ONE

ON THE DEAN’S FRONT PORCH, Vix stared at Adare Wallstone and her frozen expression as the dean of Pentagram College blinked three times in rapid succession.

Yeah, lady, I didn’t think I’d be here either.

Truth was, she needed to know what Vix had just been through, and the only way to catch her in private was at the woman’s house.

“Come in,” Wallstone stammered, the late morning light streaming into her foyer. “What are you doing here?”

Easing across the threshold, she felt the fall air tighten around her. Stiff, thick. Protected. What the hell was Wallstone so afraid of?

“There are some things you need to know, and there are some things you need to know I know,” Vix answered. God, truth was still a foreign object on her lips.

Following the dean into a bright sitting room, Vix took the mauve velvet couch Wallstone gestured her towards. But something was, . . . off. Like someone else was in the room with them though they weren’t visible to her. Whether friend or foe, she guessed the dean knew.

As the woman lowered into the green, fern-patterned armchair across from her, the scent of rose incense wafted over them. “Well, what’s this about? I heard about your fainting incident a few days ago.”

Her giggle surprised her. That was no faint, that was power overload. “Not that. This is bigger. It’s about the Righteous.”

“The Righteous?”

“Yes, I—”

“How do you hear about them? Who told you?” Shocked, Wallstone scooted to the edge of her seat.

Which version to spin here? The one where the schools have left their students helpless against an unknown enemy, or the one where Vix was attacked and recruited to bring the enemy to the schools?

She pulled her gaze from the floor to ceiling bookcase behind her host. “Let’s just say, I know enough to know they’re dangerous and you’re not keeping your students safe.” There we go, door number one.

“Excuse me? I’m doing everything to keep them safe. They are safe because of me.”

Oh, door number two then. “How do you explain this?” Vix scrunched up her sleeves to show off her forearms, revealing the three black bands circling each one. What were bruises from an attack by a member of the Righteous had morphed into a brand, giving their badass leader, Cicely, control over her whenever the bitch wanted.

Wallstone ran a hand over Vix’s skin, hopefully feeling how bitterly she let her down. “What does this mean?”

Vix couldn’t help but squint in disbelief. “It means I had tea and cookies with Cicely.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm. “It means you left me exposed to a danger I knew nothing about.”

Not to mention the lady wanted her to destroy Pentagram College from the inside. No. Those weren’t the Righteous woman’s words. The best way to explode something is to implode it, those were her words.

“Cicely.” The energy around them rippled as reality sunk into the dean’s head space.

“Yeah, and apparently she’s not real thrilled with the concepts of institutional learning.”

“No, no she’s not . . .” Wallstone’s voice trailed off and her sights seemed to extend over Vix’s shoulder and into another realm.

Understatement of the year. In fact, Cicely currently led the Righteous in a mission to destroy all of the magic academies in favor of learning through doing. Passion rather than measured lesson plans. Problem was, this was bigger than a preference in education—it meant the Evershift was here and the Righteous were willing to destroy the schools and those in them in order to rule supreme.

Smoothing her “Thought I saw a putty-tat” shirt, Vix waited at least five minutes for the dean to come back to reality with her.

“Hello?” She finally buckled. “Dean Wallstone? Are you in there?”

A shake of the head and the woman cleared her throat. “Sorry, I was.” She drew her brunette waves away from her defined face and back into a ponytail. “Never mind. I’ll handle this.”

“Um, you want to define ‘handle’ for me?”

“This isn’t your concern.”

“The hell it isn’t.”

“Victoria,” Wallstone shouted to silence her. “I’ll handle it.”

So, she was expected to go back to how things were before, and forget there was an entire force out there who tracked her every move?

As her frustration rose, the bands heated her skin like a sunburn. There was no off switch for this power. There was no maximum amount, at least not one she had found. “Well, seeing as how I was attacked and left marked by her, I’d like to think I’m a pretty important piece in the handling of it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Look,” Vix said, as she rose, “I’m in this. I’m part of it now. Cicely made that decision for me. I’m just trying to help you.”

“You’re not strong enough!” she yelled at her for the second time. Man, was she on edge now. Wallstone normally never lost her cool.

Vix perched on the edge of the couch. Why the hell was this woman so resistant to admit she was wrong? “Then make me stronger.”

The deans eye flicked up to meet hers and she held her gaze for a number of seconds. “You’re years away from strong enough.”

Ouch. She wanted to offer some snide comment, but the seriousness rolling off the woman was enough to choke her. “Teach me!” she pressed.

Wallstone swallowed. “Have you ever wondered why you don’t see more people who are Burdened with magic in this town?”

No. “Left as soon as they found out how you put them in harm’s way, I imagine,” she said, as uncertainty twisted in her gut.

“The Righteous have killed them. They started with messages, threats, but then more and more graduates came up missing. The police have helped us as best they can, but a missing person is just that until you have a body. Even though I know Cicely had them killed, we can’t do anything.”

Vix’s heart stalled as she wondered at how many students she could be talking about. Ten? Fifty? One hundred? Did it matter? Any number of dead students should have made her take action already.

“Why can’t you fight back? Take them down.”

A slight laugh came with the dean’s reply. “Because each year we get more Return to Senders like yourself—impossible to train, unwilling to conform, unpredictable. They are organized crime, we’re preschool.”

Her heart sunk. The woman certainly pinned the tail on the asshole with that one. Vix hadn’t made anything easy on her teachers or her friends, and now they would pay the ultimate price for it.

Staring out the bay window, Wallstone continued. “I hired Miranda as Pent’s office manager because she wasn’t magical, because I knew she couldn’t be manipulated by them in the same way. But, even she doesn’t know about the Righteous. She loves the students, all of them, and I don’t have the heart to tell her what’s happening to them.”

Joke was on her, Miranda knew everything already, but Vix decided to keep that card in her hand for another day. Now wasn’t the time. “Why don’t you tell people, Dean Wallstone? Everyone needs to know.”

A hard sigh broke her focus on the street outside. “The teachers know, the deans of Crystal College and Language of Spells Academy as well, and the year-six students, but that’s it. We don’t want this getting out, or we’ll have hysteria on our hands which we can’t control.”

“Because you have so much control now?”

“Don’t play with me, little girl.”

“Oh, we’re name calling now?” This was unreal. “How about Deadbeat Dad for you? You’re abandoning us when you know there are wolves at the door.”

A deep rumble began below them and rolled louder as Wallstone stood. “How dare you!” Air blasted over her, rippling her linen skirt and tunic. Violet sparks pulsed around her fingertips, throwing heat onto Vix’s face. “You’re meddling into something you aren’t ready for. If I say leave it be, then you leave it alone.”

Digging deep, Vix rose, fists balled, jaw clenched.

Even if she knew she’d lose, she wasn’t one to turn down an invitation to fight authority. “Cicely chose me when she had me branded. If things go her way, then I help her destroy Pentagram College. If things go your way, you let me help you save it. It’s your choice.”

Without waiting for a reply, she snatched her purse from the couch and stormed outside into the late morning sun.

Vix was going to take action whether Wallstone liked it or not. What she would do, she had no flipping idea, but she had a team of friends who each got the same ass kicking she did by the Righteous at the Bay Days Carnival.

“Hey, butt wipe,” she called to the bearded dude leaning against her beat up, red Jetta. “Off my car.”

The guy barely acknowledged her as he continued to punch images of buttons on his phone.

“Off. Now.”

While he seemed to take his time, he did step aside onto the sidewalk.

Jackass.

Pitching her purse inside, she climbed into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. As she steered onto the street, she watched the guy move to the middle of the road in her rearview mirror. Standing there. Doing nothing. Then, in an instant, he vanished.

She slammed on the brakes.

What the shit was that?

VIX PUNCHED Miranda’s number into her phone once she’d parked a few streets away from Wallstone’s house.

The office manager for Pentagram College picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Girl, we have a problem.”

A thick sigh came across the line. “What did you do?”

Of course. Assume it was her fault. “I didn’t do anything, but I’d like to. The dean doesn’t want my input. Not even a little bit.”

“And you told her about your arms and the Righteous?”

“Yeah, and she went all possessed on me and basically said it was none of my business.”

She side-eyed the area, half expecting the bearded dude to jump out at her. “She also doesn’t want anyone else knowing, or me helping.”

“Why?”

I’m not strong enough, she thought, but she’d prove herself to Wallstone soon enough, somehow. “No idea. It’s some fucked up circle of secrecy between the schools or something. She did say the year-six students know, but no other students.”

“God have mercy if the year-six students are to protect the schools.” The office manager laughed uncontrollably for a moment, but the tone in her voice made it clear the humor came tinged with a dash of dread.

Okay. Vix gnawed her thumbnail and spit the nail sliver onto the floorboards. “I don’t see the point in keeping everyone in the dark. If she’s not going to tell all of the students, then I am.”

Miranda made a buzzer sound. “Nope. Wrong. You don’t want to do that.”

“The hell I don’t—”

“Vix, girl, you got a flame in you, but sometimes you set everyone else around you on fire too. No going behind the dean’s back, do you hear me? If she’s already pissed, we don’t want to make her more upset. Besides, I need help in the office, so don’t go getting yourself fired over this.”

Huh? Why was Miranda treating her like a child?

Wait. What if Wallstone wanted Vix to think Miranda didn’t know anything in order to manipulate their working relationship and have Miranda reinforce the dean’s wishes? If that were true, could she trust Miranda? Did Miranda send some guy to follow her?

Ugh. The whole thing made her head hurt worse than downing a bottle of cheap wine.

“Look,” Vix said, matter of fact, as she steered back onto the road. “I’m not promising anything at this point. The other students need to know about the Righteous coming for them. They deserve to know.”

Grumbling from Miranda’s end. “I’ll check the schedules and see when the next staff meeting is among the schools. You talk to Wallstone again before then. Try to convince her to broach the subject with the other two deans and the teachers at that meeting. At least let them get the conversation started about letting others in on what’s going on.”

She nodded. “Sure. Whatever it takes. I’m on it.”

Tossing her phone back into her purse, Vix knew damn well there would be no convincing Wallstone of anything. It would take a village, and she knew just who to call.

TWO

ONE HIGHWAY and three phone calls later, Vix parked in a gravel lot beside a dilapidated old house with a gaudy, “We Buy Ugly Houses” yellow, vinyl sign hanging from the second story gutters. If no other cars were there, she would have turned around. Getting jumped once was enough for a few months, and by the curb appeal of the neighborhood, the whole area reeked of pedophiles and drug deals.

Still a little shaken, she got out of the car and climbed the rickety stairs to Gails’ porch. The door swung open as soon as she knocked.

“Nice place, Gails. How long have you been homeless?”

“Funny,” he said, taking her purse and jacket and hanging them on a rusty hook behind the door. “It’s my latest, but a lot can happen in a matter of weeks.”

The fuck? “What are you talking about?”

He sighed, hard. “You really don’t care about anyone but yourself, huh?”

Her flat expression and confused shrug clearly reinforced her question.

“I flip houses. Buy one, fix it up to the point where I wished I lived there, and then sell it for more than I paid. Most of the time it’s all cosmetic, but structural issues happen. Just gotta know how to handle them.”

“That’s your job? I knew you did something construction, but I assumed it was some big building and a dozen dudes all scratching themselves.”

He led her toward the kitchen where she could hear the others talking. “It’s not a job, it’s my business. And, I live here while I do the work. Win-win.”

Clearly, she was the only one of the crew that didn’t have a plan for their lives. Well, except for Opera who was still mooching off Vix while she lived in the second bedroom back at her place as well as currently resided in the body of an old lady. The ghost of the old lady was also a mooch, but at least she had learned how to wash the dishes.

“Hey, hey,” Jackson grinned as he fake clapped at her as if to welcome her very presence in the room. “What shit show have you gotten us into today?”

Shmuck. Sure, they had partially buried the hatchet, but glimmers of that blade still showed when it came to Jackson Blanchard. Vix offered him a one-finger salute to drive that weapon back into the dirt.

Around the table, Ijemma and Takon sat side by side, holding freaking hands.

“What’s this?” Vix pointed at their display of affection.

Ijemma, despite her caramel skin, blushed bright damn red. “It’s a thing, girl. That’s all. We’re not trying to label it.”

“Oh really?” Intrigued, she snagged the green plastic seat Gails pulled out for her and leaned over the table toward the couple.

“No. No, ma’am. We are not going there,” she said, but the twinkle in that woman’s eye told her a women’s bathroom discussion would go there.

Fair enough.

Gails handed out bottles of hard cider and tossed a bag of dill pickle potato chips onto the table before taking the tattered lawn chair next to Vix.

“How was the talk with Wallstone?” Morgan asked, as she snatched a bottle of cider and unscrewed the top.

Vix sighed. “I’m not her favorite person, let’s put it that way. She knows all about the Righteous, and so do the teachers, and some seniors, or whatever they call it when we get to year six.”

Gails scooted in closer to her. “So, what’s the plan? What does she want us to do?”

She grabbed a cider of her own and relished the cool apple-flavored bubbles as she took her first swig. “Nothing. Wallstone basically told me to stay in my lane.”

“Fuck that!” Takon chimed in, sympathetic to Vix’s plight. “We got our asses handed to us at that carnival. This is our damn lane.”

“Well, sweetie, I think that, and you think that, but apparently the all-knowing dean doesn’t.”

He pounded the table. “No. This isn’t right.”

Putting a dill chip on her tongue, Vix let the vinegar sting for a second before chomping down.

“What if one of us talks to her?” Jackson weighed in. “Sure, she doesn’t like you, but she can’t say no to all of us.”

“Thanks, ass wipe.”

“It’s true.”

Actually, it kind of was. She and Wallstone didn’t start out on the best terms and Vix’s constant attempts to lie and hide the truth when the shit hit the fan didn’t endear her to the dean. She snatched another chip and started to talk, but Gails cut her off.

“We need to confront these Righteous pricks. No question.”

Seriously? “No, dude. Come on.”

“If the dean doesn’t want to deal with us, then we’ll deal with them ourselves.”

“Stop,” she practically spit crumbs. “I haven’t told you what Miranda said.”

The crew went silent. Even Mateo and Huy, who had been quiet up to then, stopped belching at each other and chomping down on chips.

In that same moment someone knocked on the front door.

The hair raised on the back of Vix’s neck. She hadn’t even gotten to the part where some creepy dude hung out near Wallstone’s place and then vanished into nothing when she left.

“I got it.” Gail rose and tromped toward the door and out of sight.

Lord help them if the Righteous waited on the other side. She held her breath, bracing for a sudden attack.

No. Small talk in murmurs came instead, no yelling or shouting at all.

Gails appeared again with Opera in tow. “Did someone order an old lady stripper?”

“I am not a stripper,” Opera giggled and punched his arm in a super flirty way.

Vix’s hackles raised. Gails wasn’t her boyfriend or anything, but they had built . . . something, and she wasn’t about to take a step back to let Opera get her saggy, wrinkled, borrowed body close to him.

He offered up his seat to the girl-woman. “So far, you haven’t missed much. Wallstone doesn’t like Vix and doesn’t want us to do anything.”

“No surprises there.” She smiled and pushed the remaining ciders away from her. Probably for the best considering she’d inherited an addict’s body and had only recently turned it around to “recovering” addict’s body.

“Like I was saying,” Vix broke in. “Miranda said she’s going to see when the next meeting among the three deans and teachers will be. Since I’ve had contact with Cicely, Miranda wants me to convince Wallstone to discuss the Righteous at that meeting. My hope is they tell everyone else what’s going on, but Wallstone seems to think it puts everyone in danger if they know.” She shrugged. “Like not telling children about pedophiles somehow protects them.”

Mateo popped open a second cider. “Why can’t Miranda tell the dean herself? Why do you have to do it?”

Gawd, the more they talked, the more it all felt like work to her. “About that. Dean Wallstone doesn’t know that Miranda knows about the Righteous. Or, at least I don’t think she does. If Wallstone knows she knows, then she’s lying to me about it.”

