Of course you do, I think. Which says everything about you that I need to know.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he shoots back as he rolls his shoulders. “How long was I asleep, anyway? I feel amazing.”
I lift one brow. That makes one of us—your snoring kept me up half the night.
“That’s ridiculous! I do not snore.” He sounds so indignant that it’s all I can do not to laugh.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
“Hey, Grace. What’s going on?” Flint whispers as Dr. Veracruz walks to the front of the classroom, her five-inch heels making a clicking sound with each step she takes. “You’re just staring at an empty seat.”
“Oh, sorry. I got…distracted.”
Now he looks even more confused, not to mention a little annoyed. “By what?”
I sigh and decide to just break the news to him. “By Hudson. He’s sitting in the seat next to you, all right?”
“He’s sitting where?” Flint jumps out of his desk, much to my chagrin…and the amusement of most of the other students. “I don’t see him.”
“Of course you don’t. Sit down, will you?” I hiss. When he doesn’t budge, I grab his hand and pull until he finally acquiesces. “It’s fine,” I reiterate. “It’s just a mental projection of his ghost that’s currently taking up residence in my head.”
Hudson interrupts. “Hey now, I’m not a ghost.”
I ignore him and keep my gaze on Flint, who looks skeptical but slides back into his seat, then leans over and whispers, “How could you possibly be fine with that in your head?”
“Wow, Montgomery. Don’t hold back,” Hudson drawls. “Tell me how you really feel.”
Will you please shut up? I snarl at Hudson but still keep my gaze trained on Flint. “Trust me. He’s been neutered. Nothing more than a Chihuahua in my head, all bark, no bite.”
“Wow, thanks. I am not a neutered pet,” Hudson says with an offended sniff.
Keep it up and I’ll figure out how to actually neuter you. I turn and hold his gaze so he knows I mean it.
“There are the claws I’m so fond of.” He grins at me. “You really do have a bit of the badass in you, Grace, even if you don’t believe it.”
Flint touches my arm to get my attention again. “How do you know?” Flint whispers as the teacher gives us the not-so-side-eye. “How can you be so sure he’s not a threat?”
“Because, for now, the only power he’s got is to talk me to death. Plus, I’m sure Macy told you we’ve got a plan to get him out of my head and make him completely human.”
“It’s a bad plan,” Hudson interjects.
“Yes, she did, and count me in,” Flint says, even as Dr. Veracruz starts making her way toward us, her heels hitting the ground like shots from a gun in the now-quiet room.
“For what?” I ask.
“For whatever plan you’ve got to take the fangs out of Hudson,” Flint answers. “Because I am totally down for that.”
“Oh, hell no.” For the first time, Hudson looks totally alarmed. “No way am I putting up with Dragon Breath over there while we try to figure shit out.”
I smile at Flint. “That’s a really great idea. I would love your help. Thanks.”
“It’s a really terrible idea,” Hudson grouses as he settles back in his seat with his arms crossed in front of him. He looks like a three-year-old on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, full-on pout definitely in evidence. “Dragon Boy has a ridiculous temper.”
Dr. Veracruz walks back to the front of the class and starts writing dates on the chalkboard. With Flint focused on taking notes, I turn my head just slightly toward Hudson.
That’s a little stereotypical, don’t you think?
“I wasn’t talking about all dragons,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Just this dragon in particular.” For the first time ever, Hudson looks…ashamed? “Let’s just say I know the family.”
“Miss Foster!” I jerk to attention as Dr. Veracruz all but shouts my name.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you planning on answering my question or are you going to spend the whole class period staring at an empty seat?”
“I wasn’t—” I break off as my cheeks flood with heat, because what am I going to say? That I wasn’t actually staring at an empty seat, I was just arguing with a voice in my head?
Yeah, because that sounds like a totally rational argument…not to mention a one-way ticket to social suicide.
“I’m not just a voice in your head!” Hudson snaps indignantly.
“Yes, Miss Foster?” Dr. Veracruz’s voice slices like a guillotine. “What exactly is it that you weren’t doing? Besides not paying attention in my class?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, giving up because there’s no reasonable explanation I can put forth. And because the sooner I humble myself, hopefully the sooner she’ll go back to the front of the class and leave me alone. “I won’t let it happen again.”
For long seconds, she just stares at me. Then, just when I think she’s going to turn away and head back to the front of the classroom, she says, “Since you seem so eager to make up for your lackadaisical attitude so far in this class, why don’t you explain to us about the true enemies of witches during the Salem Witch Trials.”
“The true enemies of witches?” I ask faintly, because I have absolutely no idea how to answer that question. Everything I was ever taught in school told me that there were no real witches in Salem. Then again, everything in my old life told me witches don’t exist. So maybe she has a point.
“Um, witches during the Salem Witch Trials…” I mumble, hoping for divine inspiration before I make an even bigger fool of myself in front of the class. Unfortunately, nothing is coming.
At least not until Hudson says, “Tell her the real culprits of the Salem Witch Trials weren’t the Puritans.”
What do you mean? Of course they were.
“No, they weren’t. The Witch Trials were a power play by vampires, plain and simple, and the people who died there were pawns in a petty battle that a lot of people hoped would spawn the Third Great War—including my father. But they were wrong.”
39
Salem WTF Trials