No way am I going to let that happen to him. Not now. Not ever again.
9
Livin’ on a
Hope-Induced
Hallucination
Three shampoos and two full-body scrubs later, I finally feel like a new woman. One who might not turn into a hulking stone monster at the least provocation. I wrap myself and my hair up in towels (hot pink, of course—thank you, Macy) and reach for my phone to check the time.
Which I can’t do because I don’t have a phone. Ugh.
Also, since there is no clock in the room and I don’t have a phone, I’m feeling pretty grumpy as I slap moisturizer on my face and start to dry my hair.
The sad fact is, I’m going to have to get on this no-phone thing sooner rather than later. Partly because my entire life is on my phone and partly because I really, really need to text Heather. I can’t even imagine what my best friend is thinking right now—except, of course, that I ghosted her for absolutely no reason.
Thankfully, my electronics are the only things missing. My backpack was apparently with me the entire time, and my school uniforms are right where I left them—in my closet. I take a minute to re-bandage my hurt fingers, then grab a black skirt and purple polo from my closet. I add a pair of black tights and my school boots, pause to slick a little lip gloss on my lips and mascara on my lashes, then grab my backpack and head for the door.
I don’t know what time it is exactly, but Jaxon left here around noon. Which means I should have plenty of time to make my one o’clock class: Mystical Architecture.
I have no idea what kind of class this is, but the truth is I’m excited about it. Even though there’s a part of me that wonders if I am now enrolled in it because I’m apparently a living, breathing example of mystical architecture.
Deciding not to dwell on the fact that I might be part of the props, I throw open my door and book it down the long dorm hallway, with its decorated doors and black sconces in the shape of different dragons. As always, I giggle a little as I pass the door decorated with bats.
The first day I got to Katmere, I assumed the room belonged to a Batman aficionado and thought it was the coolest. Now I know it’s a vampire joke à la Jaxon’s best friend, Mekhi, and I love it even more. Especially when I see that he’s added a couple of new bat stickers.
I take the back stairs two at a time, my hand coasting along the elaborately carved banister as I do. I’m in such a rush to get to class, I don’t notice a chunk of the banister is missing—and stairs—until it’s too late and almost tumble through the hole.
I manage to catch myself, but as I do, I get an up-close look at the edges on either side of the gap. They’re charred and blackened and look to be the victims of some kind of high-intensity fire. Someone obviously lost their temper…or at least lost control of their powers.
Dragon or witch? I wonder as I turn the corner into the north hallway where my architecture class is located. They’re the only ones who can wield that kind of firepower. Which is cool but definitely a little scary, too.
Maybe I’m looking at this whole gargoyle thing all wrong. At least I don’t have to worry about burning the school down when I’m a giant stone statue.
Warning chimes playing the Rolling Stones’s “Sympathy for the Devil”—Katmere’s version of a bell and Uncle Finn’s own private indulgence—go off just as I slip through the doorway of my architecture class. I try to get the lay of the land and to find an empty desk, but I barely have the chance to inhale a breath before I jump a little as I realize Flint is crowding in behind me.
He puts a steadying hand on my shoulder even as a huge grin splits his face. “New Girl! You’re back!”
“You already knew that.” I roll my eyes at the greeting. “You saw me earlier.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure you weren’t some hope-induced hallucination earlier.” He wraps me in a huge hug and lifts me off my feet. “Now I know you’re real.”
“Why is that exactly?” I ask as he finally lets me down. He’s so warm, and I’m still so cold that I think about burrowing against him for a second hug. But this is the guy who tried to kill me not that long ago. Sure, he’s had the last four months to move on, but for me it feels like everything happened just a few days ago. Including him choking me out in the tunnels below the school.
But Flint just winks at me and says, “Because no one who doesn’t have to be here would ever come to this class.”
10
One Giant Pain
in my Ass
“Fantastic.” I give him my very best fake smile. “Because that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
“Hey, I’m just keeping it real.” He leans in close. “You want another tip?”
“I didn’t realize there was a first tip,” I answer with a roll of my eyes.
This time when he smiles, his teeth gleam white and just a little sharp against his rich umber complexion, and I can’t help wondering how I missed it for so many days.
Everything about the boy screams “dragon,” from the way he moves to the way his eyes track my every movement. And that’s not even including the large ring on his right ring finger that I’ve never seen him take off—at least not in human form. It’s literally a bright-green stone with a dragon etched into it set in an elaborate silver base.
“I’m going to ignore your lack of enthusiasm, New Girl, and tell you anyway. Because that’s just the kind of guy I am.”
“So magnanimous,” I agree with a click of my tongue, although I can’t keep the humor from leaking into my gaze. Staying mad at Flint is starting to feel impossible. “Or, wait. I think I mean murderous. Sorry.” I deliberately widen my eyes. “I always confuse those two words.”
Flint’s cheeks flush just a little, and his expression shifts to a combination of embarrassed and impressed as he leans over and whispers, “Me too.”
I meet his eyes. “I remember.”
“Yeah, I know.” He looks sad, but he doesn’t try to argue with me. Doesn’t try to pretend I don’t have the right to be wary around him. Instead, he just nods toward the desks and says, “You might want to grab a seat in the back.”
“Why is that exactly?” I ask.
Flint just shakes his head, and his signature big grin stretches across his face again. He holds his hands out in a half-conciliatory, half-do-what-you-want kind of motion. “Sit in the front for a day if you must. You’ll figure it out.”