“So, she has Miranda spying on you?” the guy’s tone came off pretty accusatory.

“Or the other way around?” A knot formed in her gut. She was tired of having to explain everything to everyone. This was exactly what happened whenever she let other people into her life. Suddenly they had opinions and she had explaining to do. “A while back, Wallstone said something to me about keeping an eye on Miranda for her. I thought they were super close, but I guess not.”

Jackson made a big show of clearing his throat and as he raised his arm like a kid in class, a fresh batch of BO wafted over everyone. “I have an idea.”

Here it came. Great. Just great.

“If you can’t convince Wallstone to discuss the issue with everyone, then why don’t we crash the meeting. We can tell all of them ourselves. Force them to talk about it.”

“No, we—”

But she couldn’t think of a reason not to. Absolutely, she had a history of dishonesty and trying to clean up her own messes which usually resulted in bigger messes, none of which the dean was a fan of, but this Righteous business was literally life and death, and she sure as hell didn’t want it to be her death.

Vix eased back in her chair, the sun-bleached plastic creaking under her. “Why not? Let’s do it. Let’s crash a meeting we have no business attending.”

“Yeah,” Jackson cheered with a fist pump in the air, but Ijemma was quick to object.

“No, guys, this is stupid. Think for a second.” She released Takon’s hand as she set her palms a foot apart. “On one side, we ruin any trust we’ve built with Dean Wallstone. On the other, we create a scenario where we’re throwing bombs without any idea of what their reactions might be. What if we get expelled? What if none of us are allowed to go to Pent anymore? I don’t want that. My life has been hard enough as it is, and I finally have a good thing going. My kids are safe, I’m working a steady job, and I feel like I’m meant for even greater things. I’m not interested in throwing that away because we can’t have basic communication with our own dean.”

Geez, Vix so didn’t need a Jiminy Cricket in her life right now. “Well, not throwing your life away now, could mean they kill you after graduation.”

She let that sink in for a second, and the reality check seemed to settle everyone down. “Guys, I had basic communication with Wallstone and it flopped. She practically threatened me, and . . . I maybe didn’t say some great things myself.”

“Girl, your idea of communication is pretty lacking compared to the rest of us.”

“Okay, so let’s go there. Let’s say we don’t crash this meeting. What then? The Righteous could kill us all like they already have with other students. Nothing changes.” Energy circled her and crept into her chest like a spiraling tornado. “Now, let’s say we do hit the meeting, and we get expelled or something. Now what? The Righteous can still kill us, but at least the deans and the teachers will be forced to talk about it.”

Ijemma shook her head, although clearly she was more concerned now than a second ago. “I see what you’re trying to do to sway me, but I disagree. We don’t know how the schools are already protecting us. Maybe it could be worse out from under their care.”

“They’re not!” Unable to remain seated, Vix jumped up and shoved her arms forward, flashing the black bands left on her from being attacked for the second time that day. “How is this not enough proof for you? Not to mention, the Righteous might have people out there following us. Tracking us. You’re all idiots if you don’t pay attention.”

Gails stepped in, lowering Vix’s arms, attempting to calm her and the whole room. “Okay, we’re not going to get anywhere like this. Let’s take a vote. All in favor of barging into the meeting, raise your hand.”

Immediately, Jackson and Vix’s votes were made clear. Within seconds, Morgan, Mateo, and Huy joined them, hands raised high. Although Takon looked like he wanted to join in, his new allegiance to Ijemma definitely held him back.

Glancing around the room, a piece of Vix’s hope sunk like the Titanic. Her crew, her original friends in all of this stood on the other side of supporting her while Jackson and his groupies united with her.

“Gails? Opera?” she said, defeated. “Seriously?”

Gails shrugged, a lock of brown hair falling into his face. “There’s got to be another way to deal with this.”

She let her tone sting. “I tried that already.”

“Either way,” he said, shaking his head. “Majority rules. Five against four.”

But it shouldn’t have been. It should have been nine, all in favor, ready to tackle the problem and force the deans to listen and take action. Somehow this minor victory felt like sour apples rotting in her gut instead.

After everyone left Gails’ house, Vix remained in her car trying like mad to process the shift she didn’t see coming. Was her core group really against helping her, or did they vote against Jackson’s idea? For sure, the latter felt much better, but the former nagged at her conscience.

Staring across the parking lot to the Dollar General on the other side of the street, Vix recognized a familiar figure on the bench outside in the afternoon sun. The bearded dude from Wallstone’s street faced her way, dark eyes fixed on hers.

Oh, hell no. She wasn’t playing around with another stalker. Not going to happen.

Throwing her little Jetta into drive, she steered into the middle lane of the road and waited to make a left.

“I’m going to get you, fucker,” she whispered to herself, focused on the oncoming cars flying by at forty miles per hour.

She cranked the handle to lower the window and yelled across the way at the darkly dressed man. “I’m going to get you, fucker.”

Finally, a gap in traffic. An eighteen-wheeler whizzed by, leaving space behind it.

With a stomp on the gas, she sped into the DG lot and smashed the brakes. Vix barely threw it into park before her belt was off and she was climbing out of the car.

“I’m going to get—”

But the bench was empty. The bearded guy gone.

Damn it. Was Cicely trying to send her a message? Was she seeing things?

Her throat closed as she fought the urge to cry. She was over it. So over it all.

Ever since she’d started at Pentagram College, everything about life had catapulted from hot mess on the regular to raging dumpster fire, and she was feeling more and more like she was inside the bin burning. Maybe she should have taken the short jail time for shoplifting instead of this long-term schooling sentence.

If this dude was at Wallstone’s place, was he stalking the dean, or following Vix? How long had he been in the shadows before she noticed him? Did he sit outside Gails’ house the whole time?

She gasped for air as she begged her throat to open as anger overtook sadness.

When was she going to get one damn moment of peace?

THREE

“GAILS, YOU SAID I need to trust you, right?” Vix said, phone pressed to her ear as she sat in her car in an actual parking space after watching the beard guy play peek-a-boo magic version for the second time.

“Of course,” his reply, but an awkward worry laced his tone.

Great. She was finally leaning, so he better not freaking lean away.

“Someone may be following me.”

“Who?”

“Dude, if I knew that, then I wouldn’t be calling you.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” He sighed. “Where are you now?”

As she drummed her fingernails along the steering wheel, a nagging thought invaded: what if this guy has been following her ever since the night at the Bay Days Carnival and she never noticed him? Shit. She shifted to check all corners of the parking lot. “I’m across the street from your house.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No,” she practically shouted. “I don’t need some knight in shining damn armor to save me from creepy dudes.”

Gails laughed on the other end of the line. Like a sick, sarcastic laugh, not humor. “What about some guy you know. You up for that?”

Fair enough. Gails was no knight, that much was for sure. Absolutely, he clung onto her like a barnacle sometimes, but his heart was in the right spots even if he seemed up her ass a bit.

“Look, I’m fine. I’m leaving now. I just . . .” How could she put this? “You’re pushing me to be honest, no secrets, right? So, here it is. I may have a fresh shadow, is all.”

“Vix, I—”

“No, you don’t need to say anything.” Her hand fondled the keys where they hung lifeless in the ignition.

“You should come back over. Hang out until your shadow leaves.”

The truth was, she wanted him close, but not too close. Her and a guy alone, even with a little spark between them, equaled poor decision making, and she didn’t have any condoms on her. With Gails, there was more than a spark and she so wasn’t ready for an inevitable break-up right now. “I’m going home. I’ll be fine. I guess I got a little wigged out, so I called.”

He grumbled. “You know we can hang out when something’s not going wrong, right?”

That forced a laugh. “I know.”

Then the silence. The kind of silence where unspoken words were born and quickly buried.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

Vix nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She’d wanted to belong for so long that it ached to say no to him now. “I’m okay,” she lied.

“Okay.”

“Gails?”

“Yeah?”

Damn it. No. She’d closed that inviting door. No need to reopen it to see if he was still on the other side. “See you in class tomorrow?”

His voice dropped. “Sure thing, Vicky.”

Asshole. “No problem, Desmond.”

Dropping her phone into her lap, Vix didn’t bother with the radio as she made her way back to her apartment. Instead, she thought in silence and kept her focus on the people around her, sizing up every pedestrian, and wondering what Cicely and the Righteous were planning while the schools ignored the raptors testing the fence.

TURNING THE KEY to her apartment door, Vix twisted the knob with a solid hope that Opera had already gone to bed.

No such luck. She stepped inside and fought the lock for her keys back before spinning around to a very engaged Opera who sat absorbed in some murder mystery on TV.

At least she was chilled out now. It seemed the drugs, both illegal and prescription, had all made it out of her system and the girl in the old woman’s body had come back out on the other side. Problem was, Opera’s gentle nature was now more abrasive than she used to be, and honestly, it was getting old.

“Hey bi-otch,” Marva, the form of said old woman’s body, said as she floated toward her. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

Ha. “Really?” Vix slung her purse onto the orange stained armchair across from the couch.

The phantom gestured toward the television as much as a phantom could gesture. “The husband did it. No question.”

“And that’s why you’re glad to see me?” She headed to the fridge for a beer.

“I just don’t get it. You guys have bodies and all you want to do is zone out all day in front of the TV instead of talk to one another.” Marva took the beer from her hands and twisted off the cap before handing it back. At least the old broad was good for something. “All I want is connection, to touch the world again, to be in touch with people. And what does she do? Blabber on about Gails’ house and then disappear into streaming reality TV. It’s flipping nuts.”

Guzzling a cold river of liquid relaxation, Vix let out a hellacious burp. “Yeah, but don’t you remember coming home after a long day and your mind being a piece of tired garbage?”

She released a bitter laugh which came out gravely even without having an actual throat. “Come home from what? A job? Come home to where? Don’t forget, I was homeless when that little number stole my body from me.”

Damn, that was true. How could she have been insensitive enough to flaunt having a place, even if it was overpriced and unrepaired with a womanizing landlord? “Point made,” she cringed. “Sorry.”

With a purr, Gracie rounded the corner into the kitchen and made loops around Vix’s legs and Marva’s . . . tail? Bottom? End?

At least Gracie still believed in her and her ideas, unlike her own friends. Reaching down, she gave the tabby cat a good scratch behind the ears and under her chin. Shit, she needed to feed her.

As she took another chug of beer, she grabbed a can of wet food from the top of the fridge and began scooping it into a bowl. Instantly, the scent of salmon in gravy wafted up to her and turned her stomach.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” she asked, setting Gracie’s bowl down and turning back to Marva, but the ghost had left. Crap. This day was getting worse and—

A loud pounding on the door interrupted her thought.

God, the only thing that could possibly make life any crappier would be for Gails to play puppy dog in the doorway right now. She stormed through the living room and yanked the door open.

But, no one was in the hallway. The only evidence that anyone had even been there came in the form of a crisp white envelope nailed to her door.

Eviction letter? Couldn’t be, she paid last month’s rent this month. She made it right. They were caught up. No need for a 5 Day Pay or Quit.

“Who is it?” Opera called from the couch.

“Not a who, dear,” Vix said, ripping the envelope from the nail and unfolding the letter inside. “It’s a what.”

Her hands trembled as she read the words:

Victoria,

Cicely would like to meet with you again. Come to the Near Street Apartments tomorrow night. 9pm sharp. This is not a request. She will see you tomorrow.

Don’t be late.

Energy crept electric down her spine. The Righteous had made their move and it wasn’t a text or a phone call this time. Now, she was certain they knew where she lived.

Suddenly, heat circled the bands on her arms, burning the skin as if someone held a hot iron against it. Her breathing sped up to match the anxiety ratcheting higher and higher in her chest. The burning intensified and raced to her fingertips.

In a flash, the letter burst into flame and instantly disintegrated into ash which drifted to the floor leaving her fingers blackened but . . . unharmed.

No pain, no blisters. Everything calmed. How was that possible? She literally held fire, and it didn’t burn her.

Glancing up, she caught Opera’s stare and accusation immediately.

“What the hell was that?” The girl rose to her feet, pointing at her as she closed the door.

“I . . . don’t know.”

“No, you don’t get to say you don’t know. What was that?”

Her breathing began to slow and return to normal. “Junk mail?”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Opera stormed toward her, gesturing franticly. “You burned that paper and it didn’t even seem like you were aware you were doing it. Your eyes looked fucking crazy. Like you’re deranged or something. What the hell is going on?”

In that moment, Vix wished she knew. Sure, they had practiced fire-play and moving water in Elemental Control class, but that was when the fire already existed. She’d never created it before. Even though her power had grown since being attacked in Bramble Park, she was more than a little aware she didn’t have control over it.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, girlie,” Marva added her two cents.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Vix’s voice trailed off as she lost herself in thought.

She stared at her hands as if they weren’t hers, fear and uncertainty filling her, and then it clicked.

Did she burn the letter, or was Cicely using the brandings on her forearms to tug her magic strings like a puppet? A dysfunctional, and now very pissed, puppet.

Worse, if Cicely could force that kind of energy through Vix without her control, then what else was the leader of the Righteous willing to burn?

FOUR

AFTER BARELY GETTING any sleep the night before, Vix dragged herself into work at the office of Pentagram College only fifteen minutes late.

She dropped her stuff at her desk and made a beeline to the back corner where she lit Wallstone’s oh-so-necessary incense that somehow “protected” them from the baddies of the world while still letting in one hundred percent of the bullshit.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Miranda said, once Vix returned to her desk. “Rough night?”

She shot her co-worker a look which was pretty self-explanatory. No way was she going into the whole I’m-possessed-by-a-woman-of-power conversation. While it was true she felt like the magic ability needed to ignite flames was hers, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t Cicely’s doing, and that scared the living shit out of her.

Although she tried to focus on work, Vix couldn’t get her mind to stop torturing her with what-ifs and playing out scenarios in her head where the queen of the Righteous tortured her to death for sticking by her school’s side and not dressing the part of Trojan horse for her.

“Speaking of nonsense,” Vix blurted from the silence at the back of the room toward Miranda who sat on her perch at the front desk like always. “Any word on that meeting for everyone who’s important enough to know about murderous magic factions?”

The woman closed her eyes slowly in a total you’re-on-my-last-nerve way when Vix had barely gotten started on nerves. “I have to give it time. Greasing the wheels of conversation isn’t always a quick process.”

Hmm. Push back. But Why?

“Does Wallstone know you know about the Righteous, or are you lying to me in saying she doesn’t?”

“Excuse me?” That raddled her. Good.

She left her station and practically stomped up to the front desk. The Aqua Net was strong on the office manager this morning. Vix took a small step back. “I just want to make sure I have this all straight here, and a one piece of the puzzle that’s a square peg is who knows what about whom? Wallstone told me you don’t know about the Righteous, so is she testing me, or you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Turning back to her computer monitor, the woman played at occupied and enthralled in cleaning supply invoices.

Let it go, or dig deeper? Let it go, or dig deeper?

Dig deeper. “At this point, I’m inclined to believe Wallstone, but it’s you that I thought I could trust with this stuff. You know, tell my ultimate plan to? I guess I’ll keep the real details to myself then.”

Miranda spun in her swivel chair to follow Vix’s position as she headed back to her desk. “Real details?”

“Mm-hmm.” She made a show of sitting back down and now she pretended to focus on actual work. A little Compelling might be in order. Why have a special skill if you aren’t going to use it? She drew together enough energy to give a gentle shove and went with her gut. Curiosity killed the cat. “It’s pretty interesting actually since the group was split five to four on this decision.”

Not saying a word, Miranda seemed to wrestle with herself as though she was sitting on hot embers, or hemorrhoids.

Good.

Click, click. Scroll down the list of each nine-student class’ rosters. Why wasn’t this chick taking the bait? She’d done this spell before no problem.

Vix shifted to one side and propped an elbow on the desk to support her chin, all an act to cover up how much force she was exerting on this chick.

A trill of noise broke the silence as the phone rang.

So much for that conversation.

But Miranda didn’t answer it, only continued her hard stare at Vix.

