join him. I followed his path with Alden behind me, careful to avoid both the feet of the students who watched us and the plants the professor had taken care to miss. Several students snickered when we made our way past while others whispered in groups. I caught the word 'werewolf' before they quieted.

"Hello, my fine ferned friends," Professor Seedly said to the bushes. "We've a new student here I would like to introduce because he has shown a surprising measure of moxy through his apology. Friends, this is...." He gave me a searching look.

"Finn," I supplied. "Finnley Briscoe."

"The werewolf," someone piped up on the other side of the classroom.

"The mutt," another said.

"Fleabag," a third supplied.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Professor Seedly said dryly. "Finn is name enough. Origins, races, and descriptions, whether proper or improper, have no place here." He paused, then said, "As long as you promise not to urinate on my pogonias."

Laughter rolled through the classroom.

The professor continued to look at me. I realized he was truly waiting for an answer.

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "I promise," I replied.

"To what?" he asked, tipping his head to one side.

I let out a breath through my teeth and said, "I promise not to urinate on your pogonias."

More laughter followed.

"Very well," Professor Seedly said. He turned back to the bushes. "Finn the werewolf would like to make your acquaintance and ask how you prefer to be addressed."

He paused as if listening.

I glanced at Alden, certain I was being made the butt of an even bigger joke than I realized. He kept his attention on the professor, his gaze one of respect.

"No, that may be considered rude in some countries. And your other suggestion is definitely not fitting for the ears of our young listeners," the professor said. "Try again." He was silent a moment, then nodded. "I suppose that will do. Thank you."

He turned back and addressed the classroom. "Our multicellular vegetational family have agreed upon the name Gerald."

Snickers followed but were silenced at his glare.

The professor's expectant look turned to me.

I cleared my throat and said, "P-pleased to meet you, Gerald."

Even Alden couldn't smother a laugh, but the professor gave a satisfied nod.
Chapter Five

"Pleased to meet you, Gerald," several students mocked as they passed us by on our way to the next classroom.

"I should just give up now," I said.

"Don't worry," Alden reassured me. "They'll forget soon. A sphinx student named Eggert was once trapped in the Neptune Horsetrap for two days before anyone found him. They nicknamed him Horsey." He paused, then said, "Though that's still what everyone calls him, so maybe I'm wrong."

"Thanks for that," I replied.

Alden pointed up the stairs. "Your next class is up there at B6. Creature Languages is at B21. I'll meet you in Tripe's after that."

"See you then," I told him.

I didn't realize how nice it had been to have a friend at my side until Alden was gone. I felt alone in a sea of students as I made my way up the stairs to the second floor. I knew it wasn't my imagination that they went out of their way not to touch me. Along the hallways and stairs, students bumped shoulders and brushed past each other to get to their next classes, but for me, there seemed to be an invisible bubble which nobody dared to cross. It made me feel out of place in the rush, a rock in a river. I stopped just to check and saw the bubble widen.

One student, a boy with long blue dreadlocks, was busy flipping through the pages of a notebook as he walked without looking down the hallway. Just before reaching me, he glanced up. His eyes met mine and they widened with something akin to fear. His face paled and he quickly stepped back into the tide of students to my left. I looked behind me and saw him delve into his notebook once more.

I found it strange that I missed the jostling and rush of fighting through the hallways at my last school. Headmistress Wrengold's introduction in the cafeteria hadn't done me any favors. Being just another anonymous member of the student body was something I had definitely taken for granted. Perhaps with a few weeks, they would be used to me; maybe by then I would feel like I belonged, too.

The moment I pulled open the door to classroom B6, I realized it might take a whole lot longer than a few weeks.

The classroom should have had windows by its placement along the east side of the building, but there was no hint of natural light in the room. Instead, candles flickered along the walls in sconces shaped like gargoyle claws. By the scent of smoke and wax, I could tell that the candles were real instead of the battery-powered ones my stepmother used for Sunday night dinner.

Students were already seated at the desks. Their heads were bowed and they wrote quietly in their notebooks, copying down whatever was written on the board at the front of the room. There was only one empty desk at the very front and center of the rows. I pushed down my nervousness and crossed quickly to it. Taking a seat, I looked at the chalkboard. The white chalk stood out in the dim lighting.

Witch Trials and Execution-

During the Valais witch trials, over two hundred witches were burned. Two-thirds of these were male. From 1581 to 1593 in the Witch Trials of Trier, three hundred and sixty-eight individuals were persecuted. Two hundred and fifty were killed in the Witch trials of Fulda in Germany. One hundred and fifty-seven were burned at the stake during the Wurzburg trials, followed by the Bamberg witch trials of around one thousand individuals. Seventy individuals were implicated during the North Berwick witch trials and brought to confession through torture. In 1675 occurred the largest witch trials in Swedish history, the Torsaker witch trails, which results in seventy-one individuals being beheaded and burned for witchcraft. During the Late Medieval period, over 40,000 individuals were executed through witch trials. Janet Horne was the last person executed for witchcraft in Great Britain in 1727. Twenty individuals were executed during the Salem witch trials.

The Parliament of the Kingdom of Great Britain passed The Witchcraft Act in 1735 which made it a crime for a person to claim that any human being had magical powers or was guilty of practicing witchcraft. Thus became the end point for the period of witch trials and the beginning of legal witchcraft.

"Do you assume that you can memorize the facts and dates for the test, Mr. Briscoe?"

Professor Briggs' voice sent a chill down my spine. I glanced over and saw that the dark shadow I thought filled the corner in the back of the classroom was actually the professor. He sat at a desk where even the candlelight appeared reluctant to touch.

"Facts?" I repeated, glancing at the board. "About witch burnings?"

"Of course," the professor replied in a haughty tone.

When he rose and walked toward me, my attention was captured by his strange gait. He limped severely on his left leg and used a short walking stick I hadn't noticed in the cafeteria to help with his balance.

"Or do you feel that learning about the torture and death of our ancestors is above you?"

He leaned over my desk. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I fought the urge to cringe away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't have a notebook or my other things."

"What did you do with them?" he asked, his gaze boring into mine. "I assume you didn't show up to school with only a poorly fitting uniform and no shoes in your possession."

Snickers ran through the classroom, but were silenced immediately at his sharp look.

I didn't know how to explain that I had sleepwalked out of my room the night before and still wasn't sure where my other clothes and my bags had ended up. If my quick meeting with Mrs. Hassleton hadn't been so strange, I would have remembered to ask her, but as it was, I felt completely off in every sense of the word.

"No, I...." I wouldn't tell him what happened and hear the rest of the class ridicule me again. I looked down at the desk. "I won't come unprepared tomorrow."

There was a pause in which I realized I could hear the rest of the students' quiet breaths, but the professor looming over me came across as silent as if he was holding his breath.

He took a step back and let it out with the words, "Mr. Varnes, lend Mr. Briscoe a piece of paper and a pencil for the day. He will return the favor if you are ever at a loss."

At the professor's look, I quickly nodded. "Yes, yes I will."

Professor Briggs' understanding caught me by surprise. For some reason, I had expected to be kicked out of class, or worse, sent to Headmistress Wrengold with perhaps a note to be dismissed from the school. By their conversation, it was apparent the professor had been against allowing me into the Academy. So why the change of heart?

I glanced at the corner and realized he was watching me with an unreadable expression. I grabbed the pencil the boy next to me had set on my desk and quickly wrote down the words on the chalkboard. After a sentence, the smell from the pencil began to make my nose burn. I glanced at the boy who had given it to me.

He was watching me with a curious expression, the corners of his lips drawn up and his gaze inquisitive as though he was waiting for something. I realized he had orange horns poking through his curly dark hair, and his eyes matched the same color of orange.

My nose hurt from the power of the scent. I dropped the pencil, but I could still smell it on my hands. I rubbed them on my pants. The boy started laughing. Sharp yellow teeth showed in his mouth when he opened it.

"What did you put on the pencil, Mr. Varnes?" Professor Briggs asked from the corner with a tone of long-suffering.

"Wolfsbane," the boy replied. "I just had to try it."

More laughter filled the classroom.

The burning in my nose was nearly unbearable. I pushed the pencil off my desk to the floor and breathed through my mouth. My eyes watered and I swore that my fingers actually burned where they had held the writing implement.

"Is that funny?" The tone of challenge in the professor's voice cut through the laughing.

I stared at the chalkboard, willing my tear-filled eyes not to betray me and make them think I was crying. I had never smelled anything so sharp in my life. Even the presence of the pencil on the floor was almost too much.

The sound of the professor limping toward the front of the classroom met my ears. I kept my gaze straight ahead in case he thought it was a hilarious prank as well.

"Where did you find the Wolfsbane, Mr. Varnes," the professor asked in a tone that was almost singsong with what I caught was forced lightness.

The horned boy next to me sounded confused when he replied, "In the far corner of Professor Seedly's outdoor garden, Professor Briggs. I heard a werewolf was coming and—"

"And you thought it would be a funny joke," the professor replied, cutting him off in the same tone.

"Well, yes and no," the student replied.

I saw Professor Briggs cross his arms out of the corner of my eye. "Explain yourself."

"We learned about Wolfsbane from Professor Seedly's Deadly Plants and How to Use Them class last year. He said he always kept some on hand just in case, and, well," I heard the boy swallow. "I figured that if a real werewolf was coming, it wouldn't be a bad idea to be prepared, you know, just in case."

"In case he goes on a rage-fueled rampage and slaughters students and professors without remorse?" the professor concluded in a voice so quiet I doubted the back half of the class heard it.

It shook me to the core to hear of such fears. "But I wouldn't—"

A barely perceptible shake of the professor's head stopped me. I gave him a beseeching look. I had no idea why anyone would think I could do such a thing. But Sebastian was dead because of me. The thought whispered through the back of my mind with a solemnity that gripped my heart.

"Mr. Varnes, how long ago did you pick the Wolfsbane?" Professor Briggs asked.

Frustrated by the change of subject, I opened my mouth to argue, but a flick of his finger made me shut it again. I slumped back in my seat, my nose burning, my fingers numb where I had held the pencil, and my jaw clenched against the protests I felt needed to be said.

"Yesterday, when I heard he was coming," the boy replied.

Professor Briggs gave a single nod of his head. "And did you wear gloves when you did this?"

"Of course," the student replied. "I'm not stupid."

"Where are you gloves now?" the professor asked in the same lightly curious tone.

I heard the boy's quick intake of breath and glanced at him. His face had paled, highlighting the sudden fear in his orange eyes.

"Go to Mrs. Hassleton's office and tell her you touched Wolfsbane. She'll give you the antidote," he informed the student.

The boy's chair screeched when it slid back. He practically fled from the room, his school books and book bag forgotten.

"That's a lesson to all of you," Professor Briggs said, raising his voice. "Don't lose your common sense when confronted with an opportunity to shield yourself from danger. Mr. Varnes' use of Wolfsbane may have been a valuable asset in protecting this school, but if it comes at the cost of his life, was it worth it?"

Silence followed his question.

I spent the rest of the hour staring at the board until the words no longer made sense. I could still smell the Wolfsbane from the pencil at my feet, and with the lack of pencil, I hadn't copied any more of the notes onto the paper. The lingering smell on the pencil lead from the few words I had written made me push the paper to the top corner of the desk. It was only the fear of drawing Professor Briggs' attention to me yet again that made me refrain from crumbling it into a ball and throwing it at the garbage can. Though he passed by my desk several times on his limping path in front of the chalkboard, I didn't focus on him.

By the time the bell rang, his words about witch burnings had become a muted dissonance in the back of my mind. My thoughts were instead captured by the morbidity of the statement he had made. Why would the students fear that I would go on a killing rampage? Why were there no other werewolves at the Academy? Was I truly the last, or was there another reason?

"Study The Warlock Treaties of 1875 for tomorrow," Professor Briggs said after the bell sounded.

I looked up at the movement of the other students as they gathered their books and notebooks before making their way to the door. When the last one left, I rose and walked to the back of the classroom where the professor sat at his desk with his head bowed and his focus on an ancient-looking book. I wondered how he could read it when the lighting at the back of the classroom was even worse than where I had sat at the front.

He didn't look up at my approach. I kept silent until I was afraid of missing my next class.

"Uh, Professor Briggs?"

The professor gave a quiet sigh before he lifted his head and said, "Yes, Mr. Briscoe?"

I looked down at my still-numb fingers. "Do I need to see Mrs. Hassleton and get the antidote like the horned boy?"

The professor's brows quirked and he tipped his head slightly to one side. "Did you think I was letting you sit there while the poison sank into your system? Perhaps as my own private form of eliminating the werewolf problem?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," I replied in a level tone.

The slightest hint of a smile touched the corner of his scarred mouth before it vanished. "Wolfsbane, despite the name, is poisonous to everyone but werewolves. That was a fact Mr. Varnes must have forgotten. You may hate the smell." He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"It's the worst thing I've ever smelled in my life," I confirmed.

He nodded. "Which is why Wolfsbane used to be slathered, carefully, I might add, across doorframes and window sills to keep your ancestors from growing too bold. Fortunately for you, the effects will fade and only Mr. Varnes will be left with the lingering reminder that while Wolfsbane smells bad to you, the taste of Mrs. Hassleton's antidote tonic is far worse." He winked, then said, "Trust me."

I caught myself staring at his unexpected civility. "I, uh, better get to class."

"Be careful who you make friends with," Professor Briggs replied.

I watched him closely. "I haven't made any friends except Alden."

The professor gave a single nod. "A friendship with a Grim is a lasting one as long as you stay true to it."

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I wasn't about to press what I took to be something other than loathing from the professor. I grabbed the piece of paper from my desk, gave the pencil on the floor a wide berth, and ran to the next room listed on my schedule.

The bell rang just before I stepped into the classroom on the second floor. Of course, that meant every head in the classroom turned to look at me when I opened the door.

"You must be Mr. Briscoe!" a woman with hair nearly down to the floor said.

"Uh, yes, I am," I replied.

An abundance of unusual scents assailed my nose as soon as I closed the door behind me. A variety of cages filled with animals took up the entire wall across from the students. I gave Professor Mellon a closer look and realized she was holding a fox in her arms. Its coat blended into her red hair. Beady black eyes watched me steadily as I crossed to the closest open desk.

"Wait," the professor said. "I've been waiting so long to try something." She motioned with her free hand. "Come up here, please, Mr. Briscoe."

Half-seated, I glanced at the other students. The girl on my right gave me a sympathetic half-smile. The one next to her nudged her and then glared at me. I rose and walked to the front of the classroom.

"Mr. Briscoe is The Remus Academy's first werewolf in twenty-five years!" Professor Mellon announced as though it was the most exciting news she had heard in a very long time. I caught eye-rolls and heard sighs from the other students as if they were as tired of hearing about the new werewolf as I was. "Does anyone know what that means?" she asked.

"That he smells like a wet dog?" someone from the back of the classroom asked.

"That our lives are in danger?" another said.

Hesitant laughter followed.

Professor Mellon gave me a warm smile. "Does he look dangerous to you?"

"Dangerously hot," a girl shouted from the back.

The laughter was freer this time and I felt my cheeks burn.

"Alright, settle down, students," Professor Mellon said. "If you don't give Mr. Briscoe your silence, this isn't going to work."

A boy with blond hair and red eyes raised his hand from the front row.

"Yes, Mr. Poe?" Professor Mellon asked with a patient smile.

"What isn't going to work?"

"This," the professor replied dramatically.

She picked up my hand and placed it on the fox. My first impulse was to take my hand back before the animal bit me. It bared teeth that showed bright white within its black muzzle, but no sound escaped its mouth.

"Stay calm," Professor Mellon said in a steady tone. "Close your eyes."

"What?" I asked.

That was completely the opposite of what I thought I should do. I had never been around an actual wild animal before, but closing my eyes while touching it didn't exactly scream self-preservation.

"Close your eyes," the professor urged again. "Trust me."

There was something about her manner that reassured me. I wondered if it was the same characteristic that kept the fox from removing one of my fingers.

"Okay," I said.

I closed my eyes, my instincts screaming for me to stay completely alert in case the animal so much as twitched an ear.

"Let down your walls," Professor Mellon said in the same steady, quiet voice. "Let him feel your wolf."

The sound of a few muffled laughs cut off quickly as though the teacher had glared at them. I kept my eyes closed mostly because I didn't want to see their mocking faces and realize I was the butt of some joke they played on newcomers.

I was about to withdraw my hand when the professor whispered, "Pull inward, like you're taking a breath, only through your fingertips."

The statement, said so quietly only I could hear, sounded completely ridiculous.

Any more ridiculous than a high school filled with monsters?

And I was one of those monsters. I had nothing left to lose. I pulled awkwardly, imagining air running through my fingertips into my bloodstream. At first all I could feel was the beating of my heart, the whispers of mocking in my mind which echoed those around the room, and the wolf that suggested I phase and run out the closest door and back to the forest.

Then I felt it.

There was the slightest stirring, a warmth that made my fingertips tingle. I pulled in again and the tingling increased. Images flooded into my mind. A forest pushed to the forefront of my thoughts, its trees and bushes lit in the same gray shades I saw through my wolf eyes. The perspective was lower. Bushes had tunnels that became avenues and holes that promised food and security. The memories rushed past of river beds, pouncing on mice, yipping at the moon, and a warm meadow full of waving purple flowers.

All of it was cut short by a tantalizing piece of rabbit meat left in the snow beneath an evergreen branch. No other smells told of danger; nothing triggered the fox's instincts. The winter had been harder than most. Foxes had become the target of owls and hawks since the rabbits and mice became scarce. The fox's stomach growled. It reached out and took a tentative bite of the meat.

A circle sprang up from the snow and tightened around the animal's neck. It leaped backwards, but the wire tightened until the fox couldn't breathe. It struggled until the world blotted out and everything went dark.
Chapter Six

"He couldn't breathe." I said the words before I realized I had spoken.

Silence pressed against me, the hushed whispers now stilled.

"And?" Professor Mellon asked in a calm tone that sounded as though it masked barely-concealed excitement.

"And when he awoke, he was in a cage." I opened my eyes and looked at her. "You took his voice."

She shook her head, her gaze sad. "That happened when he was trapped. The methods they used were inhumane."

"He should be free," I told her. The sentiment was echoed by the fox so strongly I had to fight back the urge to grab him from the professor and run to the door with the forest.

"He should," she agreed. "But he's not healed yet."

The fox moved his head, revealing bandages beneath his crimson fur.

"You're healing him?" I asked in disbelief fueled by the fox's fear. "Are you sure?"

"I'm doing my best," Professor Mellon replied. "Can you pass that to him?"

I shook my head. "I don't know how."

She smiled at me. "We'll get there. For now, it's enough that you know what you can do." She looked past me. "And that your fellow students know you are more than just an animal to be feared."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She gave me an understanding look and said, "You can take your seat now."

I lowered my hand with a pang of regret. The contact vanished and I found myself looking at just a fox again. Only he wasn't simply an animal any longer. He had feelings and fears, a life he wanted to return to, and a quest for freedom my instincts echoed from the confines of the strange school.

I slid into a seat and watched the professor place the fox gently into one of the cages.

"Was he soft?"

I glanced at the girl to my right and was surprised to find she was talking to me. She grinned when I met her gaze. Her eyes had slit pupils like a cat's instead of a human's.

"His fur was soft and a bit bristly," I replied.

The girl on her other side nudged her.

"Why are you talking to him?" she whispered.

"Because he's cute," the girl next to me replied.

I realized they had no idea I could hear them and had to duck my head to hide my blush.

"In that case," her friend said. She raised her voice. "How did it feel to talk to the fox?"

I looked around and found the entire classroom watching me, including Mrs. Mellon. I wasn't used to being the center of so much attention; at least for the moment, the attention wasn't negative.

"Well, uh, he didn't really speak," I began.

"Told you," one of the boys in the next row said. The others around him laughed.

"It took a little time for him to realize he could trust me," I continued, ignoring the laughter. "Then he began to send me pictures, memories, I think." I shook my head, still amazed that it had happened. "I saw the forest where he used to live as if I was there. I could smell the pine needles and the dew from the grass." The girl next to me gave a wistful smile. I kept my gaze on her as I said, "I watched him hunt as if it was me pouncing on mice and barking at the moon."

"Werewolf clichés," the boy behind me said.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face when I nodded at him. He had completely black eyes without irises or sclera; it was eerie. I wondered if he had dyed his hair purple to detract from the eyes. "Maybe they don't belong to only werewolves."

"Maybe," he said. He shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable that I was talking to him directly.

"Or maybe you're lying," the boy behind him said.

"Mr. Fray, if you can't say anything supportive, I'll have to ask you to leave," Professor Mellon said.

I turned to look at him. He was the one who had been calling out the entire time. My stomach rolled when I met his eyes and realized he was one of the yellow-eyed vampires from the lunchroom bully's gang, Vicken's Coven, as Alden had called them.

I hated bullies. So far, I hadn't done anything other than accidentally scare Vicken's sister to make myself their target. I wasn't about to be a pushover in a new school. The fear in his eyes when I held his gaze made me rise with a bravado I faked.

"I'll show you," I said. I crossed to his desk.

"Now you've done it, Lorne," the purple-haired boy said.

"Shut up, Jeppy," the vampire growled.

Lorne actually cringed away from me. I could hear the bated breaths of everyone around me. Did they actually think I would phase and tear the vampire apart?

I set a hand on the vampire's shoulder. He felt cold to the touch. He hissed and cringed even further, but I didn't let go. I closed my eyes and brought up the memories from the fox. I didn't know if what I was trying to do would actually work, but I had gone too far to go back now. That would give them even more to ridicule me about.

This time I pushed instead of pulled. I let out my breath and imagined the memories flowing down my arm with the breath. My fingers tingled and I felt the vampire's shoulder heat. His hiss cut off abruptly.

I saw the meadow again, the stars catching in the branches of the trees that swayed overhead in the gentle breeze. I could smell the flowers. My ears twitched at the sound of a cricket under a bush a few feet away. I debated whether to chase it.

The memory darkened and twisted. I felt my stomach rise in my throat as I plummeted through the air. My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I glanced at my brother in the rearview mirror and saw the terror in his gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian's head hit the side window when the car slammed into the water. The memory went dark.

"What was that?"

I opened my eyes. The fear on the vampire's face matched that of my brother's so identically it took me a moment to remember where I was.

"N-nothing," I replied. I dropped my hand from Lorne's shoulder and stumbled back to my desk. I slid into the seat.

"Did he show you what the fox showed him?" the vampire next to him asked.

"I don't know what he showed me," Lorne replied. His voice shook.

A hand touched my shoulder, jolting me from staring blankly at my desk.

"I would recommend starting slowly until you know the limits of what you can do," Professor Mellon told me. "It's hard to control such things unless you practice." The understanding on her face said she guessed at least some of what had passed from me to Lorne.

I nodded mutely.

She patted my shoulder and walked back to the front of the classroom. "Alright class, let's review what we've learned about grasshopper-fairy communication."

The sound of books opening echoed in my ears. The memory I had accidentally pushed at Lorne replayed again and again in my mind. My teeth clenched and my heart ached at the sight of Sebastian's arms floating in the water. I didn't notice the textbook Professor Mellon had set on my desk until movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.

I blinked and saw the folded piece of paper someone had set on the green and blue book. I picked the paper up and opened it with numb fingers.

Maybe you can show me what you showed Lorne sometime?

The note was signed Adalia.

I glanced at the girl with the cat eyes. She lifted her eyebrows in question.

I turned back to write a reply on the note, then realized I still didn't have a pencil. Adalia slid a pen onto my desk before I could say anything.

I wrote to the sound of someone reciting a passage from the book.

"And if the fairy uses his or her compulsion correctly, the grasshopper will obey any orders, including death."

"That's right," Professor Mellon said from the front of the room. "Now we can see why certain powers can have drastic consequences. What other creatures can use compulsion to control those around them?"

I don't think you would like what you saw, I wrote. I signed it 'Finn' and folded it up. Adalia glanced at Professor Mellon to make sure she wasn't watching, then took it with an eager smile.

I watched as her brows drew together. She glanced at me with a questioning look. I lifted my shoulders in apology. She nodded with an accepting but slightly disappointed expression and slid the note into her book.

"And the compulsion is even stronger if a warlock uses an item with the subject's DNA, like a toothbrush or a piece of hair," Professor Mellon concluded. The bell rang. She lifted her voice over the sound of chairs sliding back and books being closed to say, "Copy down paragraph four on page one seventy-five for tomorrow in both English and Fairy. I think you'll find the translation interesting!" She ended the last sentence in a sing-song voice.

I picked up my book feeling as though I was completely in the dark.

"How do I translate something into Fairy?" I asked Adalia as I followed her out of the classroom.

She smiled as if pleased I had asked her instead of anyone else in the class. "You missed the translations at the beginning of the semester," she explained. When we reached the hallway, she slid the bag off her shoulder and dug through it. She took out a small book with a yellow leather cover. "Here. This will help."

Her friend, who I noticed had cat eyes also, leaned against the wall on Adalia's other side and rolled her eyes. "Just use the translator online."

Adalia shook her head. "You know the translation's off, Melzie." she chided her friend. "He'll get screwed up that way."

Melzie shrugged as if she couldn't have cared less. "It'll be faster."

Adalia turned back to me with another shake of her head. She pushed the yellow book into my hand. "Translate it. Trust me. It'll be truer to the origin." She lowered her voice and said with a wink, "Fairy is like poetry. I think you'll find it tantalizing." Her teasing smile revealed pointed canines like the vampires', only shorter. "Find me if you need any help."

I stared after Adalia and her friend as they both made their way up the hallway. When they turned the corner out of sight, a shoulder bumped mine. I glanced over to find Alden grinning up at me.

"How'd you like Creature Languages?" he asked.

I slid the yellow book into my pocket. "Confusing," I said, thinking of the fox and the memories I had accidentally revealed to Lorne. "Being a werewolf is more complicated than I thought."

"What?" he asked with a chuckle. "Turning into a beast in the moonlight isn't enough for you?"

I shook my head as I followed him down the hall. "Apparently I have a lot to learn."

He waited as though hoping I would explain, but I didn't feel like admitting what had happened.

"Well," he said as the hallways emptied into the surrounding classrooms. "Being a Grim isn't all flowers, if you know what I mean."

I paused near the B5 door. The scent of formaldehyde that wafted underneath burned my nose. "I don't know what you mean," I said. I fought down the frustration I felt as I admitted, "I don't know any of this stuff." I waved my hand to indicate the school and my voice raised despite my efforts. "I'm jumping into the middle of a semester in a school where every class sounds like it's in a foreign language. If anyone else tells me to recite something in Fairy, I'm afraid I'm going to hit something."

A slight smile touched Alden's face.

"What?" I asked, embarrassed that I had lost my cool.

He pushed his white hair out of his eyes and said, "I'm just glad I'm friends with someone who understands how frustrating it is here." He glanced around as if to ensure we were alone. The hall had indeed cleared out. I could hear someone starting to take role in the classroom beside us. "Everyone has their group, you know? The vampires keep to their coven, the sirens have their flock. The nymphs hang out in their forest, and heck, even the merkids have their school."

"Merkids?" I repeated.

"In the lake," he replied. He shook his head. "But I don't have anyone. Not really." He gave me a shy glance. "Until I found you wandering the hall, I haven't had a friend here at Haunted High at all. Everyone's afraid of me."

I should have asked why they were afraid, but I was taken back by his honesty. I pushed my concerns away and smiled at him. "Well, Alden, I guess one good thing about my ignorance of monsters is that I don't know enough to be afraid. I'm just relieved you don't mind being seen with me."

"Are you kidding?" Alden said. "My best friend's a werewolf. What's cooler than that? I can't wait to write my dad."

I laughed and pulled open the door. "I'm glad that makes you happy."

We stepped into a classroom whose walls were lined with posters depicting skeletal unicorns, winged frogs, and a giant one on the back wall of what looked like a dragon diagrammed with identified parts that I had never heard of.

The bell rang as I took the empty seat next to Alden's.

A slender, blue-haired man at the front of the classroom started speaking without preamble. "As I was saying in yesterday's lecture before we were interrupted by the bell, if you dissect the seventh cervical vertebrae of the Equus unicornis, you will see that the humerus actually connects at both the scapula and the vertebrae, thus giving the animal greater stability in flight and allowing the biceps brachii a stronger attachment."

His droning voice appeared to lull the students around me into a trance-like state. Students stared off into space, doodled pictures in their notebooks, or tossed what looked like folded paper stars when the professor wasn't looking. The ticking of the clock above the door sounded like the ominous beating of a mechanical heart from a beast determined to slay us with sheer boredom.

One student had folded various creatures out of paper and was making them race across his desk. I searched for the strings or tape he was using to make them move, but couldn't see anything. I had the disconcerting notion that perhaps he was moving them with his mind. I told myself that was ridiculous and watched the paper races along with several other students.

When the bell finally rang, the desks emptied faster than if someone had pulled the fire alarm. Students raced for the door in a whirlwind of papers and pencils left behind as though in sacrifice to Professor Tripe who watched the fray with a mild expression.

"Finally," Alden said when we made it to the hallway. "I thought lunch would never get here. I need a lot of food to keep up this physique."

