WHEN THE BELL FINALLY RINGS, I slide out of my desk—with a quiet whoop I can’t contain—before the professor has finished speaking. Shoving my books into my bag, I make a beeline for the door, not even bothering to wait for Cam, who finds me in the imposing wooden corridor, glugging water out of a handy fountain. I emerge, dripping, and swipe my hand across my freckled face, scattering water droplets and grinning at my muscular friend.

“Gods yes, let’s skip Dimensional Physics! They shouldn’t schedule anything after Tufts’—” I gesture at my head to indicate the wild hair of the professor. “Class. It’s hardly fair. Two hours of her droning on—” Cam’s deer-in-the-headlights stare at a point over my shoulder clues me in, and I change my tune without missing a beat. “I mean, enlightening wisdom needs time for digestion. I don’t think I could concentrate on anything else with so much new information to consider!”

I don’t even look over my shoulder to see if the professor bought it; just head off down the corridor, knowing Cam’s burly form will be traipsing after me.

We hide in an unused classroom when the bell rings again, and I spread myself out on a scarred wooden desk, legs dangling, fingers woven behind my head as I stare at the dust motes dancing in the air. Cam heaves herself up and sits cross-legged on another table.

“You are the worst, Hallie. We coulda got busted!” But there’s laughter in her voice as she digs in her jeans pocket.

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested skipping, and you’re technically my senior. In age and time served, if not brains or beauty!” I smirk at her, waggling my eyebrows, and she rolls her hazel eyes, scoffing.

“Well I’m sure you would be smarter than me if you paid more than forty seconds of attention to anything, ever. You’re the poster child for the ADD generation. How did you do on your final exams, again?”

I let out a merry snicker and hold my hand out for the gum she’s located. When it’s passed over, I unwrap a stick and shoving it into my mouth, so that my words are muffled. “Point taken, I failed. However, in my defence, exams are stupid and do nothing to prepare you for being a real person, and I had just fallen in love for the first time. I was distracted.”

“You’re always distracted, and the way you tell it you dated that girl for about six hours, so I don’t think it counts as love.” I launch a retaliatory gum wrapper at her, but Cam catches it before it gets anywhere near her face. “You’ll have to wake up earlier than that to catch me out. Or ... you know, any warrior ever. You basically move in slow-mo. It’s a good job you talk so fast, or I’d be hard pressed to keep myself from going and making a cuppa between words.”

Challenge accepted. Her voice is teasing, and I squirm around, sliding off the table and crouching, then walking sideways, foot over foot, like I’m going to leap to the attack. Cam sits, unconcerned, as I stalk toward her.

When I growl and pounce, her hands flick up and grab me, holding both of my wrists in one large paw while she uses the other to tickle me. In moments I’m a writhing, teary-eyed, hysterical mess, and she releases me, satisfied grin lighting up her broad face.

“See? Faster than you, every time.”

I collapse, leaning my reddened face on her wide, denim-clad shoulder, and heave huge, sobbing breaths. “I hate you.” It’s not really fair. Warriors are always going to be faster than me. How am I ever supposed to keep up when we’re out?

What if I slow everyone down, tripping over my own feet?

Cam puts an arm around me to hold me up while I recover, and tucks my hair behind my ear. Her large hand is warm against my cheek and I look up, our faces inches apart. She’s so close, she can probably see the freckle on my lower lip, smell the minty freshness of the gum I’ve been chewing. I swallow it deliberately. Her eyes flick to my throat, then back up, and we move at the same time, closing the gap between us, crushing our lips together with practised ease.

 

 

WE SINK AGAINST THE DESK in a flurry of kisses and awkward limb rearrangement and then I pull away, confused. It takes a moment, but suddenly the world comes rushing back and I realize the ringing sound isn’t just blood rushing hot in my head, but an actual, ear-piercing noise.

Is that an alarm? I open my mouth to ask, but she beats me to it.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the emergency siren.” Her voice sounds a little hoarse.