“You going to get that?” she asked, motioning to the biggest part of Miranda’s day; being a social butterfly was her everything.

The woman crossed her arms. “The dean knows I’m interested in what’s going on and I think she suspects I’ve been learning more about the history of magic. That said, I’m not magic, and she knows that, so it’s not like anyone could manipulate me.”

Right, like Vix just freaking did.

Vix made a play at nonchalant and shrugged. “Okay. Thanks.”

Whether she believed Miranda or not could be up for debate, but the magic college office manager came across as genuine.

The phone rang again, but the woman ignored it. “Oh no, you don’t. What’s your plan?”

Crap.

A sick sensation spun inside her. Honestly was the best policy, but it wasn’t the only policy. “We decided to invite the dean out for coffee and talk to her away from everyone else. In private.”

Without even a fat second passing, Miranda burst into laughter. “Girl, that sounds like a trap and I’m not even as heavy on being suspicious of everything as she is.”

Although she feigned hurt, Vix knew damn well she wasn’t telling her their plan was to crash the schools’ meeting.

The phone rang again.

“Look, your best bet is talking to her again, like adults, convince her to make the Righteous the focus of their meeting, and don’t storm out this time.”

Wait.

How did Miss Thing know Vix stormed out of Wallstone’s place? God, was everything some twisted test around here?

Vix fiddled with a stray string on her ripped jeans. Not cool ripped, old ripped. A couple of months ago she was all down-with-the-man, and anarchy, and now . . . now she was wishing she were in class already so she could just study her shit and go home to practice slicing water or something.

Sure, she had a temper, but who didn’t? Wallstone sure as hell did, and she got scary-mad, not just mad-mad.

No, something didn’t feel right.

The ringing stopped.

Miranda turned away and gave her attention to the front computer again, and Vix wondered just how much she could trust her only co-worker.

FIVE

AFTER GRABBING A PACK of peanut butter crackers and a cola from the very outdated and very non-magical vending machines in the teacher’s lounge, Vix had just enough time to scarf them down after work before heading to the otherwise empty fourth floor for night class. Although Jackson and his crew of Morgan, Huy, and Mateo were already in their places on the right side of the room, none of her close friends were there yet.

Vix gave an awkward wave to the other four and slid onto her seat at the lab bench closest to the door.

“Yo, V! Yo, V!” Mateo cheered. “Guess what?”

Oh Lord. Mateo was great and all, but sometimes she didn’t have the energy for their albino K-pop friend. “What’s up, . . . M?”

“I took my Nintendo Switch into the pocket dimension with me. Played for hours and nobody even knew I was gone. It was epic!”

“That’s great, man.” If only she could unzip the fabric of reality and disappear for a while. Hours away equaling minutes in real time. That would be something. Of course, she probably would have taken a bottle of gin into the pocket dimension instead of a gaming console, but to each their own. “I’m glad you’re getting to use your power for good instead of evil.”

He laughed and raised a fist in the air. “Right on. All we can do, right?”

Yeah, right on. Easy for him to say when he wasn’t freaking tied to the Righteous like Melania to Donald.

Gails entered the room immediately followed by Opera. Okay, this those-two-are-getting-close question was starting to bother her.

“Hey,” Opera said as she took her normal spot next to Vix.

“You guys got here at the same time, huh? Normally I’m the late one.”

Opera slid her textbook onto the table. Her shoulders slouched. “Yeah, I . . . need to talk to you about that.”

Excuse what? Gails wasn’t hers, but this felt wrong. Vix shot eyes back at him where he’d set up behind her. “Oh?”

“Not now. Later.”

Gawd. The only worse than having a ‘talk’ now, was knowing it was later.

Like a pair of giggling teenagers, Takon and Ijemma broke the tense moment as everyone in the room couldn’t help but notice. It was the total girl flirt laugh too, which frankly, Ijemma was stronger than that, mixed with the guy being all over her neck: whispers, tickles—

A hickey!

“Girl,” Vix said as the lovebirds settled in on the other side of Opera.

“What?” Ijemma asked innocently enough, but with her maroon hair pulled into a ponytail, the darkened splotch on her skin was that much more obvious.

“Fall down some stairs?”

The mother of two rolled her eyes. “No.” But then she leaned in closer so only she and Opera could hear and offered, in her sultriest tone, “Takon stayed over last night.”

No shit. And into the afternoon apparently.

Although Opera squealed at the new love, for some reason Vix couldn’t find it in her to cheer. Not that she was jealous of them, but that she didn’t understand the kind of happiness which rolled off her friend. Any relationship she’d ever been in she’d always waited for the break up, expected it actually, so other than the sex and free meals, she never got to enjoy being with someone. She was more of a I’ll-break-my-heart-before-you-can kind of girl.

“Hello students!” came Daljeet Ingram’s booming voice as he strolled toward the metal desk at the front of class, dropped a pack of cigarettes and a portable fan onto the table, and hopped up onto the desk himself, letting his skinny legs swing. “Welcome back.”

While their teacher seemed well and chipper, Vix now knew that he was more than aware of the Righteous and never told them. Neither had Professor LaRiche for that matter.

He scanned the room as he made polite greetings and asked how everyone was doing, but she couldn’t help but notice his stare lingered on her for longer than she preferred.

Holding eye contact, she refused to look away as a tendril of oppressive energy wove through the air between them. He knew. He knew about her and the bands, and knew that she’d met with Cicely. No way Dean Wallstone hadn’t warned him.

The longer he stared, the more her arms felt heavy and her mind stilled. It was like he was suppressing her energy or trying to control her. As if she were a mad dog in need of a leash.

Like hell she needed to be treated like that.

And she didn’t deserve to be treated like that either.

Giving a shove, she forced the tendril back at him, weaving in some power of her own. He needed to trust her, they all did, and putting chains on someone only ever made them feel locked up.

Raising a brow, Daljeet eased off on the energy until it disappeared, then gave his attention to the class again. “Alright everyone, we’ve moved drops of water, we’ve fueled fire, and all of you have done really well with your foundations there. Which means, we’re going to move on today, but don’t stop practicing those skills. You never know when you’ll need them.”

“Professor Ingram.” Blanchard’s hand went up in the back of the room. “Why are we moving on? I thought we were going to get to combine them now.”

He chuckled as he slid off the desk and moved toward the back of the room, adjusting the slender pink scarf around his neck. “None of you are ready for combinations when it comes to elementals. That’s Foundations Two course work.”

Blanchard practically pouted. “So, we can’t make our water put out our fire?”

“No. You’re not ready, and it’s a very complicated skill. Think of it like juggling—your mind has to focus on all of the balls in air at the same time. Catching one, throwing the other. It’s possible, but you’re better off to master them individually first.” He made his way forward and stopped directly in front of Vix, dropping his gaze to her. “None of you are strong enough yet.”

A vicious unease brewed in her chest. What did Wallstone tell him about her? What had she told the dean of Crystal College, or all of the other teachers? And why did she get the feeling she was on everyone’s shit list?

Nice going Wallstone, spread rumors instead of actually do something to stop your students from getting killed.

Daljeet tromped to his desk and picked up the pack of cigarettes, tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other. “Who’s had a chance to read the chapter on air?”

Crap. Most of the class raised her hand, but she couldn’t lie this time around as if she’d done the pre-work. Professor LaRiche had been very clear with them: you couldn’t lie to magic.

Disappointment shone on his face as he opened the pack. “Well, the few of you that missed it need to catch up. The rest of you will understand this a lot more.”

Shifting in her seat, Vix really couldn’t handle much more of this day and the idea that the Righteous expected her tonight didn’t exactly make her feel like a special guest. Not to mention the paper nailed to her door only provided the apartment building name, but not the apartment number, meaning she had no clue what to expect or where.

No. She wasn’t going to let fear and worry bother her right now. She flat out refused. Not happening. If Wallstone didn’t think she was strong enough, then she sure as shit was going to prove her wrong.

But when she tuned back in to Professor Ingram’s lesson, he held a lit cigarette off to one side, but wasn’t looking at it.

“The only way to guarantee you aren’t breathing on your practice work,” he said, “is to face away from it and use a mirror to see, or get distance from the object. If I put this in an ashtray and moved to the other side of the room, for example, then I could watch the smoke without physically affecting the air around it.”

The teacher shifted to set the cigarette down on the edge of the desk and then plugged in the small fan and clicked it on before he continued. “When the book talks about ripple effects, that’s what you need to envision. I turn on this fan and it will blow air in one direction and move the smoke, right?”

Absorbed in the lesson, no one replied. With the fan going, the thick scent of cigarettes wafted around the room.

“But,” he said with a wink. “This fan is not magic. Big surprise, right? It’s a motor powered by a current, and the blades only turn one way for forever and ever. We, however, are, and when you focus on creating those ripples in the energy around you, you can move the air which in turn moves the smoke, but we can move it towards us, or away from us. Left or right. Up or down.”

“I have another question,” Jackson Blanchard again couldn’t hold anything in. If it came to his mind, then it came out of his mouth.

“Yes, sir?” Daljeet pointed to their very own magi-jock.

“How am I going to practice if I don’t smoke?”

The entire room popped with laughter until Ingram waved them to quiet down.

“I’m using this smoke because everyone can see it, even from far away. At home, feel free to focus on a curtain, a pile of dust, or use incense. As long as you can see shifts in movement from wherever you are, you can practice on anything.”

“Cool,” he said and his voice trailed off as if he was either stoned or fascinated.

“Alright!” Their teacher clapped repeatedly to refresh the energy of the room and motioned for them to join him at the front where he clicked the fan off. “One at a time, stand at the doorway and focus on creating your ripples in the air and send them to the smoke. As long as we’re all still, the smoke will rise straight upwards, so I want each of you to focus until you’ve moved it off its path by at least six inches.”

Lining up like good boys and girls, Blanchard’s crew jumped to the front.

As Huy stepped up to go first, Vix pinched Opera’s elbow to get her attention.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” she whispered.

The girl’s old woman face blanched. “Oh, it’s nothing. We can discuss it later.”

“Tell me,” she pushed. If she didn’t give up, Vix was not above Compelling her own friends to do things too.

“Maybe later.”

Morgan turned in line to shh them.

Now, she was worried. “No, tell me now.”

Opera sighed. “I’m moving out.”

“What?” Shocked surged through her.

Morgan spun around again. “Can you two be quiet, please.”

Vix grabbed Opera’s shoulders and drew her close as she whispered. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“You scared me last night. Something’s not right with you and I don’t think you see it.”

“With me? That’s rich coming from someone who isn’t in their own body.”

Her friend’s posture shrunk. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m moving in with Gails. I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

Everyone clapped at Huy’s smoke-moving success, but Vix could only manage a blank stare as she felt the foundations of her new and improved life starting to crack.

By the time it was Vix’s turn with the smoke, her heart wasn’t in it. She was both pissed and hurt, full of momentum but out of energy.

Focusing, she didn’t want to blow smoke around the room with magic ripples, she wanted to choke everyone on it. So, instead of giving the cigarette air to continue burning, Vix practically snarled as she deprived it by collapsing the air around it inward, crushing the burning cherry to ash until there was no visible smoke left to move.

This school and every Hocus Pocus fucker in it would see just how strong she could be.

SIX

“HEY ASSHOLE,” Vix shouted at Gails outside as soon as he exited Pentagram College’s main building and stepped into the night air. “When were you going to tell me you were shacking up with old bones?”

His expression twisted, drawing up one corner of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

She tugged her purse strap up higher on her shoulder and fought the urge to cry. Not a good time, baby girl. “You and Opera, huh? When were you going to tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh really? She’s not going to be living with you?”

Eyes clenched, Gails sighed. “Are you seriously asking me this right now?”

That’s right, buddy. You’re going down. Vix crossed her arms and sucked her teeth just waiting to attack his reply.

“First of all, unless you’re in it, my love life is none of your business. Second, she’s taking a guest bedroom and offered to help with the renovation in exchange. We’re not together.”

“Oh.” She exhaled once she realized she hadn’t been breathing. “Okay.”

Yet what he just said still stung. If she had any thoughts they might be getting closer, he squashed them by drawing the line in that love life sand.

“Can I ask you a question?” He reached for her shoulder and spread the remnants of cigarette smoke around them again. “What is going on with you?”

There it was. Truth or dare? Hard honesty or easy lies? But this was Gails, and he’d trusted her with some personal information in the past; his mother’s suicide had left emotional scars. “I’m supposed to meet with the Righteous tonight and I’m scared.”

His body stiffened, face contorted with disgust. “No. You can’t.”

“What choice do I have?” She shrugged his hand away. “If I don’t go, they’ll find me anyway. Besides, I have proof they know where I live. There’s no hiding.”

“You have proof?”

“Had proof.” She sighed. “I lit it on fire, I think.”

Fuming, Gails paced in a circle until he came back around to her. “Where is it? I’ll go with you.”

She headed toward her car with him on her heels. “Oh no. I’m not telling you. Last time you followed me, there was a massive magic brawl, remember?”

He grabbed her wrist to stop her, sending all kinds of mixed messages. “And I don’t want to think what would have happened if I wasn’t there.”

A cool fall breeze whipped by her flushed face, sending leaves to the ground.

She searched his brown eyes for understanding, for you’re-strong-you-can-do-it, but it wasn’t there. Only concern.

“Look,” she said, taking his hand. “The best way to figure out how to beat the Righteous is to know what they’re planning. I need to do this.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, or worse.”

“Tell me it’s going to be fine.”

“Wish I could.”

Needing some kind of reassurance, she drew him in for a hug. “I gotta go. Don’t follow me.”

“I won’t.” He squeezed her back.

“Don’t.”

Releasing the hug, she caught him rolling his eyes. “I’m not.”

Another breeze, this one sharper than the last. Even though she knew what she had to do, she wished she could take him with her into the lion’s den. Wished she felt certain she had someone on her side.

Before she even took two steps to walk away, Gails called her name, forcing her to stop and turn back to see his sly grin.

“Were you actually jealous at the idea I’d hook up with Opera?”

So wonderful to think he could make a joke about her anger at a time like this. Real nice, dude. “I’m not in your love life, so what does it matter?”

The left corner of his mouth tugged up as he cupped the back of his neck. “Oh, you’re in it. I just didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

A zing of excitement zipped through her as punched his shoulder and shoved him away. “Whatever, man.”

She walked away fighting a huge boy-band-crush smile, but the high only lasted from the sidewalk to her car. As soon as she climbed into the driver’s seat, a fresh wave of panic and uncertainty clawed at her throat.

Next stop, the Righteous.

VIX PARKED a few blocks down from the Near Street Apartments. Although she’d never been there before, Near Street had a reputation for riff raff, robbery, drugs, and making the news for a variety of unsavory behaviors in public. No wonder the Righteous chose it.

Unlike last time, there hadn’t been any phone calls or texts, just the note on her door, and the fact they changed up contact methods with her had her nervous. What changed? Or did they just want her to know they knew how to track her?

The brick building easily reached eight or nine stories with symmetrical windows across each level. Yet, from the street, there was no door, and she found herself having to go around to the side alley of the building to find any entryway like some kind of labyrinth. Only instead of a Goblin King who could sing, the man around the corner who waited for her was the same bearded fucker who’d stalked her for days.

“Victoria Ibarra,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

“Dick head, who the hell are you?”

He grinned at her sarcasm. “Webber. I can tell you’re in the right place.”

But her gut screamed she wasn’t, not even a little bit. All she could offer him was a side eye and a popped attitude. “Well, Webs, now what?”

“Now,” he said, as he swung the dark oak door open wide and motioned for her to enter first. “You’re one of us.”

Not hardly.

Ignoring the sick feeling which coated her like greasy, expired sunscreen, she stepped into the Near Street Apartment building and felt every bit like a lamb going to slaughter. Only this lamb wasn’t about to give up the ghost to some turd named Webber.

In the front foyer of the building, amber glass chandeliers hung from ten-foot ceilings, illuminating the mosaic tile floor and ornate wooden staircase leading to the second floor. Clean and pristine, right down to the wainscoting and crown moulding, nothing appeared as she expected. What was this place? What else was she wrong about?