I glanced at him and grinned when he flexed a skinny arm.

"Don't worry. Lunch is always worth the wait," he assured me.

He was right. We sat down with trays of lasagna and salad with fresh rolls on the side. Even the brownie smelled amazing, and I usually didn't like chocolate. The detached, amused part of me wondered if that was secretly because I was part dog. I grimaced and turned my attention to where the other students were getting food. Vicken Ruvine's vampire coven pushed to the front of the line, but skipped the door Alden and I had gone through and went into another instead.

"What's in that door?"

Alden turned to see where I was looking.

"That's where the specialty foods are. Pigs' blood for the vampires, liquid compost for the nymphs, hay for the equine-inclined. You know, that sort of stuff. I'm sure if you need a raw steak once in a while, they'd be happy to oblige."

Vicken came back out holding a clear chalice filled with thick red liquid. The rest of the vampires followed close behind. I noticed that Lorne appeared paler than usual and wondered if he had told Vicken about my mess up with the memories.

Vicken's lips curled back in a snarl when a student nearly bumped into him. The vampire lifted his chalice and spun with the grace of a dancer in order to prevent losing a single drop of blood.

"S-sorry, Vicken," I heard the student stutter from across the lunchroom.

"You're lucky," Vicken replied. "If I'd spilled it, you'd be replacing it right now from your own veins."

The yellow-scaled student swallowed and hurried out of the vampire's way.

Vicken's eyes flickered to mine. His eyes narrowed with such hatred that my heart slowed. I lowered my gaze to the table, wondering how I had messed up so royally after only one full day at the Academy.

"Aren't you hungry?" Alden asked.

I focused on my half-eaten lasagna and shook my head. One glare from Vicken had been enough to destroy my appetite. At Alden's eager expression, I pushed the tray his way.

"Have at it."

"Thanks!" he said. He set the tray on his already finished one and dug in.
***

Human Interactions was as boring as it sounded. Professor Mantis looked just like her name suggested. She had long arms and legs and stood nearly nine feet tall. The extra joint in her arms gave her a folded appearance that made me cringe. Her large glasses amplified the eerie effect of the many small eyes that made up her two large ones. Unfortunately, the peculiarity of her appearance vanished the moment she opened her green-tinged mouth. A droning flow of words in nearly the same mind-numbing cadence as Professor Tripe came out.

"If you read last night's required reading, you saw that social media platforms indeed constitute a majority of the interactions between the current political parties. While their present views on racism don't apply directly to mythical creatures, we can assume that such views will continue to provoke discontent while also emulating similar opinions of the past. If we dissect the most recent public statement by the leading party, we can only assume that such discontent will grow. The current trend toward slandering opposing parties leads to social upset and unease...."

I don't know why I had hoped Human Interactions meant cool descriptions of men befriending dragons or finding out that the presidency of the nation was made up of vampires, but the continued recitation of the problems with human society felt like my political science class at my old school. I stifled a sigh and attempted to pay attention.

Fortunately, my sixth period class, Monster Identification, was much more interesting. I walked into the classroom in a mass of students who avoided so much as bumping elbows with me, and took a seat at the far corner of the front row. Slides had been put up on the projector screen. At first, they appeared to be simple pictures of blades of grass and leaves. It took me a few seconds to notice the tiny faces. I felt my eyes widen and I sat up, studying the photographs.

Within the blades, eyes peered back at me. It was as though the tiny people I saw were made of grass themselves. The photograph of leaves next to it showed the same thing. It was a picture taken from the ground and focused up at the leaves of a tree. The many shades of green became lost in the shadows of the thick canopy above. But as I looked closer, I saw tiny figures among the leaves, little faces with tiny green hands, wings in nearly the exact shape of the leaves, and green eyes noticeable only from the white of their sclera.

"Are those real?"

I hadn't realized the words escaped my lips until laughter came from the students around me.

A deep voice rumbled from the back of the room. "Now students, have empathy for our newest student who, if I'm assuming correctly, was unaware of mythical society until just a few days ago."

Until yesterday, I thought.

I turned to see a huge man make his way between the aisles. He was built like a bear with thick shoulders and a broad chest that threatened to tear the seams of the pressed brown suit he wore. He nodded at students as he passed, bringing attention to the sweeping black horns that sprouted thickly from his forehead. When he gestured, I realized his hands were cloven black hooves. The marker he held was jammed in the cleft, threatening to fly off with the next movement.

Professor Rexus paused by my desk and smiled down at me with curiously flat teeth. "Am I right?"

"Y-yes," I forced out. "You're right."

He nodded, barely missing me with his huge horns. He lifted his head to address the class and waved his hoofed hand with a flourish. "So, you see, class. You should never assume that questions are as simple as they seem. Mr. Briscoe here obviously didn't know about the presence of the fernies. You can't make a joke of ignorance, you can only strive to correct the problem."

"I beg your pardon," a voice said from the back of the classroom.

The sound of Vicken's voice set my teeth on edge.

I heard a stifled sigh from the professor before he said, "Yes, Mr. Ruvine?"

"You said can't, Professor," Vicken replied with mocking innocence in his voice. "You mentioned that you can't make a joke of ignorance, but that's wrong. You can joke about the fact that Finn the weremutt is ignorant of our world because it's humorous. Why didn't his parents fill him in on his origins, or were they embarrassed to have such a creature for a son? I would be." He paused, then said, "Perhaps his origins are more along the side of werewolf rape and bastardism than he wants to admit."

I gripped the corners of the desk so hard the wood began to crack.

"Mr. Ruvine, that is enough," Professor Rexin said in a tone that echoed around the room.

The wolf inside me surged, trying to force its way free.

"Just the same," Vicken continued, "I saw the names of the board who protested the weremutt's admittance into this school, and yours was one of them. Don't you feel that this is yet another sign that he doesn't belong here?"

I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth, counting to ten in my head as I did so. The truth of Vicken's words were revealed in Professor Rexin's brown bovine eyes when he looked back at me.

"I have my own ignorance to overcome," the professor said by way of apology. He looked back at Vicken. "But that doesn't explain why you saw confidential forms."

Vicken lifted his shoulders in a cocky shrug. "I know people."

"You'll know the Headmistress even better after you go to her office and explain that you were snooping into things that don't concern you," the professor replied.

Vicken's face darkened with anger and he rose to his feet. "You can't do that."

Professor Rexin held his gaze. "I just did."

Vicken grabbed his books and stalked to the door. He paused and glanced back at me. "You'll pay for this," he threatened.

The professor stepped in front of me, breaking the vampire's view. "You did it to yourself, Mr. Ruvine. I expect a report from Mrs. Hassleton before you come back to class."

Vicken's angry stride echoed in my head long after the door shut.

"Welcome to Mythical Identification," Professor Rexin said when he turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "Hopefully the rest of class will be a bit less eventful."

"It will without Vicken here," Jeppy, the purple-haired boy from Professor Mellon's class, said.

"Don't let him hear you," the girl next to him warned.

"I'll say it to his face," Jeppy replied, but his words carried less confidence.

"I'd recommend working on peace instead of confrontation," Professor Rexin told him. He turned his attention to the class. "And now, let's work on identification of the Plantae Familia, specifically of the Poaceae or Gramineae. As you can tell," he said, giving me a wide smile. "There is more to grass than you ever imagined."
Chapter Seven

I slumped in my seat in my seventh period class convinced that I would never get the hang of being a student at Haunted High. The entire world I thought I knew had entirely turned on its head. I felt as though I had lived my whole life in a safe little box. Now that box had been dumped out, leaving me in a world filled with real-life monsters complete with claws, fangs, and a thirst for blood or other even more sinister traits. It was terrifying and unsettling. I wished I could go back to before the accident when Sebastian was still alive, my life made sense, and the word 'werewolf' belonged to horror movies and young adult books.

"We have a new student in class."

I heard Professor Briggs limp toward the front of the classroom. At his words, I felt the expectant stir of the students around me and cringed inwardly. Professor Briggs stopped next to my desk in a swirl of his raven robes.

"Mr. Briscoe, welcome to Black Cat Philosophies."

"Thank you," I mumbled. I was tired of being introduced as the new student.

"You don't sound thrilled to be here," Professor Briggs said in a tone tinged with dark humor.

I lifted my gaze to him. His dark eyes glittered in the dim lighting he apparently preferred. "I'm beginning to think being the new student isn't all it's cut out to be."

The ghost of an actual smile lifted the corner of his scarred lip. "It's about to get even better, Mr. Briscoe. You see, you get to answer the question."

"What question?" I asked. I could hear my own impertinence, but couldn't help the lack of patience I felt after the extremely long day.

"Ask the wolf!" the girl to my right said.

She had chin-length straight black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to glow in the candlelight when she looked at me. Her fingernails were black, her lipstick was black, and even the blue of her black and blue uniform appeared subdued.

"He's a werewolf, Lyris," the girl on her other side correct.

"So you say, Dara-empath," the girl next to me replied. She turned her gaze to me again with a flick of her chin that made her hair brush back and forth. "But there is a difference between a wolf and a werewolf, isn't there, Finn-wolf?"

I was caught off-guard by the question. "I-I don't know," I replied.

She nodded as though my answer met her expectations. I sighed inwardly, sure I was the butt of yet another joke, and turned back to Professor Briggs.

"What's the question that I'm sure I don't have the answer to?"

He lifted his cane to indicate the room. "This is Black Cat Philosophies, so the question is fitting. Why does a cat land on its feet?"

I thought the question would have something to do with the supernatural or the mythical or monsters, or whatever the people around me classified themselves as. The fact that it involved a normal cat caught me by surprise. I thought quickly.

"To keep from landing on its back."

"Wrong," Professor Briggs replied. He limped past my desk to the chalkboard and underlined 'The Incrimination of Hester Lyman'. "Let's continue our discussion on why the author of Lyman's book actually admitted to her werecat abilities by using Hester as a scapegoat."

The fact that he had stated my answer as wrong without explaining took me by surprise. I was about to raise my hand and ask, but the knowledge that he was probably waiting for me to do just that made me clench my hands into fists and keep them on my lap to avoid drawing yet more attention to myself. At the end of class, I rose with the rest of the students and made my way to the door, more than ready to be done with my first day and maybe the last at the Academy.

"Mr. Briscoe, wait a moment."

I paused at the door and watched the rest of the students leave.

"Don't worry, Finn-wolf," Lyris said when she and Dara passed me. "Professor Briggs-warlock isn't as scary as he seems."

"That's what you think," Dara replied. She let the door shut behind her when they left the room.

I took a steeling breath and turned.

"You have a question," Professor Briggs stated from his seat at his desk.

"You asked the question," I reminded him.

"Ask what's on your mind," the professor said. Instead of the annoyance he had shown when I interrupted his reading earlier, he appeared to have all night to give his maddening interrogation.

I couldn't ask Lyris' strange question about the difference between a wolf and a werewolf; it felt too close to home. I wondered if I even wanted to know. Instead, I asked the next one. If Lyris had identified me as a wolf and Dara as an empath, whatever that was, she had also called the professor a warlock. It was worth asking. "What's a warlock?"

Professor Briggs sat back in his seat. My eyes took on the grays of a wolf to make out his expression in the darkness. His gaze was flat, guarded. "It depends who you ask."

I crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame, unwilling to give up the proximity to my escape from the exhausting school day. "I'm asking you."

His eyebrows rose and his lips twitched just enough to indicate humor. "You're different than this morning. Maybe there's a bit more bite to your bark than I imagined."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm tired of werewolf jokes."

"You're a werewolf. Get used to it," he replied. At my silence, he said, "Warlocks are the male version of witches like Lyris. We each have an ability or affinity to something. Lyris identifies the true nature of others. She can't help it. It may even put her in uncomfortable situations, but that's what she does. It is ingrained in her being."

"What do you do?" I asked. My audacity amazed me. I felt as though I was at the breaking point. If I didn't get some answers that made sense, I was going to snap. That scared me more than anything.

"You mean besides trying to get our only werewolf student kicked out before he's even had a chance to attend our glorious Academy?" he asked.

"I'm not sure you're wrong," I replied. The honesty of my words made the pit in my stomach deepen. I held my arms so tight they hurt, but I didn't let go.

I watched him study me and still I waited. I felt drawn taut like the strings of a violin. My muscles twitched.

"You're too hard on yourself," the professor finally said.

There was something in his gaze as he watched me. It was as though he understood me. But if that was the truth, why did he let me stand there instead of banishing me from the school the way he had tried to before I entered?

"I shouldn't be here."

"You've been admitted as a student," he replied, his voice level.

"They don't feel safe with me here," I said. I clenched my jaw so hard after admitting the words that I felt like my teeth would crack. "I'm dangerous."

My words hung in the air like a fog, thick and cloying, forcing their way into the memory I hid from, tangling about me with unforgiving claws that seared into my mind and made my eyes burn.

"Come here."

I crossed the space between us with heavy footsteps until I reached the desk in front of the one where he waited. He tipped his head to indicate the chair. I turned it around and sat facing him.

He was quiet for a few minutes. I heard students walk past the classroom and to the stairs, hundreds of footsteps unconcerned with what went on behind the closed door. Still I waited, wondering if I had finally said what would get me kicked out. I didn't know if I wanted to return to a life where none of this existed. The thought scared me and beckoned to me at the same time. I barely dared to breathe. I was afraid of hearing the professor seal my fate.

Professor Briggs finally said, "Lyris can see the true nature of someone. My ability is similar. It's more exacting and less, depending on how you look at it." He tipped his head, his gaze intent on mine. "I can smell the amount of good or evil in a person."

My heart slowed. It took all of my willpower to keep my eyes on him when I said, "With me here, you must know how Wolfsbane smells to a werewolf."

He watched me in silence for so long my muscles hurt from the tension that filled them. He took a deep breath. From the look on his face, I knew he was aware of the fact that I could hear him pull the air through his nose. He held it in for the space of several seconds before he let it back out.

"I keep checking," he said, his words quiet. "I keep testing because I was sure what I would find."

I lowered my gaze to his desk. "If I can find my things, I'll have my father meet me out front."

"There's no evil in you, Finn Briscoe."

I stared at him. His words made no sense. "But I killed my friend," I said. I shook my head. "He died because of me. I'm a beast, a killer." I blinked back a sudden burn of tears. "And they're afraid I'll do it again."

"Finn." The way he said my name made the burning slow. "Finn, you carry a heavy burden on your shoulders." He shook his head, his long dark hair brushing his cloak. "I don't know what you went through to get here, but I know for certain that you are a good person."

I willed myself to believe him. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to believe; yet I knew what I had done. I had heard Sebastian's head slam into the window when the car hit the water. It was my fault. He would be alive if it wasn't for me. I should be dead and he should be home with his family.

"You're wrong," I told him.

Professor Briggs shook his head again while still holding my gaze. "A warlock's ability is never wrong."

"It is this time."

His eyebrows drew together. "You maybe believe that whatever happened is your fault, and maybe it is. But that doesn't make you a bad person."

I drew a shuddering breath and shook my head, unwilling to believe him.

"You're supposed to be here," he said. There was a wryness to his tone as though admitting it was hard for him. "I tried to keep you from coming here, and I've looked for any excuse to get rid of you, but you haven't given me one." He leaned forward. "Finn, you're supposed to be here. Don't give them a reason to kick you out."

I couldn't speak past the tightness in my throat. Instead, I nodded with my jaw clenched.

Professor Briggs nodded back. Something changed at that moment. Instead of scrutiny and suspicion, his critical gaze relaxed. He sat back and linked his fingers in front of his chest. "You're going to have a rough time of it, but you can prove it to them. There are plenty of people here who would happily see you thrown out to never return."

I studied the desk in front of me. "I thought you were one of them."

"I was. Before. I won't be a part of the efforts to remove you any longer," he said.

I looked up at him. "I don't believe the lack of evil in my scent is enough to change the hatred I saw in your eyes in the cafeteria. So before what?"

His answer was something I desperately needed. I reached for what would come next as if it was a lifeline.

He let out a breath. "Before I realized you were just another kid who doesn't have a place in this chaotic world." He met my gaze. "I was that kid, Finn. I know how it feels. Don't let them win. Don't take the easy way out. Fight with silence; fight with control. Don't let the wolf take over completely. Promise me that."

I asked the question that had haunted my steps ever since I walked into the Academy. "What is everyone so afraid of?"

The professor's eyes closed. When he opened them, the sorrow in his gaze ate at me.

"You aren't going to like what you're about to hear."

"I figured as much," I replied. I was close to the answers I needed. No matter how hard they were to hear, I felt like they were pivotal to whether or not I stayed.

Professor Briggs spread a hand out on the dark wood of the desk. I noticed that the back was marked with white scars. "Do you know anything about your uncle?"

Surprised by his train of thought, I said, "Uncle Mark comes to visit sometimes with Aunt Tabitha. They—"

Briggs shook his head. "No. From your mother's side."

"My mother didn't have a brother," I replied, confused.

The professor's hand clenched into a fist that drew the white scars taut. "That's what they told you?" His voice sounded strained.

I felt as though I had given a wrong answer, even though it was the only answer I knew. I ran a finger along a wear mark at the knee of my pants to distract myself when I said, "She died when I was four. Dad didn't talk much about her except to tell us how much she loved us. All I know is that if she had any family, we were never told about it and they made no effort to visit."

Professor Briggs fell silent. I counted his heartbeats to twenty-five before he said, "I think this is a conversation for another time."

Anger filled me. I couldn't help glaring at him when I said, "Everyone around here avoids me like the plague. It's as if they're afraid of catching werewolfism or whatever it is I am as if it's a virus, and all I hear is how all the students are afraid I'm going to tear them apart." It was my turn to clench my hands into fists. "I'm sick and tired of being judged before I've even had a chance to do something wrong. What is everyone so afraid of?"

The professor held my gaze. He didn't look away until I sat back, my chest heaving and my adrenaline flowing so that I felt the wolf pushing through my veins. I willed my heartbeat to slow, but I still glared at him. I wouldn't leave until I had an answer.

"They told you your mother came here," the professor said as more of a statement than a question.

I nodded. "My dad told me."

The professor gave a slight smile that contained a hint of wistfulness. "Silvia Roe was beautiful, smart, and captured the heart of nearly every boy at Haunted High." His smile deepened with embarrassment. "Including mine. We were the same age. I stared at the Academy shortly after her. She was so kind to a warlock with no friends and no idea what he was doing. We quickly became good friends."

I stared at him, amazed to hear about my mother from before my parents were married.

"There were professors saying that she would be the next Headmistress of this Academy, if she chose to. She was that loved here." His smile faltered. "But Conrad changed all of that."

"He was my uncle?" I guessed.

Riggs nodded. "He was Silvia's older brother, two years her senior. He had a hard time learning to control his wolf side. All of us tried to help and the professors did they best they could, but one day, he just snapped."

I heard the professor swallow. His eyebrows pulled together and his gaze took on the cast of one who saw things in the past as they were happening. His voice lowered, speaking in a haunted cadence.

"We were sixteen. Conrad would have been eighteen. He was supposed to graduate that year. I think the thought of leaving Haunted High was too much for him." Briggs closed his eyes. "A bunch of us were heading downstairs to breakfast when we heard a scream, then another." His voice caught when he said, "I heard Zanie call my name and I took off running." He shook his head without opening his eyes. "I turned the corner and there was blood everywhere. Conrad stood in the middle, no longer a wolf or a man, but something in-between. Professors were trying to save the students. The Headmaster's body was torn in half. Zanie lay next to him, her stomach a bloody mess and one hand missing."

He fell quiet, lost in the memory that held me in a grip so tight I could barely breathe. When I thought he wouldn't say anything else, he let out a shuddering breath.

"Silvia came up behind me. I heard her gasp. She called Conrad's name. When he...when he looked at us, there was only animal fury in his eyes. Conrad was gone; the beast he had become charged at us. I yelled for Silvia to run and I attacked him."

I saw his scars in a new light. I wondered if the jagged scar down his face and the lines on the back of his hand told of greater scars beneath his robes. I guessed that his limp had something to do with the wounds he had received that night, but I knew better than to ask.

"I killed him." The admission seemed to take a great deal out of the professor. He set an elbow on the table and rested his forehead on his palm. When he tipped his head to look at me, his eyes shone wetly in the candlelight. "I killed Silvia's brother to save her life. I nearly died."

I knew by the darkness in his eyes that the three simple words held far more pain than he expressed. I didn't know what to say or do. I felt responsible for reasons I couldn't explain.

"What did my mother do?" I asked quietly.

"She left." The professor's gaze remained on the desk. "She left and never returned. Now, twenty-five years later in walks her son with his mother's green eyes and a forwardness so like her it makes the past I've tried impossibly hard to forget come knocking again."

"That's why you didn't want me here," I said, my voice heavy with the realization.

"It wasn't fair of me to put that on you," the professor replied.

I pulled a string from the tear at my knee. "There were no more werewolves after Conrad."

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. "Those few that were left were dismissed by the Headmaster's wife when she took over the role. I think she did it for the right reasons, and when we stopped hearing about werewolves, it became easier not to ask."

"Until my father called."

He nodded.

I sat back in my chair. I couldn't explain why I felt so guilty. I hadn't been the one to kill students and teachers. I hadn't given Professor Briggs his scars or slain Headmistress Wrengold's husband. Yet I felt responsible for the actions of a relative I had never known. It didn't feel fair, yet the burden was mine to carry.

My voice was quiet when I said, "I promise to keep the wolf under control."

"I know," Professor Briggs replied. "You're stronger than your uncle."

"How do you know?" I asked, looking at him with a new worry I hadn't carried before.

"Because you are your mother's son," he replied.
Chapter Eight

I walked out of the room with a heavy heart. As I made my way toward the stairs, I stared down the hallway without seeing it. It wasn't until I put my foot on the first step that I realized I wasn't alone. A hand grabbed my shoulder with a strength that warned I shouldn't resist.

"You're coming with us," Lorne said in my ear.

They pulled me into the now-dark cafeteria.

Vicken waited with his arms folded and a solemn look on his face.

"I didn't know you were sentimental," I told him when Lorne let me go. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of the vampire coven block my chance at escape.

Vicken's unsettling yellow eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"This is the first place we met," I reminded him. "You were angry about your sister." I made a show of looking around. "Is she here? I'm sure she'd like to see who she should really fear at this school."

He moved so fast I could barely see him. His hands slammed into my chest with such force that I hit the wall behind me. I slid to the floor in a seated position. He was on top of me before I could move. He grabbed my uniform shirt and picked me up so that my feet couldn't touch the ground.

"Don't you dare mention my sister," he growled.

I pretended not to by shocked by the speed and strength of his actions. The wolf inside me warned that I was outnumbered and far over my head on this one. It struggled to break free, for me to defend myself and take out as many of them as I could along the way. I gritted my teeth against the urge and fought to break Vicken's choking hold.

"Fight me," he said. "Fight me and prove that you're another animal like the last werewolf." His yellow eyes flashed as he looked up at me. "Prove that letting werewolves into Haunted High again was a bad idea and that your kind isn't to be trusted." His grip tightened. "Prove that I'm right."

I struggled to draw in a breath, but my shirt collar was so tight it shut off my windpipe. I kicked the vampire's legs, but he merely laughed.

"Come on, weremutt," he challenged. "Show me what you've got."

I clawed at his hands, but he merely tightened his grip. He pulled me closer to his face and said, "Give in."

I shook my head. Dark spots danced in my vision.

Vicken shook me, hard. My head wobbled on my neck like one of those figures they sold at comic book stores.

He pulled me close again and said, "Alright, if you won't turn into a wolf of your own will, I'll beat you until you have to turn."

He hit me in the stomach and then threw me against the brick wall with full force this time. My head rebounded off the bricks and I bit my tongue. When I hit the ground on my knees, I tasted blood.

"Like that, weremutt?" Vicken demanded.

He kicked me in the ribs. I doubled over and saw drops of blood from my mouth hit the ground.

"He's bleeding," one of the vampires said.

There was a feral hiss to the vampire's voice. I glanced up to see the boy lean close. He drew back his lips to reveal that his fangs had gotten even longer. There was an animalistic light in his yellow eyes.

A hand grabbed him around the throat and shoved him back.

"Don't drink blood from a werewolf," Vicken spat. "Haven't you learned anything?" He glared down at me. "They're practically dogs. Do you want that in your veins?"

"No," the chided vampire said; his head hung in shame.

Vicken kicked me again so that I rolled onto my back.

"You see that," he said with a sneer. "Even your blood isn't worth anything. Give up, Finn. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

My head hurt, several of my ribs were at least cracked, and every time I breathed the air rattled through my bruised throat. I couldn't remember ever hurting so badly in my life. It would have been a good reason to leave, if not for my conversation with Professor Briggs.

"You are your mother's son." His words echoed in my head along with the ringing in my ears and the flashing lights behind my eyes.

I clenched my hands into fists and glared up at the vampire. "I'll never give up, Vicken. Ever."

A cold fury washed over the vampire. His hands clenched like mine, but instead of hitting me again, he straightened.

"You'll wish you had," he said. He turned his gaze to the other vampires. "Make him regret his words. He'll phase into a wolf if he gets close enough to death."

My sight of Vicken was lost in the vampires who swarmed over me. Boney knuckles pounded my back and shoulders. A diet of blood didn't give a vampire much padding. Feet kicked without mercy, and even though I curled into the fetal position with my arms over my head to protect it from the worst of the blows, my head was still battered against the floor.

I bit my tongue to keep myself from crying out; I didn't want to give Vicken the pleasure of hearing me in pain. Yet towards the end, when tears leaked from the corners of my tightly shut eyes and my thoughts came from some fuzzy place in the center of my mind, gasps escaped with my breath, betraying me.

"Phase, werewolf," Vicken taunted near my ear. "Phase and it'll all be over."

Over for them. The growl in my mind promised a toothy way to end the punishment I didn't deserve. It sent images of tearing the vampires apart, tasting their blood, strewing them across the floor. The wolf inside me gnashed its teeth, fighting to break free. A moan left me as I fought back. I told myself that Vicken didn't know what he was doing, that he would regret it if I phased.

He would definitely regret it.

I shuddered. The cafeteria floor was slick with my blood. One of the vampires slipped when he hit me and fell onto his back on the floor. The others laughed as though it was a big joke. The beating continued. I felt my control slipping. A growl sounded in my chest even though I fought to hold it back.

"That's it," Vicken said with triumph in his voice. "Keep it up! Hit him harder!" He snarled when he said, "Break him."

"What are you doing?"

The quiet voice didn't hold any of the shock I felt pertained to finding a coven of vampires trying to beat a werewolf into submission, or kill him. It felt more like the latter at the moment.

"None of your business," Vicken replied. "Leave, if you know what's good for you."

"You know better than to threaten one of my kind," the voice replied.

She sounded familiar, but I couldn't be sure past the dull rushing in my ears.

Whoever she was, her words seemed to have an effect. The kicking and punching slowed, then stopped entirely.

There was a moment of silence, then Vicken said, "Let's go. If he kills you, it's what you get for interfering. And if he dies, then I'll consider it a win."

I felt their footsteps through the floor. The sound of the cafeteria doors shutting sounded strangely muffled to my battered ears.

"If the word monster applies to anyone, it's them," she muttered. I heard her kneel. A hand touched my head. "What have they done to you, Finn-wolf?"

The way she said my name took me back to our conversation in seventh period. The name Lyris surfaced in my mind with some effort. I tried to reply, but the pain of sucking in the air it took nearly sent me over the edge.

"Hold on," she said, her words soothing. "What does Professor Tripe always say? Blood for the hollow fanged, sunlight for wielders, moonlight for those of werekind, and save the water for herb inclined." She said it in a singsong rhyme that sounded ingrained. "We'd better get you outside," she concluded.

She ducked under my arm and tried to lift me. The pain sent me back to the floor. I held my broken ribs and tried to remember to breathe. I had never needed to work so hard to do so.

"Finn-wolf, stay awake," Lyris said. Her voice was tight with concern now that the vampires were gone. I had to give her credit for holding up such a stalwart front with Vicken. That couldn't have been easy. "I'm going to get help. Hold on for me."

I lost track of time after the sound of her running footsteps faded away. I tried to open my eyes once, but the left one was swollen shut and something sticky dripped into the right one so I closed it again. I focused on taking shallow breaths. Maybe letting myself get kicked from the Academy wouldn't have been such a bad idea. It definitely wouldn't have hurt as much.

"He's in here."

The door swung open. The thought of turning my head to see who entered made my stomach roil nauseously.

"There's so much blood!" a deep male voice said. "How do you know he's not already dead?"

I wanted to tell them I was still alive, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. Fear that they would leave me there tighten in my chest.

"Dara?" Lyris asked.

A hand touched my forehead. "He's alive, but he's in a lot of pain," Dara told her. "I feel broken ribs, a concussion, and internal bleeding." Her voice was thick when she said, "We need to get him into the moonlight fast."

"I've got him," the male said.

Arms slipped under my head and my knees. I couldn't stifle a cry of pain when he rose to his feet.

"It's alright," Lyris said gently. "Brack-warlock has you. Everything's going to be alright."

"There's a lot of blood on the floor," Brack said.

I heard the doors swing open as he backed through them.

"I'll talk to Mercer-sweep. He'll take care of it," Lyris replied.

