Just last Thursday, passive, quiet Britney had dumped a beaker full of bloom-and-grow potion over Lance’s head after he referred to all naturekinds as tree-huggers during our alchemy class. Lucky for Lance, the potion wasn’t toxic, but it did make his face break out in tiny, green leaves, which soon covered his whole head until he resembled a walking, talking Chia Pet. Pretty funny, really, although a little overreactive on Britney’s part. Lance had said hundreds of worse things before.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one aware of the dangers of voicing such opinions, as the silence stretched onward, nobody willing to raise a hand.

Miss Norton ran her gaze over the group again. I sank down lower in my chair, hoping her attention wouldn’t land on me. She appeared exceptionally bright-eyed and awake this morning. Her alleged Coke addiction (the drink, not the drug) seemed to be under control lately. As a fairy, Miss Norton was prone to the intoxicating effects of sugar.

“Anybody?” Norton said into our continued silence. She sighed and then opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out her infamous talking stick. It looked like an exceptionally crooked wand, although I didn’t think it was. As a naturekind, Miss Norton had no need of a wand or any other magical instrument to wield her magic.

“All right. This is your last chance.” Norton made a sweeping gesture with the stick toward the room at large. “If I don’t get a volunteer, I’m going to have to choose someone.”

Come on, somebody speak up. I glanced expectantly at Katarina. She hardly ever let a chance of being the center of attention go by. But no such luck. Katarina had her eyes carefully focused on her book, although I caught her taking a quick peek at Eli.

“Suit yourselves.” Miss Norton let go of the stick. It hovered in the air before her for a moment and then began to move about the room, sweeping this way and that as if it had a mind of its own. I cringed each time it made a pass in my direction.

Finally it zoomed to the other side of the room and hung suspended over Nick Jacobi’s chair. I let out the breath I was holding, glad to have dodged the bullet.

Next second the stick did a mad race back across the room right at me. It moved so fast, I actually ducked, certain it would strike me in the head.

But instead it swerved right and stopped inches away from Eli’s face. He stared at the stick, his eyes going crossed and his mouth twisting into a frown. Then exhaling loudly, he seized hold of it, resigned to the inevitable.

“So,” Miss Norton said, smoothing the folds of her fluffy, flowered housedress. “Which magickind do you suppose it was, Mr. Booker?”

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Eli shifted in his seat. I swallowed back guilt. I should’ve raised my hand.

“Any day now,” Miss Norton said.

Eli looked up. He fixed his gaze on Miss Norton, as if pretending she was the only other person present. He took a deep breath and then said in a quiet voice, “Siren.”

Eager whispers broke out in response to this, and nearly everybody turned their gaze on Katarina, the history between them common knowledge. My skin went red, both in vicarious embarrassment for Eli and a sudden swell of pity for Katarina. I didn’t like her, but I imagined the statement must’ve hurt.

It was even possible Eli wasn’t referring to her at all. Katarina hadn’t done anything so heinous to him as to be compared to a soul-sucker. No, I had a feeling Eli was thinking about what Paul had done to me. He was only a half siren, but that was plenty enough.

“And what makes you believe it was a siren?” Miss Norton said.

I closed my eyes. This couldn’t get any worse.

Wrong.

“It was me.” Katarina’s voice cracked. “He thinks I used my siren powers on him.”

Eli turned a smoldering look on her. “This has nothing to do with you.” He turned back to Miss Norton. “I just meant that sirens are capable of bending people’s wills, which is a lot like stealing someone’s soul. Plus the reference to flying could be literal since sirens really can fly. And Helen is supposed to be extremely beautiful, so the description fits.”

“Aw,” Miss Norton said, pointing a finger in the air. “But what about some of the demonkinds that really do feed on the soul?”

“I haven’t heard of any that are supposed to have the kind of beauty Helen did,” Eli said, thrusting out his jaw.

“Wait,” Nick Jacobi said. He slapped the top of his desk. “Are you trying to say that demonkind are ugly?”

“Yeah,” Royce Davidson said from beside Nick. Royce was a Metus demon, the kind that feeds on fear. “What about succubi? Could’ve been one of them.”

“That’s right,” Nick said. I could tell he was still on edge from the fight in the cafeteria. The hint of red flashed in his eyes through the glamour. He turned those eyes on me, his face twisting into a glower. “Or it could’ve been a Nightmare.” He paused. A vicious grin parted his lips to reveal large, pointed teeth. “Oh, never mind. I guess Nightmares aren’t pretty enough, are they?”

Eli stood up, the legs of his combo desk-chair scraping against the stone floor. He pointed the talking stick at Nick. The vision of him in Britney’s dream swam in my head. “You shut your mouth.”

Nick stood, too. “Go ahead and try. Ordinary.”

“No, boys,” Miss Norton said, moving to intervene.

Nick extended his hand. “Hypno-soma!” A jet of red light flew out from his fingertips.

Eli ducked sideways, just barely missing it. “Fligere,” he shouted back, aiming the stick.




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