Magic pulsed the air like static before a lightning storm. Her forearms warmed as if she was a dead cell phone plugged in to charge.

The door closed behind her. Webber offered a wink as he said, “Would you like a tour, or do you want to see Cicely right away?”

“A tour?” She swallowed a wad of spit which had caught in her throat. “Which apartment is hers?”

“No apartment. This whole place is ours.”

“Like a dorm or something?”

“Like a home.” He flashed a pair of silky baby blues at her. “Or something.”

No. Do not let your guard down. She propped her fists on her hips. “I want to see Cicely.”

Although he studied her for a moment, it felt more like a dissection. A creepy vibe and sense of power threading through the place pressed in on her. Her chest ached to breathe. Was he doing this, or was it nerves?

“Right this way.”

Up two flights of stairs and down the hall, members of the Righteous lingered in doorways where they chatted, drinking cocktails and smoking clove cigarettes. Behind them, someone howled with laughter followed by cheers and clapping. In one apartment, the door stood wide open and music pumped bass as others danced. Inside another, a girl appeared to be levitating a big dude who sat crossed legged and giggled as he was flown about the room.

Although she wanted to stay alert, nothing felt ominous. Freaky, yeah, but what the hell was so bad about all of this?

Webber stopped in front of a solid, maroon door and knocked.

As the door swung open, the skinny guy from the Bay Days Carnival appeared.

With no words exchanged, the two motioned for her to enter and Skinny stepped outside.

The average-sized room seemed every bit like a normal living room. Paisley blue wallpaper met hardwood floors to create the backdrop where two couches faced each other and the badass leader of the Righteous sat relaxed as if she didn’t expect to see Vix so soon.

“Welcome,” Cicely said, rising and standing her full voluptuous form upright. Black jeans, white tee, and a mane of soft, coiling hair which bounced around her face as she came closer. “Can I get you a drink?”

God, yes. She needed something to take the edge off. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of being poisoned.”

Cicely belted out a laugh. “Oh, my word, seriously? You should know me better than that. If I’m going to hurt you, it will be right up front where you can see it happening.”

Moving to a bar below the window, the woman retrieved a bottle of wine from a cooler and took two glasses off the counter top. Aiming the wine top at her, she said with a chuckle, “I’ll let you open it if you want.”

Like a shitty statue, Vix stood frozen, expressionless, with her arms by her sides. The whole nature of this place and Cicely’s calm demeanor was about as confusing as doing her own taxes—which was why she’d never filed them.

After filling two glasses with rosy pink liquid, Cicely offered one to her. “Come. Let’s talk.”

Vix held the glass steady, careful not to let her hands shake as she crossed the room and took a spot on the leather couch across from her.

“I get the sense you’re on edge,” Cicely began, then took a sip. “But honestly, I don’t know why.”

“Really? You don’t know why? You don’t remember threatening me, or having your goons attack me and my classmates at the carnival? None of that ringing a bell?”

“Simply a show of force. We didn’t kill anyone.” She stole another sip. “Just a, . . . demonstration.”

“Ha, well it doesn’t get you many new friends.”

“But you came, didn’t you?”

“Only because I didn’t have a choice.”

Cicely lolled her head back as if bored by the conversation. “My dear, you always have a choice. What are they teaching you at that school?”

Let’s see. Magic orbs, fire, water, cigarettes. Vix rolled her eyes and tasted the wine, letting a grapefruit sweetness slice down her throat chased by tart. “Is that your plan for magic domination? Get me to tell you the syllabus.”

The woman’s face hardened around her eyes. “I wrote the syllabus, sweetie, I don’t need your help.”

Vix’s chest tightened. Something wasn’t adding up and she felt even more the reality of Wallstone leaving her in the dark when it came to information. “Then why are you killing the graduates?”

“Because the methodology is wrong.” She set her glass on the marble-topped coffee table between them. “Once I saw these institutions for what they really were, I left.”

“What they really are?”

“An institution structured around systematically limiting the power of the many for the benefit of the few. An organization like that cannot last,” she said, very matter of fact. “Teachers should be mentoring you, nurturing your growth, not restricting it to their standards of what they want to teach while those at the top are free to practice magic as they please.”

Ho-ly shit. How could she counter that logic? But knowing Vix had a problem with authority wasn’t exactly rocket surgery, and frankly, an easy target. A fresh gulp of grapefruit rose and Vix prepared her return fire. “So, you don’t mind killing students to prove the point that students are important to you.”

Cicely shrugged. “We give them the option first.”

“Option? You kill them, and now you want me to play wrecking ball to my own school.”

“The option.” Her tone went stern, as if Vix had crossed a line. “The only option.”

Being cryptic didn’t seem like Cicely’s style, but Vix couldn’t connect the dots.

“And that would be . . .?”

“Join the Righteous, or die.”

“That’s not an option,” Vix said, raising her voice.

The woman began to yell. “The hell it’s not. What did I just say? You always have a choice. Even if you don’t like the consequences, every choice is yours to make.”

Cicely’s volume dropped a level, but her words continued to come out bitter. “When you stole something, you had a choice. When you told lies, you had a choice. When you left your family to escape the abuse, that was your choice.”

Vix tried swallowing back the forming lump in her throat. She’d never figured out how Cicely knew so much about her past, but that’s where she wanted it to remain—far enough back that it couldn’t hurt her anymore.

The two sat in silence, the music from down the hall muffled through the walls as the scent of burning sage rolled under the door.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Cicely pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I find myself short on patience these days. For a while now, I’ve needed someone by my side who understands. I saw something immensely strong in you that appealed to me. Such untrained power.” Her hand balled into a fist. “And I thought: there, that is someone who could be my equal. I wished I could nurture that ability in you, but maybe Pentagram College has already gotten to you.”

The woman inhaled deep, and then sighed. “Maybe, instead of encouraging you as a person, the schools stuffed the heart of magic in a cold book, and broke it, chapter by chapter, so they could more easily clip the wings of dragons and teach them the acceptable way to fly.”

What was this now? An equal? Surely, this big-time leader of a major faction of magic didn’t see that when she pictured Vix with all of her excess makeup, dreadlocks, and as she was realizing it now, an inside-out Fitz and the Tantrums t-shirt.

Yet, she couldn’t help but compare the two responses. On one hand, Wallstone told her she wasn’t strong enough, and on the other, Cicely defined her as immensely strong.

So, which one of these bitches was lying to her to get their way?

A knock at the door threw her out of her concentration.

Cicely made a play at wiping her face, but whether or not there were tears actually there she couldn’t tell.

“Yes?” the woman called.

Slowly, the door creaked open and Josiah Dorfman’s big, fat, stupid head peeked in at them. Although he didn’t make eye contact, she knew damn well he recognized her. “The marks are ready, ma’am.”

The woman’s demeanor lightened and excitement spun up around her again. “We’ll be right there.”

Vix’s mind reeled. What the shit was a mark?

WHILE VIX’S STOMACH performed somersaults, Cicely lead her down a series of corridors to the basement of another building which also belonged to the apartment complex. Down there, every footstep echoed their arrival and a faint painful moan seemed the soundtrack to the musty smell and dim lighting. A few makeshift, concrete block rooms divided up what would otherwise be open space. Each little room, no more than a six-foot square, had a bare light bulb suspended overhead and its own door with a small window at eye level.

Her gut soured. What was this place? And why did all of these units look like jail cells?

Dorfman stood off to the side of one room and as the leader of the Righteous neared, he moved with practiced fluidity to unlock the door and open it just as she stepped in.

Inside, a woman lay on a dirty, inch-thick mat on the floor with her legs drawn up to her chest. She mumbled as she rocked on her side, but Vix couldn’t make out the words.

Starting to step in, she thought better of it, and kept herself squarely in the doorway so Dorfman couldn’t shut her in with them.

As Cicely neared her, the girl flinched.

Alarms rang out in Vix’s mind, her heart begging her to leave.

Looking to the guy who was branded just like her to bring down Crystal College, she asked in a whisper. “Dorfman, what is this shit?”

He stepped closer. “She made her choice; she’ll join the Righteous. Now, she needs to be marked.”

“You mean she was kidnapped, tortured, and held captive until she consented?”

He grimaced. “It’s not like that.”

“Looks a lot fucking like that, dude.”

Unease circled her as she watched Cicely kneel beside the girl and rest her palm against the back of the girl’s hand.

God, this was beyond creepy.

“You will serve our cause,” the woman began, “and within your servitude you will find freedom.”

The girl winced as an amber glow splashed around their two hands like tendrils of electricity.

“You belong with us now. We fight for you; you fight for us.”

As Cicely’s stood, a violent upraised scar shaped like the letter R still pulsed with static across the back of the girl’s hand.

Coming closer to the small doorway, Cicely explained to the girl how she would now be bathed, clothed, and fed, as if they were doing her a fucking favor. Clearly, the only way to stay alive in this joint was to join the team.

Like some weak little girl, Vix watched twice more as the process repeated, and each time the person was given the big R branding as a party favor, and she did fucking nothing to stop it. Didn’t even object.

Yet, a twisted sensation slouched around under her skin; at least these people got a choice—Vix wasn’t given that option. A different branding forced on her in a nighttime attack, but she was as tied to the Righteous now as these poor people.

No more. The Righteous needed to be taken down, and fast, otherwise their numbers were only going to grow.

“The others?” she asked Dorfman.

He shook his head. “They haven’t chosen yet. They go on restriction tonight.”

“I see.” Cicely strolled down the line of doors, peeking inside each one the way a child might pick out a new pet.

At the second to last cell, she glanced inside and made a tisk sound. “I have high hopes for this one. Want to see, Victoria?”

Oh lord, did Cicely actually think Vix wanted a better look at other people’s nightmares?

Unsure about any of her status here, and sure as hell not wanting to end up on the other side of one of these boxes, Vix stepped closer against her better judgement and peered inside.

In the corner, balled in a mound against the wall, Takon appeared to be passed out, maybe drugged. Button-up shirt ripped and a gash slicing across his dark forehead, it was clear he didn’t go down easily.

“No!” Vix shouted. “The fuck is this?”

Cicely offered a wicked smile. “Hopefully a new recruit. We’ll see how he does though.”

“No, no fucking way. That’s my classmate!”

“Is he?” she feigned innocent.

Hot blood surged through her as the bands started to burn. “Bitch, you’re going to let him go, right now.”

The woman tilted her head as if amused. “Or what?”

“That is my friend. You don’t fuck with my friends.” Forearms blazing in pain, Vix fought to maintain control of the pressure building like steam inside her.

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

Her hands clenched just to keep the magic contained. The energy singed between her fingers. What was happening? She couldn’t calm it down. She’d burn alive if she didn’t.

“Not without Takon.”

“That’s not your choice to make, sweets. Your choice is whether or not you’re going to help me destroy the schools.”

Sweat coated her back and slid through her scalp to the back of her neck. The magic had to stop. It needed out. “I’ll do it,” she said, panting. “I’ll help you, but none of my friends get hurt, do you hear me. None.”

“Deal. He’ll be released in the morning when he can walk out on his own.”

Instantly, the heat dissipated and left her freezing in its absence. “Unacceptable.”

“Non-negotiable. He’s in no condition to leave, but I promise, I’ll have Josiah return him to his home as soon as he wakes.”

She looked to Dorfman, who offered a slight nod. Officially helping the Righteous was never on her dance card for the evening, let alone finding herself this deep in shit and choosing it. She stuffed a finger in his face. “If anyone hurts him, I’m coming for you first.”

Cicely clapped like a delighted child. “Excellent choice. You’re smart to pick the battle you can win. You are so much stronger than you realize. I can cultivate your strength in ways you’d never imagine.”

Although she wanted the compliment, she was too pissed to enjoy it. She spoke through grit teeth, “If I don’t see Takon tomorrow, our deal is off, and then I am coming for you.”

SEVEN

AFTER HAVING threatened the two most powerful people in magic in as many days, Vix called into work in favor of chilling in her cloud pajamas and trying to mentally regroup. Crossing her legs under her, she shoveled Lucky Charms into her mouth while clicking through local channels for something to stare at.

Although she slept, some, she remained shaken from the night before, and the texts she’d sent to Takon that morning still remained unread. If they didn’t let him go . . . If they killed him . . .

God, she didn’t want to even consider the possibilities.

“You lose your job already?” Marva, the lovely ghost that she was, asked while floating her blobby white form toward her on the couch.

“No,” Vix said, nearly spitting dribbles of milk into her lap. “I needed a day off.”

The spirit pooled against a throw pillow. “You just had a whole damn weekend.”

“Can you get off my dick? I’m allowed to take a day,” she snapped.

“Oh, well, excuse me.”

She grabbed another bite. “You got a hot date you need me to leave for?”

Marva sighed, fucking sighed, as if Vix was the one annoying her. “No. I’m trying to weigh my options.”

Swallowing a mouthful of marshmallows, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh?”

“Opera told you she’s moving, right?”

Vix nodded.

“I don’t know if I want to go with her.”

Huh? Why would a phantom not want to be with her body? “I don’t understand.”

“That chick is in my body, but we ain’t close. Not like you and I are.”

“Close?” Were they really? Mostly Vix just ignored this figure that thankfully started doing the dishes and dusting, otherwise she’d be sneezing and eating off paper plates still.

“We confide, girlie. Opera is so desperate to be liked she’ll befriend anyone just to get attention. Not us, we know we’re not likable so who cares, ya know?”

“Um, excuse me? I’m likable.” She set her empty bowl on the coffee table, the spoon clanging as she released it, and pulled Gracie onto her lap for some morning pets. “I’m very likable.”

Marva manifested a full face complete with features just to roll her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m going to heaven.”

“You’re not winning me over on this roommate of the year conversation.”

“Not trying to, I’m only saying us screwed-up girls gotta stick together.” Her face relaxed away. “You’re deeply lonely, and I’m the down on her luck buddy who will never leave you. Win-win.”

Vix had to laugh. “You’re not down on your luck, you’re dead.”

The spirit rose and crossed the room to the window. “One day I’ll get my body back and then you’ll be begging me to stay.”

Not likely. If they knew how to get Opera out of that body, they would have done it already.

Without responding, she set the cat down and took her bowl to the kitchen to toss it in the sink. Caring about whether or not Marva left with Opera was so far down on her totem pole of shit, she didn’t have time to comprehend it. Yet, a small squeeze in her chest told her that so wasn’t true.

Damn it.

She returned to the living room and flopped down again, and resigned, finally said, “Don’t go if you don’t want to. My casa is Sue’s casa.”

Marva shrugged just enough for the light to shift in the room where it came through the window, as well as through her. “Don’t put yourself out.”

“I can’t tell you what to do any more than I can tell Opera what to do, and it’s not like my landlord can see you or add you to the lease. What the hell do you want from me?”

“To belong,” her voice boomed. “I want someone to give a shit about me again. To care!”

“Me too!” A spiked knot grew in her throat. “But we don’t always get what we want.”

In silence, Marva’s solidity morphed into a thin vapor.

Goddamn it. She didn’t have time to nurse a ghost’s feelings back to health.

Pretending she didn’t notice, Vix snapped up her phone and texted Takon again.

Dude, where are you? Are you okay?

Just as she put her phone down, a new text pinged under her fingers.

But it wasn’t Takon. Instead Gails’ message slid down from the top of the screen.

How was last night?

You were so good, baby. LOL.

Be serious. What’s up with the Righteous?

Long story. Too much to type.

Then nothing for a full minute. Maybe he’d leave it at that.

Nope.

When do you get off work?

She sighed and typed, I called in. Needed a break at home, but not getting one.

Can I come over?

You don’t want to invade my dreams? she asked, knowing damn well he would exploit his ability and join her dreams the second she said it was okay.

Hardy har har.

Sure. Come on over.

Five minutes. I’m nearby already.

“Are we done talking, Marva?” she asked, wiping her face and likely smearing yesterday’s makeup down her cheeks.