The sound of their footsteps bounced off the halls and came back to my ears in a muted percussion that made my head ache. The wolf side of me longed to find a dark corner and curl up in a ball away from anyone who would hurt me. The thought of trying to defend myself was laughable at that point, since even laughing would have been agonizing.

"What happened?"

Brack stopped walking.

"Your brother happened," Dara replied. "Let us pass."

"Vicken did this to him?"

A hand touched my cheek. I opened my good eye and saw the vampire with the long dark hair I had scared in the hallway the other night.

She took her hand quickly away. "Why?" she demanded.

"I'm not sure," Lyris replied. "I walked in on them before they could finish him completely." The bitterness of her tone told me that there was no friendship lost between her and the vampire girl.

"I'm going to talk to him," the girl replied. "I need to—"

"Don't."

I heard her footsteps pause at the sound of Brack's voice.

"Talk won't help."

"He's right, Amryn-vampire," Lyris said. "Your brother won't listen. We don't need him doing it to us as well."

A surge of pain knifed through my stomach. I cringed and a gasp escaped me.

"We need to go," Brack said.

"Where are you going?" Amryn asked.

Dara sighed. "He needs moonlight. We're taking him to the forest."

"I'm coming with you."

"Do you have to?" Dara sounded completely annoyed.

"If my brother did that to him, then I need to help," Amryn replied. "Hold on. I'll get some things." I heard her shoes squeak when she turned and ran back up the hallway.

"We can't hold on," Lyris called after her.

"Then I'll meet you there," Amryn shouted.

Brack continued walking.

"I just don't see why we need her help," Dara muttered. "What good is a vampire? He's bleeding. Vampires and blood don't exactly go together."

"They go together too well," Brack said, his deep voice resounded in my ears.

"Exactly!" Dara replied. "That's like bringing a snake to a mouse party."

"A mouse party?" Lyris repeated.

"You know, when the telepaths bring their little mouse friends and they all—"

"I know what a mouse party is," Lyris said.

"It sounds like fun," Brack replied.

I heard a door open. The smell of the forest washed over me.

The sound of grass swaying past Brack's shoes made me open my good eye again. The thick canopy cut out most of the moonlight. The wolf in me longed to curl up in a bed of pine needles and sleep until I felt better.

"Over there," Lyris directed. "In that patch of light."

Brack knelt and then set me on the grass. I bit my cheek to keep silent, telling myself that they were trying to help even though I knew no reason why they would risk Vicken's disapproval to do so.

I felt it then, a soft buzzing sensation as though a cloud of energy slipped softly over me. It helped my muscles relax and the pain eased enough that I could breathe.

"The moonlight is working. Take off his shirt," Lyris said. "I'll get my salves."

Before I could protest, hands held me up while others slipped my uniform shirt off over my head. The motions stole my breath. I was set gently back down on the grass.

"Ouch," Brack said. "That looks painful."

"Dara?" Lyris asked.

A warm hand touched my forehead again. "Stop the external bleeding while the moon works on the internal. It's going to take the moonlight a while to heal him, even if he is a werewolf. We don't need him bleeding to death before the light has a chance to work."

A bag was unzipped, sending strong scents into the air. The sound of a vial being unscrewed was followed by a rag pressed to my forehead. Scents of pine, lavender, and a flower I didn't recognize filled my nose.

"I don't know what you did to get on Vicken's bad side," Lyris said softly. "But he did a thorough job."

I willed my eyes to open. They were less swollen than before. Apparently, moonlight was very good for werewolves. "I...told him...I wouldn't leave," I forced out.

Brack sat back on his heels. I remembered the hulking student from one of my classes, but couldn't recall which one. He had sandy blond hair and a mild, round face. He was at least twice my size with shoulders that looked as though he could give a bear a fair fight. In the moonlight, a cloak of light had settled around his shoulders. I wondered if it was the mark of the warlock. Alden's voice repeated in my mind, "The moonlight reveals our truth."

"You're awake," he said with a satisfied smile.

I nodded, then reached a hand up to my head to stop the pounding that centered where my skull had connected with the brick wall.

"Easy," Lyris said, catching my hand and lowering it. "It'll take a while for the oils to help, but I chose some that work with the moonlight."

My gaze widened at the way moonlight moved with her fingertips, leaving trails in the air.

"Lyris is a witch," Brack said with another grin at the statement.

"And you're a warlock. No need to point out the obvious," Lyris replied, but there was a fondness to her voice that softened her words.

She opened another container and began spreading salve across my ribs. I sucked in a breath.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, hesitating.

I knew she was trying to help and willed my muscles to relax. "It's just cold," I told her.

She nodded. "It's the peppermint. It has a cooling effect. It'll ease the pain so the moonlight can work faster."

I didn't know why she, or any of them, was helping me. I was about to ask, but the question caught in my throat. I swallowed and said, "I appreciate it."

I turned my face toward the light and found myself looking up at Dara. The girl's disapproving look was clear. I remembered Lyris saying she was an empath. The moonlight behind her made her heart glow within her chest. She knew I was lying about the pain of her friend working on my bruises. I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug and she looked away. Her ash-colored hair caught the moonlight.

"Can you roll onto your side?" Lyris asked. "I need to spread salve on your back. The bruises are worse there and you have gashes that are bleeding." Her voice was quieter when she said, "They weren't very nice to you, were they?"

My breath caught when I turned my shoulder. Brack helped move me so that I rested as comfortably as possible on my right side. The pain was intense, though the moonlight definitely helped lessen it so that the urge to black out has eased to dark fuzziness at the edges of my vision.

Lyris' gentle hands spread salve across all the areas that hurt. Dara's words were quiet as she instructed her friend where to put it. I felt unworthy of the care with which they worked. They were strangers, people whose nature I didn't even know existed before yesterday.

"Why...why help me?" I made myself ask after the silence had stretched into a thick blanket that muffled the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

Lyris' hands paused. "Why not? You needed help, so here we are."

"You'll have him believe we're his fairy godmothers," Dara said, the disapproval thick in her voice.

Any thought I'd had that perhaps they were just being kind disappeared at her statement. I glanced back at Lyris.

"Who knew what...was happening?"

She gave me an uneasy smile. "We were told you might need our help." She rushed on to say, "I would have helped anyway, if I had known. I promised I wouldn't tell you who sent us. I don't think they knew how far Vicken would take it, though." Her eyebrows pulled together with compassion. "This is really bad, Finn-wolf. He could have killed you."

"He wouldn't have," Dara said. "He would have had his coven do it. That's how his kind works. It's disgusting."

I pillowed my head on my arm again. I couldn't say why it bothered me that someone had sent them. I was grateful not to be lying dead on the cafeteria floor; that was definitely worth something.

The sound of a door opening behind us was follow by footsteps through the grass.

"I've brought blankets! And a pillow!" the vampire girl's voice drew near.

"Oh, joy," Dara muttered.

I heard Amryn pause. "He looks bad, really bad."

"He's better than he was," Lyris said.

"He'll survive," Dara surmised, her voice indicating she didn't care either way. "We don't need you here."

"Dara," Lyris chided.

Amryn ignored her and walked around to face me. Her mouth opened when she looked down at me. In the moonlight, her fangs glowed. I must have appeared at least as bad as I felt, because she knelt without any hesitation. I was embarrassed to be laying there in the grass with my shirt off. At least Lyris and Dara were working together, but Amryn just watched me, her yellow gaze sad. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again without saying anything.

"I-I'm sorry I scared you the other day," I apologized.

She lowered her gaze. "It's my fault he beat you."

"Tried to kill him," Dara corrected.

Lyris made a sound of disapproval.

"You didn't make him do it," I said. "You weren't even there."

"Just the same." She met my eyes. "Vicken was looking for a reason. He feels like no werewolves should be allowed in the Academy after what happened." She lowered her gaze. "My parents were students here when that werewolf attacked. They would be furious to find out the Headmistress let another werewolf in."

"I'm being judged by something I didn't do," I pointed out.

"My relatives were hung," Brack said.

We all waited quietly for him to finish the statement, but he didn't say anything else.

Dara cleared her throat. "We're going to get in trouble if we're found out here."

"Really?" I asked. The thought of them getting in trouble because of me wasn't a pleasant one. "You should go."

"I agree," Dara said.

"We can't leave you," Lyris protested.

I pushed up to a sitting position. When Brack saw what I was trying to do, he helped; fortunately, the moonlight had already done wonders. I could breathe with far less effort and the salve had done its job. I met Lyris' gaze.

"I'm already feeling a lot better thanks to you guys. I don't know how to repay you." I shook my head. "Getting you in trouble would be the opposite. I'll be fine; really. I can fend for myself."

"Yeah, apparently," Dara said dryly.

"I'll stay with him," Amryn offered.

Everyone looked at the vampire. She lowered her gaze to the forest floor. "Vicken did this," she said. "The least I can do is make sure Finn survives."

"Leaving a bleeding werewolf with the sister of the vampire who tried to kill him sounds like a bad idea to me," Dara said, her tone ironic.

"What are you implying?" Amryn asked.

Dara shrugged. "I'm just saying that if he sent you to finish the job, waiting for us to leave would be convenient."

Amryn looked angry and shocked at the same time. Her hands clenched into fists and she stood up to the ashen-haired empath. With her slender stature, she had to look up to glare into Dara's face, but she did it just the same.

"I am not my brother," she said, her yellow eyes flashing in the moonlight. "I've never hurt anyone in my life."

"Whatever you say, blood drinker," Dara replied without appearing the least bit bothered by the vampire's anger.

"Alright, alright," Lyris said. "Let's work this out."

"I'll be fine here," I told them. "Really. I think I just need to sleep. You can go back to the Academy."

"Nobody messes with a werewolf," Brack said.

"Unless you're Vicken," Dara replied levelly.

"He doesn't know Finn-wolf's here," Lyris told them. "He's safe for now."

"I won't let him catch me off-guard again," I vowed.

"Will you phase to a wolf and fight them next time?"

Amryn's question hung in the air. The others looked at me.

I shook my head. "If I do, I might kill him. Either way, I'm finished. I'm not about to let him win that way."

Amryn nodded. There was respect in her eyes when she said, "Thank you."

I wondered if she guessed how easily her brother could have taken my place on the cafeteria floor. The realization set in that she appreciated me letting myself get used for a punching bag instead of taking her brother down. It made me feel a little bit better about my decision not to fight; though if I had learned anything from the slowly-fading pain in my ribs, I wasn't going to be caught like that again.

It took a few more words of persuasion, but they finally left me with the pillow and blanket Amryn had brought. I closed my eyes, more comfortable lying in the moonlight in a forest clearing than I ever could have imagined. I took in a breath through my nose. My weary mind sorted through the myriad smells as I drifted off to a healing sleep.
Chapter Nine

"You-you're the werewolf from the other night."

I came to with the realization that I was standing in the cemetery again, and I was in my wolf form. My shoulders and back ached, probably from phasing while my body was still healing. I took a testing breath and was glad to find that the pain in my ribs was gone.

"Why are you here?"

I looked up at Mezania's floating form. She drifted a few inches above the grass, her dark hair floating around her as though caught in some current I couldn't see. She stood with the tombstone between us, the one that bore her name.

I wanted to tell her I had no idea why I was there, but I couldn't speak. I was worried that if I made any move to approach her, she would scream and disappear again.

"I'm afraid of werewolves," she said. "I-I don't want you to hurt me."

Since she was a ghost, I doubted I could do her any harm, but I sunk onto the grass on my belly to appear as harmless as I could. It must have worked because the smallest smile touched her lips and she came around to the front of her tombstone. She kept a hand on it, as though for reassurance.

"You came from the school. I saw you."

When she moved her head to look in that direction, her hair flowed around her in graceful waves.

"You had friends. They cared for you." The wistfulness of her tone left little doubt that she was lonely. Perhaps that was the reason she spent time talking to a werewolf in the middle of the night. Her voice was quiet when she said, "I had friends, once. Lots of them." She lifted her head and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight when she said, "And I was in love once."

A tear trickled down her cheek, but she didn't stop smiling. "Trace fought for me. I saw him. I don't think he knows it, but I saw him. He tried so hard." She blinked and focused on me. "That's love, isn't it? Real love."

I nodded.

She gave me a wet smile. "Wolves know about love. Maybe more so than the rest of us. When they choose a mate, it's for the rest of their life. They are devoted and trustworthy. Perhaps...perhaps we can be friends?"

There was a quiver to her voice as if she feared I would say no.

I gave a soft snort and nodded my head again. It felt strange and unnatural to nod as a wolf. I was pretty sure they didn't do that sort of thing in the wild; yet the smile that spread across her lips made it worthwhile. She looked so beautiful there in the moonlight, her hair flowing around her and her blue eyes sparkling like two bright gems.

She crossed to me, her feet inches above the ground. The grass she touched didn't move as though she wasn't there, and yet when she reached me, a scent of cinnamon and dew washed over me. She knelt so that we were eye level. Only the slightest hesitation revealed how much courage it took for her to do so.

"I'm happy to have a friend," she said softly. "It's been so very long."

She lifted a hand to my fur. To my surprise, I could feel her fingers run gently through my rough guard hairs to the softer fur beneath. She closed her eyes. I lowered my head and she put her forehead against mine.

"It's nice to feel real for a moment," she whispered. "Thank you."

A strange sensation settled over me. It felt as though the edges of my body softened and faded. I couldn't tell where my paws touched the ground or where my back ended and the air ruffled my fur. Instead, it felt as if I was a part of the air, the ground, the grass, and the breeze. It was the most calming, peaceful sensation I had ever felt in my life.

"The wind speaks," Mezania said.

She lifted her head from mine and the peaceful sensation disappeared.

"The Academy is on fire."

I stared at her, torn between longing for the calm feeling again and trying to comprehend what she had said.

Her head turned as if she listened to the wind again. Her eyes widened. "It's burning," she said. "You need to go!"

The slightest hint of smoke came to my nose. I spun around. The sight of the Academy through the trees was eerily lit by a green glow.

"Demon fire," Mezania breathed. "They're under attack. Go!"

I ran several feet, then slowed when I realized she wasn't coming. I glanced over my shoulder.

"I can't leave this place," she said. "Run! Save them!"

I set off in a run so fast it felt like my paws didn't touch the ground. Trees rushed past and a rabbit, startled out of a very early morning breakfast, sprinted out of my way. I lowered my head and pulled my ears back, urging my body faster. The wolf in me responded by loping at speeds I could never have hoped to reach in human form. If I hadn't been so afraid for the Academy, I would have relished the run. It was breathtaking and exhilarating to have a body so made for such a rush.

I lowered my head and hit the Academy door so hard it opened with a splintering crash. I skidded through the room with the many doors and ran for the hallway. I reached the main corridor of the school expecting to see students and professors running everywhere. I could hear the crackling of the fire and smell its devastating effects on the school, yet no one was in sight.

The realization that they didn't know sent fear pulsing through my body. I couldn't shout to warn them of the danger, and so instead, I lifted my head and let out a howl so loud a picture fell from the wall across from me. The sound reverberated through the halls and up the stairs. I followed it, my paws barely touching the steps as I howled again.

Students appeared from the rooms rubbing sleep from their eyes. Some who saw me backed up in fear, but others looked around.

"Is that fire?" a boy with orange hair asked.

"Something's burning," another said. "Is the school on fire?"

"Fire!" another took up the call.

Students joined me on my run up the stairs. Others dashed down, yelling to wake those who hadn't heard my howl.

"There's fire! Get out!"

Shouts filled the halls. Students ran into rooms, dragging out those who were still sleeping. Moments later, the fire alarms started.

I reached the top floor far ahead of the students who followed. I paused at the top step and stared at the green flames that snaked along the ceiling. Green for fire would have been eerie enough, but the fire appeared truly alive. Instead of licking flames, green hands clawed forward, crawling along the ceiling and charring everything in their path. It was terrifying.

Professor Briggs appeared at my side so abruptly I started. "What are you doing up here? Get outside!" he shouted above the roar of the clawing flames.

The sound of a sob caught my ear. I had never been to the top floor before. It appeared to be made of hallways cluttered with old desks and relics stored away from the rest of the Academy. Nobody should have been there. I took a step forward.

Briggs grabbed my furry shoulder. "Whoa. Wait. We need to get out of here."

I shrugged him off and trotted forward, keeping my head low in the face of the heat. A moment later, the professor's hand rested on my back. He hunched as low as he could while both of us made our way toward the far end. I didn't know what made him follow me, but when we turned the corner, the sight of students cowering from the flames made me grateful he was along.

Two girls and a boy huddled against the far end of the hall, their wide eyes reflecting the green reaching tendrils overhead. They were young, barely old enough to go to the Academy. Tears streamed down both girls' cheeks. The boy appeared to have been trying to comfort them, but he was obviously frightened.

"I've got you," Professor Briggs said.

A roar sounded behind us. I looked back in time to see a huge pillar fall from the ceiling, barring our way. I looked around quickly. If we didn't get the students out soon, the entire ceiling was going to collapse. There was only one way out I could see. I pulled my ears tight against my skull and ran for the window next to where the professor sheltered the children.

"Finn, wait!" he called.

I dove through the window and skittered on the slopping roof below. My claws found purchase on the shingles, stopping my descent. I crept warily back to the window as Professor Briggs helped the children out. The girls apparently decided the fire was scarier than the big wolf, because they clung tightly to my fur. As soon as Briggs lowered the boy from the window, he did the same. Careful to ensure that one paw was steady before I moved any of the others, I made my way across the pinnacle of the roof.

"That's it," Briggs said, his voice low and steady as he followed behind. "We're almost there. Keep ahold of Finn. Just like that."

When we reached the next slopping roof, I jumped down, slid nearly to the edge, and managed to catch myself just before plummeting over. A brief glimpse of the ground below showed the New York City alleys surrounding the school. The drop wouldn't have been a pleasant one. I couldn't understand where the forest had gone, but now wasn't the time to figure it out.

"One step at a time," the professor called out. "We're almost there."

I was nearly to where he and the children waited when my claws lost their purchase. I scrambled to find my grip, but slid quickly to the edge. My heart thundered in my throat. I slipped halfway over the edge. I couldn't find a way to hold on in my wolf form. I was about to plummet to the ground when a hand grabbed the ruff of my neck in a tight grip. I looked up into a dark face that could have been carved from stone for all the emotion the man showed.

"Don't claw me when I pull you up, wolf," he growled.

I was careful to keep my claws in check despite the pain of being yanked back onto the roof by my fur. I reminded myself as I stood there panting and fighting to catch my breath that I was lucky not to be a part of the pavement below.

"Don't just stand there," he said, his voice rough.

I followed him gingerly back to the far edge of the roof. Several others were busy helping Professor Briggs get the children down to a fire escape. Behind me, others stood on the roof that should have burned through by now given the ferocity of the fire I had seen. Yet the roof appeared intact and by the smell, smoke instead of flame remained.

"Mr. Briscoe, come this way."

I turned to see Professor Mellon waiting by the fire escape. Her long red hair had been bound up in a green and white wrap and she wore a robe that caught in the early morning breeze.

"That's it," she said, her voice calming. "You've done all you can. It's our turn now."

I padded carefully to where she waited. Far beneath us, the students of the Academy were being ushered from the courtyard back into the school. I wondered where the fire engines were. It seemed strange that none had appeared when the alarm sounded.

"You must be exhausted," Professor Mellon said, her gaze filled with compassion. "It's time to go back to your room and sleep."

I followed her down the winding iron staircase to the ground in time to see the last of the students go inside. She held the door open, but I hesitated. I wasn't sure entering in wolf form was a good idea given what I had learned about my uncle.

"Come on now," she urged. "You can change form in your room. I'm sure you're ready to sleep and I need to go back and help."

I figured waiting around in the courtyard for the moon to release its hold wasn't the best idea; running naked after phasing back to human form was probably worse than entering as a wolf. I pushed down my reserves and padded up the stairs.

"You saved more than just a fox today," Professor Mellon said. She winked at me with a proud smile before she let the door shut.

I made my way slowly up the stairs. The third floor felt much further away than I wanted to travel. Apparently getting beaten nearly to death, being healed by moonlight and several students, then running at top speed through the forest and into the hallways to warn the residence of the Academy about the fire had left me little to draw upon for strength. Even my ribs betrayed me by aching by the time I stopped in front of C33, the room I shared with Alden.

With no other way to open the door, I was forced to scratch on the wood like a dog. I couldn't say why the action rankled my pride. I hadn't been a wolf for very long; all I knew was that I fought to hold onto whatever dignity remained to me. Fortunately, Alden opened the door almost immediately as though he had been waiting for the sound.

"I thought you weren't coming back," he said when I padded into the room. "I heard one of the vampires say something about beating the weremutt, sorry for the term, within an inch of his life. But I knew you weren't dead because, well, Grim." He pointed to his chest with an uncomfortable smile. "I guess it's good for something."

My eyes locked on the suitcase and other luggage I had brought from home.

"Oh, yeah," Alden said. "Someone dropped that off during school hours. I thought you'd be happy to have your things back."

I felt the pull in my bones that meant my body was ready to phase back to human form. I guessed the process was going to be even more painful given my sore body, and I didn't want to do it in front of Alden. Unable to say so, I crossed to my belongings and sat down next to the bed. The scent of home wafted from the luggage. My heart squeezed painfully at the thought of all I had left behind.

"I, uh, you need me to leave," Alden guessed.

I snorted.

He grinned. "See? You can tell Professor Mellon I've been paying attention in Creature Languages. She should be giving me an A instead of a C minus."

When he merely smiled at me with the proud expression on his face, I was left to snort again.

"Oh, right," he said. "I can take a hint." He grabbed a book from his bed. "Just in case it takes a while. I don't really know how these things work," he said before he ducked out the door.

I wondered how he would feel if he knew I was in the same boat. I padded to the window and stared out. Silver showed beyond the buildings that surrounded the school. Professor Mellon was right. It had been a very long night.

I turned slowly, aware that I was stalling. With Alden waiting outside, I couldn't put off phasing any longer. Afraid of what was about to come, I lowered my head and willed the wolf form to let go.

The pain dropped me to the ground. I felt every agonizing shift of my bones and muscles, each strain of bruised and broken flesh that was still trying to heal. I was glad I hadn't been aware during the first phase of the night, because it felt like those places that hadn't healed were reinjured with phasing so quickly.

By the time I was done, I lay curled around my stomach and panting on the bare floor. Sweat made my skin gleam stickily. I rose on shaky limbs and reached for the first suitcase. Unzipping it, I managed to find a pair of black pajama pants and a white tee shirt. A glance in the mirror by Alden's bed showed dark bruises along my back and chest. I wondered how much worse they would be if Lyris hadn't helped me. I pulled the tee shirt down just as a knock sounded on the door.

"Can I come in?" Alden asked. "I can wait out here longer, but I thought I would check just in case you needed—"

"You can come in," I replied.

He pushed the door open and waved his book. "You really should read this. It's about the witches of Massa...you look horrible."

Another glance in the mirror showed the same bruises that covered my back also darkened my face. At least the swelling around my eyes was gone, but the dark circles beneath them were unmistakable.

"It's been a crazy day," I told him. "I have somewhere I need to go."

"Now?" he asked in surprise.

"Now," I replied.

"But it's almost dawn and you look like you shouldn't even be moving," he protested.

I pulled my shoes on and reached for the door.

Alden surprised me by saying, "I'm coming with you." Before I could protest, he was out in the hallway waiting for me.

While I couldn't think of a reason he should come along, it was a nice thought not to venture out in the halls alone. The fear of running into Vicken's coven before I was fully healed remained forefront in my mind.

"Alright," I agreed. I caught one last glance of my luggage before I pulled the door shut. For some reason, the sight of my belongings from home settled me. It felt as if I had a place to be in such an insane school.

Alden followed me up the stairs. I had to give him credit for his nearly silent footsteps. His white hair seemed to glow beneath the dim lighting of the staircase. The deep breathing and occasional mutters of sleeping students met my ears at each floor we climbed. I would have thought the fire a dream if the smell of it didn't linger in my nose, drawing us upward.

"I thought we weren't supposed to be up here," Alden whispered.

"Because of the fire?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It's been a rule ever since I came here. Nobody goes to the thirteenth floor."

I glanced at him. "Did they say why?"

He shook his head again with trepidation in his eyes.

"Well," I said, continuing up. "They forgot to tell me that when I got here. Let's just say you didn't mention it."

When we reached the top floor, I stopped and stared. Though there was a lingering, sulfuric scent in the air, the fire and any sign that it had been there was completely gone. I closed my eyes, seeing the way the paint along the ceiling had boiled and the wallpaper peeled beneath the green clawing flames. The ceiling beams had been black and cracking. I couldn't even see the beam that had driven me out the window at the end. I walked slowly down the hall with Alden behind me, his breath loud in the silence of the thirteenth floor. I turned the corner.

"No way," I breathed. I ran down the hall.

"Finn, wait!" Alden called.

I skidded to a stop next to the window. The pane was intact, the glass whole as if I had never crashed through it.

"That can't be," I said. I couldn't understand what was happening.

"What can't be?" Alden asked.

I put a hand on the pane. "I broke through this glass during the fire. Professor Briggs was with me. We rescued three students. The entire ceiling was on fire, and now there's no sign of it. That was less than an hour ago." I shook my head. "It doesn't make any sense. I feel like I'm going crazy."

Alden stooped and picked up something that had been lodged between the carpet and the wall. He held up it to the light. It was a shard of glass.

"Maybe you aren't going crazy."

I took the piece of glass as if it was a lifeline. "This whole floor was on fire," I said quietly, staring at the shard. "The heat was beating down on us. I felt like my fur was burning. Professor Briggs appeared from out of nowhere." The words made me remember why I had gone back up there in the first place. I glanced at Alden. "He wasn't even winded. You'd think if someone had run all the way up the stairs that quickly, he would have been gasping for air. He came from somewhere else."

"A hidden door?" Alden guessed, his eyes wide.

"I think so," I replied. "I need to find it. I've got to get to the bottom of this before I really go insane."
Chapter Ten

"You should be a wolf for this."

I glanced at Alden in surprise. He was busy running his hands along the walls near the stairs, checking for cracks.

"Why's that?"

"Your nose should be better. You could smell the air coming through or his trail or something."

I gave him an appraising look. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Alden smiled. "That's why I'm here, to point out the obvious and make you feel stupid."

That brought a laugh from me. "Well, thanks. That's invaluable."

He chuckled and continued searching the wall.

The thought of phasing back into a wolf was too much, but I took Alden's advice and stopped searching with my hands and my eyes. I leaned close to the wall and sniffed instead. I felt foolish at first, but Alden acted as if it was perfectly normal. I walked the entire length of the hallway sniffing for anything that was different. I had gone two steps down the stairs when a different scent touched my nose.

"Uh, Alden," I called. "I think I found it."

He ran quickly to my side, his grin huge at being right.

I sniffed down to where the crack met the stairs. There was definitely a panel there, wallpapered with the rest to look as though it fit in with the red and cream stripes that lined the staircase.

"Right here," I told Alden.

He followed it to the other side of the narrow panel and ran his finger up the crack.

"There has to be a way to open it," he muttered quietly, pushing on several places. "It wouldn't be of much use if it was only one way."

We started feeling along the panel and the frame around it, pressing, hitting, and tapping the surface in the hopes that we could trigger something. But nothing worked.

Alden finally shook his head and leaned against the opposite wall. "It makes no sense. There has to be a way to open it from here."

I stood next to him and crossed my arms to ease the pressure on my ribs. I studied the wall in frustration.

"What if it opens by counterbalance?" Alden suddenly said.

He looked up at the ceiling, then moved to study the wall we had been leaning against. I stepped out of his way and watched him move slowly along the wall.

"There," he said beneath his breath. He pushed something where I couldn't see any difference.

A click sounded. I spun to face the panel as it pivoted inward.

"You're a genius!" I told Alden.

He smiled so wide it amazed me. "I just don't know when to give up," he replied.

"I'm glad you're here," I told him.

I ducked into the opening.

Alden grabbed my arm before I was halfway inside. "Are you sure we should go in there?"

I looked back at him. "I didn't go this far to turn back now." I gestured toward the unburned hall. "I risked my life up here. I need to figure out what happened." I gave him an out. "You can head back to our room if you want."

He hesitated, then shook his head and stepped into the passage as well. "What if you need help again?"

I fought back a smile and replied, "Then I'm glad you're here."

He pushed the panel shut. A small squeak escaped him when we were left in darkness. My eyesight shifted to the grays of the wolf.

"Hold my arm," I told him. "I can see in the dark."

"I'm glad my best friend's a werewolf," Alden said. His grip on my arm was tight. He waved the other around. When he touched the wall, he drew his hand back again and made a face. "I don't like spider webs."

I nodded, realized he couldn't see me, and said, "Me, neither. It looks like whoever uses this passage either doesn't care about spiders, or feels they might deter students who stumble onto it."

"They may have something there," Alden muttered.

I led the way forward. The passage turned to follow the stairs, bringing us down one level and then opening up into a wide, low-ceilinged room. Dusty busts, old statues with strange scaled armor, and the bones of several long-legged, clawed beasts I didn't recognized were covered in cobwebs and dust.

"What do you see?" Alden asked.