Worried, I move toward the door, pulling it open a crack to look out. The noise is louder in the corridor, and people are legging it in both directions, looking purposeful.

I twist my head, whisper-shouting, “Well everyone is running like it’s an emergency. What should we do?”

I ignore the part of me that’s suggesting we stay here and make out some more. There’s no way this is a fire drill, or anything so mundane, and I bite my lip, suddenly really worried.

If it’s big enough, we might have to go and fight.

The thought is cold water down my spine, and I dither in the doorway.

Cam straightens her shirt and drops off the table, feet thudding on the boarded floor as she lumbers over to me. How she managed to get woken as a warrior—gifted with the ability to fight like liquid silk—and yet look this awkward just walking across a room is beyond me.

She grabs the door’s edge and stares at me with huge eyes. “Well, I gotta report to my team assembly point, I guess. That’s what the orientation booklet said.”

I sigh, running my hand through my hair; a few strands are sticking to the back of my neck, which is hot and probably flushed pink. “I don’t have a team yet. Also, I didn’t read the orientation booklet.”

And I am regretting that immensely now.

Cam frowns, squeezing past me and sounding disappointed. “Of course you didn’t. Why don’t you go and find Professor Zavier—he’ll know where you should be. I’ll see you later, okay?”

I follow her into the corridor and nearly collide with a boy who is sprinting by with his head down, pulling on leather arm guards. Seconds before impact he swerves, bouncing up and off the wall in a display of perfect warrior grace, not even missing a stride or reacting to my presence. Poking my tongue out at him, I press myself against the wall, out of the way of any other running human weapons, and call after Cam before she rounds the corner.

“Be careful, okay?”

She looks back and breaks into a grin that closes the distance between us, just for a moment. Then she’s gone. Seconds drag out as I watch the place where she disappeared, half hoping she’ll come back for me. If I could be on her team, I know we’d both be okay. How am I supposed to do this without her?

With a sigh, I set off for the classroom, trying not to think about it. I’m worried that running will end in an unavoidable collision, so I settle for jogging and getting out of the way every time a sprinting warrior thunders down the corridor. It’s the first time I’ve appreciated the suits of armour that line the halls, as they provide handy places to shelter. Before I thought they were pretentious, but now I can see that they’re very practical for hiding behind. I’m heading for Zavier’s room, hoping the weaver professor will still be there, but doubting it, when my pocket vibrates.

Oh yeah, I guess I could have called. Feeling like an idiot, I fish my phone out of my tight black jeans—a feat which involves some serious hip-wiggling—and unlock it. A text: ‘HALLIE WHERE ARE YOU? REPORT TO VAN 6 ASAP.’

Urgh, why do people type in all caps? It makes it sound like they’re yelling.

A beat passes, and I read the message again, then turn on my heel and head for the underground garage as rapidly as I can in my steel-toed boots. He probably is yelling. I was definitely supposed to be in class. Oops. I’ve messed up already. If Zavier’s actually looking for me, that means I’m going out. My breath hitches as I wonder what could possibly have happened, where the breach or breaches are, and why the teams ready to go couldn’t handle it.

I careen down the corridors of the vast Edwardian house that serves as the main school building for the Protectorate, society for human defence. When I emerge, breathless, in the huge garage, two vans are squealing out the massive open doors and four more are queuing, the last of which has Zavier standing next to it, gesticulating wildly at the driver through the window. I manage another burst of speed to cross the tarmac and skid to a halt, unable to avoid saluting. Damn my lack of impulse control!

“Sorry, boss!” It’s hard to keep the note of excitement out of my voice, and judging by the look on Zavier’s hawkish face, I fail miserably. “Should I get in?” Two warriors poke their heads out of the back of the van and grin at me. One of them beckons urgently.

“We gotta weave! All right, let’s go!”

I’m gonna take that as a yes.