No answer.

“You pissed?”

The vapor thickened. “No. You can’t be pissed when you’re caught between the living and the dead. Too much time on your hands to hold a grudge.”

Vix raised her eyebrows. “Good point.”

“Tell you what, girlie.” Marva glided toward Opera’s room where the girl still slept. “I won’t give up on you unless you do.”

Give up on her? A puff of air escaped her lips. “Gee, thanks.”

If only Marva knew how many times Vix had almost given up on herself and her life. The scraping by was okay in her late teens, but she was nearing a quarter-century birthday, and while those in her high school class were getting married and having babies, she was still the same fuck up she’d always been. Truth was, she didn’t know how to be anything else.

She texted Takon again.

ANSWER ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS!!!

Once Marva used Opera’s door as a filter and left, Vix had enough time to throw on a bra to squeeze into those A cups and wipe the mascara from her under eye before there was a knock on the front door.

“TELL ME EVERYTHING,” Gails said, tossing his jacket onto the back of the armchair.

Vix shut the door behind him and lit some sandalwood incense on the coffee table to cover up the fact she hadn’t showered yet.

“Wait. Have you heard from Takon recently?”

He shrugged. “No. Should I have?”

The longer she went without hearing from this dude, the more pissed she was getting at Dorfman, and that prick needed to remember she knew where he lived, too.

“He’s not answering my texts.” She flopped onto the couch opposite the end Gails leaned against.

“He’s probably at work, or still sleeping tranquilly in Ijemma’s bed,” he laughed.

“Those two hooked up quick.”

“Yeah, they did. Crazy what happens when people trust someone else without putting up walls.”

Okay, no points awarded to him this morning for that little jab. “I’ve worked hard at trusting, dude. I texted you, didn’t I?”

He shook his head and smiled. “No, I texted you. Either way, tell me about the Righteous. Start at the beginning.”

Here she’d spent most of the night trying to forget about the whole meet up with Cicely and Company, and now there was no squashing it down. “Um . . .?” She settled in for story time and dug a piece of mushy cereal out from between the cushions. “For the most part, it was fine, I guess—”

“—Fine?”

“For the most part,” she said, raising her voice for emphasis, but then let it go back down. “You know how when you enter Pent there’s a stiff feeling in the air? Like you have to sit up straight and eat all your vegetables?”

Gails nodded, but didn’t interrupt this time.

“This wasn’t like that at all. The Righteous act more like a frat party that never ends. Parts of it could be fun even.”

“Fun. Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. There’s a certain appeal to it. Initially anyway.”

Hearing herself say it, made it all sound not so bad. Like, was she actually comfortable there? Maybe she wasn’t then, but would she prefer their rambunctiousness to the strict attitude at the college? Kind of.

“But, then it got twisted.”

As she described to Gails the dirty cells where Cicely kept people, how they had to choose joining the Righteous to live, and her making a deal with the she-devil to release Takon, her hands went to work toying with the incense smoke. Each time she got emotional, she sent pulses over the smoke, then twisted it into curls to match the tightness of the knot in her belly the size of a ten-ounce steak. Before she knew it, she’d created a foggy mandala suspended in the air.

Her chest tightened with realization. She had done that. Not Cicely messing with her arms. No burning at all this time. Vix made the floating design all on her own without even really focusing. Like Nike, she just . . . did it.

Right as she turned to Gails with a massive smile, she caught his dark mood and shocked expression. “Did you see that?”

Shock twisted to confusion as his brows drew together. “You joined the fucking Righteous?”

Vix’s hands dropped and the smoky pattern collapsed in on itself. So much for that. “No, I didn’t join them. I agreed to help if they didn’t hurt my friends and let Takon go, and so far, I haven’t heard shit out of him.”

“No.” He sat up straighter, his voice intensified. “You joined the Righteous.”

“I said, I’d help them.”

“What do you think ‘help them’ means?”

She shrugged, then crossed her arms as if it would keep out the truth. “Well, I haven’t seen or heard from Takon, so right now, I ain’t helping them.”

“But, when he shows up, what then?”

Son of a shit. “Okay. So, I joined the Righteous. Whatever.”

Gails rose and ran his hands through his hair. “Why would you agree to that? You can’t go to Pent anymore if you’re one of them. Hell, I don’t even know if I should talk to you anymore.”

She couldn’t deny that she’d never been the best at anticipating consequences, but she really screwed the pooch on this one.

“Sit down, you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being dramatic?”

“Look, if you had seen Takon in the shape that I had seen him right after watching someone get fucking branded with witchcraft, you would have made the same choice. Short term loss for a long term gain.”

He settled next to her on the couch again, elbows on his knees, breath shallow. “You’re not a short term loss, Vix.”

“Well, there’s at least one vote.”

Gails faced her. “You’re not, and you shouldn’t say that about yourself.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“I’m serious,” he said, and then very definitely started to lean in like he was going to kiss her, but pulled away at the last second.

“Uh, what was that?” she giggled. Not a school girl giggle, but a are-you-for-real giggle.

“Nothing.”

“No.” She shoved him. “What was that?”

He shook his head. “Just leave it alone.”

“You wanted to kiss me.” She couldn’t hide the smirk, so she spread it far and wide.

Rising, he adjusted his jeans. “You want a beer? I want a beer.”

Oh Lord, now she was just having fun poking the bear. “It’s not even ten in the morning.”

The sound of the fridge door was quickly met by it closing again. “You’re out of beer,” he said, returning to the room.

“I don’t get my first paycheck from the college until tomorrow.”

“Come on.” He motioned to her as he grabbed his jacket off the chair. “Let’s go get a drink.”

First of all, she totally wasn’t dressed for leaving her hovel. Second, it wasn’t even ten! Not that it mattered so much to her, but if you’re going to call into work sick, you don’t exactly go chill at a bar in the middle of the day. “I can’t. Liar’s rules.”

Disappointment dropped his shoulders. “Yes, you can. Nobody is going to see you. Put some shoes on and let’s go.”

A swirl of static excitement spun through her as she weighed her options. Was she an asshole with morals? Or, was she an asshole willing to break her own rules?

“Only if you kiss me,” she said, adding a sly grin to her healthy dose of eye contact.

Interests piqued, he stepped closer to the couch. “You’ll have to Compel me.”

She refused to be the first to look away. “No, I won’t.”

Without hesitation, Gails leaned down and planted one hand on the back of the sofa for support while the other cupped her neck. His lips barely grazed hers, but he made her come to him for the kiss.

And then her fucking phone went off like fireworks.

Goddamn it. Why did Takon have to answer her texts now?

“So sorry,” she said, honestly panting a little and fumbling under her butt for her cell.

A rapid fire of texts popped up, but they were all from Miranda.

“What is it?” Gails asked, trying to sneak a look while easing onto the couch next to her.

“Hold on.” She unlocked her phone and scrolled back to the beginning.

Oh shit. It was happening.

“The meeting. The schools. Miranda has a date and time.” Vix watched the gray ellipsis dance at the bottom while Pent’s office manager typed.

God, this was great news, but such horrible timing. She could still taste the mint of his kiss.

That’s awesome! Where? she typed, hoping she could salvage the moment with Gails.

“Wait, you can’t go to that meeting.”

“The hell I can’t.”

He grabbed her shoulders. “No, Vix. If you’re crossing over to the dark side, you don’t have any business being there. Wallstone’s not letting you anywhere near that school.”

“No,” she said, but all of the energy fell away from her. Was that true?

“You really didn’t think before you said yes to Cicely, did you?”

“Excuse me? I didn’t exactly have time to think about it; they were going to kill Takon!” she yelled, swatting his hands away as she stood.

He sighed hard. “You’ve lost it all. School, your work, . . . friends.”

Her phone pinged a fresh text.

Griffin’s Greenhouse. You’ll have to talk to Dean Wallstone tomorrow to convince her to bring the topic to the table.

Sure, no problem, she typed back fast.

Don’t tell anyone you know this is happening.

Absolutely.

“Miranda just told me where the meeting will be.”

“Hun, it doesn’t matter.” His whole tone defeated, he took the phone from her and set it on the coffee table. “You can’t be there anymore.”

No. She refused to accept this. They needed to crash this meeting to get the schools talking; that was the right thing to do. She wasn’t the villain in this fucked up story, not when she was finally trying to do good.

Her heart hollowed out and she searched his gaze for a life raft before she drowned.

Somehow her turning her life around was stripping away everything she had, only now she couldn’t use any of her old coping skills to fix problems.

Wait, yes, she could: lying.

“Nobody else has to know.”

Gails’ face twisted up.

“Listen, you’re the only other person who knows what I told Cicely. Well, you and Dorfman.”

“Dorfman?”

“Don’t ask.” Her mind raced with ideas. “I can be a double agent.”

“Oh God,” he laughed. “You seriously want to play both sides?”

Was she crazy to think this or stupid? “Absolutely. Wallstone never needs to know I’m super inside with the Righteous other than gathering information for her, and Cicely doesn’t need to know I’m trying to get the schools to plot against her.”

“This won’t work.”

“Why?”

“They’re both going to suspect this.”

She shrugged. “I’ll have to be super convincing then.”

“You can’t tell anyone else. No one.”

“Just you and me, bud.”

He toyed with one of her dreadlocks, sending sparks through her with his closeness. “As long as you don’t forget which side you’re fighting for.”

“How could I?” But as she pressed closer to him for another kiss before he left, she wasn’t sure if she was already lying.

EIGHT

EVEN THOUGH VIX had called into the work that morning, she was feeling somehow fully recovered from her anal glaucoma in time to make it to class that night.

After climbing the four flights at Pent to the newbie playpen, she double-checked her fly before entering the classroom where fucking Takon’s smiling fucking face with a fucking gash on his fucking forehead sat there talking with Ijemma as if Vix hadn’t saved his fucking shit life the night before. Granted, he was passed out, but she was pretty damn sure someone would have told him what happened when he woke.

“Hey man,” she said, slapping at his arm where he rested, relaxed, against his lab bench while Ijemma giggled.

He offered an irritated head bob. “Hey?”

She tipped her chin at him. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“Pssh. What texts?” he asked while simultaneously flipping her off.

“Dude, seriously?”

He shifted in his chair and gave his full attention back to Ijemma.

She scanned his hands and wrists for a bumped-up scar in the shape of an R, but saw nothing.

Okay, so he didn’t answer her, but at least Cicely let him go. That was something.

Wasn’t it?

As much as it pained her to take things at face value, she realized her deal with the Righteous was now true—Takon was released unharmed, and she had no choice but to help them destroy the one place where she’d found home.

“Eh, I’m talking to you,” she pressed, now feeling like he was kind of to blame for her situation considering he got himself kidnapped.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

He snorted like a bull ready to face a matador. “I lost my phone. You want to back off?”

“Takon!” Ijemma said. “Why are you being so rude?”

He thrust a finger in Vix’s direction as he answered his girlfriend. “She needs to go away.”

The shit?

Oh, she’d go away alright.

Vix made a show of leaving. “You know what? Don’t worry about it.” She spun on her heel and marched to her spot closest to the door.

Fuck that guy. She’d lost everything for him? And he wanted to be a dick about it? Whatever.

Gails entered the room, soon followed by Jackson Blanchard with Morgan, Mateo, and Huy in his wake.

Of fucking course.

As he slid into his spot behind her, sending wafts of spicy aftershave over her, Gails whispered, “Hey doll, you okay?”

Whisper-yelling, she pointed at Takon as she spun to face Gails. “He’s a prick. I should have let Cicely keep his ass.”

“Shh.” He was quick to shut her up. “Don’t say that stuff out loud.”

Her turn to roll some eyes, but Opera fumbling into the room, dropping her textbook and pens distracted from it all.

“Sorry,” Opera said to Professor Ingram as he entered, stepping over her strewn belongings spread out like a yard sale.

Crazy that the girl seemed so un-alert considering Vix hadn’t seen her all day. The girl-woman hadn’t even come out of her room the whole time Vix was home. Must’ve not left until after Vix had. Whatever that was about.

Ingram planted himself at the head of the class, butt on desk, legs swinging.

“How is everyone today?” Daljeet asked, clapping his hands together like a giddy John Oliver at the start of a show.

A few mumbles.

She knew for damn sure she wasn’t answering.

“Oh, piss poor, piss poor,” he chanted. “Where’s the life in you guys? How are you today?”

“We’re great,” Blanchard cheered from the back of the room.

There you go, ass wipe. You really can be a jock and teacher’s pet.

Daljeet smiled in a way that made his whole thin frame appear grandiose. “Wonderful! Did everyone practice air manipulation?”

Ha, not unless he counted the twisted smoke puzzle she’d created by accident, and she sure as hell still hadn’t read the chapter on air, so that knowledge was out too.

But everyone else seemed to have their shit together. Even Gails who had spent the morning in her mouth acted like he was caught up for the lesson. Brown-noser.

“Great, because today we’re stepping it up a notch.” Ingram rubbed his long fingers together like kindling. “Follow me outside.”

Oh god. She didn’t like this. The last time they went as far as the hallway it turned into an issue.

Rising, she collected her purse and followed the crowd to the grassy area behind the main building of Pentagram College. They’d not spent much time there before, but a small courtyard formed the space between the one building and three others which perched like crows on the opposite end of the field.

Vix had never been out here other than to drop shredded papers in a bin out back, but seeing it now, at night, gave the whole place a very Buffy the Vampire Hunter graveyard scene feel, sans tombstones.

“We’re going to play a game,” Daljeet explained. “It’s somewhat like capture the flag, but here there’s a fog machine instead, and, absolutely zero running around.”

What the French? Why was this guy so about games?

The Righteous was out there preying upon the formally taught, while they played kid games oblivious to the world around them. At least Vix’s classmates had had a taste of that dissenting faction and knew they were more than capable of handing them all their assess.

To Vix, in that moment, it all sounded stupid, but she still lined up in single file alongside her friends and waited for the rules of the game.

Gails slid in next to her, grabbing her hips from behind, and whispered. “When are you going to tell everyone about the meeting between the schools?”

Um, the hell?

She swatted at his hold on her to get rid of the visual cement they were adding to the group. “Going to have to be after this, don’t you think?”

“My place later then?”

Geez dude, sure she absolutely was someone to jump into bed too quickly, but he didn’t need to fan that flame for her. “How is that going to help?”

He sighed in her ear. “Should I have everyone over to my place later? What were you thinking?”

Never mind. “Yeah, sure. Or mine. Unless Opera can’t handle my unpredictability.”

“Alright, everybody,” Daljeet announced. “All you have to do is think about having control over the mass of fog. But, there’s only one mass, and nine of you. Meaning, you’ll have to fight for it.”

The teacher grinned in a way she didn’t exactly like, but as Vix imagined it now, this had to be some simplified version of training for them. Very simplified, considering the Righteous would kill them just as soon as look at them.

He practically skipped to the fog machine as he continued, “No moving from your spot. None. Whomever can bring the fog to themselves first, wins.”

Ah, keep away, the old classic, only everyone was away.

“Three, two . . . one,” he cheered, as he flicked the switch on the machine which featured a skull face on the front—clearly Halloween discount merch.

A thick two-foot wide bubble bloomed outward from the Skeletor mouth and coasted on the dewy evening ground until it rose into the air.

Huy cheered. “I got it, fuckers,” he chuckled as the ball of fog came toward him.

But the orb fluttered, and then shifted course.

Morgan laughed and squealed. “Not anymore, my man.”

Vix couldn’t help but observe, like some distant stranger.

The blob shifted again and shivered as if deciding who to go with.

Until Gails raised his hands, drawing it toward him. “Nope. It’s mine.”

Mateo and Opera cheered even as they attempted to draw the fog to themselves like a Star Trek tractor beam, but they were too weak.

Deep down, Vix knew it was hers, and she could take it if she wanted. She knew it in a way that scared her.

She could destroy it, or she could destroy them.