"Not much," I replied, keeping us to the center of the path. The less he had to fear, the easier our passage would be.

"What good is a passage if you don't keep cool things here?" Alden questioned. "I would definitely make use of a secret tunnel like this." His voice brightened and he continued with, "We could sneak around the Academy in secret! No one will know how we get places. We could play pranks on Vicken's coven! They would be so mad."

My ribs gave an angry throb at the mention of the vampire.

"Shh, I hear something," I whispered.

I followed the sound of voices to the other end of the long room. Another staircase branched from there. I led us down to a door. Voices spoke beyond it.

"They caught us unaware. We need better defenses."

"What we need is a better offense," a gruff voice replied. I recognized it as from the man who had pulled me back onto the roof.

"Not that again," the Headmistress' voice said. "You can't build an army of students."

"And remember what happened last time," Professor Briggs said.

The gruff voice replied with, "You're still holding that against me even though you know what happened." His voice grew louder as if he had turned to face the door. "Fanny, we're sitting here waiting for another attack instead of taking the initiative. It's dangerous for the school and the students, as well as every other being alive if they get out. You know that as well as I."

When the Headmistress replied, it was with a voice of resignation. "Fine, Mercer. What do you suggest?"

"The students are stronger than we are," the man replied.

"But they're innocent," Professor Mellon said, her quiet voice carrying through the door. "They shouldn't know about these things."

"What about the werewolf?" Mercer replied. "He warned us before it was too late. He showed courage."

A smile touched my lips before the next voice spoke.

"No," Professor Briggs said brusquely. "You can't involve a werewolf in this. It's too dangerous."

The fact that he referred to me as simply a werewolf with a hint of disgust in his tone gripped my heart in a fist. After our conversations, I felt like we had become friends. The reality that he viewed me the way the rest of Haunted High did felt like a dagger. That, more than anything else, made me shove the door open.

"I want to be involved."

The professors sat in a room so contrasting from the spider-covered path we had crossed that I paused in shock. Thick red carpets lined the floor. The professors sat on gold-gilded furniture that looked well-worn but comfortable. A short table laden with goblets and food filled the room with heady scents that made my empty stomach growl. The lighting came from a crackling fire in the corner, candlesticks hanging from sconces, and a candelabra in the middle of the table. Apparently, they had let Briggs handle the lights.

Professor Briggs rose from his chair at our appearance. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his tone thick with annoyance. The scar down his cheek twisted, making his scowl appear even deeper.

"I helped save those students," I pointed out. "I ran through a burning hallway and dove through a window that's now fixed except for this." I tossed the shard of glass at him. He caught it out of the air and glanced down at it. "Now everything's repaired like it never happened. I deserve some answers."

"Diving through the window was foolhardy," Briggs said, tossing the piece of glass onto the table. "You didn't listen, and you put yourself at risk. You've been here a few days and already think you know this world. That kind of thinking is dangerous."

I was completely caught off-guard by his brusqueness. It put me on the defensive. I crossed my arms. "I've been in this world a few days and even though I don't understand it, I'm willing to fight for it. I think that should count for something."

"You're hot-headed."

"I didn't hear you complain when I dove through that window to save those students," I replied. I met his glare with one of my own. I had never been so confrontational. I couldn't explain it, but I also couldn't back down. "I didn't see you doing anything to get them out of there."

"Mr. Briscoe!" the Headmistress said.

Professor Briggs held up a hand. "Wait a minute, Fanny. He has a point."

Headmistress Wrengold adjusted her spectacles with a white-gloved hand; her mouth closed into a thinly-pressed line.

Briggs took a limping step closer to me. "You were foolish but brave, I'll acknowledge that," he said in a tone that implied the words were hard to say. Then he shook his head. "But you don't know what you're getting into. This is over your head."

"This is all over my head!" I said, my chest heaving. "I have no idea what's going on at all!" I willed myself to remain calm. The last thing I needed was to phase into a wolf. I lowered my voice. "I have been out of control since I found out I was a werewolf. None of this is normal. But I am trying." I met the Headmistress' eyes. "I'm doing my best to fit in here, despite everyone who's against me."

"No one is against you," Headmistress Wrengold replied.

"Of course they are," Professor Briggs said.

Everyone looked at him.

"He's a werewolf," the professor continued. "The prejudice since Conrad's attack is understandable." He lowered his gaze. "I, especially, have blame where that is concerned."

"Which is also understandable," a female professor I had never met said. She stood near the fireplace, her golden hair reflecting the flames.

Briggs shook his head. "It isn't fair to Finn that everyone here already fears him." He looked at the Headmistress. "If that was going to be the case, we shouldn't have allowed him here in the first place."

"We shouldn't be talking about this in front of him," Headmistress Wrengold said. She gave me an apologetic look. "I had hopes that your presence here would change things."

"Rescuing students in the face of demon fire should help with that," Professor Rexus pointed out. He stood on the other side of the fireplace, his bear-like form and thick horns making him look like some creature out of The Iliad. He nodded at me. "It's a good thing you woke up."

It was my turn to look away from their expectant gazes. "I, uh, didn't wake up. I was in the forest."

"How do you know about the forest?" Professor Mellon asked. "We don't go there this semester."

I glanced at Alden, then away. I didn't want to talk about the beating from Vicken's coven. I didn't know how the school politics worked at The Remus Academy for Integral Education, but at my last school, narks paid for snitching. I had survived the beating even if Vicken hadn't wanted me to. I wasn't about to push my luck. "I sleepwalked. It happened the first night I was here and I couldn't find my way back to my room." I gestured at Alden. "That's how we became friends."

He grinned at me.

I pressed on. "Last night I woke up in the forest again. I spoke to...." I hesitated. As open-minded as the school appeared to be, I didn't know how they would react if I said a ghost had told me the school was on fire. But they were listening with full attention and at least appeared to be keeping an open mind. I let out a breath and told the truth. "I was talking to a ghost. Actually, I was in my wolf form, so I couldn't speak, but she was talking to me. She's the one who said the Academy was on fire. She heard it from the wind."

To their credit, the professors took the news of a ghost who listened to the wind calmly as if it happened every day.

"Most of the ghosts in that cemetery are older spirits," a thin professor perched on the edge of one of the chairs said. Her skin looked as though it had been pulled tightly over her bones. When she looked up at me, I swore I could see the firelight through her. "Was it Arnold the Ironsmith or Bailer Ray, perhaps?"

"He said 'she'," Professor Mellon pointed out. She nodded at me encouragingly.

"Her name is Mezania," I told them. "She was scared of me the first night because I phased even though I tried not to. This time, she seemed less scared because she recognized...." My voice trailed away at their expressions.

Everyone was looking at Professor Briggs. Headmistress Wrengold lowered her spectacles with one gloved hand that trembled slightly. Professor Mellon appeared pale as though she had been the one to meet the ghost. The other professors looked from each other to Briggs, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and shock.

"Mezania?" he repeated, his gaze on the wall behind me.

When I nodded, he leaned against the couch as though his legs refused to hold him any longer.

"It can't be her," the Headmistress said. "She was buried at her family's estate. The tombstone in the cemetery was just a marker—"

"To remember her by," Professor Briggs concluded in a whisper. "But she listened to the wind."

"What's going on?" Alden asked behind me, his voice quiet.

"I'm not sure," I replied under my breath. "I think he knew her."

Professor Briggs gave me a pained look. "Mezania Brown was a student here at the Academy. She was killed by Conrad along with others." He swallowed, then said, "We were close."

I remembered the story he had told me about the girl who called his name before Conrad killed her, the one he had called Zanie.

"That's why she was afraid of me," I said. The realization filled me with a combination of horror and sorrow. "She was killed by a werewolf."

Professor Briggs let out a breath as if he had been holding it. "Can you take me to her?"

Professor Mellon gave him a compassionate look. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Briggs nodded, though reluctantly. "I need to know why she's here." He glanced at Mercer. "With the demon attack, it's too much of a coincidence."

"Maybe someone else should go," the Headmistress suggested.

The professor shook his head. "It has to be me." He met my gaze. "Take me to her."

Professor Mantis set a long-fingered hand on his arm. "Not right now, Trace. Classes start in a few minutes." As if on cue, the bell rang for breakfast.

I stifled a groan, but several of the teachers gave similar ones, reminding me that they, too, had stayed up all night.

"How am I to teach those rascals about death chants when I can barely keep my eyes open?" the skeletal professor asked.

"You think you have it bad?" Professor Mellon replied. "We're on the chapter about pixie tongues. If I mix up the a's and e's again, we're going to have some very disgruntled pixies."

Professor Rexus shook his massive head. "If my students come away identifying griffins as hippogriffs, this whole place is going to fall apart."

Headmistress Wrengold placed a hand on Brigg's arm. "She's been there this long," the headmistress told him gently. "She'll be there tonight. Ghosts appear easier in the light of the moon; it'll take less energy from her."

Briggs hadn't taken his gaze from mine while the professors argued whose class was harder to teach without sleep, but at her touch, he started. She took her hand away. "Fine," he gave in. He speared me with a stern look. "But we go tonight."

"I'll be there whether I'm asleep or awake," I replied, trying for humor. When he refused to acknowledge the joke, I fought back a sigh and said, "Tonight for sure."

He limped from the room without a backwards glance. The other professors followed behind, still debating which class was the most likely to pay for their long night.

"A dragon's cuboid is very easily confused with a minotaur's," Professor Tripe was saying in the same monotone voice.

"Yes, but if they get it wrong, at least yours won't cause a possible interspecies war," Professor Mellon replied.

Alden elbowed me in the ribs. I winced at the surprisingly painful jab.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I forgot." He indicated the professors as they left through the door. "But can you believe them, arguing about whose class is harder? They sound just like us."

"They were you, once."

We both turned at the sound of the Headmistress' voice.

Alden's pale cheeks turned red. "Sorry, Headmistress Wrengold. I didn't mean any disrespect."

She looked amused instead of upset. "Don't worry, Mr. Grim. You didn't say anything offensive, you merely pointed out the truth. Back then, when Conrad attacked the students and the professors, most of the teachers you know were students just like you." She gave a sad smile. "I'm proud of them, of all of us. The Remus Academy for Integral Education almost shut down after the werewolf attack, but they helped keep it together. The older ones took the place of professors who had either been killed or left, and the younger ones encouraged students to return. They fought for this place." She gave me an approving look. "As you volunteered to fight for it now. It won't be easy."

"I've come to expect that," I told her. "I just...." I let my words fade away.

"Just what?" she asked encouragingly. "You can say it."

I glanced at Alden who stood near the door. The circles under his eyes reminded me that he had stayed up and went searching for the passage with me instead of sleeping. I was grateful for his presence and knew I didn't have to hide anything from him.

I took a steeling breath. "I don't mean to be so confrontational. It's not who I am." I shook my head, confused. "I've never argued with my teachers. It's like I can't help myself. I can't back down, and that's not like me."

Headmistress Wrengold gave me an understanding smile. "It's because you are what I suspected you were when you first came here."

"A werewolf?" I said, not sure where she was going.

"An Alpha," she replied.

I had no idea what that meant. I glanced at Alden. He lifted his shoulders, his expression showing that he was as lost as I was.

The Headmistress leaned daintily against the couch where Briggs had sat and set her white-gloved hands on her lap. "You don't know much about werewolves because there isn't anyone to teach you. Werewolf hierarchy meant that such things passed through the generations, things like pecking orders and bloodlines, territory boundaries and Alpha rights. But there is no one to teach you." I couldn't decide by her tone whether she thought that was a good thing or bad. She gave me an apologetic look. "That is one of the reasons I fought for your admission into this school. I hoped...I hoped I could change werewolves by helping to shape the only one we knew of."

"But?" I asked, feeling the word she didn't say.

She patted her headscarf, checking to make sure her gray curls were still contained before she looked back at me. "But, there is something to be said for nature. Instinct. You are a werewolf, and apparently an Alpha at that. You won't give in if there's a fight. You defend what you care about and who." She paused, then said, "And if what you set your heart on is threatened, you'll give everything to protect it."

That was exactly how I felt. I had only been at the school a few short days, but the thought of someone or something threatening it brought my wolf to the edge. It was unsettling.

"Am I dangerous?" I asked.

The Headmistress' eyes crinkled at the corners as she watched me. "You're the only one who can answer that," she said. "But I feel as though your need to ask it says no. You've shown great restraint."

I fought back a laugh of disbelief. "I have no restraint. The wolf takes over whenever it wants to. I can't fight it."

"But you do," she replied. "I see it in your eyes, and," she hesitated, then said, "And I saw it when you didn't fight Vicken's coven."

I stared at her in shock. "How did you know about that?"

"You fought Vicken's coven?" Alden asked, not bothering to hide his dismay.

The Headmistress looked guilty. "I had to know," she said. "I had to protect my students."

"By letting them beat me to death?" I asked. Anger filled me. "Vicken told them to kill me!"

"I sent Lyris to stop them," she began.

"From delivering the final blow." I shook my head, trying to remain calm. The wolf was clawing inside, fueled with my rage. My hands clenched into fists that shook with my effort to control myself. "What if I had killed them?" I asked in a voice that was just above a whisper.

"I trusted you," she said.

"Just as they trusted Conrad?" I shot back.

She shook her head. "My husband was the Headmaster at that time, and he paid for his trust with his death."

Her words felt like a punch to my gut. "I-I'm sorry," I began.

She stood up. "Finn Briscoe, me letting you into the Academy was my own way of moving on, my new path. Surviving your stay here is yours. It's not going to be easy; you're going to come against a lot of flak and prejudice, but only you can change that."

The second bell rang.

"We've got to change and get to class," Alden reminded me. I could hear the sorrow in his voice that we had missed breakfast. "It's going to be a long day."

"Go to it," the Headmistress said. "Mercer has prepared a statement about the demon flames for the students to ease their concerns."

I had a hand on the door and paused to look back. "He'll cover it up?"

"He's a sweeper," she replied. "That's part of what he does here. He keeps us safe and protects the school from those who wish to bring us harm. And trust me," she continued before I could ask, "There are plenty who wish us harm. We're lucky to have him." She nodded to indicate the passage. "Go now and please don't use the passageway again."

"We won't," Alden replied. He hesitated, then said, "Or we will." He looked flustered when he said, "We will go now and we won't use the passage again."

"Very well," Headmistress Wrengold said. She turned toward the fireplace. I followed her gaze to the picture of a man a few years younger. He wore the Academy's colors and sat behind a mahogany desk.

As we watched, the Headmistress drew off her headscarf. She then whispered a word I didn't understand. Before my eyes, faster than I had ever phased as a wolf, the Headmistress vanished and a great horned owl took her place. She flapped her massive wings once and the fire disappeared. One more push of her wings sent the Headmistress up the chimney.

Alden and I stared at the spot for a moment before a pained chuckle escaped me.

"What's so funny?" Alden asked.

I gestured toward the chimney. "When I first met the Headmistress, Mrs. Hassleton mentioned that she was a night owl. I didn't realize she meant it literally."

Alden shook his head with a grin. "Who knew?"
Chapter Eleven

Alden and I were both surprised when we reached first period and found plates of eggs and bacon on our desks.

"Professor Mellon insisted," Professor Seedly said. He appeared as weary as the rest of the staff. "I don't approve of food in my classroom, but she asked me for a favor." He cheeks took on a slight brush of red. "I couldn't say no." As if to change the subject, he gestured over his shoulder with one skinny arm. "Besides, Gerald thought it was a good idea."

Small pockets of laugher erupted through the classroom.

I ate quickly, concerned that Gerald the talking bush might change its mind and have the food banished from the classroom. I wasn't about to lose the chance at a full belly.

A glance at Alden showed the opposite thought. He was eating slowly, savoring every bite as if it was his last. He broke up bits of bacon and set a piece on each forkful of egg, then ate them together. The look of contentment on his face as he stared lazily around the plant-filled classroom made me happy. At least something was going right.

But when the bell rang, foreboding filled me.

"You don't want to go in there?" Alden asked as we stood in front of classroom B6.

I shook my head. "I don't know where I stand with Professor Briggs. He confuses me. Half the time he acts like we're friends, and the other half like I'm some disgusting specimen he can't wait to get rid of."

"Your uncle's the reason he lost so much," Alden pointed out quietly while the other students rushed to get in the classroom before the bell rang.

"So why do I feel like it was me, instead?" I asked. At his loss for words, I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you in fourth period."

"See you," Alden replied.

I pushed the door open. The first face that caught my gaze was Torid's. His yellow eyes widened as if he had just seen a ghost enter the classroom. I remembered the vampire's fist slamming into my face and the feeling of his shoe against my ribs in the cafeteria. I straightened as though the still-healing injuries didn't affect me and crossed to my desk. I heard him rise from his chair.

"Where are you going, Mr. Vaugn?" Professor Briggs asked from his desk at the back of the classroom.

"I, uh, I, need to, uh...." The sound of the vampire's running feet was followed by the door slamming open; the running footsteps then continued down the hall.

"I think he had to use the bathroom," the boy with the orange horns and orange eyes said from the seat next to mine.

"Badly," I replied.

He laughed, showing his sharp yellow teeth. At my look, his smile fell and he held out a hand.

"No hard feelings about the pencil?" he asked.

I remembered Professor Briggs saying he had gotten off worse than I had from the Wolfsbane and held out my hand.

He shook it. "I'm Aerlis. You take a joke well."

"Finn," I replied. "I've never had that one played on me."

"I should have thought it through better," he said. "Dying from Wolfsbane would have been better than Mrs. Hassleton's tonic, I think."

I chuckled. "Sounds like it."

"Copy down the section on the board and then read the applicable chapter in the book. We'll have a quiz in a half hour," Professor Briggs announced.

A groan went through the students. I pulled out the notebook I had grabbed from my belongings and started writing down the passage. My head felt heavy. It still ached where it had met the brick wall; I rested it on my arm as I flipped through the book.

"The bell rang."

I opened my eyes to see the classroom empty and Professor Briggs standing in front of my desk. Embarrassed to be caught sleeping, I straightened.

"I slept through the quiz," I said sheepishly.

"I noticed," Professor Briggs replied.

There was drool on the notebook page I had been writing on. I closed it quickly in the hopes that the professor wouldn't see it. I stood up and pushed my chair back under the desk, hiding any pain the movements brought. "I need to get to third period."

Professor Briggs gave me a closer look.

"Where did you get those bruises?"

Surprised that the Headmistress hadn't told him about Vicken's attack, I decided I could keep secrets as well.

"Diving through windows can be foolish," I said. I picked up my notebook.

"You didn't get those diving through the window," he replied.

I couldn't decide why I was so angry with him, but the way he had treated me in front of the other professors still rankled. I glared at him. "I've got class to get to."

"Tell me what happened," he commanded.

I shoved one of the desks out of the way and moved past him.

Professor Briggs grabbed my shoulder exactly where one of Vicken's well-placed kicks had left a nearly black bruise. I winced and turned away from his touch.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing," I said just under a shout. Tears burned in my eyes even though I couldn't say why. I wanted to tear my notebook apart, to destroy the desks around me, or throw the professor into a wall. The rage was so intense it took all of my self-control to simply stand there.

As if he read my expression, Professor Brigg's voice was quieter when he said, "Show me your shoulder."

I shook my head.

He closed the space between us with a limping step. "Finn, show me."

I shook my head again. I didn't want him to see what Vicken had done. I was asking to be in Mercer's team to defend the school, and yet a handful of vampire students had beat me so badly other students had been forced by the Headmistress to rescue me. It was humiliating.

"I've got class," I said. I walked toward the door and was grateful when he didn't try to keep me from leaving.

By lunchtime, I was starving again. Healing definitely took a lot of energy, especially without the moonlight. Alden and I were lucky to be first in line; I was immensely grateful for his food priorities. We found a place at the opposite end of the cafeteria from where the vampire coven usually sat. I tried my best to ignore the pointing and glaring from their end as the lunchroom filled up. Vicken caught my gaze once. The hatred in his eyes was enough to destroy my appetite. Fortunately, an elbow bumped mine, distracting me.

"Uh, hi," I said when Lyris sat down next to me.

Brack sat down across from me. Dara, with her usual apparent frustration at even being in existence, sat on Alden's other side.

"Hey," Lyris said. She took a bite of her hamburger as though choosing to sit by us was normal.

I looked at Alden. His eyes were wide and the shrug of helplessness he gave back was almost comedic. As far as I could tell, the hulking warlock on his one side and the empath on the other were sitting closer than anyone else besides me ever had by choice.

"Good food," Brack said. He took a single bite of his hamburger that devoured nearly half of it. One more bite and it was gone.

"D-do you want mine?" Alden asked.

I had never seen Alden offer to part with food and couldn't help staring; apparently the gesture wasn't lost on Brack.

"Yeah, I do," the warlock said. He accepted the hamburger and devoured it in two seconds. "Thanks." He patted his stomach. "I'm always hungry."

A tentative smile crossed Alden's face. "Me, too."

Brack laughed. "Where do you put it?" he asked, his deep voice bouncing off the walls.

Alden gave an answering laugh, his expression uncertain. Brack joined in the laughter.

"Well, that's just cute," Dara muttered.

Lyris smiled. "It really is."

"It's disgusting," Dara spat.

I met Dara's glare. "For an empath, you're pretty cold."

Everyone at our end of the table stared at me. Dara looked as though she didn't know whether throttling me or shoving my hamburger in my face would be more rewarding. To my surprise, she cracked a smile instead and even gave a tiny chuckle.

"Huh, yeah, I am."

Lyris gave me a wide-eyed look as though I had just survived a brush with death.

Dara picked up her bottle of soda and tried to open it. When she couldn't, she shot Brack a glare. I realized the warlock was staring with full focus at the bottle.

"Knock it off," Dara said.

Brack blinked and she opened the bottle.

"Is that your power?" I asked.

Everyone looked at me again as though I had a spider on my face.

"Finn, it's not polite to talk about it like that," Alden said quietly.

I set down my fork. "I'm sorry," I told Brack. "I didn't know."

"It's alright," he replied. "I can close things, little things. But it's not a power. It's called a warlock affinity. It's what makes me special."

They were more words than I had ever heard the huge warlock speak. Apparently the same went for the others, because they looked at him as if he was now the one with the spider.

"I don't know," I replied, trying to lighten things up. "I think your ability to eat a hamburger in two bites makes you special."

Brack laughed so loud the students at the other tables looked at us. I could feel Vicken's glare from across the room; I chose to ignore it.

"So you close things," I said, interested. "Like doors?"

"Sometimes," he said. "It takes a lot more concentration to close a door or a window. Something like that can make me exhausted because of the energy it takes." He winked. "But watch that."

I followed his gaze to where Aerlis, the boy with the orange horns, was trying to open a ketchup bottle. He shook it, tried to bite it with his sharp teeth, and was banging the bottle on the table when I heard Brack breathe out. The lid popped off and ketchup squirted all over Aerlis and his friends.

Brack chuckled, then silenced when they looked in our direction. I pretended to be interested in my French fries. When I looked back, they were busy cleaning the ketchup up with napkins.

"That wasn't nice," Lyris said.

"It was awesome," Dara told him.

"I don't know," Brack replied. "Sometimes I think all my affinity is good for is...."

I glanced up when his voice died away. My eyes fell on Amryn. The vampire stood near Lyris. She held her cup of blood with a hopeful expression.

"It's good to see you feeling better," she told me.

"I appreciate what you did," I replied.

"Which was nothing," Dara muttered.

I had seen some of the pecking order of the cafeteria and knew it might make waves, but apparently that was what my presence did anyway.

I scooted over and said, "Would you like to sit with us?"

"With her blood?" Lyris asked in shock.

"With her lunch," I replied calmly.

I was happy when Amryn took my offer. She slid onto the seat with a grace that would have made a cat look bumbling.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Silence filled the table. I took a bite of my hamburger, swallowed it, and said, "I fell asleep in History of Witches and Warlocks today. Professor Briggs wasn't amused."

Lyris shook her head. "You don't want to get on his bad side."

"I think I started on his bad side," I replied.

Dara shrugged. "At least you know where you stand."

I wanted to tell her the problem was that I had no idea where I stood with him, but the lunchroom wasn't a place to get into that discussion.

Amryn lifted a shoulder and said, "I guess you know you can't absorb his lessons through hypnopedia."

"What's that?" Alden asked.

"Learning information while sleeping," she replied. "That would be helpful for Professor Tripe's class."

Alden nodded emphatically. "I'd be a genius by now!"

Everyone laughed.

Amryn gave a small smile before drinking her cup. I noticed she took care that none of the blood showed on her lips when she lowered it back down. The heavy coppery odor of the liquid clung to my nose. I ignored it for her sake.

"Isn't there a student who learns like that?" Lyris asked.

"Trinis," Dara said with a wistful hint to her tone. "She's in my terminology class. Sleeps right through it. I've never felt anyone so peaceful."

"It must be hard," Amryn said.

Everyone looked at the vampire.

Dara glared at her. "What's hard?" she asked, her tone replaced by annoyance.

Amryn set her cup down on the table and placed her pale hands in front of her. She gave Dara a beseeching look. "I mean no offense. I've just thought that feeling what other people feel all the time must be hard. Maybe you don't want to always know how they feel."

All attention turned to Dara. She let out a breath through her nose and rose from the table. "I feel sick of this conversation," she said. She grabbed her tray and stormed toward the exit. Her ash-colored hair swayed with each step.

After a moment, Amryn said, "I didn't mean to offend her."

"She's always like that," Lyris said.

Brack nodded. "But she's our friend."

Amryn gave them a smile. "You're good friends."

Alden and I exchanged a glance. We were both still unsure why they had chosen to sit with us, but it felt nice to not be just by ourselves.

The bell rang.

"Off to Creature Languages," Lyris said. She rose. "I have such a hard time with the pixie tongue and Professor Mellon hinted about a pop quiz."

"Just remember the r's," Amryn said as she followed us to the door where we dumped our trays.

"What do you mean?" Lyris asked.

"In Pixie, if the r rolls, you know the word ends in c instead of s."

Lyris' eyes widened. "Is that true?" she said as she handed her tray to a boy with yellow tentacles.

"Yep," Amryn confirmed. "My father has a pixie advisor among his staff. He's the one who told me that tip."

Lyris gave her a grateful smile. "I think you just helped me ace my quiz."

"I hope so," Amryn replied.

We paused near the stairs.

"I wish you had a tip for Human Interactions," Alden said. "For some reason, I just can't figure that class out."

"Kind-of ironic for a Grim, don't you think?" Amryn asked.

Lyris laughed. "I never thought of it like that. I usually go with the 'avoid humans at all costs' route."

Alden looked embarrassed. "I wish I could, but it sort-of comes with the job."

"Humans aren't that bad," I said. I felt their interested gazes and studied the notebook I held instead of looking at them. "My dad's a human."

Lyris touched my arm. "I'll bet he's a good one, Finn." When I looked at her, she said, "Some of us have spent a lot of our lives hiding because we're different." She shook her head and her black hair waved around her face. "It would be good to know the good ones."

"Maybe you can introduce us sometime," Amryn suggested.

The thought of introducing my dad to a vampire was an interesting one. It also brought a pang of guilt. I had checked the phone in secret when I found my belongings in our room, but the battery was dead. I plugged it in, but had yet to check and see if my family tried to contact me. I wasn't sure what I wanted them to say, or what I would say back.

"I think he'd like that," I replied distractedly.

The next two classes went by in a blur. My thoughts stayed on the small cellphone I had hidden beneath my mattress. Had they called? Maybe service wasn't good at the Academy. I hadn't seen any of the other students with phones. Would I be thrown out if I got caught?

I ran to the room I shared with Alden between sixth and seventh period. Professor Briggs was already frustrated with me. I didn't see how it would hurt more if I was late; besides, the last thing I wanted to do was have him question me again about the bruises. If any of the other students had heard about the coven's attack, they might rat me out.

I pulled the cellphone from beneath the mattress and pressed the power button. It took ten long seconds for the phone to turn on. When it did, I stared at the little screen. Fifteen missed calls and twenty-one texts. I let out a slow breath and felt the corners of my mouth turn up. At least someone cared that I was gone.

I didn't have time to check the voicemails, but flipped quickly through the texts.

MISS YOU, FINN. IT'S NOT THE SAME AROUND HERE.- DAD

By the date, he had sent that before he had even arrived home after dropping me off at the Academy.

DAD SAID I COULD TEXT YOU AT THIS NUMBER, BUT TO KEEP IT SHORT. I DON'T WANT TO GET YOU IN TROUBLE. BUT IT'S WEIRD NOT HAVING YOU AT HOME. I MISS YOU.- DRAKE

I chewed on my lip as I continued down.

TELL ME WHEN YOU GET TO COME HOME TO VISIT. I'LL MAKE YOUR FAVORITE DINNER. LOVE YOU TONS.- JULI

That brought a smile to my face. My stepmother made the best stroganoff in the world. The thought of it made my mouth water despite the hamburger I had eaten for lunch. I flipped further down.

WEIRD NOT HEARING FROM YOU. MAYBE RECEPTION ISN'T GOOD. HOPE THEY DIDN'T TAKE THE PHONE. CALL WHEN YOU CAN.- DAD

THE FUNERAL WAS SAD. BAST'S PARENTS LOOKED LOST. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO THEM. I FEEL SO GUILTY.- DRAKE

I BOUGHT NOODLES. JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU'RE COMING HOME AND I'LL MAKE FRESH BREAD, TOO.- JULI

STARTED ON THE DECK. THOUGHT I WOULD FINISH IT SO WE COULD HAVE A BBQ WHEN YOU GET HOME.- DAD

YOUR DAD INSISTS BBQ IS BETTER. YOU DECIDE.- JULI

She always followed her texts with either a smiley face or a flower. It reminded me so much of her that homesickness washed over me. The bell rang, but I continued reading.

DERRICK AND KAR ARE ASKING WHEN YOU'RE COMING BACK. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL THEM. DO YOU KNOW?- DRAKE

SMASHED MY THUMB. DECK'S GOING TO WAIT A FEW DAYS.- DAD

DAD TELLS ME ABOUT THE WEREWOLF STUFF ONLY IF I ASK. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU HAD TO LEAVE. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE.- DRAKE

FINN?- DRAKE

MISS YOU- JULI

A heaviness settled over me. After all I had been going through, I had completely put them to the back of my mind. I thought maybe they wouldn't want to talk to me. I had been sent away so quickly, I thought it was so they wouldn't be reminded of what I had become. Yet these texts told me how wrong I was. Life continued for them and I had been a part of that. I still was.

I pulled up Julianne's number and wrote, SORRY, PHONED DIED. TELL DAD YOUR STROGANOFF ALWAYS WINS, BUT WE CAN HAVE IT ON THE DECK. THANK YOU FOR THINKING OF ME. LOVE, FINN

I entered Dad's cell number and typed, RECEPTION WILL BE BETTER IF I REMEMBER TO KEEP THE PHONE CHARGED. SORRY ABOUT THAT. THE DECK SOUNDS AWESOME. I HOPE YOUR THUMB FEELS BETTER. DON'T WORK TOO HARD. LOVE, FINN

It took me a minute to reply to Drake. I had always been close to him. The fact that I had ditched him to survive the aftermath of the accident didn't feel fair to me, and by the sound of things, my leaving had really put him in a bad place. I wrote slowly, DRAKE, I'M SORRY ABOUT THE WAY THINGS HAPPENED. I FEEL BAD LEAVING YOU TO DEAL WITH IT. I PROMISE I WILL COME HOME AS SOON AS I CAN. I WILL EXPLAIN WHAT I KNOW ABOUT WEREWOLVES WHEN I DO; THIS IS ALL NEW TO ME, TOO. I let out a breath and wrote, I WISH MOM HAD TOLD US. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WENT THROUGH. THIS PLACE IS CRAZY. I MET A GHOST. TELL YOU ABOUT THAT LATER. TAKE CARE- FINN.

I slid the phone back under the mattress and grabbed my notebook. I ran down the flight of stairs to the second floor and shoved open the door for Black Cat Philosophies.

"Mr. Briscoe, I'm glad you decided to join us," Professor Briggs said in a dry tone. "You have a question to answer."

I slid into my seat and said, "What question?"

A few snickers ran around the room.

"Did you forget already?" The professor took a limping step closer. "Perhaps someone hit that noggin of yours a bit too hard."

I gritted my teeth.

Professor Briggs gave a semblance of a smile as though he knew he had gotten under my skin. He nodded at Dara. "Ms. Jade, would you like to remind Mr. Briscoe of his question?"

Dara sighed and turned to me. "Why do cats always land on their feet?" she asked in an exasperated tone.

"I don't know," I replied. "Because it's better than a concussion?"

Laughter followed my words.

Professor Briggs shook his head and said, "I will ask again tomorrow. In the meantime, look at the paper on your desk and give me an answer at the end of class."

"Another quiz?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "You have some catching up to do. I'm guessing most of your evenings will be spent on assignments unless you want to be held back." He limped to the board and said, "Now, who did the reading in 'Where the Dark Things Dwell'?"

Several hands went up.

I turned the paper over. The professor had written three lines in surprisingly beautiful penmanship that said, "Mercer asked that you bring several students with you to the basement through the corridor you used earlier. I will also recommend a few of my own. Don't be late."
Chapter Twelve

"I thought we weren't supposed to use the passage again," Alden said.

Lyris and Dara peered into the dark tunnel entrance. The flashlights they carried illuminated the spider webs and dust along the narrow walls.

"It looks a bit scary," Lyris admitted.

Dara rolled her eyes at me. "She doesn't like spiders."

"Who does?" Lyris asked.

"They don't bother me," Brack replied from behind her.

"After the things I've seen here, spiders seem pretty harmless," I agreed. "But you don't have to come."

"And miss being a part of some secret defense team?" Dara said with a hint of skepticism in her voice, "No way. Things just got interesting."

I followed her into the passage. A glance back showed the others trailing behind. Alden closed the door after Lyris passed. Brack had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling.

"They don't make this for me," he said, following me.

"Are you part giant?" I asked jokingly.

"A quarter," he replied. I couldn't tell by his expression whether he was serious or not.

The further down we walked, the danker the tunnel became. I found myself picturing a dungeon at the end of the passage because it would fit in with the chilly rock walls, the foreboding atmosphere, and the shrieks Lyris gave whenever she spotted a spider sitting in its carefully crafted home.

"You didn't tell me about this part," Alden said when we reached the low-ceilinged room full of skeletons, old armor, and discarded statues.

His flashlight paused on a particularly spider web-covered animal skeleton with thick bones.

"I figured it was easier if you didn't know what waited in the darkness," I replied.

"Good idea," he said; he tripped on something and bumped one of the skeletons. The head fell off and rolled away. Alden hurried after me. We passed the room Alden and I had been to and continued down.

Dara let out a quiet breath when I stopped at a door at the bottom of the stairs. "Finally," I heard her whisper. It was the only sign she gave that the small tunnel had finally gotten to her as well.

"Why did we stop?" Lyris asked from behind Brack. Her voice quavered slightly.

"There's a door," Dara replied.

"Why aren't you opening it?" Alden asked; his voice sounded small from the back of the group.

Dara met my gaze. I could read a hint of trepidation in hers. I couldn't blame her. I didn't have much information to give them about what to expect, and following Professor Briggs' instructions to go all the way to the basement through the tight passage felt a little like entering a dungeon of doom on purpose. I was a bit nervous myself.

"I've got it," I told her.

I stepped around Dara and my arm brushed hers before I put a hand to the door.

"You should have Lyris put more salve on your ribs," she said.

I looked back at her. I couldn't decide how I felt about the fact that she could feel my pain.

"They're healing," I told her. "I just need to remember to go out in the moonlight after this. Thanks to all of you, I'm this good."

"So you repay us by inviting us into danger?" she replied dryly.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but she gestured to the door. "Lead the way, oh fearless leader."

I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open.

"You're late."

I sighed inwardly at the sight of Professor Briggs waiting next to Mercer. Both men sat at a square, thick wooden table and appeared to have been in deep discussion before we appeared. A long candlestick made out of what looked like black wood was the only item on the table.

"You didn't give me a time," I told him. "So how am I late?"

"Time was implied," he replied. "Take a seat. Our other guests should be here shortly."

Mercer nodded at each of us as we chose places around the table. His stony expression didn't show how he felt about my choice of individuals. I was grateful for that because they were the only students I knew and felt I could trust.

"The chair's heavy," Alden said from across the table.

Brack pulled a chair out for both of them and took a seat.

Alden sat with a pleased expression.

Lyris and Dara took the chairs on either side of me. Silence filled the stone room. A quick glance around showed that the table was the only furnishing. Light flickered in the fireplace while shadows occupied the far end of the deceptively long room. I wondered what Professor Briggs had against electric lighting. My gaze fell on objects leaning against the wall on the other side of the fireplace.

"Are those swords?" I asked in surprise.

"All will be explained," Briggs replied. "But I prefer not to repeat myself. We'll wait for the others."

"So they're late," I pointed out cheekily.

The professor didn't answer, but the scar down his face tightened when he gritted his teeth hard enough that I could hear it.

Footsteps down the passage made me turn my head. The others followed. The door opened inward and four students appeared. A knot tightened in my stomach.

Vicken glared at me with a look of such hatred I was surprised I didn't burst into flames. Professor Briggs would have liked that; the less electric lighting needed, the better.

"I'm glad you could join us," the professor said flatly.

"It took me some time to find the switch for the door upstairs. You gave horrible directions," Vicken shot back. "If it wasn't for Amryn, we wouldn't have found it."

"I gave the right directions or you wouldn't be here," Professor Briggs replied mildly.

"Don't waste our time arguing all night," Mercer growled.

"Take a seat," the professor told them.

The four vampires sat on the opposite side of the table from the professor and Mercer, which put Dara and Amryn next to each other at the corner.

"Hi," Amryn said.

Dara muttered something that could have been hello before turning back to face the professor. I could feel Vicken's heated glower; my stomach roiled as I fought down the urge to phase and teach him a lesson he deserved. If Headmistress Wrengold was right about me being an Alpha, having Vicken be part of the team was definitely going to put a strain on my impulsive tendencies.

"We have a lot to cover in a short amount of time," Briggs said. "You have the length of my lecture to decide whether or not you want to be a part of this. Staying gives us your full commitment. Leaving means you won't talk about this to anyone at the risk of being ejected from the Academy."

That caught everyone's attention. I hadn't heard any of the professors threaten expulsion up to that point, at least in regards to any student other than myself.

"Let's begin," Briggs said. He gestured. "Mercer?"

At his word, the man brought out a small box from beneath the table. It appeared to be made out of the same black wood as the candlestick. He set it carefully on the table in front of him and slowly drew back the lid. Green light filled the room.

"Demon fire," I said before I could stop myself.

"Imitation demon fire," Briggs corrected. "The real stuff is nothing to play around with."

"Play?" Vicken repeated. "We're going to play with fire? Seems like a bad idea."

Everyone watched Mercer use tongs to carefully pick up the tallow candle on which the flame flickered. He lowered it gingerly onto the black candlestick and let out a breath when the flame was safely settled. His caution concerned me; he didn't come across as a man who feared anything. His respect for the green fire put me on edge.

"Trace," Mercer said.

Professor Briggs slid back the long sleeve of his robe. To my dismay, the professor then leaned over and placed his hand directly in the flame.

"Professor!" Lyris protested.

Everyone watched with wide eyes as Briggs continued to hold his hand in direct contact with the fire. It was too bright to see if the flames were melting his skin. Sweat broke out across his forehead and his hand shook slightly, but still he held it there.

"Don't keep it in there all night," Mercer finally growled.

Briggs pulled his hand quickly back and wiped it on the front of his robe. The skin appeared undamaged, but it was obvious by the strain on the professor's face that the flames had hurt.

"I don't understand," Alden said. "Why do that?"

Briggs looked at me instead of the Grim. "Everything about a demon is geared toward causing fear. This flame, while painful, did nothing to my skin. Instead, in my mind I saw my flesh melting away from my bones, I smelled the charred muscles and felt my blood boil, and it took a great deal of strength to hold it there for that long."

"But it did nothing?" I repeated. I thought about the green flames racing along the ceiling of the top floor and how the walls had appeared charred and burning. "That's why everything was back to normal. It didn't do anything, really."

"Exactly," Briggs said with a nod. "There weren't any repairs because there wasn't any damage."

"Except for the window." I felt immediately foolish. Diving through the window to rescue the students hadn't been necessary. Instead of rescuing them, I was just giving in to the fear that the top floor was burning.

"Except the window," Briggs agreed. There was a ghost of a smile on his scarred face.

"What are you talking about?" Vicken demanded. He glared at me. "And why is he even here? He's a loose cannon."

Professor Briggs cut off the choice words I wanted to say in response. "I invited him just like I invited you. You are welcome to leave if you'd like, but everyone here is necessary if the threat to the Academy we feel is coming actually reaches us."

Vicken sat back in his chair with a scowl. "I'll stay, but it's because I don't trust the weremutt to save anyone but himself."

Briggs ignored the comment. He turned back to the flame. "Demon fire is a demon fear tactic, but it is also one of the most powerful because it affects your mind more than your body. I want each of you to try it."

"You want us to p-put our hands in there?" Alden said.

Mercer replied this time. "You don't want your first encounter with demon fire to come when you're trying to protect someone."

Alden shook his head, his eyes wide.

"You first, Mr. Grim," Professor Briggs told him.

Alden swallowed and rose from his seat. He reached the professor's side and stared at the flames. The green fire reflected in his light blue eyes.

"Go ahead," Briggs urged. "Just leave it there as long as you can."

"And it won't burn me?" Alden asked.

"Don't be afraid of a little burn," Mercer replied gruffly. He sat back in his seat and crossed his beefy arms in front of his chest.

"You'll feel the heat as if it's a normal flame, but it can't actually damage your skin. You'll think it is; that's the power of demon fire. It gets in your head." Briggs gave the boy a reassuring smile that came across as feral with his scar. "Your job is to try not to give in to that power."

Alden glanced at me as if looking for a way out. I lifted my shoulders to let him know it was his own choice. Alden nodded.

He held out a thin, pale hand toward the flame. His fingers shook. I thought for a moment that he would refuse to do it, but he sucked in a breath and shoved his hand into the fire the way Professor Briggs had.

"Ahhh!" a shout escaped Alden and he pulled his hand back again.

Vicken and the other vampires laughed while Alden examined his fingers as if sure they would be blistered.

"Nothing," he said in awe. "But-but I felt them burning." He blinked and I thought I saw tears in his eyes. "It really hurt."

"It does hurt," Professor Briggs said, patting his shoulder. "You did well. Go ahead and sit back down."

Alden sat next to Brack again. He still examined his fingers as though sure there should have been some damage.

"Are you alright?" Brack asked, his deep voice belying his efforts to be quiet.

Alden nodded, but his expression was unsure.

"Who chooses to go next?" Professor Briggs asked.

"I'll go," Brack volunteered. He pushed his chair back with a noisy screech. "If my little buddy can do it, I can, too."

He crossed to the candle and put his large hand in the flame without preamble. Brack's eyes narrowed in concentration. I heard him suck in a breath and his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. A moment later, he pulled his hand back. Relief showed in his gaze when he saw that it was unscathed.

"You did well," Professor Briggs told him.

"That's not fun," Brack said. He shook his head and made his way back to his chair. "Not fun at all."

"My turn," Dara said a little quickly as if she would rather volunteer than be forced to do it.

She bit her lip and stuck her hand in the flame. At the pain, she closed her eyes. Her eyebrows pulled together. A few seconds later, she pulled her hand out and clutched it in her other one.

"Are you okay?" Lyris asked when Dara made her way back to her seat.

"I'm fine," Dara snapped. She slid into her seat and looked at her hand. She glanced at me and found me watching her. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I said. "You kept it there for a long time."

She shook her head and turned away from me.

Lyris rose. She had an uneasy smile on her face. "I guess I should go next."

She put her black fingernailed hand into the flame. A small squeak escaped her. "It hurts," she said to no one in particular.

"Try to keep it in as long as you can," Briggs encouraged.

Less than a second later, Lyris pulled her hand back out. She shook it and then examined it. "Brack's right," she said, her smile gone. "That's not fun at all."

She slid into the seat and rested her head in her hand while she studied the one she had held in the flame.

"Vicken?" Professor Briggs asked.

The vampire shook his head quickly. "Not me. I'm not dumb enough to put my hand in some flame, fake demon fire or not."

"Don't act like this is some stupid joke," Mercer demanded from his chair.

"This is a stupid joke," Vicken replied, rising. "I think you're getting kicks from seeing kids in pain." He waved an arm around to indicate the room. "You invite us to some creepy lair, impress us with your green fire, and expect us to fight for some sort of status through pain initiations. I'm not falling for it."

I would have believed his anger if it wasn't for the flicker of fear that showed in his yellow gaze when he looked at the fire. Vicken's anger came from something far deeper than a fear of being made to look foolish. He was afraid of fire. The other vampires with him, which included his sister Amryn, Lorne, who I had accidentally showed the memory to when he was teasing me about the fox, and another vampire, a boy with blue hair that I hadn't met before, had risen with him. None of them looked thrilled at the prospect of sticking their hands in the flame.

"Don't play into the vampires and fire cliché," Mercer said with bite to his tone.

"If your ancestors were burned at the stake, you'd have a healthy respect for fire as well," Vicken shot back. "It's survival."

"Is it?" Mercer replied, sitting forward on his seat. "Or is it some foolish fear from the past that's going to get you and your little friends killed? Don't let someone else's past control who you are."

A heavy silence filled the room. I could hear Vicken's heart racing. The sound made him seem unexpectedly human. I didn't like it at all. Yet a glance at the vampires behind him, all just students trying to make it through school, filled me with a strange protectiveness I couldn't understand. They, excluding Amryn, had beaten me and left me for dead. I couldn't understand why I had any sympathy for them. If that was some facet of being an Alpha I didn't understand, I didn't enjoy it at all.

"Don't put all your hopes into this team," Mercer was saying to Briggs. "I haven't seen much to be impressed with."

"I'm not seeing volunteers of mythics lining up at our gate to protect the students," Professor Briggs replied. "We're out of options."

"If the vampires can't even face the flame, what do you think is going to happen when the real demons show up?" Mercer asked heatedly.

"I'll do it," I said.

I wouldn't exactly say there was gratitude in Vicken's eyes when his gaze flicked to me, but he didn't mention anything about my werewolf heritage or my questionable acceptance at the school. I took that as enough support to change the focus to me.

I rose and walked to the candle.

"Why is it so important that we withstand the flame?" I asked, studying the flickering light. It appeared thicker than a mere candle would, its light lapping hungrily nearly a foot from the wick. I thought I saw small claws, like those I had seen reaching across the ceiling. I shook my head to chase away the image.

"Because demons' powers rely on fear. If they can get in your head, they'll tear you apart mentally and physically," Briggs explained.

"Don't blame the fire if you fail," Mercer said sullenly. "I don't have much faith in the self-control of werewolves." He had taken a seat in his chair again. His stone-like face rested on his hands, his gaze impassive.

"Give me a chance," I told him. "I won't let you down." They were brash words, but the last thing I wanted was to be sent back up the passage with an angry and humiliated Vicken behind me and no prospects of the school year looking any better.

Mercer waved toward the flame with merely a grunt of approval.

I glanced at Briggs. He didn't look much more hopeful. I gritted my teeth, determined to prove to them that I had something to offer.

"It might help to close your eyes," Lyris whispered.

I shook my head. "If demons come, I won't be able to do that."

I let out a slow breath and put my right hand in the flame.

The pain was excruciating. Instincts bade me to jerk my hand back out before it was ruined completely. It took every ounce of concentration to keep it there. Fortunately, in contradiction to Mercer's doubts, battling my wolf had given me a lot of practice with self-control.

To my horror, I could feel my flesh bubble and boil. I watched with a sickening fascination as the skin of my palm peeled away. The scent of my own charring flesh filled my nose. The voice in the back of my mind warned that there would be nothing salvageable left if I didn't pull back. I clenched my left hand into a fist and willed myself to keep still.

I was sure there would be nothing left. Professor Briggs was wrong. The demon fire was real. It was destroying my hand. I would have nothing left. Why did I choose my right hand instead of my left? Bravado would leave me with nothing but a charred stump. The pain was so excruciating it numbed my thoughts, making it harder to push the fear aside. The wolf lashed out, growling that I would destroy my ability to defend myself, and all for people who didn't care about me, some of whom had even tried to kill me.

Everything was against me, but the flicker of strength I held onto was that I had been underestimated ever since my arrival at the Academy. This was my chance to finally prove their doubts wrong. It was a thread, a weak one at that, but I grabbed onto it with every ounce of mental strength I had left.

My fingers shook despite my concentration. My stomach knotted at the sight of the flames lapping through my hand to the other side, charring the bones black in the process. The skin melted away. My fingers turned red and then black. I sucked in a breath through my nose, counted to ten, and let it out through my mouth. The smell was nearly overpowering.

"How is he doing that?" I heard Vicken whisper in horror.

"Maybe he doesn't feel it," Brack replied.

A hand touched my left arm.

Dara sucked in a breath. "It feels like your entire hand is on fire," she said. "You've got to stop! You'll go into shock!"

"Let him be," Briggs told her.

The hand fell away.

I sucked in one more breath, counted to ten, and let it out. The pain was too much. I had to give in.

I pulled my hand back with the fear that it was destroyed. Yet the moment it left the flames, the flesh returned. I opened and closed it again in awe and relief that it was unharmed.

"That was amazing."

I looked over to see Professor Briggs watching me with an approving expression.

"I've never seen anyone last that long," he said.

"Don't praise him too much," Mercer growled. He met my gaze. "You're going to need to last longer than that."

Sometime during the brief moments my hand had been in the flames, he had risen and crossed to the other side of the table so he could watch me. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw a faint glimmer of relief on his face.

"I'll practice," I told him. "I can go longer." I wasn't sure how, but I would find a way.

"You're insane!" Alden said, but the way he stated it made it sound like a good thing.

"We have a start," Briggs said.

"Do we have enough strength?" Mercer asked.

Briggs nodded as I took my place back at the table. Lyris patted my shoulder. I glanced at Dara, but couldn't read the expression on the empath's face.

"The fangs will be our defense," the professor said, indicating the vampires. "And Brack." He looked at me. "You brought an interesting group."

I didn't want to tell him they were the only students I knew well enough ask. Instead, I went with, "I didn't know what we were getting into, so I went with diversity."

Briggs gave a nod of approval. "A werewolf, a witch, an empath, a warlock, a Grim, and four vampires. It's a unique team." He turned to Mercer. "What do you think?"

The man looked at each of us in turn. Everyone appeared uncomfortable under his intense examination. Lyris attempted a smile when he looked at her; Vicken lowered his head and wouldn't meet the man's eyes. His scrutiny fell on me last. The Alpha in me refused to be cowed by someone who had yet to show me a reason to fear him. I held his gaze until he looked away.

"It's a start," he acknowledged.

Professor Briggs nodded. "We'll see you here tomorrow night. We've got a lot of work to do." He paused, then said, "Unless any of you want out." His voice was quiet when he continued with, "It's honorable to want to protect your school and classmates, but we can't ask you to take this risk. You must choose to do it on your own. You won't be thought of as less if you leave now. Just know that continuing past this point means you will be depended upon to uphold your place on this team. The choice is up to you."

An expectant silence filled the air. I followed the professor's gaze to the vampires. To my surprise, Vicken was already watching me. When our eyes met, the vampire's jaw tightened so that a muscle twitched in his cheek. But instead of saying anything, he lifted one shoulder. I realized with a start that it was a question.

I didn't want to work with the vampire. My ribs ached and my instincts screamed against trusting him to protect my back. Yet Briggs had listed the vampires as our strength. His statement that there weren't any mythics lining up to defend the school let me know how much trouble we were really in. It was up to us to keep the Academy safe. The Alpha side of me knew I had to put pride beneath my ability to protect those I cared about. But did that also include trusting the one who had nearly killed me?

I realized everyone was waiting for me to respond. We needed strength, but at what cost? Did I have to defend myself against the vampire after school as well as during? But again, I was putting myself above the faith the Headmistress and the rest of the school were placing on us. I had to be bigger than my own problems. Why was that so hard? It definitely would have been easier if the bruises didn't ache quite so much.

I nodded before I even realized I had done it. Before I had time to regret the motion, Vicken nodded as well.

"I'm in," he said.

Lorne and the vampire with blue hair quickly added their agreement.

Amryn smiled at me from behind her brother. "I'm in," she said.

I wished her smile could chase away the tension that tightened my aching muscles.

"Count me in," Lyris said.

"Me, too," Brack seconded. "As long as I don't have to do the fire thing again."

Everyone laughed.

Briggs held out a small, leather-bound book. "Both of you start practicing these chants. They won't fight the demon fire, but they can create a shield for a short time. It'll help."

"Will do," Brack said.

Lyris nodded and turned to Dara. The empath didn't look happy.

I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "What about you?" I asked her. "We could use you."

"For what?" she replied quietly. "I didn't do anything."

Mercer spoke up. "If the werewolf is going to learn to withstand the demon flame, an empath could be vital in helping him increase the time he can last."

Dara didn't look swayed by his words.

I gave her my most winning smile. "Please?" I said. "I could really use you on my side."

"How can you say no to that face?" Lyris asked from her other side. "He could ask me to help clean toilets and I'd follow him to the end of the world."

That finally brought a reluctant answering smile from her. "Fine," Dara said. "I'm in."

I turned back to Mercer and Professor Briggs. "You have a team to protect the school."

Mercer let out a breath. "It's a start, I guess."

Professor Briggs smiled at us. "It's a good start."
Chapter Thirteen

I was about to follow the others back up the passageway when Professor Briggs' voice stopped me.

"Ready to return to the cemetery?"

Weariness at hitting my second night without sleep made me hesitate. I was afraid of entering the moonlight without enough strength to withstand phasing. Yet I had promised. It took only one look at the professor's face to see how hard waiting through the day had been on him. I nodded.

"I'm ready."

A strange reluctance showed in the professor's expression. "Alright, let's go," he said. "It'll be alright."

I had the distinct impression that he was talking to himself instead of me.

He turned to Mercer who was busy carrying the demon candle back to the box with the tongs. "Don't drop that," he said.

Mercer's eyes tightened, but his gaze never left the flame. "Don't tell me what to do, warlock."

A small smile pulled at the scar on Brigg's face when he said, "Then be careful, sweeper."

Mercer muttered something in a language I didn't recognize.

The professor's eyebrows lifted. "Where did you hear that?"

Mercer set the candle in the box and breathed out a sigh of relief as he closed the lid. "An ogre my last trip north," he replied. "I made a mental note in case we had to work together again."

Briggs chuckled. "Good to know. I'll have to come up with an appropriately filthy response."

He motioned for me to start up the passage. I kept my steps slow, aware of the way he struggled to limp up the stairs. There was a footfall, then the sound of the cane on the step followed by the drag of his other foot. The professor took a breath, followed by another step.

I finally voiced the thought that was bothering me. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

The professor's steps paused. "What do you mean?"

"If werewolves were the only threat to the school back when my uncle attacked, I wouldn't be here. There's no way the same threat would be let back in. There was more to it than that, wasn't there?" I looked back at him, refusing to move until he answered.

Briggs straightened. His face looked drawn in the light of the flashlight I carried even though I didn't need it to see in the dark. I figured whatever I could do to make his ascent easier was worth it, especially when I knew he wouldn't ask.

"I've given you a hard time," he said.

Caught by the change of subject, I lifted a shoulder, pretending it didn't bother me. "I can take it."

"I've seen that," he replied. "It's commendable. And the fact that you could put whatever you and Vicken have going on to the side to defend this school says a lot about your character." His expression said he guessed what I had refused to tell him. He motioned up the stairs. "But what I said up there holds true. There's a reason people are afraid of you, and you're going to have to face that your entire time here." He tipped his head to indicate the room we had just left. "If you hope what you do for us down there will make a difference, I can already tell you it won't. You won't be able to talk about it, mythics outside of this school will have no idea, and only your teammates will understand what you go through."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not doing it for redemption from some crime I didn't commit." Sebastian's death whispered at the back of my mind. I pushed it away. "I'm doing it because it's something I can do." It sounded weak when I put it like that. I looked past the professor and said, "If I'm hated, I would like to deserve it. It's strange to be feared for something I didn't do." I glanced at him. "But hearing the stories of how a single werewolf hurt so many people in this school makes me wonder if I really should be here."

The professor was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he lifted a hand to the scar that marred his face. "Your uncle gave this to me." He turned the hand over, showing me the scars across the back. "And this."

I lowered my gaze, ashamed of what he had gone through at the hands and fangs of one of my relatives.

"But this...," the professor said. He undid the clasp of the robe at his neck and pushed the material off his shoulder. I stared at a mass of twisted, melted flesh that reached from the top of his shoulder and down his chest. It disappeared beneath the robe, letting me know there was more underneath. The skin was raised and misshapen, a mixture of white scar tissue and red angry skin.

"And this...." The professor shrugged back into the robe and pulled up the hem that covered the leg he favored. He lifted the leg with his hands so that his foot sat on the step above. The same scarred and melted flesh ran from his knee and down to his shoe where it disappeared beneath. His leg was shriveled and twisted unnaturally. If I had seen a picture of it unattached to the rest of him, I wouldn't have guessed it was a leg at all.

He shoved the hem back down and straightened. "These were caused by demon fire."

My mouth fell open. "I thought you said demon fire was only in the mind."

He shook his head. "Real demon fire affects each type of mythic in different ways. Witches and warlocks can use spells to help defend against it." He grimaced. "But when your friends are under attack and your girlfriend is dead, trying to remember the right words...." He shook his head, closing his eyes. "I ran through the fire to try to save Zanie, but it was already too late."

I didn't know what to say. He confirmed my suspicions and also my worst fears at the same time. "How else does it affect mythics?"

He gaze was sad when he looked up at me.

"I need to know," I told him gently. "The safety of my team will depend on it."