Her arms burned hot along the bands again. She could teach them all the lesson that no one was stronger than her . . . if she wanted to. But, the truth was, her very being vibrated with instability more and more each day. She questioned how much control she held in those moments where her arms burned. When the power felt both like her own and someone else’s at the same time.

But that thought was quickly overtaken by Takon’s guttural yell from his core, and a fiercely wide spreading of his arms.

Instantly, the orb shot toward him and hovered, spinning there in his hold, until he spiked it like a football onto the ground where it splashed into nothingness against the grass.

Shit.

“We have a winner!” Daljeet said, cutting the power to the fog machine and leaving the sounds of the courtyard to only crickets and cicadas.

“Eat that, mother fuckers,” Takon shouted. “Lick my balls.”

The fuck was this? Takon was gentle giant, not jock a-hole in this crowd.

Ijemma gave him a shove and playfully asked him to stop, but he didn’t seem to acknowledge her.

“Stop it,” she shouted, smacking his shoulder seriously this time. “Stop!”

“You can’t control me,” he commanded, his black dreads bouncing on his shoulders where he stomped in victory, and then howled toward the sky like a wild animal.

Mind swirling, Vix tried to catch her breath.

What had Cicely done to her friend?

And now that Takon was back, how far would she have to go for Cicely to believe she was on the Righteous’ side?

NINE

AS MUCH AS VIX wished the rotten feeling in her stomach was bad tuna from lunch, it didn’t leave even after a trip to the women’s bathroom before everyone agreed to meet back up at Gails’ house.

The reality of the situation—her deal with Cicely—was sinking in and festering in her guts. Sure, she thought she could play double agent that morning, but after a few hours and more time to think, she worried she’d fly under Wallstone’s radar and right into Cicely’s. The Righteous woman already knew so much about her—her past, her home, her flaws.

Pulling into the gravel lot by Gails’ house, she scanned the immediate area for any sign of Webber. A cool drizzle spit over the windshield, blocking her view. One inhale and she focused her attention forward to all of the droplets forming on the glass.

Move, baby girl, she thought while picturing her energy teasing the rain out of the way from her field of vision.

Slowly, as if wind hit the front of the car, the droplets spread away from the center like a spiderweb and raced to the edges of the car frame.

There we go, baby girl. Thanks.

With a clear view, she stared down the road to search the Dollar General parking for Webber’s bearded face.

That’s when she realized: she’d never not be watching for the Righteous over her shoulder.

Damn.

She squeezed the cold steering wheel and rested her forehead on her knuckles. Maybe her dean was right; maybe she wasn’t strong enough. For real, she’d always been good at biting off more than she could chew and regretting it later, but now the tightness in her throat felt more so like choking.

“Fine,” she said to herself. “It’ll be fine.”

Go in, talk about the meeting, and don’t mention the deal she’d made with the devil of Near Street.

Wiping her face, Vix tried to shake off all of the dread and slap on a fresh coat of fake confidence.

By the time she entered Gails’ living room, she had rolled her shoulders back, stood up straight, and braced herself to pretend to be strong.

“Welcome,” Gails said, coming toward her and leaning in for a kiss.

But she turned away. With the rest of the class sitting there in the kitchen, she wasn’t ready for a PDA in front of them. At least not until she figured out what she thought of this new connection.

“Oh?” he said, clearly caught off guard. “Okay.”

She sighed lightly. “Everyone’s right there. I don’t want questions.”

“No. Of course, not. That would be horrible.” He turned around and headed to the kitchen, leaving her to follow behind him.

Shit.

In the kitchen, Morgan and Opera giggled beside each other while Mateo and Blanchard shared some conversation about something fascinating on Mateo’s phone. Probably football replays.

“Where’s everyone else?” Vix asked.

Blanchard scooted his chair over to make room for Vix to bring one to the table. “Huy has to work. I guess someone called in at the nursing home and he was the only one who could fill in. The newlyweds? I have no idea.”

Gails set a beer in front of her. She snatched it up and took a swig. “Please tell me they aren’t actually newlyweds.”

The magic jock reached into an open tin at the center of the table and popped a handful of spicy peanuts into his mouth. “Nah. I’m kidding.”

“Thank God.” She took another guzzle of the beer, letting the hops chase her anxiety away so she could ask the next question. “Did anyone else think Takon was acting weird today?”

“What do you mean?” Mateo asked, handing Jackson his phone back.

“Like . . . I don’t know. A shithead?”

Gails took the seat beside her. “The guy got competitive, that’s for sure, but I figured he, like the rest of us, is tired of losing to you all the time.”

“What?”

Jackson grabbed more peanuts. “S’true. You’re the ball hog of magic, Vick-o.”

“Gee. Thanks guys.”

Gails pat her thigh under the table.

Standing to grab a new beer, Morgan smiled as her brunette curls fell into her face. “Hey, there’s no shame in your game. We all like to win. Don’t let them make you feel bad about being better than the rest of us.”

“Burn!” Mateo hooted.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Gails thumped his beer on the plastic arm of his chair like a judge’s gavel. He motioned to Vix. “Tell us why we’re here.”

There we go. Good conversation changer. “The schools have a meeting planned for tomorrow afternoon. All three deans and the teachers should be there. If we’re going to crash this party and force them to deal with this Righteous issue, then we need to make a plan.”

Opera half raised her hand. “I would like to go on record, that I still think this is a bad idea. The faculty knows more than us about how to deal with the Righteous; it’s not our battle really.”

Where was this coming from? “It is our battle. We’ve already been part of one. The Righteous aren’t just here to put pressure on the schools, they’re killing the graduates. Why is no one alarmed by this?”

Slapping a hand on Vix’s back, Blanchard gave a wide grin. “I’m all for fucking some shit up together. If the schools don’t want to tell everyone, then we will, but this way, they can’t say we didn’t warn them. You just tell me where to be and when.”

Okay. That was actually something. “Griffin’s Greenhouse. Two o’clock.”

“I say we roll in at two-fifteen. Give all the school peeps a chance to show up and get comfortable. Then, we’ll block the doors while you go inside.”

Um, okay. That was one way. “I don’t think they’re going to listen to me alone. Tried that with Wallstone and it got me nowhere.”

“So, we all go in then.” Gails offered her another beer, but she declined. “If they see us as a united front, they’ll have to listen.”

“But we’re not a united front,” Opera said. “Me, Ijemma, and Takon agreed, we need to stay in our lane on this one.”

Vix’s sarcasm rose to the top. “That’s a great idea. Oh, wait a minute, our lane gets people killed.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.” The girl in the old leathery skin stuck out her tongue.

Real mature.

“Look.” Gails waved the tension away. “We’re not all on the same page here, but I think we do need to show up as if we’re a tight group. They make a point to have nine students per class, right? Let’s show them what a strong team of nine looks like.”

“I don’t like it,” Opera said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back.

My God! “Well, you know what, Mother Hubbard, you don’t have to like it, but you damn well better show up.” Standing now, Vix pointed at her. “If we’re going to protect someone other than ourselves for a change, you might have to get a little uncomfortable.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Vix’s arms heated to a low burn. “I’m telling you facts. Nothing more. The reason why the students aren’t trusted with this kind of information is because we’re all brats with attitudes. The Righteous are prepared. We’re failures.”

“Excuse me?” Opera stood, grabbed her purse from the back of her chair, and stomped toward the front door. “I know what I am,” her voice cracked as if fighting tears. “I don’t need you tell me.”

The door had barely slammed shut before Jackson’s fat mouth was running. “That was harsh, Vix. Real harsh.”

What the hell was this? If she thought she could get away with it, she would just Compel the whole damn crew to come with her. Group consensus was bullshit.

Vix sat back down and finished off her beer. “I’d rather have her know the truth, than get killed out there.”

“You didn’t have to yell at her,” Morgan offered, but her tone only stung a little.

“Why don’t you Persuade her then? Get her to just do it? Persuade Ijemma and Takon while you’re at it,” she spat.

She rolled her brown eyes. “Can’t. They aren’t on the fence about this. My ability only works when someone is conflicted, and that’s only Gails.”

Seriously? She stared at him in partial shock, but deep down she knew he stood in the space between the two sides. Like she did. Well, like she had.

Vix wanted to scream. Why was it so difficult to understand how bad this was? Maybe if they had talked to Cicely at the Bay Days Carnival they would understand—they would have felt the woman’s power suppressing their own.

Closing her eyes, she tried to find middle ground again somewhere between protecting your friends and pissing them off. But, that was just it: there was no middle ground. Dead would be dead. Brandings were brandings.

Realization closed in around her like a zipped sleeping bag: she was different from them now. Before, they were all innocent assholes together, but now she knew more, felt more, and had potentially thrown it all away by agreeing to help the Righteous. Maybe that’s what hurt so bad now—she needed her classmates to succeed, so she could remain one of them, but there was no telling them that.

TEN

ASIDE FROM THE KNOT in her stomach and the punch-like ache in her gut that she was pretty sure was cramps, the following morning ranked as uneventful at the office. Sure, she watched every minute click away on the clock, anxious for two o’clock to come, but otherwise there wasn’t much to do after all of the bills were filed away and receipts scanned into the computer. Other than Google stomach ulcers, that was.

Miranda didn’t mention anything being wrong, but her silence felt like all too familiar frustration to Vix. The kind of silence her mother gave her after Vix’s sister was murdered and the screw-up daughter remained.

Are we cool? Vix texted Opera, followed by the same message to Ijemma and Takon.

Gails got a different message: Sorry I was a shit. I’m freaked out is all.

Ijemma’s response came back quickly. We’re fine. Takon and I, not so much. Got into a big fight last night on the way to Gails’ place.

What about?

He was tryin’ to tell me I need to practice magic more. Said I was weak. Pissed me off something awful.

Finally, someone else noticed Takon’s attitude the night before. If he hadn’t been passed out in the Righteous’ torture cell, she would have expected a big, fat “thank you” from him. Instead, he was a prick oblivious to the fact she basically saved his life. What did Dorfman tell him? What reason did the Crystal College kid give him as why they let him go?

Vix propped her elbows on the desk, phone held tight. Sorry to hear that. You okay?

Yeah, I’m off. Spending the day with my babies and trying not to think about him.

A stack of manila envelopes slammed onto the surface beside her, startling Vix’s and jolting her attention away from her cell.

Miranda stood over her with a hot pink, Wet N Wild smirk. “You should take these to the dean. See if you can talk to her while you’re in there.”

“Now?” She couldn’t exactly explain to Miranda that she’d given up on being a good girl and talking to Wallstone in favor of a plan to inappropriately question the dean in front of all of her colleagues instead.

“She’s leaving for the meeting in an hour. Now, is all we got.” The office manager tapped the stack and then returned to her spot at the front of the room.

Vix checked the clock. Noon. Collecting the files, she stuffed her phone in her back jeans pocket and headed for the door.

“Wish me luck,” Vix said with a half smile.

Miranda winked. “Good luck.”

At the end of the first-floor hallway, Vix took a moment to breathe. When was the last time she just sat still? Certainly not since she started school at Pent, and definitely not for a long time before that in her life of petty crime and praying for diner tips.

It’ll be fine, she told herself.

She’d go into the dean’s office, give her the stack of envelopes, and leave. Then, maybe she’d spend ten minutes in the bathroom to burn time before going back into the office. Perfect. Avoid a conversation with Wallstone, and make Miranda think she had one at the same time. Easy.

Just as she went to knock on the door, it opened before her knuckles hit the wood.

“Come in, Victoria,” Dean Wallstone’s voice called from inside.

Crap.

Entering the dean’s office, the energy shifted as if someone tilted the room in a fun house.

Outside, alert yet comfortable.

Inside, DEFCON 5 with a hint of Lily of the Valley.

Wallstone never played around when it came to her levels of protection, but the pressure surrounding Vix in the entryway was downright stifling.

“Close the door behind you,” the woman ordered from the other room.

Okay. Damn.

Vix eased the door shut and breezed by the bone, rock, and feather trinkets in the case to round the corner and come face to face with Wallstone since the last time she stormed out in a fit and left the woman with electricity pulsing between her fingers.

Sitting behind the desk, the dean exuded both power and protected space. Where her locks brushed her shoulders, earrings of peacock feathers dangled, matching perfectly the copper of her lipstick and the teal in her peasant blouse.

“I asked to see you because we ended on bad terms.”

Asked to see her?

Goddamn it, Miranda set her up. Bitch was toast when she got back to her desk.

Vix set the stack of files on the corner of the desk. “Am I supposed to apologize or something?”

Wallstone grabbed the files and tossed them onto the floor. “Is that difficult for you? Would it harm you to admit when you’re wrong?”

“I am not wrong!”

“You’re not ready either.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Not with that attitude. And what’s sad is, the biggest roadblock in your way is your own mouth.”

Oh no, no, no. She was not going down like this. “Why? Because you don’t like being questioned?”

“You want to know the real reason?” The dean’s jaw clenched as she set her phasers to stun. “Because I’m trying to keep you alive. You’re not strong enough and I can’t trust you.”

Heat built all around her. Everything Wallstone claimed clashed with what Cicely said she already was. Of course, she wanted to be powerful for her dean, but she wasn’t some untrustworthy hack; she was magic.

Her arms burned like being pressed to a radiator. “Maybe if you taught me more, you could trust me, but instead you’re too busy holding me back. Cicely said I have untapped potential, so what are you so afraid of?”

“She was just like you!” The dean’s shout silenced her. The woman rose from behind her desk, panting. “Strong, smarter than what was good for her, and thick-headed as hell, Cicely was you fifteen years ago. I did teach her. I taught her everything I could and she excelled like no one before her.”

A tremor came to the woman’s voice as she continued. “And then she turned on me. Decided she knew better how to teach magic.”

Wallstone dropped into her chair, exhausted, and wiped away a tear.

Although she didn’t know why, Vix gave the woman a second to calm down. Vix wasn’t trying to take down the schools, she was trying to save them. How could this powerful leader not see that?

She swallowed hard as her body began to cool down. “Dean Wallstone, with all due respect, I’m not her.”

After leaving the dean’s office without waiting to be dismissed, Vix went to the women’s restroom, but it wasn’t to kill time. Instead, she burst into tears and hid in a gray bathroom stall as she sobbed until she couldn’t cry anymore.

Her phone dinged in her pocket.

Gails. We riding to the greenhouse together? Or meet there?

Vix used her shirt to sop up the trails of hot mascara-filled tears from her cheeks, then replied.

Together.

Wallstone expected betrayal out of Vix. So harsh, so unfair. Yet, re-examining everything she was doing, everything she was about to do, betrayal was exactly what it would look like.

TEN MILES OUTSIDE of Moon Bay city limits, Vix gripped the ‘oh shit handle’ of Gails’ truck as he led their caravan of misfit toys off the main road and onto a rut-filled gravel driveway. Around them, a wide amber wheat field spread over rolling hills with a perfect October blue sky hanging above it, and in the center, a small white greenhouse, looking every bit like an old church with better windows, sat alone with a handful of vehicles parked out front.

“You think they’ll hear us pulling up?” Vix asked, checking behind them for Ijemma’s car followed by Huy’s.

Gails draped a relaxed hand on her thigh. “Does it matter?”

Yeah, probably not.

“You ready?” he asked.

She chuckled to herself, then shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Her stomach tightened with anticipation as they came to a stop and everyone, all nine of them, stepped out into the cool breeze. Whatever happened here, there was no going back.

Vix’s hands trembled. This was it—this was fate. A girl transitioning from unseen dead weight in the world, to a woman of action who refused to keep quiet.

Fuck. Why did it feel so wrong?

“You’ll do fine,” Gails said, coming to her side.

“Is it that obvious?”

He pat her back a couple times as they joined the rest of the crew. “Only to me.”

Takon stepped up to the center of their small circle. “Let’s fuck some shit up today, guys. We’re not taking no for an answer. No, son. We opening this all up for business today.”

What the French?

“Well,” Vix said, as she stepped in front of him. “Let’s do what we can. Open dialogue is the biggest goal right now.”

God, how could she sound cool and calm to them after showing her ass to Wallstone in her office only an hour ago?