He let out a breath and said, "Vampires will catch fire as if they'd bathed in kerosene. Their fear was well-placed even if Mercer wouldn't admit it." He leaned against the wall and stood his cane next to him. "It can block an empath's abilities. Dara will have to touch you to help you, but she'll feel the burning through you like she did tonight. Witches and warlocks like Lyris and Brack can lessen the effects with chants that I'll teach them; Lyris already knows how to make salves to help with real burns. But if the fire touches them, it will do to them what it did to me."

"And me?" I asked. I had the feeling he was saving it for last for a reason; I just wasn't sure I wanted to know exactly what that reason was.

The professor studied his scarred hand. "What you did today showed an incredible amount of concentration, and you should be proud of that." He closed his hand into a fist. "You were able to last through the pain until the end, which is commendable."

"But?" I said, feeling his hesitation and wishing to get it over with.

He lowered his hand and looked at me. "But if at any time you lose that concentration and let the fear take over, the affects you saw would happen immediately. You would have lost your hand."

The knot in my stomach tightened into a fist. In my mind, I saw my charred fingers, the bones of my hand showing black through the light of the green flame. The melted flesh, the smell of cooking meat, and the sight of my skin peeling back like hair held in heat, set my teeth on edge.

"The fear becomes real," I whispered.

He nodded. "I'm going to explain that to the team tomorrow night. They deserve to know what they're getting into and the real dangers involved."

I sank down onto the step behind me. "You mean the dangers I got them into."

"They have a choice," the professor reminded me.

"And they've made the brave one, but if they get hurt, I'm still the one who brought them down here."

"What are you saying?" Briggs asked.

I glanced up at him. "That I should have brought students I didn't like."

He chuckled at my lame joke. "I figured having Vicken come would level the playing field a bit."

I shook my head. "How can having four members on our team that can burst into flames possibly be a benefit?"

The professor tapped his cane on the step. "You're assuming you've seen the only danger you're going against."

"I was afraid you'd say that," I replied wryly.

Briggs waved his cane to indicate the stairs. "Ready to keep going?"

I gave his leg a skeptical look. "Are you?"

He gave a tight smile. "If demon fire didn't keep me down, these blasted stairs won't."

By the time we reached the main floor, I wondered if he was regretting his words. I had continued up when I realized he wasn't behind me any longer. I looked back in time to see him slide up a small piece of wood along the wall.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Making sure nobody is there to see us," Briggs replied, still looking through the hole. "It's imperative that these tunnels remain hidden."

"Tunnels, you mean plural?" I asked. "There's more of them?"

Briggs glanced up at me. "Of course there is. If you build a school for mythical students who can do practically anything imaginable, you're going to want a way to keep an eye on them without being seen."

"Or get away from them without being seen," I put in helpfully.

"Exactly," he replied with a chuckle. "You're more perceptive than you look."

I fought back a laugh. "Thanks," I said dryly.

He slid the piece of wood back down, then flipped a latch at waist-level. The door, which was made of heavy wood and should have weighed a ton, turned easily on a pivot.

I followed the professor through and found myself on the other side of the unicorn painting that occupied the far end of the entrance corridor.

"That's handy," I said, pushing it closed. I gave the painting a skeptical look and realized it was a photograph that had been blown up. "Uh, someone you know?" I asked jokingly.

"Definitely not," Briggs replied as he limped up the hallway. "Unicorns tend to be a bit stabby."

As I followed him, I had to fight the sensation that I was caught in some weird dream. I was having a conversation with someone about a unicorn, a real unicorn, and that someone knew unicorns enough to know that they stabbed things, or people, or warlocks. I wasn't really sure which. I shook my head at the thought that reality was a lot stranger than any dream I had ever had.

Alden pushed away from the wall near the entrance hall. "It's about time you guys showed up."

"You were waiting for us?" I asked.

He nodded. "We're a team, remember? You might need my help out there."

"You're not going."

Whatever I had been about to say left at Professor Briggs' gruff words.

I looked at Alden, then back at the professor. "Why can't he come?"

"He's a Grim," the professor replied as if that should have been obvious.

Alden lowered his gaze to the ground, his expression hurt. "I just wanted to help," he mumbled.

I put a hand on his shoulder. "You can help. We're a team."

"He's not coming, and that's final," Briggs said, his tone resolute.

"I understand," Alden said. He turned away.

"I don't," I pressed. "What am I missing?"

"He's a Grim, Finn. We're going to see a ghost. Don't you get it?" the professor asked. There was a strain to his tone as if I was trying to act dumb.

My hands balled into fists in an effort to remain calm. I was tired of everyone assuming that things at the Academy were normal and I should know everything they do. I fought back the strange urge to growl and said with carefully spaced words, "Explain it to me."

There was a flicker in the professor's dark gaze as if he just realized I was being honest. He glanced at Alden, who waited near the steps without looking at us.

The professor sighed. "Alden is a Grim. That's his last name and the occupation he will have once he graduates here; it also means that he was born with the innate skills that come from his heritage, just like you being a werewolf. Does that make sense?"

I lifted a shoulder. "It would if I knew what being a Grim meant. You say it like it's a bad thing."

Professor Briggs shook his head. "It's not a bad thing."

Alden turned to listen, his expression unreadable.

The professor continued, "It's just that Grims convey the spirits of the dead to whatever is after. Bringing Alden when I go talk to Zanie," he said her name as if it was difficult, "Might mean I wouldn't get to talk to her at all. I can't risk that."

Alden spoke up. "That's why I don't keep roommates and most people avoid me. There are a lot of superstitions about Grims, but facts, also." He shifted his gaze to the professor. "But I don't do what my parents do yet."

Professor Briggs nodded. "Just the same, I would be more comfortable if you don't go."

Alden nodded. "I understand." He turned toward the stairs and said over his shoulder, "Maybe I'll go see if I can help Lyris and Brack with their spells."

"That's a great idea," the professor agreed.

When Alden's footsteps faded up the stairs, I spoke up, "So Grims guide the spirits of people who died?" It was hard to understand what that meant.

Briggs nodded. His voice was solemn when he replied, "It can't be an easy job. I don't envy him growing up to do that. I know some of the students are bitter towards him when he doesn't deserve it."

"Why?" I couldn't understand anyone resenting Alden. He was nice, quiet, and from what I had seen, he took great care not to bother anyone.

Briggs looked at me as if I was missing something. "Most people have lost someone in their lives, especially mythics. I guess it's easy to resent the person who took them away."

That made my heart tighten. I glanced at him, saying the words as the thought formed itself in my mind. "So the night of the accident, a Grim was there to take Sebastian?"

I leaned against the wall where Alden had been, my thoughts going places I had refused to think about since I came to the Academy. Professor Briggs waited in silence.

"That was the night I turned into a werewolf for the first time," I said, thinking aloud to myself. I forgot the professor was even there. "If Sebastian hadn't died, I could have gotten him out of the car with my brother. I wouldn't have phased. Dad said it usually happens for the first time under stressful circumstances." I shook my head. "Maybe it wouldn't have happened at all. Maybe Sebastian could have stayed alive. Maybe—"

The professor interrupted the whirlwind of my thoughts. "Grims don't take the living."

I glanced at him, surprised to see him standing there. "What?"

He gave me a sad smile as if he understood my train of thought. "You're going down a path that will lead you to blame the Grims for taking you friend, but they aren't at fault. Death happens to us all, eventually." He paused, then said, "Sometimes it's nice to think that we don't have to go through it alone."

I closed my eyes at the realization that I had just done as the rest of the students did, blaming the Grims when in fact it was my fault that Sebastian died. I was just as bad as the rest of them. My only solace came from the fact that Alden hadn't been there to hear it.

A hand touched my shoulder.

"I don't know what happened the night you phased for the first time," Briggs said, his words gentle. "But you can't undo the past. Trust me. I know. But it's also alright to be sad. Your friend deserves the fact that you miss him. It honors his memory and the relationship you had before his death." He let out a slow breath and lowered his hand before he said, "When we're done, the best thing I can do is let Zanie move on. I just want to make sure I can learn why she's here first."

I nodded. I needed a distraction, for any way to lighten the heaviness that rested on my shoulders. I glanced at the entrance to the hallway with the many doors. Strange letters had been carved into the frame on either side and along the top in a scrolling script.

"What does that say?" I asked the professor.

Professor Briggs gave a small nod as if he guessed what had caused me to change the topic of our conversation. "It's elvish. One side says, 'Growth is in the journey' while the other says, 'Follow the path of your heart'. The top means roughly 'Enter and be changed'. I've always felt all three messages were a little much. The elves could have chosen just one."

"Real elves?" I asked as I followed him inside.

"Yeah," he replied over his shoulder. "What other kind is there?"

I was going to go with no elves at all, which had been my world until I found out I was a werewolf, but the continued ignorance that kept tripping me up was getting annoying. I chose instead not to answer and reached the door at his side. He slid a key into the hole above the doorknob.

"It needs a key?" I said in surprise.

He glanced at me. "Of course. We can't leave access to doors like this to just anyone. That would be dangerous." He turned the key and I heard the bolt slide back.

"I didn't have a key."

He paused with his hand on the door. "So how did you get in?"

I shrugged under his scrutiny. "I don't know," I admitted. "I was sleepwalking the two times I entered by myself, and, um, someone else helped me in the other time."

If he guessed it was because of the beating I had taken, he didn't mention it. Instead, he went with, "Sleepwalking, huh? I still don't understand how you got through without a key."

"Me, neither," I said, baffled.

He pushed the door open. The scent of the forest flooded through, tangling around me. The sharp smell of evergreens warred with the tantalizing aroma of rich loam, brisk rivers, and flower-filled meadows.

The moonlight fell on my feet. I stepped forward, longing for the healing embrace once more.

"Hold on," the professor said. He turned and pulled the door shut behind us.

I barely heard him. The wolf within me had surged at the touch of the moonlight. My strength was fading with my lack of sleep and holding my hand in the fire. I didn't know how much longer I could keep it back. The pain of fighting to stay human doubled me over.

"Finn, you alright?" Briggs asked.

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to stand. "Th-the wolf," I said past my gritted teeth. "I'm too tired to fight back."

"Why fight it?" he asked in surprise.

I leaned against the door and willed my breathing to slow. "It's not me," I said.

"It may not have been you," the professor replied. "But it's you now. You're a werewolf. Werewolves phase into wolves. That's what you do."

I shook my head stubbornly. "I'm not an animal."

He watched me for a minute in silence. I kept my expression guarded to hide any show of the pain that was roiling inside me at fighting the phase.

"You're still you as a wolf," he finally said. "The sooner you accept it, the easier you'll fit in here."

I shook my head. "You and I both know I'll never fit in here."

The pain dropped me to my knees. A groan escaped me as the phase took over. I heard a rip as my tee-shirt tore up the back. The pull of my bones shifting, my muscles elongating, my shoulders rolling, and my face changing shape made the pain from the beating fade to the background. I had one glimpse of Professor Briggs' face. My shirt hung in tatters, my skin was stretching as it changed, and all of my bruises stood out in sharp contrast in the moonlight. His eyes widened, then he turned away.

I let out a breath and gave into the phase. It went quicker, the fur growth, claws, and ears shaping more easily without me fighting. In the space of a minute that felt like an hour, I stood on four paws willing my heartbeat to slow and my breath to come in steadily. I stepped out of the remains of my pants and shook. It helped my muscles settle into the wolf form.

The concerns of my human life became more of a background buzz than the forefront thoughts in my mind. Instead, I was aware of a cricket working its way through the grass near the door, I heard the breeze twisting and dancing through the leaves of the trees around us, and the feeling of the dirt beneath my feet beckoned me to run and enjoy the freedom of being unfettered by school. The fall of the moon on my back chased the last ache from my ribs.

"Your feud with Vicken was a little more intense than I realized."

Professor Briggs' voice came from the trees in front of me. I padded slowly forward, both grateful and frustrated that I couldn't reply. Instead, I pushed past him, intent on reaching the cemetery as quickly as possible so I could go to sleep.

"Maybe pairing you guys together was a bad idea," Briggs continued, falling in behind me at a quick limp.

I snorted and continued, setting a pace that was probably too fast for his condition.

"We don't need members of our defense team warring with each other," he said, his voice further behind me. "It'd be dangerous for everyone. I guess you proved you can be in the same room together, but can you really trust each other?"

I didn't need someone to voice the same thoughts that had swirled over and over in my mind since the moment Vicken appeared in the basement. I had made a promise to deal with it; I just needed them to trust that I could do so.

I slowed when I realized Briggs was so far behind I couldn't see him. I could hear his step-limp cadence, slower than it had been when I was pushing him. After seeing his leg, I couldn't believe how much pain it probably caused him on a daily basis. How did someone stand in front of classroom day after day on a leg like that?

His steps stopped. Curious, I paced softly back through the forest. I spotted him resting on a grassy mound at the edge of a starlit meadow. He had his bad leg stuck out in front of him and he rested his head in his hand.

"Maybe I don't want to go," he said quietly to himself. "Maybe I'm a coward."

With everything that had happened to me, I had forgotten the true reason I was taking Briggs to the cemetery. Here I was, frustrated at phasing to my wolf form in front of my professor; what a simple, petty concern considering that fact that he sat there, a broken man, limping through a forest to speak to the ghost of the girl he had loved. He held himself responsible for her death, even though he apparently almost gave his life to save her. I stopped walking entirely at the sight of tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I can't face her. I can't...I can't do it." He shook his head, hiding his face in his hand. "I failed her."

My heart went out to the warlock. I had never seen someone so humble and lost as the sight of the professor on the grass mound, his cane dropped a few steps away, and the hood of his robes pulled up in an effort to hide himself from anyone who saw his shattered state. But I was the only one there.

I padded quietly toward him. When I reached his cane, I picked it up carefully in my mouth. I set it at his side and stepped back. He showed no acknowledgement of my presence, so I gave a quiet woof.

"Go away, Finn," the professor said without looking up. "Go back to the Academy. I'm done."

The thought that I couldn't get back inside with the door locked was only a minor concern. The professor needed to talk with Mezania, both for the sake of the Academy and for his own peace of mind. But I couldn't tell him that.

I gave another woof and pushed the cane closer with my nose.

"Don't you understand?" Briggs shouted. He grabbed the cane and threw it as hard as he could. It hit a tree across the clearing and disappeared in the long grass. He glared at me, his dark eyes glistening wetly. "Go deal with being a wolf, as that seems so difficult for you to do."

I refused to let his words hurt. Instead, I crossed to the tree line to give him his space. I watched him for several long minutes. Professor Briggs didn't change his position no matter how his leg must have hurt. He merely sat there, his head bowed with his hood now hiding his face from my sight. He was done.

I lowered my head and padded away. He was right. I couldn't understand the depths of what he had gone through. My friend had died in a car accident because of me. Sebastian's death lay heavily on my shoulders, and that would never go away. Yet that was nothing compared to the loss I had seen in his eyes at the mention of his girlfriend. He had loved her. He still loved her; that much was sure. How could he confront her with the guilt on his shoulders? I didn't know what I would say to Sebastian. An apology could never be enough to make up for his death. Even if Briggs had given everything he had to try to save her, it was clear he didn't think it was enough.

I looked up from my wandering to find myself at the cemetery. The tombs poked up from the long grass like teeth in a skull. Some were old and worn away. There were several large tombs at the far end along with marble statues of angels, winged children, and a black wolf with a silver seven on its shoulder. I wondered about the stories the grave markers represented.

"You're back."

Mezania drifted a few inches above her tombstone in a sitting position. Her yellow dress floated around her gently as though caught in a gentle ocean current. Her raven black hair drifted on the same current.

"You look sad," she said.

She stepped down from her tombstone and crossed to me.

"Did you stop the fire?" she asked.

I nodded. Last night seemed so far away. I breathed out a sigh without realizing I had done it.

"Come on, wolf. It can't be that bad," she said, her voice sweet.

She set a hand on my back and moved it as if petting me. The night she had warned me of the fire, I had been able to feel her ghostly touch, but this time, I couldn't feel it. I glanced back and saw that the hand she used was fainter than the other one. A pang struck my heart when I realized it was the one that the werewolf had taken. She had been through a lot, and yet she was trying not to be afraid for my sake.

I could understand what Briggs had seen in her. Mezania had a gentle smile and bright blue eyes. She was strong. I could see it in the way she held herself, comforting me despite her fear. She looked beautiful in the moonlight as though she was a haunted creature of the night, caught in the moon's embrace in the same way that I was trapped as a wolf. I realized with a start that was exactly what she was.

'The moonlight reveals our truth'. The phrase repeated in my mind. She was a spirit who was trapped there instead of moving on. No wonder she looked so lost.

I gave a small whine and rose.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked. Her voice was wistful when she said, "I like your company, even if you don't say much."

I took a few steps and then turned back and whined again.

Her eyebrows pulled together and she tipped her head to one side. "I don't understand."

I took another step, looked at her over my shoulder, and whined again.

"You...you want me to follow you?" she guessed.

I waved my tail.

She looked uncertain. "I can't go far from here." She looked at the tombstones. "Though I would like to. But...I'll try."

I led the way slowly through the trees. When we were almost to the meadow, her edges began to fade. She paused.

"I don't think I can go any further," she said. "I-I'll disappear, and reappear there." She shook her head. "I can't explain it. I don't know why." Her voice caught on the last sentence.

I crossed back to her and gave another whine.

She smiled down at me. "Alright, wolf. Just a little further then."

She followed me into the clearing. I gave a small bark. Professor Briggs raised his head. His hood fell back from his face and his eyes widened.

"Zanie?" he whispered. He rose gingerly to his feet and said louder, "Zanie, is that you?"

A glance up showed tears on Mezania's cheeks and a bright smile on her face. "It's me, Trace," she replied. She took a step forward, but nearly vanished from view. She stepped back quickly. "I can't go any further."

"I'll come to you," Briggs said.

He limped forward. The pain that twisted his face when he put his weight on his damaged leg must have been excruciating, but he limped forward again.

I ran to his side, determined to help in any way I could.

"Thank you," the professor whispered.

He set a hand on my back and moved faster, able to keep his weight off his leg. I could feel how he was pushing himself; excitement took over where the fear had been.

"I-I can't believe it's you," he said as we drew near. "I told myself it couldn't be. Yet Finn's description, the way you listened to the wind, it just had to be."

Mezania nodded. Her tears made damp spots on her yellow dress. "Finn has been a good friend." She swallowed and gave me an apologetic smile. "Even though I was scared at first."

"He understands why," Briggs replied. "I told him everything."

She nodded again, her blue eyes bright.

When we reached her, the professor held out a hand. Mezania did the same. Her hand brushed through the professor's.

He gave a sad smile, but nodded. "That's fine," he said. "We can talk."

"Yes, talk," she replied. But it was clear by her gaze that she wanted to be held by him so badly it was all she could do to stand there.

Briggs' hand lingered in the air as if he felt the same way. He blinked back a bright shine of tears and sank to the ground. She did the same, her knees just above the grass. She straightened her dress, settling it around her like any girl who wanted to look good for the boy she loved.

"Y-you look so different," she said shyly. "Older, I mean."

I padded quietly away to give them their privacy.

"I tried," Briggs began. He paused and I could hear his struggle to continue. "I-I tried so hard to save you."

I put my ears back to make it harder to hear them and set my focus on finding the professor's cane.
Chapter Fourteen

"When did you get in? I must have been asleep," Alden said. "I was helping Lyris practice her chants until neither of us could focus anymore." He shook his head. "The fire took a lot out of us."

"How's that going?" I asked, sitting up in my bed. The bell had rung a lot sooner than I was ready for.

"The chants? Harder than it sounds," Alden admitted. "The language isn't anything we're familiar with. Brack gave up before either of us." He gave a shy smile. "Although I'm not a warlock or a witch, obviously, Lyris says my enunciation helps her say the words properly." He shrugged. "It's nice to be useful."

"You went first last night with the demon fire and showed bravery even though you didn't know what you were getting into. That's useful," I pointed out. I rose from the bed and searched my luggage for clean clothes. I was going to have to figure out where to wash mine soon, or learn how to sew. If I kept phasing and tearing out of clothes, I was sure Mrs. Hassleton would like the excuse to kick me out.

"I was called on first. You would have done the same," Alden replied.

I shook my head. "I'm not so sure about that. I have an issue with authority."

Alden chuckled. "You realize admitting it is half the battle?"

"And being an Alpha is apparently the other half," I replied with a chuckle of my own.

He shook his head. "You're screwed."

"Tell me about it."

I pulled on one of the many dark blue and black Academy uniforms Mrs. Hassleton had given me. I shoved my tattered tee-shirt and pants from the night inside with a sigh, then noticed the charging cord for my phone.

"You coming?" Alden asked.

"In a minute," I told him. "Hopefully there'll be food left."

"You're pressing your luck," he told me as he opened the door.

"I am by letting you eat first," I replied.

He laughed and shut the door behind him.

I pulled out the cellphone. Four messages showed on the screen. I opened the phone with a strange trepidation tightening my chest. I read Drake's texts first.

GHOSTS ARE REAL? WILL I GET TO MEET ONE IF WE VISIT?- DRAKE

The tone of his next text was completely different. A check showed that they were about four hours apart. I wondered if he had thought about my response from earlier.

IT'S NOT FAIR BEING STUCK HERE ALONE. EVERYTHING'S DIFFERENT EVEN THOUGH JULI AND DAD PRETEND NOTHING'S CHANGED. IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE THE GHOST, LIKE YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DIED. BUT I WENT TO BAST'S FUNERAL. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. DAD SAYS THAT BRIDGE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FIXED LONG AGO. BUT I SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED YOU TO SAVE ME FIRST.

I let out a slow breath and stared at the phone screen until his words blurred together. The first bell rang. Alden was right. There wouldn't be any food left. Somehow my appetite had fled anyway. I typed slowly.

I'M STILL HERE. I PROMISE. YOU CAN TEXT ME WHENEVER YOU WANT AND WHATEVER YOU WANT. I'M GLAD YOU GOT TO STAY HOME. THIS PLACE IS MESSED UP. THERE ARE THINGS HAPPENING THAT I CAN'T FIGURE OUT. IT'S LIKE BEING THROWN INTO ONE OF THOSE OLD HORROR MOVIES DAD USED TO SHOW US. COMPLETE WITH VAMPIRES, GET THAT. AND THEY REALLY DON'T LIKE ME. I MEAN REALLY, REALLY.

I stared at the screen for another minute and then typed, BAST WAS A GOOD FRIEND, BUT YOU ARE MY BROTHER. I REGRET THAT HE DIED. I REGRET IT SO MUCH I CAN'T EVEN DEAL WITH IT. BUT I DON'T REGRET SAVING YOU FIRST. I WOULD ALWAYS CHOOSE YOU FIRST OVER ANYONE. REMEMBER THAT, OKAY?- FINN

I scrolled down to the next text. Fortunately, Juli kept it light with, YOUR DAD'S NOT THRILLED THAT THE STROGANOFF WON, BUT HE'S NOT SURPRISED, EITHER. LET US KNOW WHEN YOU KNOW YOUR HOLIDAY SCHEDULE. WE CAN ALL COME AND PICK YOU UP. I'D LIKE TO SEE THIS SCHOOL!- LOVE JULI

Dad's was a bit more to the point. DECK IS STARTED, BUT HARDER THAN I THOUGHT. THUMB IS BROKEN, SO THAT PUTS A DAMPER ON THINGS. AND IT'S HARDER TO TEXT. WHY IS THAT? ANYWAY, I'LL SEND YOU PICTURES WHEN IT'S DONE. HANG IN THERE.- LOVE DAD

I wrote a text to both of them at the same time. I MISS YOU ALL. I'LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I FIND OUT ABOUT THE HOLIDAY BREAKS. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE DECK WHEN I COME HOME. PUT DRAKE TO WORK TO COVER FOR YOUR BROKEN THUMB. HE'LL APPRECIATE THAT I SAID THAT. I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT. I'VE GOT TO RUN TO BREAKFAST OR IT'LL BE GONE. THERE ARE SOME MAJOR APPETITES HERE.- LOVE, FINN

I didn't know how much Dad had told Julianne about the werewolf stuff, so I thought I wouldn't mention the creative assortment of students at the Academy until I found out for sure. The last thing I needed was to worry her.

I reached the cafeteria to find the doors locked. I turned away with a sigh, accepting my fate of starvation until lunchtime.

"Hey, Finn," Alden called through the crowd of students rushing to first period.

I couldn't suppress a grin at the sight of him carrying something wrapped in a napkin. I only needed my nose to tell me that they were breakfast burritos that had been generously slathered with cheese and salsa.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?" I asked when he handed the napkin to me.

He chuckled. "You showed up in the hallway like a stray dog."

That brought an answering laugh from me. "I did, didn't I?"

He nodded. "Now to Professor Seedly's. Let's hope he doesn't want hands-on help examining the flowering cactus again. My fingers can't take it."

When we reached the classroom, we found the students huddled near the wall instead of in the seats. Professor Seedly paced, by, muttered and looking under each of the desks. The nest in his hair tipped precariously with the bird on top holding tightly.

"Where is it? Where did I put it?" he said over and over.

The bell rang and still the professor wandered the room. He finished checking the desks, then started again.

"I can't find it, Gerald," he said, addressing the bushes when he passed them. "I can't find it anywhere."

"Um, Professor, can we help you look?" one of the girls asked.

Professor Seedly straightened. He stared at us in surprise as if he hadn't expected to see students standing there.

"Yes, yes, you can help me look," he replied. "Look everywhere."

We did as we were told. Everyone peeked beneath the desks and in the bushes, careful not to disturb any of the more prickly ones.

Alden spoke up. "Um, Professor?"

He straightened and peered at the white-haired boy from behind a large fern. "Yes, Mr. Grim?"

"What exactly are we looking for?" Alden asked.

The professor's white eyebrows rose. "Why, for an egg, of course!"

The students around me exchanged glances.

Alden looked at me. I cleared my throat and said, "Don't you have one in your nest?"

The professor's eyes widened. He felt his head quickly. The little brown bird that had been sitting in the nest gave a perturbed peep and flew to one of the nearby trees. The professor searched deeper in the nest and his mouth fell open. He gingerly withdrew a small egg and held it out.

"Look, Mr. Briscoe. You helped me find it!" he said.

I crossed to him to get a better look at the egg. It wasn't like any egg I had ever seen before. Instead of an oval shape, the egg was more oblong. Its shell was purple with white specks and looked rather leathery.

"What kind of egg is that?" a boy asked from behind me.

At that moment, the egg stirred in the professor's hand. His eyes widened. "One that I was not supposed to incubate," he said.

The egg twitched again. He set it in the middle of a desk. The egg gave another jerk and started rolling to the edge.

"Catch it!" someone shouted.

"Save the egg!"

A girl with red pigtails caught the egg before it could roll off. When she put it back in the middle, she set her book below it to keep it from rolling. The egg shuddered and the rolled toward the other side. A moment later found the egg safely ensconced inside a wall of books.

"It's hatching," Alden breathed.

Everyone leaned closer.

Instead of cracking, a tiny set of claws appeared. The claws pulled down, tearing through the leathery shell. Then they withdrew. We held our breaths.

"Do you see it yet?" someone from the back shouted.

Five or six voices hushed him. Silence settled over the group as another set of claws appeared and ripped sideways. A flap of the egg dipped down and a head stuck out.

Gasps sounded all around me; I couldn't break my gaze from the tiny creature.

"I-is that a dragon?" I asked.

At the sound of my voice, the little head turned. Bright green eyes locked on mine. The creature blinked, its purple eyelids matching the tiny scales on the tip of its nose and around its eyes. The rest of its head and down its neck were black.

The dragon opened its mouth, revealing two rows of sharp-looking tiny fangs. It gave what sounded like a cough; a small blue flame came out so fast I couldn't move away. The fire hit me square in the face. I closed my eyes, sure my skin was about to be melted. When it didn't hurt, I opened my eyes again. A scent of mint lingered from the strange flame.

The dragon had pushed out of the egg completely and stood on four claw-tipped legs. Tiny black wings were held tight to its body. Everyone stared as the little creature looked at me and gave a little mewling sound.

"She has chosen you to be her mother," Professor Seedly said with a very pleased expression.

"What?" I asked in shock.

A few students laughed, but others patted me on the back.

"Lucky," a boy with green hair said.

"I thought dragons were forbidden," a girl with orange scales on her face pointed out. I remembered her name to be Fren from conversations in class.

"Oh, they are," Professor Seedly said with a vigorous nod that upset the bird who had perched in the nest again. "They most definitely are. I wasn't supposed to have the egg at all, let alone allow it to be incubated.

The little dragon walked on wobbly legs toward me. I didn't know what to do.

"Hold out your hand," Fren urged in a hushed voice.

I did so numbly. To my surprise, the little dragon climbed onto my palm and up to my wrist. Its little claws tickled as it crossed my skin. The dragon wrapped around my wrist, its long tail holding it snug, and it closed its eyes. A moment later, a tiny sigh emanated from the little creature.

"Will you look at that!" Professor Seedly said with a grin. "She's sleeping!"

I lifted my wrist. The little dragon didn't budge. "Uh, what do I do with it now?"

"She chose you to be her keeper," Fren said. "Now you have to take care of her."

"But what if the Mist finds her?" the boy next to me asked.

Professor Seedly shook his head, his gaze sad. "They would destroy her. She is an outlawed creature because the presence of a dragon would undoubtedly also reveal the presence of the mythics that the Mist have tried so hard to keep a secret."

"Who are the Mist?" I asked, watching the sleeping dragon. Her belly was cool where it pressed against my skin. She weighed little more than a mouse. Wrapped the way she was, she felt securely clasped as though nothing would move her.

"The Mythical Integration and Social Trackers," another student said. "They help keep us hidden, keep us safe. There are laws against stuff like this," he concluded in a stern tone.

"Take it easy, Clarence," Fren told him. "What are you going to do? Turn the dragon in?"

Everyone looked back at the little creature wrapped around my wrist.

Clarence eventually shook his head. "No. I wouldn't do that." He reached out a hesitant finger. "Can I pet her?"

It felt strange to be suddenly in charge of a creature I never even knew existed, but everyone looked to me as if I was as much the dragon's keeper as she apparently thought me to be. I lifted my wrist and the boy ran a finger gently down her scales.

"She's so smooth," he said in awe.

"I want to pet her!"

"Me, too!"

I was enveloped by students who took turns to admire the tiny dragon. She slept through it all as though breaking out of the egg had been the most exhausting thing she had ever experienced. I supposed that was entirely true.

"Do you have any other dragon eggs?" Fren asked eagerly.

"Not any that you know of," the professor replied evasively.

"How much bigger will she get?" I asked the professor.

Professor Seedly watched her with a proud expression as if he had hatched her on purpose. "Not much bigger. She's a sylph dragon. Her presence is good luck. The fact that she's chosen you is a good thing for you."

I wasn't sure how I felt about being unexpectedly selected by a newborn dragon, a species I had always though was something from fairytales. Life hadn't exactly prepared me for such a circumstance.

"What do I feed it?" I asked, gazing at her worriedly.

"She'll eat flies and bugs, anything protein," Professor Seedly replied. "Don't worry. Pretty soon she'll be catching her own prey. Dragons this size don't eat much, I think."

I glanced at him. He gave me an embarrassed smile. "They're quite rare. We may be learning this together."

"I'll take her if he doesn't want her," someone piped up from the back of the group.

Professor Seedly shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. Once a sylph dragon chooses its keeper, they're bound together. That's what the blue fire was about. It didn't burn Mr. Briscoe; it gave him her scent." He shot me an interested look. "I guess that means even more to a werewolf."

I was embarrassed by all the attention and replied with a mumbled, "I guess so."

"What if he refuses to keep her?" the boy in the back persisted.

"She'll die," Professor Seedly said, his voice grave. "A sylph is very sensitive. They don't need much, but they are fiercely loyal and require the same loyalty in return." He held my gaze, his light blue eyes showing his age. "I know you didn't plan for this. I had hopes that if the egg ever hatched, I would be the one chosen, but fate is a funny thing. From all I've learned here," he gestured to indicate the plants that filled the room, "I know that nature has its own will. One cannot change the course, one can only find a place within it." His gaze moved to the dragon when he said, "Do you accept your place in it?"

I nodded, realized he was still looking at the dragon, and said, "I do."

Professor Seedly gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Keep her protected, Mr. Briscoe," he said before he turned to the board between two large blueberry bushes. The board showed multi-colored drawings of a strange bulbous plant with what looked like fangs.

Professor Seedly lectured on the various varieties of Venus fly trap, including one big enough to devour a horse with pictures showing the one he had raised at the Academy until a student got inexplicably trapped inside. After that, the late Headmaster had forced him to find it another home. Someone said the name Horsey and laughter rippled through the room.

By the end of class, I felt like I belonged with the rest of the students. Whispered conversations about the dragon and how neat it was included me instead of occurring around me. In accepting the dragon, I had inadvertently garnered their respect. It was a unique feeling.

When the bell rang, I approached the professor. He was busy spraying ferns with a water bottle.

"That's it, Gerald. Everything is going to be just fine. I know you're worried, but we have to keep on going, just like I told the—"

"Uh, Professor?"

He spun around and blinked at me for a moment, his eyes huge behind his glasses. I held up my hand to show him the still-sleeping dragon around my wrist. Recognition dawned and he nodded.

"Ah, yes. The sylph chose you. How can I help, Mr. Briscoe?"

"Well, uh, what do I do now?" I asked.

I was reluctant say goodbye to the dragon, but I didn't know what to do with the creature during my other classes.

"Do?" Professor Seedly asked. He blinked again and ran a hand down his tattered white beard. "I don't understand."

"With the dragon, Professor. I'm sure you want her to stay here," I said.

His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, unsetting the bird yet again. "That's not possible," he protested with agitation. "You can't. She chose you." His hands fluttered in front of him. "If you leave her, she'll waste away to nothing. She'll die."

I stared at the little dragon in shock. She slept curled around my wrist, as still as stone except for the nearly inaudible breathing my sensitive ears could hear. She appeared oblivious to the world and content to sleep the hours away.

"What if...what if I do something wrong?" I asked.

"What could you do wrong?" he replied, confused.

I looked at the floor, the wall, and then the ceiling, anywhere but at him. "What if, well, what if I phase. What if I hurt her?"

He put a hand on my shoulder, making me look at him.

"The dragon chose you for you. You will find a way to make it work. Trust me." His light blue gaze was pleading when he concluded, "She needs you."

The thought of letting the dragon continue to sleep seemed small in the face of what the professor implied would happen to her if I left her in his care. I swallowed and nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of her."

He smiled in relief. "I know you will. Sylph dragons never choose wrong."

I walked out of the door careful to keep my left hand safely protected against my chest in case somebody bumped me. Everyone else was busy filing out of the class. A few congratulated me again on the dragon; it seemed like a bizarre thing to say thank you for, but I was glad that they had forgotten my werewolf heritage for the moment.

"That's so awesome she chose you!" Alden said, reaching my side.

"I just hope I can do what she needs," I replied. "I'm not really sure what that means."

"You'll figure it out," he said with more confidence in me than I had in myself.

"Let me know if you need help catching flies for her," Fren said. She walked beside us down the hall.

"I can catch spiders," a boy with slimy-looking skin offered.

"We want to feed her, not poison her," Fren replied.

"Actually, her stomach contains a type of bile that neutralizes any poison from the insects she'll eat," a girl with blue feathers in her hair said. I recognized her from my Human Interaction's class. If my memory was right, her name was Espy.

"Really?" Alden said. "That's neat. I wish I could do that."

"So you could eat spiders?" the boy persisted.

Fren rolled her eyes. "Go to class, Martus."

He grinned, showing flat gums instead of teeth. "Good idea. If I see a spider, I'll let you know."

We watched him and Alden head down the hall.

"He's really interested in spiders," I said.

Fren laughed and shook her head. "Martus is a taniwha entomophage. His family eats only bugs and lives in the water. He has to wear some sort of special lotion to keep his skin from drying out." She gave a shudder. "His lunch tray is full of bugs; it's disgusting; trust me."

"Sounds like the dragon would like it," I replied.

She tipped her head to one side. "That's not a bad idea. It would save us running around the forest trying to catch bugs."

I grinned at the idea. "Now that sounds like fun."

She laughed. "Yes, it does." She gave me a sideways look. "You're different than I thought a werewolf would be."

I don't know why the statement bothered me. I glanced at her as we made our way up the hall. "What did you expect?"

She gave a small, teasing smile and said, "I don't know. Maybe that you would howl at lot and pee on things."

That struck my funny bone. I couldn't help laughing when I replied, "Sorry to disappoint you."

She laughed in reply and said, "You're a vast improvement; trust me."

I paused at the stairs. "Glad to hear it. I've got to head up to catch my next class."

"What do you have?" she asked.

"History of Witches and Warlocks," I replied.

She made a sympathetic sound and said, "With Professor Briggs. He scares me."

I remembered how I felt about him my first day and nodded. "He does give a pretty intimidating first impression, but he's not that bad."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I still get nervous to go to his class. It's creepy in there. I mean, what's wrong with electricity?"

"I know," I replied with a chuckle. "Maybe I'll suggest that to him."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes wide.

I shook my head. "No way."

She laughed and continued down the hall. "Have fun, Finn the werewolf."

That made me smile as I jogged up the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen

The tiny dragon was still sleeping when I slid into my seat in the candlelit room. A glance at the board showed it full of notes to copy down. I nudged Aerlis who was already busy writing in his notebook.

"Can I borrow a pencil?" I whispered.

He turned to me, his orange eyes incredulous. "Really?"

I shook my head. "No. I've got one. I just wanted to see what you'd say."

He grinned. "That's hilarious."

I smiled and copied down the words without really reading them. Professor Brigg's limping steps caught my ear. Intent on finishing what I needed to write, I didn't look up when he walked by. A folded piece of paper landed on my desk as he continued past without missing a step. I unfolded it, careful not to awaken the sleeping dragon. Professor Brigg's swirled penmanship said, "Meeting early tonight right after school. Bring the team. We need to talk.- Briggs"

By the time I walked into Creature Languages, the dragon was beginning to stir. It gave little squeaks in its sleep, its claws scratching lightly at my skin. I hoped I could make it through third period before the dragon needed to eat.

Word of the creature was definitely traveling. I noticed classmates nudging each other and whispering.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I glanced back to see Adalia smiling at me, her cat eyes glowing. "Can we see her?"

"Where did you hear about it?" I asked, worried about how many students looked just as eager as she was to see a dragon. How was I supposed to keep the creature a secret with word traveling so quickly?"

"We have Professor Seedly for second period," Melzie, her friend, replied.

I stared at her. "He told you? He said I was supposed to keep it a secret."

Adalia grinned, showing sharp eyeteeth. "He's horrible at keeping secrets. By the end of the day, everyone's going to know."

I figured if the professor was telling students, there was no reason to pretend I didn't know what they were talking about. I turned to face her fully and held out my left hand.

"Aw!" Adalia said.

"She's so cute!" Melzie squeaked.

"Man, that's so cool," the boy behind her said.

Students crowded around to look at the dragon.

"Does she eat a lot?" someone asked.

"What if she burned down the school?" another mused.

"Haunted High burned down by a dragon. That would be a great headline," another said.

Professor Mellon's voice broke through the chatter. "Alright, students. Go to your seats."

Everyone sat quickly back down. By the furtive looks the students gave each other and me, it felt like we were all in on a secret. I turned back around with a grin and hid my hand under the desk.

I looked up to find Professor Mellon standing in front of my desk. My eyes focused on the creature she held. I blinked, but it wasn't my eyes. The professor actually carried a two-headed black cat. Her hand ran down its back as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Uh, hello," I said, at a loss for words.

"Good morning, Mr. Briscoe," she replied with a beaming smile. "I thought that with your success with the fox, you could help me with my cat."

I shook my head. "It has two heads. There's nothing I can do to help that."

The students around us laughed.

She gave a light laugh also. "There is nothing wrong with this cat, Mr. Briscoe. I don't want you to fix how he looks. I want you to communicate with him. He's been very anxious of late, meowing all the time and refusing to eat. I would like you to try to figure out the problem."

The thought that the cat, or was it cats, would probably view the tiny dragon with the same hungry intentions as a mouse made me keep my left hand beneath the desk.

"I, uh, I don't know if that would be a good idea," I said in an attempt to stall. "I'm still learning and...."

"Practice is the best way to learn, Mr. Briscoe," she replied. "Besides, I'm sure the other students would appreciate a delay of their quiz on ogre enunciation."

"Come on, Finn," Adalia urged. "I've always wanted to be able to talk to cats."

"Yeah," Melzie said. "I need to study more for the quiz."

"Did you study?" Professor Mellon asked.

Melzie shook her head. "No; that's why I need to study more."

Professor Mellon rolled her eyes and turned back to me. One of the cat's heads was busy chewing on a strand of the professor's long red hair.

"What do you think, Mr. Briscoe?"

I glanced over to see more encouraging nods from the other students. To be honest, I hadn't studied for the quiz, either. Not that it mattered. I was so far behind I didn't know how I would ever catch up.

"What could it hurt?" I replied.

Professor Mellon smiled and set the cat on my desk.

It disconcerted me when both of the cats' heads turned to look at me. One had green eyes and the other had yellow. The green-eyed one gave a plaintiff meow and rubbed its head against my chest. The yellow-eyed one ignored me entirely and licked its paw.

I set a hand gingerly on its back and closed my eyes.

"Lower your walls," Professor Mellon said in her calm, steadying voice.

I let out a breath and willed my muscles to relax. A purr emanated from both heads of the cat. The dragon stirred and then settled again. Quiet talking sounded around the classroom. I heard the word dragon whispered a few times.

"Now pull inward from your fingertips," the professor reminded me.

I took a calming breath and pulled. The cat stopped purring and stood perfectly still. Its fur was soft beneath my fingers. I imagined pulling its thoughts through my hand and up my arm. An image surfaced in my mind.

"I see darkness," I said.

"That's because your eyes are closed," someone to my right replied.

"Quiet, Ms. Rae," Professor Mellon admonished.

I ignored them and continued to describe what I saw. "Something is moving in the darkness. No; not something. Creatures. A lot of them." A head turned and my blood ran cold. Sharp teeth and glowing eyes lit with green flames let me know exactly what I looked at.

"What are they?" Professor Mellon asked quietly.

"Demons," I breathed.

The talking in the room ceased completely. Apparently, though demons were new to me, everyone else understood the danger they presented.

"Cats are keepers of the underworld and are very sensitive to shifting energies. What are the demons doing?" the professor asked in a tighter voice.

"They're awakening," I replied, watching the dark demons stir. Flames writhed around them, dancing on the walls and the floor of the room. "And there's green fire everywhere." A single trickle of moonlight fell from somewhere above the vision. The creatures avoided the light as if it hurt.

Something stirred in the middle of the mass of demons. The dark shadow rose, taller than the creatures around it. I could make out the colors of a school uniform from the Academy. The being stepped into the moonlight and looked directly at me. The light from behind cast the being's face in shadow, but fangs glowed from its mouth.

The moonlight reveals our truth.

I gasped and pulled my hand away from the cat.

"What is it?" Professor Mellon asked.

"There was someone with the demons," I said with horror in my voice.

"Do you know who it is?" she replied.

I shook my head, but it was a lie. I had at least a good guess who was with the demons, and it was a serious problem.

"Uh, can I be excused?" I asked, rising from my seat.

She appeared surprised by my actions, but nodded. "Go ahead."

I grabbed my notebook, careful to keep my wrist behind my back and then pulling it in front of me when I left the classroom. I glanced back and saw Adalia watching me with confusion on her face.

As soon as the door shut, I let out a breath and leaned my forehead against the wall. It took a few minutes for my chest to stop heaving. I couldn't pull my team out of class. I didn't know where they were and I also didn't have a solid reason for doing it. Telling Headmistress Wrengold or Mrs. Hassleton that I needed to talk to them based on what a two-headed cat had shown me sounded completely insane; though I had to admit that given what I had seen at the Academy, it wasn't nearly as insane sounding as it would be if I was in my old school.

The dragon lifted her head from my wrist. I brought my hand up. The green eyes locked on me and the dragon gave a little mewling sound.

"Well, hello," I said. I glanced around to make sure nobody saw us. Feeling conspicuous in the middle of the empty hallway where the sounds of professors' voices echoed from the classrooms, I took to the stairs and jogged up them. By the time I reached the thirteenth floor, the dragon was fully awake. I crossed to the window that had been repaired and slid to a sitting position, grateful for the silence.

The dragon rose completely and crossed to stand on my palm. She was much lighter than a mouse; her claws made tiny pinpricks along my skin that I barely felt. The creature looked at me expectantly.

"Do you have a name?" I asked.

I felt foolish. I had no idea how to talk to a dragon. Did I speak the way one did to a dog, or with the high-pitched nonsense words people used with babies? Or did I address it like a peer? I went with the latter for lack of a better idea.

"I'll bet your hungry," I said to the dragon. "You haven't eaten anything since you were hatched."

A buzzing sound caught my ear. I looked up to see a fly working its way up the closed window. I rose on my knees and lifted the dragon so it could see what I did.

"I'm not sure if I should kill it or—"

The dragon lifted its black wings and leaped off my hand with a speed that amazed me. Instead of hitting the window like I feared, it cut to the right at the last moment with a snap of its wings. It opened them and glided, turning gracefully with its full attention on the fly. The bug was oblivious to the dragon's approach. It paused on the pane, its little legs working as though it had found something worth sampling. It rubbed its legs together, flicked its wings, and then was gone. Only a scent of mint wafted from where the insect had been.

I blinked, wondering how I had missed it. The dragon landed back on my palm; fly wings and one leg protruded from its mouth.

"Okay. That was impressive," I said.

I settled back on the floor and watched the dragon quickly finish its meal. The tiny creature licked its jaws one last time with a long red forked tongue, then settled on its haunches and looked at me.

I tried to pull from the creature the same way I had from the two-headed cat and the fox, but the little dragon merely tipped her head at me, her green eyes watching me intently.

"Maybe dragons don't share their thoughts like other animals," I guessed.

On impulse, I ran a finger gently down the little dragon's back. She closed her eyes in apparent enjoyment. The purple spikes that appeared hard settled back under my finger so that they didn't poke me. I studied her closer. A small purple horn protruded from the top of her nose. The color matched the scales around her eyes and nose and ran in a soft pattern beneath her chin to her belly. She held her wings against her body so that they were nearly flush with her skin. When I stopped petting her, she shook and her spikes raised again. Her eyes blinked sleepily.

"Ready for another nap?" I asked. I didn't know anything about baby dragons, or babies or dragons, for that matter. But I did know babies slept a lot. So when she curled around my wrist again and shut her eyes, I knew it was good for her. "Good night, little dragon," I said.

I felt foolish, but I couldn't help smiling. For some reason, with the professor and all of the other students in my first period class, the tiny dragon had chosen me to bond to. I had no idea what that meant, or even what I was supposed to do with her, but she had chosen me. For now, that was enough.

I thought through the things the cats had shown me. If Professor Mellon was right and cats were indeed guardians of the underworld, we had a serious problem.

The bell rang. My head jerked up with the realization that I had skipped my entire fourth period class. Alden was going to be upset that he had to sit through Professor Tripe's droning description of Mythical Creature Anatomy by himself. I owed him an apology, but he would understand.

With Professor Briggs' note in my hand, I ran down the stairs to the lunchroom. I wasn't surprised to see Alden already sitting at our table, his tray laden with a double serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Lyris and Dara sat with him, intent on their own lunches. The slow pace of the lunch line tried my patience, but I finally made it through with my own tray of food.

At the very last stop before the door to the cafeteria, a girl with quadruple-jointed fingers and holes where her nose should have been set a little container on my tray along with my roll. I glanced inside and saw a dead fly.

"Just in case your dragon gets hungry," she said with a wink of one ruby-colored eye.

"Thank you," I replied, startled and touched by her kindness.

I slid into the empty seat next to Alden and said, "We need to meet right after school. Professor Briggs says he has to talk to us," I told them.

"Hello to you, too," Lyris replied. "How's the dragon?"

"Shhh," Dara said. "If anyone hears, she'll be taken away." She looked around, then met my gaze and said, "So how is she?"

I smiled and lifted my wrist. "She just ate, so she's sleeping."

Both girls made cooing noises that appeared to be required whenever girls in general saw any type of baby. Lyris petted the dragon while Dara watched with a rare smile on her face.

"That's just cool," Alden said. "I wish I had a pet dragon."

"Dragons aren't pets," Dara corrected. "They're companion animals. You'd never call a dragon a pet."

Alden looked down at his spaghetti. "I'd call it a pet," he mumbled. He twirled a forkful of spaghetti onto the tines, then let it fall off again.

I took pity on him. "Maybe you could help me find a name for her," I suggested.

He gave me a beaming smile. "Really? I would be honored!"

"Naming a dragon is a very important task," Dara said. "Take your time."

I nodded. "We will."

Alden appeared to feel much better with his new calling as dragon-namer. He straightened and asked, "Do you know why Briggs needs us early?"

I shook my head. "I think it may be about whatever he learned from Mezania. But I also have to talk to everyone about what I saw in Creature Languages."

Amryn took a seat next to Dara, her cup of blood held in one delicate hand. Dara didn't look happy at the vampire's presence. Amryn ignored her cold glare and turned to me. "What did you see?"

Everyone looked at me expectantly.

I opened my mouth to tell them when an angry voice barked behind me, "Why are you sitting with them?"

Amryn stared up at her brother. "I've sat with them before. What's the big deal?"

"You know what the big deal is," Vicken growled from behind me. "You're a vampire. You should sit with your coven."

The anger in his voice sent a surge of protectiveness through me. Nobody deserved to be talked to like that, especially someone from our team. I felt the wolf stir beneath my skin; the Alpha side of me bristled. I stood and faced the vampire.

"Don't you think your sister should be able to do what she wants?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

Vicken glared at me. "Not if it means making friends with misfits like you."

I started at him in shock. "What's wrong with you?"

"You're one of us, remember?" Dara pointed out from the other side of the table.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her hand on Amryn's shoulder to keep the vampire from following her brother. The empath's expression was defensive.

"I'm one of you because I watched you stick your hand in some stupid flame?" Vicken replied. "I'll never be one of you."

"But you're coming tonight, right?" Brack asked.

I wasn't sure when he had reached us, but he stood behind Lyris with his tray dwarfed in his hand.

"We shouldn't talk about this here," Lyris said.

I glanced around and found everyone in the lunchroom watching us. It bothered me even more that Vicken would make a conflict in the middle of such a public place. I had no idea what had made him change his mind in his truce with me, but apparently it was gone.

I met his gaze and repeated Brack's words, "You're coming tonight, right? I have something very important to talk to you about."

Vicken looked from Amryn to me. "Don't count on it," he said in a low voice before he stormed away.

I glanced at Brack. The hurt expression on the huge student's face gripped my heart. "I wish you could shut his mouth," I told the warlock.

Vicken spun around. Hatred smoldered in his eyes when he shouted, "You think they follow you out of respect? They follow you out of fear!"

I shook my head. "They don't follow me. We go together. Being a true team means listening to those who choose to work with you." I looked at Amryn, then back at Vicken. "You should try it sometime."

Vicken threw a punch.

I caught his hand with my right one. The force of his vampire strength should have knocked me into the wall, but I stood there with his fist clenched in mine. I had no answer to the amazed fear on his face. Instead of searching for one, I put on a calm expression and said, "Next time you try to hit me, you'll be sorry."

Vicken yanked his hand out of mine and stormed away across the lunchroom.

"What was that!" Alden asked when I sat back down.

I shook my head. "I have no idea. I've never done that before." My chest was heaving as the weight of what I had done caught up to me.

"You're a wolf defending those you care about," Dara said, her voice musing. "I think he pushed you too far."

"That was amazing," Amryn said. "Nobody's ever stood up for me before."

"Why was he so mad?" I asked, still reeling from what had happened. Heat emanated from my palm where I had caught his fist.

Amryn lowered her gaze. "My parents called this morning and the Headmistress let us talk to them. He told them about you." She shook her head without looking at me. "They weren't happy. They forbade us from conversing with you." She shook her head. "It doesn't seem fair, so I refuse to do it. But Vicken's afraid of making our father upset."

I let out a slow breath. "You don't need to make your family upset over me," I said quietly.

"I'll be friends with whoever I want to," she replied.

It bothered me that mythics beyond the Academy already hated me. I picked up my fork and toyed with the spaghetti on my tray, my appetite gone.

A hand touched my arm. "Don't let them bother you," Lyris said when I looked up. "They don't know you."

I nodded, but I didn't feel any better. "We need him if what I saw is real."

"What did you see?" Brack asked.

I wanted to tell them, but knew that since Vicken's confrontation, the students around us seemed abnormally interested in our conversation. I shook my head. "I can't tell you here. Let's meet in the usual spot right after seventh period."

"We'll be there," Lyris replied.

The hours dragged on; my confrontation with Vicken replayed over and over in my mind. I couldn't explain how I had managed to stop his punch. I should have been suffering from broken ribs and possibly a cracked skull; instead, I had seen fear in his face. I couldn't say whether I was happy about that or not. It felt like it had taken so much work for us to get on the same side only for it to fall apart again after a conversation with his parents.

It frustrated me to the point that I wanted to confront him. I could feel him glaring at me through Monster Identification and had to force myself to keep looking forward despite the whispered taunts toned too low for anyone but a werewolf to hear that came from his place at the back of the classroom. Professor Rexus only overheard once. It took the huge, horned professor's glare to silence the vampire, but since he didn't know who the taunts were for, he couldn't do anything about it.

"Why do cats always land on their feet?"

I let out a sigh and glanced up at Professor Briggs. Given everything that was happening, the question, as well as seventh period Black Cat Philosophies, felt like the last thing I had patience for. Briggs looked down at me, the candlelight making his scar look even more unsightly. The professor tapped his cane on the floor.

"Well?" he asked.

I went with a flippant answer. "Because they're ninjas."

He rolled his eyes and limped to the chalkboard. "Students, describe the powers of ritual magic and its relationship with ancient religion."

Dara raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Jade," Professor Briggs said.

Dara replied, "Ancient religion often relied on ritual magic for confirmation and validation that what they believed was of their gods."

Professor Briggs nodded. "But in truth, much of these validations occurred as what?"

Dara replied without raising her hand, "Ruses based on mathematics, sun placement, and acoustics to ensure the devotion of their followers."

"And this in turn ensured...." Professor Briggs led off.

"That their followers would continue to pay tithe and homage to the servants of their gods," Dara concluded.

Professor Briggs nodded. "Very good. This led many to speculate whether some of these so-called servants were actually witches and warlocks."

By the time the bell rang, I had filled several pages of notes. I was amazed how the things I learned at the Academy continued to contradict the knowledge I had been taught by my human teachers. If magic was accountable for the leaps of technological advances through the years, then why weren't witches and warlocks revered instead of in hiding?

I made a mental note to ask Professor Briggs after things died down. When the bell rang, though, I had far more pressing items to discuss with him.

"See you downstairs," he said when I left the room.

"We'll see you there," I replied with Lyris and Dara behind me.
Chapter Sixteen

"Where are the vampires?" I asked the moment we reached the basement. Due to the large number of students milling the halls and heading to dinner, we couldn't use the entrance behind the unicorn picture. Lyris, Dara, Alden, and I had been forced to go all the way to the thirteenth floor and down because I didn't know any of the other entrances. I made a mental note to ask Professor Briggs later.

"They haven't shown up yet," Professor Briggs replied.

"Amryn wasn't in class," Brack said from a chair near the professor.

"We need to find her," I insisted. "Something terrible could happen to her or any of the vampires."

"What are you talking about?" Mercer asked.

I told them what the two-headed cat had shown me, ending with the fact that a vampire student had been the one in the middle buried beneath the pile of dark, writhing bodies.

"Professor Mellon is right," Mercer confirmed. "Cats are guardians of the underworld. We need to take precautions."

"Cats don't like me," Alden said.

Professor Briggs ignored Alden's statement and told me, "The cat's warning supports what I found out from Zanie. She said she can feel darkness and that it's overwhelming. She knows she needs to leave here, but she can't." His voice lowered and his gaze flickered past me as though he was seeing something not in the room. "I promised to help her leave after this is over."

Mercer nodded. "It's the right thing to do," he said in his rough voice. He paused, then said, "Where did you get a sylph dragon?"

My hand was hidden behind my back in the habit I had developed throughout the day whenever I was near a professor. I wondered how he knew.

"What sylph dragon?" Professor Briggs asked. "They're supposed to be extinct."

Knowing the secret was gone, I brought my hand out and held it up.

Mercer gave an approving nod. "I haven't seen one of those in a long time.

Professor Briggs stared. "Where, I mean, how, I mean, what on earth are you doing with a sylph dragon?"

"She chose him," Lyris said. "Professor Seedly told us the story. It was an obvious choosing."

"You mean Seedly brought a dragon here?" Professor Briggs asked incredulously.

"It was an accident," I said, meaning both the choosing and the fact that the professor had allowed it to hatch in the first place. "I didn't know what was going on."

A slight smile touched the professor's lips. "I'd guess not. You must have been shocked to see it, let alone be chosen."

I nodded. "Completely shocked. Even now, I don't know what to do with her."

"Give her a name," Alden said. "And I've picked out the perfect one."

Mercer shook his head. "A keeper should choose his or her dragon's name. That's the way it usually works with a bond."

Alden looked deflated. "But I did research and ruled out widely-used dragon names."

"What widely-used dragon names?" Briggs asked. "There aren't any dragons anymore." He continued with, "Until now, apparently."

"Dragons are in movies," Alden said, his tone a bit defensive. "She wouldn't want anything generic or shallow. A dragon like that deserves something special, something with meaning."

"What did you choose?" I asked before anyone else could tell him all of his work had been for nothing.

"Sparrow," he replied proudly.

Everyone looked at him.

"You can't name a dragon Sparrow," Dara said.

"Sparrows are birds," Brack pointed out.

"I like it."

Silence filled the room.

"You what?" Alden asked with hope in his voice.

"I like it," I said honestly. "I think it fits her. She's little, fast, and if you saw her catch a fly, you'd agree that she's very much like a bird. It's perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied with a huge grin.

My head turned at the sound of footsteps. A second later, Vicken burst through the door.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Who?" Professor Briggs asked.