Oh right, because they didn’t know what a failure she was, or how she’d already agreed to join the Righteous.

But before they had the chance to approach the front door, a dark-skinned man stepped outside and came toward them with some kind of skull on his head and a hide of fur flowing down over his back. Necklaces of beads, bones, and copper seemed to tangle over his bare chest below a short salt and pepper beard.

“What are you doing here?” he said, his voice commanding everyone’s attention.

Oh shit.

Oh magic shit.

Who the flip was this?

ELEVEN

VIX STARED at this freaky looking dude with both fear and regret lacing her every thought. The skull, the fur, everything about him screamed, ‘I will fuck your magic ass up.’

Trying to breathe, she realized it was up to her to answer his question.

But, what were they doing there? Trying to start a war the deans were hesitant to ignite. Not following orders to do as told and stay out of it. Acting like a pack of teens that think they’re invincible and know everything until they come up against some real magic shit.

“Um,” she started, then dug deep for courage. “We need to speak with the schools.”

“They are not here to speak to you,” he answered, direct, firm.

“But they’re here, and we need to speak to them.”

He shook his head, dark eyes scanning the distance over their shoulders as if on guard, and he probably was. “They will not allow it. You are not welcome here this day.”

Takon stepped up, puffing his chest in front of this Hagrid meets Warf looking dude. “You don’t understand. We’re going in, big man.”

The man reached into his pocket and within seconds a handful of people flooded out of the greenhouse. Deans Wallstone and Checks first, followed by a short woman whom Vix assumed was the dean of Little Shits Academy. Behind them, and looking very disappointed, were Professors Ingram and LaRiche as well as half a dozen others she didn’t recognize.

“Victoria Ibarra,” Wallstone shouted her name like a pissed off mom. “How dare you show up here!”

“If you listened, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“We discussed this already. You have stepped way out of line today, and not for the first time.”

“Ya’ll don’t get it,” Takon said.

As he moved toward them, immediately Dean Checks threw out her hand and yelled, “Suppression.”

Takon stopped. Not like he wanted to, but like he had been involuntarily frozen. A Takon statue.

Wallstone came to within feet of her, an entire of posse of faculty behind her. “You have no business being here.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“—You’ve broken my trust for the last time.” Tears glistened in the dean’s eyes. “You’re fired. I should expel all of you.”

Absolutely sick to her stomach, Vix swallowed the shock of emotion that clawed up her throat along with bile. This was her one chance. “The Righteous isn’t killing former students; they’re given a choice: death or join them. Every time you lose a student, then gain a soldier. If you don’t act soon, they will outnumber you.” She panted, not realizing she’d stopped breathing. “All of them, they’re trained and getting stronger. With you guys, it’s amateur hour. If you don’t tell all of your students what’s going on and teach us to fight, to really fight, then the schools will collapse, and the Evershift will be complete.”

“This is blasphemous.” Dean Checks marched toward her, spit flying as she spoke. “Don’t try to threaten us just to make yourself feel better. Yes, the Righteous is out there, but we’re not going to stoop to their level of violence and intimidation.”

Gails came to Vix’s side. “It’s not stooping to their level. We’re just talking about being able to defend ourselves. They’ve already attacked her. Who are they going to get next?”

“Believe it or not, we are protecting our students. Very well, I might add. This issue of converting them to the Righteous only occurs after they’re outside of our care.”

Unable to hold it back, Vix leaned into Dean Checks’ personal space and stated, “The Righteous aren’t waiting for graduates anymore. Ask Josiah Dorfman if he was protected. I wasn’t.” She pointed at the shorter woman behind them. “You have a first year in LSA that’s been attacked, too. Check their arms. I promise, you’ll find a spy.”

Concern coated the woman’s face as if she didn’t know her precious tweens were fair game.

“You have to tell the students,” Jackson appeared beside her. “Everyone deserves to know. They deserve to be prepared.”

Opera joined their lineup of rejects. “We need training. We need to know how to protect ourselves.”

Wallstone rolled her jaw. “Don’t you see? If we disrupt the nature and integrity of our institutions to shift our teachings to only what is combat related, turning our backs on the very basics and nature of magic, then the Righteous win. They want to dismantle the system. I refuse to do it for them.”

“Then make it a fucking gym class,” Vix shouted, arms tingling with her frustrations. “I don’t care how you do it, but winning a water droplet race isn’t exactly preparing us for the real world.”

The woman clearly suppressed a healthy amount of rage, but Vix felt the tide of energy rolling off her dean in thick waves. “Victoria, you need to back down. Now.”

“No! Your lack of control over me isn’t the same thing as me being weak. I’m strong enough to help you. We all are. Why won’t you let us fight for you?”

“Because you’re mine!” Wallstone screamed. Immediately, the two other deans set their hands on her shoulders and tipped their heads downward as if in prayer.

Although Vix couldn’t see anything happening, clearly, they did something to calm Wallstone down.

The dean took a breath to steady herself. “You’re mine. I say what goes here.”

Vix shook her head. Everything in her wanted to burn. “You don’t have any claim over me anymore than Cicely does. I make my own choices. You better start making yours.”

NEITHER OF THEM spoke as Vix and Gails drove back into town with their wagon train of classmates behind them.

She’d fucked up. She knew she did. Royally. Not only had she pissed off the entire faculty of three magic schools, but also, she’d lost the only job she’d ever actually liked. And, the only one that paid well.

Vix fought tears as she gazed out the passenger side window, trying to keep Gails from seeing just how badly hurt she really was by the altercation at the greenhouse. Sure, she could play badass in front of anyone, but deep down, she knew she always fought to protect a soft, nougaty center of emotions and her desire for approval.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, breaking the pained silence. “You’ll see.”

Vix offered a sarcastic laugh. “How can it be fine? I’ve lost my job, and we may all get kicked out of school.” She wiped a slight wetness away from her nose. “For the last few months, all anyone has been telling me is how the best thing that ever happened to them is Pent. And now look, I fucked that up for them.”

“That’s not true. We agreed on this plan.”

“No, you didn’t. Not as a whole group anyway.”

He steered them off of one side road and onto the main street which would take them into the heart of Moon Bay. “Dude, look at who showed up for you today: every fucking one of us. Even Opera was speaking up for you. We were a united front. No way they didn’t see that.”

She wiped her nose again. “Well, even if you see it that way, it doesn’t matter now.”

Tension stole the middle seat between them in the truck. It would be so easy to get lost in her problems and drown in them. Throw a dozen beers on top of her worry and pass out until morning. And what would be the harm? It wasn’t like she’d be late for work.

Gails gave a dramatic sigh. “Think of it this way: at least with Opera moving out tonight you won’t have that mouth to feed.”

Shit! That was tonight?

She wished that made her feel any better, but the truth was, with everything else on fire, it all registered as abandonment at this point rather than her roommate making a new life choice.

Her phone pinged on the seat beside her.

Jackson. You guys up for a chat? Huy’s suggesting the dock. Says it’s quiet there.

Crap on a cracker. She was never going to get the chance to self-isolate and self-destruct like she craved to do.

“The group wants to hang out,” she said, reading Gails the text.

“I’m down. Probably a good idea. Clear some air.”

Works for us, she typed back.

Another ping. Cool. See you there.

Then another, but this wasn’t from Jackson.

Your welcome party. Near Street Apartments. Tonight.

“What did he say,” Gails asked, glancing over at her.

Heart pounding, she tucked her phone into her purse. God, she wasn’t ready to deal with the Righteous right now, but she also knew damn well that Cicely wasn’t someone you canceled on.

She’d have to practice maladaptive behaviors tomorrow. Perhaps down a gallon of vodka while she searched the Classified section for a new job.

“He’s fine with that.” She tried to keep her voice steady and even to answer his question. “Everyone’s going right there.”

He held out a hand for a fist bump. “Awesome.”

Although she had no clue why, she gave the fist bump in return, but didn’t hold any excitement about confronting her friends and kissing ass to apologize for what she, sorry, they caused.

If she was lucky, they would forgive her.

And, if she was lucky, the Righteous wouldn’t notice how brokenhearted she was to be losing Pentagram College knowing damn well it was her fault.

PARKING BY THE MARINA, Vix walked alongside Gails to the man-made beach area forty feet from the docks, just off from a paved greenway for people inclined to jog in circles. Where everyone gathered, Ijemma spread out a floral blanket on the ground and notably took a seat at the corner across from Takon.

So much for that, although she couldn’t say she blamed Ijemma. Takon’s toxic masculinity had been dialed up a few unhealthy notches lately.

Vix didn’t wait for everyone to get settled before she started on her apology. “I’m really sorry, guys. I wish we hadn’t gone at all. Wish I could take it all back.”

“Nah, man,” Mateo weighed in. “It’s not your fault. We went in there as a team.”

Huy shook his head, solemn energy circling him. “Honestly, I didn’t think we’d get kicked out.”

Morgan jumped in before Vix could. “We’re not kicked out. She said they would talk about expelling us, but she didn’t say we were kicked out.”

“Same difference.” He shrugged.

“No, it’s not,” Vix took the volley. “If she was so pissed that she wanted us out, Wallstone would have said so then and there, on the spot. She’s not someone who holds back. Which tells me she knows what we said was true and she wanted a second opinion about how to discipline us.”

A fresh wave of totally-want-to-cry crashed into her, but she fought it down. No way did she want to fall apart in front of everyone, in public.

“That’s some shit about your job,” Jackson added his wisdom to the conversation.

Vix nodded. God, she was tired. “Yep.”

Heads hanging low, no energy, this wasn’t the group she’d grown accustomed to, and she couldn’t help but think she had no way to fix it. Real talk, there didn’t exist enough lies in the universe to turn this car around.

A sharp ring, like a bicycle bell, sounding from the distance broke Vix’s focus on just how shitty her shit life had become.

“At least we have each other,” she said, but she knew she was reaching—not so much a statement as a question. A beg.

The ring came again, high pitched and trilling over and over, and over and fucking over.

Lawd, have mercy. She so wanted to throw a rock at whatever grade school kid came down the greenway as punishment for ruining everyone’s depressed mood and shifting it to anger.

Then, another shrill repeat of that ever-loving bell like some kind of alarm clock for the hard of hearing.

She couldn’t handle it anymore. “What the shit is—”

“What’s up turds?” a loud kid asked, as a pack of tweens skidded to a stop on the pavement, ditched their bikes, and stomped across the sand toward them.

Jackson jumped to standing. “Whoa, kids. I think it’s past your bedtime.”

“Eff off, losers,” one of the snot-nosed brats said, providing Blanchard with two short middle fingers. “You need us.”

The shit?

“Excuse me,” Vix chimed in. “Your mommies are calling you. Run along.”

A second jerk wad joined his jerk wad friend and wiped his nose with his index finger. “You idiots, we’re here to help you. Word on the street is, you challenged the deans today. That’s bitchin’.”

“Tyler,” his friend elbowed him in the ribs, hard. “You can’t say bitchin’.”

“They’re not going to tell.”

“They might.”

Tyler’s brows pulled together. “You’re not telling are you?”

Shit. Vix bit her lower lip trying like hell to calm the frustration brewing in her gut.

Fucking magic teens.

TWELVE

VIX PITCHED a temper tantrum in her mind as she watched this squad of shitty, young teenagers pile onto the blanket as if it were set up just for them.

Some girl with braces and double buns spread out on her belly, feet kicking each other in the air. “The second we heard you guys were in trouble, we knew we had to help you out.”

“You? Help us?” Vix made a show of laughing ridiculously into the air. “Look kids, we don’t need you or your acne at all. We’re just fine.”

The girl rolled over onto her stomach between Huy and Opera. Then, as if it were nothing, she drew together a yellow orb in one hand and a blue one in the other. “I hate to tell you this, but you can’t exactly say no. I mean, we’re upper classmen and you’re just freshmen, so . . .”

Blazes! These were the year-six students? What the fuckity-fuck?

She expected polished, under control adults, not freaking teenagers from the Little Shits Academy.

No wonder Miranda was concerned they were the only students that fully knew about the Righteous.

“First thing’s first,” the tall black girl with perfect rows of braids said, as she stepped forward and shoved the first two dudes aside. “No one tells Dean Kim about this. Sanjanetta and her crew were never here. Got it?”

Geezy Pete, what was this?

Sanjanetta snapped her fingers and the whole teen group jumped to attention. “Let’s go, y’all.”

Through hoots and whooping, the teens skipped and ran under the docks, fully expecting them to follow, but for a moment all Vix and her classmates could do was stare at one another in disbelief.

“Is this fucking real?” Gails asked.

Morgan giggled. “I guess? Either way, I want to find out.”

As a team, they gathered their things and followed the pack of nine teenagers into the dark recesses of Moon Bay.

Just under the docks, a couple of the kids lit torches while others placed flaming . . . somethings? . . . Orbs, maybe, on the ground to light the way. A faint scent of seaweed wafted over them, but was over taken by the metallic smell of rain, but it wasn’t rain; magic energy filled the air, heightening their senses and pushing Vix to an edge she wasn’t familiar with.

“Who is Dean Kim?” Ijemma whispered behind them.

“Shh,” came Mateo. “Gotta be from Language of Spells Academy.”

Unease rippled through Vix. What kind of fucked up situation was this? Did Dean Wallstone send them as punishment, or were these kids really thinking they were here to help?

Sanjanetta stepped onto a blue plastic milk crate and set her hands on her hips. “First line of defense: propulsion. Whether you want to send yourself to or away from someone else, you’ll need energy to give you a push.”

Vix came to Gails’ side, her hand grazing his. Was this really happening?

“Each of you,” Sanjanetta continued, “line up, shoulder to shoulder.”

Somehow her crew of twenty and maybe even thirty-somethings followed this little girl’s instructions and came together in a row. As they did so, the eight other teens set random items in front of them, empty soda cans, a cardboard box, a crumpled jacket.

The girl with the braids circled them like some kind of Disney kids drill sergeant. “At this point, you’re created energy balls in your hands, maybe have even thrown a few.”

Her classmates giggled at the very mention of the word ‘balls’.

“Shut up, y’all,” she ordered, and those other teens freaking stopped.

Okay, Vix was getting a feeling for the dynamics of their little teenybopper crew, and maybe, kind of, wanted to smirk at the whole scenario.

Picking up a two-foot piece of driftwood, Sanjanetta lit it with her hands, illuminating her round face and full lips. “On my mark, build an energy orb and grow it outward towards your object. Don’t shove the orb at the dang thing, grow it, build it, until it shoves your object out of the way.”

A moment passed where no one spoke and the surrealness of the situation soaked in. Vix’s hands clenched. What were these children risking to be out here talking to them?

“Mark!” Sanjanetta yelled.

Instantly, Vix and her classmates focused on building orbs between their hands and extending them outward. Tennis ball, soccer ball, beach ball, until finally a mass as large as a Volkswagen bug grew in their grasps and the items in front of them had no choice but to scoot out of the way.

“Harder,” the girl yelled. “Try harder. Imagine that object is a snake, or a spider. Get it out of your freaking way.”

Each of the other kids kicked the objects back at the group of year-ones, one even hitting Gails in the shin with a soda bottle.

Vix tried her best to focus despite all of the swirling thoughts about her lost job and the Righteous meeting that night. With all of her remaining energy, she spread her orb to five times its size and sent the soda bottle in front of her flying.

This strange queen bee of Hogwarts paced in front of them looking every bit like Emperor Palpatine.

“Good. Good,” she said, jumping off her milk crate in front of them.

She raised her arms and channeled some unseen force around her. Shocks of bright, golden light and twitches of power reverberated through her. “Now, think of the object as an attacker. Use your energy as propulsion to stop them.”

Instantly, this screwed up crew of children leapt toward them shouting a tribal call.

Wincing, Vix bloomed her energy orb outward and shoved the acne-riddled kid away from her, shooting him backwards into a dock pillar where he groaned upon impact and then hit the ground.

Vix’s arms warmed at the very thought of hurting this kid in a way that shocked and pleased her. She shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t be good a violence, but the panting breath that left her lungs each time fueled another building inhale as if the two danced together.