"Amryn. I know she's here. Where are you hiding her?" He rushed around the room with an angry fury.

Lorne and Jean, the vampire with blue hair, waited in the doorway. Neither looked thrilled at where they found themselves. I swore Jean even gave me an apologetic look before Vicken returned to the door.

"She's not here," I said. "She didn't come down with us."

"If she's not here, then where could she be?" His tone was still demanding, but with a slight sense of bewilderment.

I wanted to tell him about what the two-headed cat had shown me, but instincts warned me that it would only make matters worse. If we could find Amryn, perhaps we could figure out how the demons were trying to reach the school.

"I'll help you," I offered.

Vicken glared at me. "What good are you going to be?"

I pushed down any urge to bristle at his tone and said, "I'm a werewolf, remember? I have pretty good tracking skills."

Lyris and Dara exchanged a glance. They must have thought not telling Vicken about what I had seen was also in the best interest of the team because Lyris went with, "That's a good idea."

At Vicken's silence, Dara spoke up. "Given the way you acted in the lunchroom, I'd take his offer even though you don't deserve it."

"What happened in the lunchroom?" Briggs asked.

My chest tightened at the thought of the professor's words in the forest. I didn't want to admit that he had been right.

"A misunderstanding," Dara replied before I had a chance to speak.

I shot her a grateful look. She shoved her ashen hair out of her face with both hands as if she was frustrated with both of us.

Vicken was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "Fine. Where do we start?"

"Probably her room," I suggested.

I swore the vampire's glare would have made me burst into flames if he could have done it. "You'd like to go into her room, wouldn't you?"

Professor Briggs spoke up from behind me. "Calm down. Her room is the best place for Finn to pick up her scent where it isn't mixed up with a hundred other students. Give him a chance or go find her yourself."

I could tell with a glance at the professor that he was as worried as I felt, but both of us knew pushing the vampire wasn't going to help things get done any faster. I held my breath while I waited.

"Fine," he finally said. "Hurry up."

We ran up the stairs with the rest of the team behind us. Vicken led the way to the fifth floor and then to room E25. Fortunately, most of the students were at dinner, so there was nobody to ask us what we were doing when we walked in.

"Here," Vicken said gruffly. He pushed open a door and looked inside with a hopeful expression that I know I mirrored. Finding Amryn in her room would have been the best-case scenario. Unfortunately, the grunt of frustration that emanated from the vampire let me know that wasn't the case.

I entered the room after him. Mixed scents told me that two girls shared the same room. I found another scent underneath the smells of the room. The odor was sulfurous and cloying. It clung to my nose and made me sneeze. My heart fell when I recognized it as the same scent that lingered from the demon fire.

"I think demons took her," I said before second-guessing my decision.

Vicken spun from his place at the window to stare at me. "What did you say?"

I let out a breath and repeated, "Demons took her."

Vicken's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "How can you be so sure?"

"I smell them here," I replied.

A flicker of something showed in the vampire's gaze before he turned away. I realized it was a far deeper fear than he had ever shown before. He shook his head, pacing around the room.

"No. It can't be demons. Demons aren't supposed to be here. It's ridiculous. How could it be demons?" he muttered. His tone changed and he whispered, "But she had the nightmares. I should have listened. What kind of a brother am I?"

I met the gazes of the rest of the team who waited in the hall. Dara lifted a shoulder, her gaze unreadable. Lyris' green eyes showed her compassion.

Vicken spun to face me. "Track her."

"I'll try," I replied. "But with so many students walking around, there may not be much of a trail left."

"Just go," he practically shouted. "Find her!"

"Vicken," Lyris said.

To my surprise, the vampire let out a loud breath and his shoulders drooped. He gave me the most human, lost expression I had ever seen on the face of a vampire. "You've got to find her, Finn. You've just got to. Please."

I nodded. "I'll do everything I can to bring her back. I promise."

He gave one short nod that left his head hanging in dejection. When I walked from the room, he trailed slowly behind.

The rest of our team spread out, searching classrooms, the attic rooms, the roof, and the grounds. With all the students milling around doing after school activities or winding down for the night, I was forced to follow the path with little sniffs at corners and pretending to bend down and tie my shoe when the trail became faint.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you phased into a wolf to follow the trail?" Vicken suggested. "You could act like a hound or something."

I felt my face turn red as I shook my head. "I can't," I admitted quiet.

"What?" he demanded.

I looked at him. "I can't. I don't know how to change form by myself. I've never done it before."

He stared at me. "You mean you can't just make it happen?"

I shook my head. "I don't have any control over it."

"Doesn't that make you dangerous?" he asked.

"Probably," I admitted. "I can fight it for a while, but when my body decides to change, I can only hold off until it hurts so bad I can't stand it anymore."

It was humiliating to admit that even if I could have trailed Amryn better as a wolf, I had no control to do so. I regretted again the fact that my mother had never told us she was a werewolf. It would have been helpful to know what to do in situations like this.

"I don't know what it's like."

I glanced at Vicken, surprised by his solemn tone.

He picked up a piece of paper that lay crumpled in the hallway we searched. "I don't know what it's like to be a werewolf. I shouldn't assume I know what you're going through."

I was quiet for a moment before I admitted, "It's hard to think of myself as an animal, especially when everyone else seems to think that's exactly what I am."

I watched him open the paper. He didn't look at me when he said, "I shouldn't let my parents' opinions change my own when they don't even know you."

"Thank you," I said when he looked up at me.

He smoothed the paper and spread against his leg so it lay flat. The name Leon with a heart around it had been drawn on the sheet. He crumpled it up again and tossed it over his shoulder. "Let's keep going," he said.

The trail wandered up and down the stairs, along hallways and even through the girls' shower room.

"This is ridiculous," Vicken muttered as he followed me across the tiles.

I grabbed the vampire and pulled him into an adjoining row of lockers just as a girl walked past wrapped in only a towel.

"That was close," I whispered when she was gone.

Vicken gave me an accusing look. "Are you sure you didn't bring me here on an ulterior motive? Maybe you're looking for some excuse to hang out in the shower room."

I glared at him. "I'm doing the best I can."

He looked as though he had to bite back whatever he wanted to say in reply. He shook his head and went with, "Keep on going, then."

I lost the trail in the middle of the main corridor. No matter how I searched or pretended that my shoes had some sort of magical untying property that required me to retie them about fifty times, I couldn't find where the trail picked back up. I finally rose and had to admit defeat.

"I can't find it," I said.

"Keep trying," Vicken urged. "It has to be around here somewhere."

Students avoided us in a wide berth as though afraid of what we were up to.

I tried to keep my voice low. "I searched everywhere. I have no idea where the trail went."

Vicken's hands clenched into fists. "If you could learn to be a wolf like you're supposed to, maybe you could track her like the mutt you're supposed to be," he spat.

I couldn't restrain myself against his ever-changing opinion of me any longer. I walked to face him. "All Amryn needs is a bag of blood around her neck for you to find her," I replied.

Vicken hit me. This time, instead of grabbing his fist, I let it connect with my jaw. I couldn't put my reason into words, but the pain made me feel a little bit better about failing him.

Vicken took a step back. At the fear on his face, I remembered my words to him in the lunchroom about making him sorry if he ever tried to hit me again. Part of me strained to carry through with my words, to make the vampire pay so that he wouldn't bully me or anyone else any longer. The other part whispered that he was worried about his sister and his actions were fueled by that worry. She was a part of my team. I held the same worry; yet I knew nothing could match the fear her brother held for her wellbeing. In pulling Drake to shore first, I understood the exact same need to keep family safe.

I walked away. When I reached stairs and started up, I heard his pent-up sigh of relief.

My steps took me to Professor Brigg's classroom. It should have been empty, so I didn't know what made me check for Amryn there. I didn't even know if she had Professor Briggs for anything. Yet my feet took me inside. I paused at the sight of someone sitting near the far wall. Relief filled me at the realization that it was Dara.

"Any luck?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I've looked everywhere. I lost the trail in the corridor. I don't think she's in the school anymore." The thought that Amryn was in the clutches of the demons made my chest tighten. I wanted to go after her. I just had no idea where that should be.

I stepped into the classroom and asked, "Visit here often?"

She leaned her head in her hand and watched me approach. "It's nice to be away from everyone for a while. It helps keep me sane."

I sat down in my usual seat and glanced around. Only half of the candles were lit, throwing the classroom in mostly shadow. "It does have a certain ambiance."

She was about to reply when she lifted her head from her hand and gave me a searching look instead. "Want help with that?"

"With what?" I asked.

She gestured toward my jaw. It throbbed from Vicken's punch, but I knew she couldn't see any bruising in the faint light.

"I thought you had to touch me to feel it," I said.

"Sometimes it's stronger," she replied vaguely.

I leaned closer, intrigued. "How would you help?"

She lifted a hand and set it softly on my cheek. I nearly shied back in surprise. She closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shhh," she said. "Let me work."

I was surprised to feel the pain lessen. "How do you do that?" I whispered.

"I share the pain between us," she replied with her eyes still closed.

I jerked away and she pulled her hand back.

"You shouldn't do that," I told her. "You should never take on someone else's pain, ever. You don't deserve it!"

"But that's what Mercer meant," she replied. "That's how I'm supposed to help you face the demon fire."

I shook my head, appalled for her sake. "I wouldn't put you through that."

"You need to," she said. "It may be the only way."

I shook my head again, studying the desk in front of me. The thought of letting her take my pain made me feel sick. "I'll find another way. I won't let you get hurt because of me."

"Why?"

Her single question made me turn my head and look at her directly. "Why not? Your entire life shouldn't be lived with the pain of others. I definitely won't add mine to that."

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again and turned her head away. It was a moment before I realized her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. I lifted a hand to set it on her back, but paused when I realized doing so would give her access to my pain again.

"Dara?" I asked hesitantly.

Her voice was shaky when she said without looking at me, "You're the first one to ever push me away. Thank you."

Stunned, I stared at her. "Why thank me?"

She turned to face me, her eyes wet in the candlelight. "My whole life, everyone has wanted me to be near them, to touch them, to ease their pain by taking it on myself. Growing up, I was always surrounded by people who hurt, but because I was there to take on their pain, they never learned from it. They kept putting themselves back into harmful positions physically or emotionally because they knew they could use me to feel better."

A tear trailed slowly down her cheek as she said, "My dad wouldn't let me go anywhere. He was a drunk who got into fights all the time and didn't care because I could make him feel better. He beat my mom, but she wouldn't leave him because I could make her feel better, too." She lowered her gaze to the desk. "But it was killing me. They couldn't see it, or they didn't want to. I finally ran away to come here. I haven't heard from them since."

Silence followed her words. I didn't know how to break it. I wanted to ease her pain, but I didn't want to touch her and give her mine. I didn't know she could feel emotional pain as well. A hand on her shoulder would give her the pain I felt for her as well as my own. It didn't seem fair.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea," I said quietly.

She met my gaze, her violet eyes searching mine. "But you didn't have to know to be compassionate. You cared that I felt your pain. Thank you."

"Dara, I—"

Whatever I was going to say was cut off by a horrible scream. Other screams quickly followed. I ran out of the classroom with Dara close behind. I jumped down the stairs six at a time and skidded to a stop at the sight of one of the dark creatures from the two-headed cat's vision. It had a student's bloody body clutched in its claws. As I watched, it leaned its head down to tear out the girl's throat. Her terrified shrieks echoed around the corridor.
Chapter Seventeen

"No!" I shouted.

The demon's head jerked up. It's flaming green eyes narrowed and its lips pulled back in a bloody black snarl. The creature stood about half my height, but its claw-tipped arms and legs were longer than its body, making it look like some sort of weird spidery monster from a place worse than my nightmares. The creature's skin writhed as if there were maggots underneath, and the snarl revealed rows of teeth in a mouth wider than should have been possible.

Without giving myself a chance to second-guess my actions, I barreled into the demon, knocking it away from the student. It skittered back to its feet with a supernatural speed and leaped at Dara as she tried to pull the girl to safety. My sneakers skidded on the marble floor when I pushed back up. I threw myself at the creature and tackled it before it could reach them. Pinning it to the ground by its neck, I found myself staring into the demon's ire-filled gaze.

Claws scrabbled at my arms, making deep slices down them, but I refused to let go and pressed down further in the hopes that I could cut off its ability to breathe. I wished with all my heart that I could phase into a wolf and tear its throat out the way it had been about to do to the student.

Green froth bubbled from the demon's mouth. It kicked out with its clawed hind feet. I jerked to the side to avoid them, letting up the pressure. The froth burst into green flame. It raced up my arms, burning as it went. I stared at my hands beneath the dancing fire.

"It's not real," I said, trying to convince myself that the boiling skin and melting flesh wasn't really happening.

The pain increased as it burned down to my bones. I heard the creature gurgle, fighting to get free, but I kept my burning hands locked around its neck. Its claws cut deeper and I felt my blood mixing with the flames.

"Hold on!" someone yelled from the crowd of terrified students who surrounded us.

I wasn't sure how long I could keep it up. The pain had far surpassed the agony from Mercer's imitation candle. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I was sure even the skin of my face was melting from the heat of the flames beneath me.

The tiny sylph dragon stirred. It looked up at me and then down at the demon as if unbothered by the green fire that rolled over it. The dragon uncurled and let out a little hiss. A tiny blue misty flame came from its mouth. Instead of striking the demon, the blue mint-scented mist settled onto my left hand. There was immediate relief from the flame and my grip tightened.

I tried to ignore the agony I felt from my right hand. The demon fire was breaking through my careful control. I could feel my palm truly beginning to melt beneath the flames. The more skin was damaged, the more control I lost. I gritted my teeth, my arms shook, and even with the tiny dragon's help, I knew I was losing.

A hand touched my shoulder. The pain from the flames lessened to the point of being bearable.

"Just a little longer," Dara said from behind me in a tight voice.

The demon writhed and fought to break free. Its green fire intensified. My burning hold slipped. I could feel the creature inching from my grip. If it got free, nobody would be safe. I tried to hold on, but the agony, even with Dara's help, was too much. I knew in the back of my mind that if I lost focus, I would indeed lose my hands. I couldn't hold on any longer.

Just as the demon wriggled from my grasp, a banister railing broken into a thick spear was shoved clear through the demon's chest and into the marble floor, pinning it down. I glanced up to see Vicken holding onto the end of the stake to keep the demon from breaking free. An unnatural, blood-curdling shriek sounded from the creature as Lorne pulled both Dara and me backwards. The green flames erupted along the demon's body.

"Lyris! Brack!" Alden shouted from the stairs.

Brack knelt in front of me. Lyris followed his actions on the opposite side of the demon. As one, they began to chant, their voices low and steady despite the frantic writhing of the demon before them. A shimmering golden ball began to take shape around the demon. After making certain the creature was truly pinned to the ground, Vicken let go of the stake and stumbled back. The two students chanted louder. The words were unfamiliar and foreign, yet they said them in unison without hesitation. The outline of the ball solidified, becoming a translucent shield the flames couldn't breach.

Black blood spewed from the demon's mouth and caught flame. It hit the shield and bounced back. The demon shrieked again. This time, a guttural word came out of its throat. It spat the cry, "Chutka!" as it clawed at the wood through its chest, but to no avail. To my relief, its eyes finally rolled back and it slumped against the stake. It gave one last shudder, then the flames vanished.

Stunned silence filled the corridor.

"You can let go," Professor Briggs said.

I glanced up wearily to see all of Haunted High's professors standing in a circle in front of the mass of terrified students, shielding them in case the demon broke free.

Brack and Lyris stopped chanting. Both students slumped with exhaustion. The golden shield dissipated to leave the ashy black mass of the demon in the middle of the floor.

"Mercer, take care of it," Headmistress Wrengold said with disgust in her voice from the edge of the circle. "Professor Rexus, please carry Ms. Fig to the infirmary and tell Dr. Six to report to me as soon as he is able. The rest of you, to my office."

The huge, horned professor picked up the injured student with ease and carried her gently up the stairs. I hoped that with her throat still intact, she would recover quickly from her wounds.

Lyris pulled strips of cloth from the pouch at her waist and bound the bleeding claw marks along my arms. The sharp scent of the oils on the bandages helped to clear my head.

"The burns on your hand are bad," she said quietly.

I gave the demon's still form a meaningful look. "It could have been worse."

Dara helped me to my feet. As soon as I could stand, I distanced myself from her so that she wouldn't have to feel my pain any longer. She gave me a questioning look, but appeared too tired to argue.

The little dragon, Sparrow, climbed up to my shoulder and sat perched like a little scaled parrot as I followed the rest of the group. Students and professors alike moved aside so we could pass. I couldn't decide if it was out of fear or respect. I hoped it was the latter.

The Headmistress led us down a side hallway from the corridor and into a room I hadn't been to yet. Her office was cheerily lit by electric golden sconces and warm lamplight. Thick rugs covered the floor while a rich mahogany desk with organized piles of papers on top took up the far end of the room. A richly upholstered couch and two overstuffed chairs occupied the opposite end.

"Make yourselves comfortable," the Headmistress told us. "You deserve it." She crossed to the desk and pressed a button on her phone.

"Yes, Headmistress?" Mrs. Hassleton's voice asked immediately.

"Bamenda, please bring some more chairs to my office," Headmistress Wrengold said.

"Right away, Headmistress," the woman replied.

A moment later, Mrs. Hassleton appeared with several folding chairs. Lorne, Jean, and Brack took these. The rest of us fell, more than sat, on the couch, leaving the Headmistress and Professor Briggs to take the armchairs.

My right hand throbbed. I forced myself to glance at it and found that the palm had indeed been burned. Bubbled skin occupied the edges while black marred the center. I couldn't tell how deep it went without closer examination; I didn't think my stomach would hold up to such scrutiny given all that had happened. I closed my hand as far as I was able and rested it on my knee.

I hadn't realized I had dozed off until the Headmistress spoke.

"You've trained them well in such a short period of time."

Professor Briggs shook his head. "They did it themselves. Mercer and I merely gave direction."

The Headmistress appeared pleased at this. She nodded at me. "And a sylph dragon? That was a surprise."

Worry that she would take Sparrow from me or that Professor Seedly would get in trouble made me choose my words carefully. "If it wasn't for Sparrow, I would have died. Her flames helped me stand the pain until Dara could reach me. But Sparrow needs me. She's only just hatched."

The Headmistress nodded. "I am glad you have her. A sylph is a very loyal companion."

I was relieved when she turned her attention to Vicken. "Normally I wouldn't condone the destruction of school property, but your stake made from our balustrade appeared very effective. That was good thinking."

"Thank you, Headmistress." Vicken glanced at me and then away. "I thought at first it was the werewolf who was attacking students."

Everyone looked at me. The thought that the banister stake could have just as easily gone through my chest was a sobering one. I shouldn't have been hurt that the vampire would have killed me without hesitation, but the truth was there in his face before he looked away. I had been through too much to deal with those emotions at that moment. Instead, I cleared my throat and went for humor. "I'm thinking about going vegetarian," I said.

A chuckle sounded from Professor Briggs. I felt Dara looking at me and glanced at her with the realization that our shoulders were touching as we sat next to each other. I followed her gaze to my hand. The pain began to ease.

I shook my head. "Don't," I whispered.

She nodded and the pain returned. I smiled to soften what I said. She gave me a small smile in return.

I turned my attention to the conversation before I had a chance to regret my decision. The burning really hurt. It felt as though the slight easing made dealing with the full pain again more unbearable. But I refused to let Dara carry pain she didn't deserve, especially after all she had been through.

"If we don't close down this school, we are at risk for further attacks," the Headmistress was saying.

"You can't close the school," Vicken argued. "We haven't found my sister. The demons might have her!"

I met Briggs' questioning gaze and knew he wondered if I had told the vampire what I saw from the two-headed cat. I gave a minute shake of my head. The professor answered in kind.

"And we have nowhere else to go," Lyris was saying. "I can't return home until I can pass the Wiccan Trials. My family won't have any use for me before then."

"Yeah," Brack said. "Me, too. No Trials, no job. That's what my father says."

"Throwing mythical students out on the street without any preparation for the world outside our walls won't do anyone any good," Professor Briggs took up.

"But according to Mr. Ruvine's parents, the honorable Don and Donessa Ruvine, this demon breach isn't at the Academy alone," Headmistress Wrengold said.

I glanced at Vicken; he merely glared at the floor at the mention of his parents.

Mistress Wrengold continued with, "There are signs of such occurrences all across the nation, and from what I've heard from Britain, they're dealing with it overseas as well."

"So let's give them students ready to deal with such problems instead of casting them out unprepared," Briggs argued.

She shook her head. "We aren't prepared to be held liable for injuries or even death at the hands of—"

I cut her off. "Use monsters to fight monsters."

The Headmistress shook her head. "Mr. Briscoe, we don't use the term monster to—"

I cut her off again. I wasn't sure if it was the pain in my hand, my exhaustion, or the thought of returning home that made me bold, but I said, "We are monsters, Headmistress. We shouldn't be afraid of the term. Before I phased, I had no idea that anyone like us existed, but the stories do, and in them we are most definitely monsters." She opened her mouth to speak, but I continued with, "So let us learn to be monsters who can contribute to society in a way that protects humans from the greater threat out there. Why else does this Academy exist?"

The Headmistress appeared to be taken back. "Why to provide integral education for mythical students...."

"And to help us find a valuable place in society," Dara finished. "How much more valuable would we be if we could defend those who are unable to defend themselves?

I gave her a grateful look. She smiled back.

The Headmistress looked uncertain.

"Closing the Academy is the worst thing we could do right now," Professor Briggs said. "The students need it." He glanced at us and then concluded in a quieter voice, "I need it."

"But you heard what the demon said," the Headmistress reminded him.

"We'll talk about that later," he replied. "Mercer and I will take precautions, but a student is missing and another is hurt. We need to give our students a reason to believe we can protect them, and if not," he met my gaze, "We need to teach them how to protect themselves."

I nodded, my chest tight.

The Headmistress finally nodded. "Very well. I won't close the Remus Academy for Integral Education for now." She stressed the last words. "Go reassure the students and encourage them to either write or call their families to talk about what happened. I need a full report of the response. It might be better to arrange a family day so that we can address all concerns in person."

"I agree," Professor Briggs said. He stood with a grunt of pain.

"The rest of you, get some sleep," the Headmistress encouraged with a kind smile at each of us in turn. "You did very well. You should be proud of yourselves. I will be writing your parents to inform them of your bravery in this matter."

The other students looked pleased by her words, all except for Dara; she appeared as though she couldn't care less who they told. But I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure my family was ready to hear about demons, witches, vampires, and the likes.

"Uh, Headmistress?" I asked, standing with the rest of my team. "Can you give me the letter instead? I would, um, like to give it to them myself."

She lowered her head in a stately nod. "Very well, Mr. Briscoe. Now have Dr. Six look at your hand and then get some rest. You look like you're about to fall over."

"Yes, Headmistress," I replied.

We left in a group, but Professor Briggs stayed behind. I glanced back to see his head bowed as he spoke quietly to the Headmistress. I heard him say the word 'Chutka'. Headmistress Wrengold shook her head. The door closed, shutting us out.

We gathered in the now-empty corridor. The faint sulphur smell of the demon still lingered, but any other evidence that it had been there had been erased. I wondered wearily how Mercer had repaired the marble so quickly. Whether the flame was real or not, Vicken's impromptu stake had definitely cracked the floor.

Everyone stood around as if reluctant to retreat to their own rooms.

"I can't believe you did that," Vicken said.

I glanced up to find him watching me.

"Did what?" I asked.

"You tackled that demon. It was fearless," he replied.

I shook my head. "I was plenty afraid, I'm just too stubborn to let it get the best of me, I guess."

Vicken studied me, his eyes searching as if there was something he couldn't understand. "You saved Claria's life. She would have died if you didn't act so quickly. Why did you do that without waiting for us?"

The memory of Sebastian's still form floating in the water surfaced in my mind. I saw it from a distant perspective, my hands pounding on the glass beneath the water as I desperately fought to save his life. I wouldn't give up until even the air had left my lungs, but it hadn't made a difference.

I lowered my gaze to the floor, but still saw the ice floes floating in the water. "Someone died because of me."

A glance at Vicken's face said Lorne had told him about the memory I had accidentally shared.

"I guess I felt I could make up for it, at least a little bit." I looked away from his too-knowing gaze. "But I know it doesn't work that way."

Silence filled the corridor and then Vicken set a hand on my shoulder. It was the first time he had touched me without trying to punch my face in. "It did for Claria," he said. "And if you help me find Amryn, it will for her, too."

I nodded, touched by his words. "I will do everything I can to help you find her."

He smiled back. "I know you will."

"We all will," Dara said.

"Because we're a team," Brack concluded with a big grin.

He held out a huge hand. Lyris set hers on top. Alden followed with a grin of his own. Jean and Lorne added to the stack, with Dara behind.

Vicken glanced at me and shook his head. "This is cheesy."

"I know," I replied. I set my good hand on Dara's.

Vicken sighed and put his pale hand on top.

"To the protectors of Haunted High," I said.

Light lit Alden's gaze; answering smiles showed on the others' faces. "To the protectors of Haunted High," they repeated. Even Vicken said the words.

He dropped his hand before the words had stopped echoing in the corridor. "I can't believe I just did that."

"Why?" I asked. "Afraid to be a part of the misfits?"

"Just because I'm still on your little team doesn't mean we're friends," Vicken said, his tone light to soften his words.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, that's the thing about a team. You pick on one of us...."

Several of them moved behind me and Bracken said in his deep voice, "You pick on all of us, Mr. Fangs."

I looked at Brack with a laugh. "I think Mr. Fangs is a bit over the top."

"Really?" Brack asked. "I thought it sounded mobsterish."

"Oh, now we're a mob instead of a team?" Vicken joked. "I could get used to that."

"Yes, Mr. Fangs," I replied.

He threw a mocking punch at me. Before his hand could connect, Sparrow let out a little blue flame from where she sat on my shoulder. The mist disappeared in a puff of mint.

Vicken stopped short. "Oh, so now you're in on it?" he questioned the small dragon.

Sparrow looked at me. She gave a small mewling sound.

"I don't know how I can argue with that," Vicken said.

"Then don't," Dara told him. "Face it. You're one of us."

I laughed. "It's too late," I told the vampire. "You've been chosen."

Sparrow let out another misty flame. Everyone laughed.

"Let's get you to Dr. Six," Dara told me.

Vicken ducked under my arm. "You look like you're going to fall asleep standing. The last thing we need is a sleepwalking werewolf."

Alden and I exchanged glances. I let Vicken lead the way up the stairs.
Thank you for reading The Wolf Within Me! I hope you enjoyed it. The Ghost Files, the next book in the series, is available now.

BOOKS BY CHEREE ALSOP

The Silver Series-

Silver

Black

Crimson

Violet

Azure

Hunter

Silver Moon

The Werewolf Academy Series-

Book One: Strays

Book Two: Hunted

Book Three: Instinct

Book Four: Taken

Book Five: Lost

Book Six: Vengeance

Book Seven: Chosen

The Haunted High Series-

The Wolf Within Me

The Ghost Files

City of Demons

Cage the Beast

Ashes of Night

Heart of the Wolf Part One

Heart of the Wolf Part Two

The Galdoni Series-

Galdoni

Galdoni 2: Into the Storm

Galdoni 3: Out of Darkness

The Small Town Superheroes Series-

Small Town Superhero

Small Town Superhero II

Small Town Superhero III

Keeper of the Wolves

Stolen

The Million Dollar Gift

Thief Prince

When Death Loved an Angel

The Shadows Series

Shadows- Book One in the World of Shadows

Mist- Book Two in the World of Shadows

The Monster Asylum Series

Book One- The Fangs of Bloodhaven

Girl from the Stars

Book 1- Daybreak

Book 2- Daylight

Book 3- Day's End

Book 4- Day's Journey

Book 5- Day's Hunt

The Pirate from the Stars

The Dr. Wolf Series

Book 1- Shockwave

Book 2- Demon Spiral

Book 3- The Four Horsemen

Book 4- Dragon's Bayne

The Wolfborne Saga

Book 1- Defiance

Book 2- Ricochet

Book 3- Dark Coven

Book 4- Ghost Moon

The Prince of Ash and Blood

Game Breaker

Orion's Fall

Find more books by Cheree Alsop here: Cheree Alsop's Website

If you would like to join Cheree Alsop's newsletter mailing list for new book releases and giveaways, please do so here: Newsletter Signup

Reviews are greatly appreciated as the best way for readers to find new books. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review so that others can find it as well!

About the Author

Cheree Alsop is an award-winning, best-selling author who has published over 50 books. She is the mother of a beautiful, talented daughter and amazing twin sons who fill every day with joy and laughter. She is married to her best friend, Michael, the light of her life and her soulmate who shares her dreams and inspires her by reading the first drafts and giving much appreciated critiques. Cheree works as a fulltime author and mother, which is more play than work! She enjoys reading, traveling to tropical beaches, riding motorcycles, playing the bass for the band Alien Landslide, spending time with her wonderful children, and going on family adventures. Cheree and Michael live in Utah where they rock out, enjoy the outdoors, plan great quests, and never stop dreaming.