“Yes!” Sanjanetta jumped up and down like a kid at, well, anything. “You’ve got it!” she exclaimed, pointing at Vix and giving weird little golf claps. “That’s it. The best offense is a good defense, or something. Keeping your opponent distant is sometimes as good as having a plan.”

What was this kid saying?

As the snotty teen Vix had previously tossed into a pillar rose and came at her again, she widened her stance as well as the energy ball in front of her, causing him to bounce of it like an exercise ball at a bad office party. The second the kid bounced away, he slammed into the teen flinging from Gails’ energy, and the two collapsed onto the sand.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, but Vix remained vigilant, as did Gails, until Sanjanetta called off the game and offered a few congratulations and pointers all around.

“Great job, guys,” the girl said. “We can practice again anytime.”

The group of kids started to head out from under the docks and toward their bikes.

Just like that they were leaving? No way. “Where are you going?” Vix shouted.

One of the kids in front of Sanjanetta with shaggy hair and round, brown eyes shrugged. “Curfew, dog.”

And like passing clouds or early teens desperate to not be caught, all nine of the kids disappeared amid bicycle bells and hoots and hollers.

Vix fought laughing mostly because these children actually taught them something useful. “The shit was that?”

Takon beamed with excitement, a wicked smile spread wide across his face. “I like it. I’m unstoppable!”

Hive fives seemed to pass all around to everyone except Vix. Even the few claps on the back she got felt tainted by the defeated reality that this crew of year-six students couldn’t save them if the deans decided to expel them.

Thirty minutes later, when Gails dropped her off at her car, she was only certain of two things: the Righteous were waiting for her, and she couldn’t protect the schools from themselves.

THIRTEEN

WHEN VIX ENTERED the foyer of the Near Street Apartments that evening, Cicely already stood surrounded by no less than two dozen others. Like some kind of gracious host, the leader of the Righteous instantly put a glass of grapefruit wine in her hand and led her toward the center of the room where metallic gold balloons pooled together on the ceiling and gold, shimmering streamers draped the walls like curtains.

“To the woman of the hour,” Cicely announced and raised her glass high. “Vix is here!”

The other Righteous followed suite and lifted their drinks in the air all around her.

Although Vix didn’t feel entirely comfortable standing in the eye of the storm, having people cheer and drink to her wasn’t exactly an unwelcome gesture considering the day she’d had.

As she sipped her wine, Vix made note of the others in the room, some she recognized and most she didn’t. Dorfman, Cicely obviously, that Webber guy—

And Takon.

What the shit?

Making eye contact with him, Takon smiled wide with excitement and made a clapping motion in the air, careful not to splash his wine.

Cicely wrapped an arm around Vix’s tense shoulders. “Tonight, we celebrate our newest member, but don’t let her beauty fool you, she’s feisty and headstrong, and that’s exactly what we need more of around here with you slackers.”

More cheers and laughter all around as if the frat mother, and not a boss, had belittled them.

“Vix, tonight is your night. We welcome you. You belong with us now. We fight for you; you fight for us.” The queen of the Righteous guzzled her wine, raised her glass once more to the sky, and then threw it to the ground where it shattered. “Now, let’s party!”

Instantly, bass began pumping through the building and the crowd burst into dancing up and down the hallways, and in and out of different apartments. A makeshift open bar made up the space where there should have been the complex’s office.

Chugging another gulp of wine, Vix elbowed through the bodies to reach Takon’s cheerful fucking face where he danced, well, grinded, on some goth, Asian chick.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She shoved him away from the woman.

“Vix!” Takon grinned and drew her into a massive bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so glad to see you. Looking good, girl.”

Um, what? Where was the asshole she’d spent the last few days with?

He squeezed her again, harder this time. “This is so great.”

“Why are you here? What happened?”

“It’s great, right?” he giggled, flipping giggled, as he raised his hand, revealing the scarred-up R on the back. “You’re branded. I’m marked. All that matters is we’re together.”

Confusion built a home inside her one question at a time like Lincoln Logs. How was this possible? Why was he so damn cheerful? She just hung out with him and the children of the corn at the dock and he wasn’t like this.

Then, she spotted something missing, the gash on Takon’s forehead wasn’t just healed, it was gone.

The fuck?

Furious and yet grateful for her broken contract with the Righteous, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him behind her like a balloon as she hunted for Cicely in the crowd.

“Hey,” she yelled once she found their leader and shoved Takon in front of her. “I said you don’t touch my people.”

The woman tilted her head and made a show of surprise. “You never mentioned him.”

“Bullshit. I specifically said to let him go.”

“No, Victoria, you’re mistaken. We never discussed him.”

Lawd, was she being gaslighted by this bitch?

Takon shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m fine here, and, now I have an old buddy to hang out with too.”

“Don’t try me, lady. I said he was off limits.”

Cicely gasped in revelation, then covered her mouth as if she held a juicy secret. “Oh, I see. You didn’t know he split. The Takon you chose was released. He’s fine. This version of him was in the next block down. He chose us.”

Son of a shit! Takon’s ability! He’d only just discovered splitting into two of himself recently. No way he did that on command. He’d only done it when under stress.

Like being tortured.

“You can’t leave him like this. This isn’t normal,” Vix said, staring hard at Cicely. Sure, it was her welcome party, but she wasn’t above making a scene.

“Look around, sweetie. Nothing about us is ‘normal’.”

Score one for the Righteous. The lady had a point.

Vix balled her fists, but kept them low. “He can’t stay like this.”

“Excuse me,” Takon said, ducking in between the two of them. “I’m fine. I’m golden. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, it’s broke, mister. It’s very broke.”

His wide nose scrunched as he squinted at her completely unaware of anything other than his own good time.

“Buddy, the other version of yourself that’s out there is not winning any Miss Congeniality contests. Not to mention, whatever was happening between you and Ijemma is going downhill fast.”

“Seriously? That sucks.” Concern sank into his eyes, but flashed away. “But, you know what? She’s great. She’ll bounce back.”

What the hell? It was like Takon had split right down the good and evil middle.

“See?” Cicely said. “He’s not here against his will. He’s fine.”

Yeah, she was seeing everything no problem, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t brewing something unsettling in her belly like a day-old burrito. Worse, no way she could talk to Ijemma now and not bring it up. Double worse, Ijemma would totally blame Vix for everything.

Fuck. There was never any winning. Vix opened her trap and poured in the remaining wine from her glass.

“Victoria, you don’t have to be so guarded all the time,” Cicely said calmly, walking her around a group of dancing people and toward the bar. “You’ve spent your whole life on the edge fighting for survival, but you don’t have to fight anymore. No one is judging you here. No one is expecting you to miraculously change for them.” Cicely grabbed a second glass of wine and handed it to her. “And no one is holding you back.”

Gripping the fresh glass as if it were the only oxygen in the room, Vix’s hands shook. The idea of not having to work so damn hard anymore felt surreal, and unfamiliar, and wanted all at the same time.

Tears trembled on her eyelids as she looked to Cicely for anything to make sense again. She’d never been fully accepted before, not in her own family, and not even at Pent. Everywhere she’d ever been, she was the one out of line, the one who needed to straighten up, shut up, or act right.

Without warning and as if sensing her pain, Cicely wrapped Vix in a warm embrace and held her close.

Immediately, the floodgates of built-up and stuffed-down pain and confused emotions opened, and she sobbed into the woman’s chest.

“Shh,” Cicely whispered as she stroked her face and pat her hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

As much as she wanted to keep her protective walls up, a fresh wave of sorrow crashed into her. Chest aching, she sunk into the depths of a life lived where she’d never been good enough, never been valued.

Vix looped her arms around Cicely’s solid frame and held on for dear life like a little girl wishing so hard for her parents to love her for who she was.

The leader of the Righteous cupped Vix’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes. “Sweet child, you’re perfect as you are.” She kissed her forehead tenderly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

FOURTEEN

HOURS LATER, Vix parked in the darkened lot outside her apartment building. Make-up still smeared from tears and sweat coating her hair from all the dancing, she couldn’t recall a time in recent history where she let herself go, let herself be wild and accepted.

Like when her sister, Sofia, was alive.

Climbing out of the car, she fumbled with her keys as she rounded the lot to the front door of her apartment complex. Only, the front area wasn’t empty like it normally was this time of night. Instead, Gails’ truck sat parked and idling at the curb, and Opera was dropping a plastic tote of her belongings into the back.

Crap-o-la. The high Vix’s heart had been on plummeted.

How could she forget? Of the things she’d already lost today, she’d also lost track of Opera moving out even after Gails had reminded her.

“Hey,” she said as she approached the girl-woman.

Opera gave her a once over. “Where have you been all evening?”

Crazy how quickly her walls built back up to protect her. “Out. What does it matter?”

“Maybe I needed help to move out of your place.”

Her hackles raised. “Why would I help you? I don’t even understand why you’re moving out!”

Sarcastically laughing, Opera picked up a lamp from the ground and set it in the truck. “Because I thought you were my friend. Thanks for correcting my mistake.”

Shaking her head, Opera walked toward the apartment steps just as Gails came down them, a cardboard box in his arms.

“This is the last thing,” he said to her.

“Good.” She glanced back at Vix. “I’ll meet you over there, I guess.”

“Sure. See you there.”

And then, Opera breezed by Vix without even a damn word or passing smile.

Goddamn it. Two minutes back and she had already become life’s fuck up again.

He stuffed the box into the cab of the truck and then smiled at her. “Looks like you’ve been at a rave all night.”

“Thanks.” She did what she could to smooth her sweaty shirt. “She tell you what a letdown I am?”

A quick nod. “It may have come up. I told her to let it go.”

The pair watched Opera pull away and head west until her car disappeared in the distance.

All of her emotions spun and jumbled inside her. A boiling ocean of conflicting thoughts and regrets. Her knees weakened. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course.”

In silence, she led him to an iron bench along the side of the building. A cold night breeze crossed over them as they sat.

Not sure where to start, Vix stared at the stars overhead, trying to find her footing. So many bright specks of possibilities above them, and so many possibilities where she made the wrong choice.

“You’re freaking me out a little bit,” Gails said. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe,” she said, giving him a half-grin.

Resting a hand in her knee, he scooted closer. “Where were you tonight?”

Boy, how did she want to answer that one? Did she even want to answer it? The truth would rank her higher on his shit list. A lie would make this decision so much harder.

She braced herself for a fight. “I was with the Righteous.”

“Vix!” There was that fatherly disappointment she was expecting.

“Hey, if they call me, I have to go. You know that.”

He ground his boot into the grass. “They don’t own you though. Not anymore than Pent does.”

No, nobody owned her, but she had to make a choice. She always had a choice.

“Look, the reason I wanted to talk is because I don’t think I can play double agent in all of this mess.”

“That’s totally okay. Those people are dangerous. I’d rather have you on this side of the chaos with me anyway.”

Fighting back tears, she tried to ignore her heart beating wildly so she could control her breathing. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What is it then?”

She drew in a slow, deep breath. “I don’t think I belong on this side.”

“No.” Gails shook his head. “No. Come on. Of course, you do.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Agitation rode his tone. “How can it not feel like it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because every time anyone talks to me I’m reprimanded for something.” She stood and paced the grassy area in front of the bench. “Opera hates me, Ijemma is going to hate me, and Takon is another story. Even Jackson and his crew seem to keep me at arm’s length. Oh yeah, and I haven’t had a single good conversation with Dean Wallstone all week that didn’t end with me in trouble. Not to mention, now I’m out of a job.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“The only thing . . .” She stopped herself to keep from crying. “The only thing holding me here is you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Gails sighed. “Then don’t drink the Kool-Aid. It’s that easy.”

He stood and grabbed her hands, stopping her from walking.

As she tried not to make eye contact, he tipped her chin up to force it.

“It’s not that easy,” she said.

“You’ve been through a lot today. Maybe you’re not thinking clearly.”

Vix yanked up her jacket sleeves and gestured to the black bands circling her forearms. “I am part of them now. Period. What I don’t know is if I want to keep fighting to remain at Pent.” She tugged her sleeves back down, her voice dropping. “To be clear, I don’t want to destroy the schools, I just . . . I don’t belong there.”

The streetlight on the corner flickered out, replacing the amber wash of old light bulbs over them with white moonlight.

“Besides,” she continued. “When I made the deal with Cicely, it was agreed my friends were untouchable. All of you guys are actually safer if I go.”

“If you do this,” he paused, biting his lip. His chin trembled. “There can’t be any ‘us’.”

Heat crept up her spine and flared outward down to her hands. “Why not?”

Gails tilted his head with a pained you-know-why tightness in his face.

“Look. I gotta go,” he said, taking her hands again, but this time immediately yanked them away from the heat. “You’re burning up.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Anxiety tightened her chest. The temperature within her raised higher. “Desmond, you don’t have to go.”

His eyes pleaded with her. “Neither do you.”

New tears, unlike the ones she cried for herself hours earlier, streamed down her face. These were tears of abandonment, of separation, of being forgotten. The cool air chilled the sorrow on her steaming face, reminding her how close they were to the end of autumn. The end of their first semester together.

“Visit me in my dreams?” she asked, wiping her cheek.

“Always.” Although it was a risk, Gails leaned in and kissed her lips, holding her ember-like body close for a moment, before releasing her back into the wild.

Climbing into his truck, he glanced over his shoulder and offered a solemn wave before driving away.

Hurt and yearning so much for the one connection she couldn’t keep, Vix stood alone in the darkness, staring at the place where Gails had been.

Hot tears came again.

Swirling emotions built up steam inside her.

As the tips of her dreadlocks began to spark and her jacket cuffs ignited, she knew two things with certainty: joining the Righteous was wrong, and she was about to make the worst mistake of her life in the hopes of creating a better one.

FIFTEEN

CICELY ROLLED a red marble across her knuckles and under her palm, playing with the toy one-handed, aiming not to let it drop to the ground. Anything which required an excess of control to perform, she found to be a fantastic game. Simplicity, she wasn’t interested in. All, or nothing. Never a middle ground.

“Hey, Big C,” Takon said, as he entered the attic of the Near Street Apartments where Cicely sat perched at her desk surrounded by flickering burgundy candles. “I got those files right here for you.”

She smirked. “Thank you so much. You’re too good to me.”

“You got it. Happy to do my part, ya know?”

Yes, he was happy, and she still blamed Josiah Dorfman for screwing up the two and sending the wrong copy of Takon back out. How in the hell could she teach this chipper do-gooder to be deceitful, destructive, and most of all callous?

If she didn’t know better, she’d accuse Josiah of making the switch on purpose, but, a rookie does make mistakes and he wasn’t bright enough to try anything on her.

She grabbed the portfolio from him and motioned him away.

“I’ll take some tea in about twenty minutes, okay? Otherwise, I’m going to have a massive hangover tomorrow morning.”

“I got you, Big C.” Takon beamed, snapped his fingers, and then pointed at her as he left.

Making a gagging sound at his positivity, Cicely dropped the files onto her desk and opened to a yellow page with a list of Pentagram College’s newest batch students.

Desmond

Huy

Ijemma

Jackson

Mateo

Morgan

Opera

Takon

Victoria

She exhaled slowly, emptying her chest of her own breath to make room for theirs.

Staring at the list, she pressed a finger beside each name and felt deep for their stories, drawing to her the sadness and pain they had experienced—the very bends in their roads which twisted the letters into the words floating before her now as she inhaled.

Divorced parents, missing siblings, house fire, murder, rape, suicide attempts, incest, homelessness, prison brutality.

Then, each hurtful piece of their lives she plucked from the air and stuffed into the locket around her neck where she could access it with ease.

Picking up a fountain pen filled with gold ink, she delicately crossed through the names Victoria and Takon, making them shimmer. New players to add to her collection like rare coins.

All she needed now was time. Soon enough, she would have the rest. She smiled slightly, and now Vix would help her get them.

To be continued in:

Creatures of the Night School

Book Four: Fragile