by Martha Carr
Fred turned slowly toward the table while gesturing for Amanda to step inside. “I’m allowed to welcome our late-night guest, aren’t I?”
“Sure you are. Hey, kid.”
“Hi, Carlos.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” the orange-haired pixie added. “No matter how you spin it, buddy, I’m still getting that sweet activation ring of yours in the pot. With everything else you sorry sonsofbi—”
“Watch your mouth!” Sitting across from Carlos, Gloria swatted the table and glared at the other cook.
“What?” He spread his arms and finally rolled his eyes when the pixie woman’s warning stare didn’t let up. “Fine. Point is, I’m taking the pot. So hurry the hell up, Fred, huh?”
“Listen to him.” Gloria shook her head and shot Amanda a playful frown, her bubblegum-pink curls bouncing across her shoulders. “No control.”
“I didn’t say anything…”
“It’s okay.” Amanda chuckled and stepped farther into the kitchen as Fred shut the door. “I’ve heard worse.”
“From that bounty hunter guardian of yours?” Carlos snorted. “Yeah, I bet.”
“That doesn’t mean you can talk like a dirty-mouthed pixie in front of her,” Gloria admonished.
“I am a dirty-mouthed pixie.” He raised an orange-glittering hand and gestured around the room. “Hiding in a kitchen. Where no one else is supposed to hear or see me, right? No offense, kid.”
Amanda raised both hands and shrugged. “None taken.”
“Come on, then.” Fred nodded toward the counter on the other side of the kitchen. “Got somethin’ laid out for you and ready to go.”
“You already made me something?” Despite the cigar-smoke smell, the scent of pie plus the thought of it made her mouth water even more.
“Sure we did. You’re our favorite visitor.”
“You’re our only visitor, honey,” Gloria added.
“Still.”
“How’d you know I was coming?”
Fred chuckled. “It’s been four days since the last time, girl. Figured if you weren’t out here tonight, it’d be tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and we’d have the pie to go with our drinks,” Carlos added. “Man, will you hurry up already?”
“Don’t put it all on me. We’re still waiting for Greg.”
“Greg!” Carlos pounded a fist on the table, making the stack of playing cards jump. “You fall in or something?”
Pounding footsteps came from below the kitchen floor, and Amanda hurried toward Fred and the pie counter as a trapdoor opened two feet behind her with a bang. Greg’s unruly blue hair poked up from the hidden staircase underground, followed by the lit and smoking end of a massive cigar dangling from the side of his mouth. “What’re you yellin’ ’bout, you glowin’ orange fu—oh. Hey, ‘Manda.”
“Hi.” She grinned at him and slowly backed away to join Fred by the counter, where the giant pixie pulled out a devastatingly sharp kitchen knife to slice the pie. “Nice night, huh?”
“Is it? I couldn’t tell.” Greg climbed through the trapdoor and left it open, taking three long puffs on the cigar. Then he exhaled, working his lips like a gaping fish out of water, and blew out a string of white star-shaped clouds. “Spent the whole night tryin’ not to wring Carlos’ scrawny little neck.”
“Only because I’m about to take you for everything you’re worth.”
“Here you go.” Fred handed her a plate and a fork, thin tendrils of steam still rising from the pie’s center. “Got ourselves our very own taste-tester, huh?”
“Smells great.” Amanda leaned against the counter with the plate in hand and took a long, deep sniff. “It’s—”
She couldn’t hold back her coughing any longer and shook her head.
“That bad, huh?”
“Damnit, Greg,” Gloria snapped, completely forgetting her rule about not cursing in front of a student. “Open a window, will ya?”
“Huh?” Greg looked back and forth between Amanda and the pixies at the table, frowning. “I did.”
“Well, then put that thing out, will ya? The poor girl can’t breathe in here.”
“Looks to me like she’s breathing just fine.”
“Don’t make me come over there.” Gloria wagged a finger at him. “You won’t like where I put it out for you.”
Greg stomped toward the wall with a groan, grabbed a machete dangling from a hook beneath the pots and pans, and swiped it down on the end of the cigar. The thing cut cleanly just beneath the burnt end, which sailed straight into a bucket beneath the window used as an ashtray. Then he turned toward Amanda and pointed the tip of the machete at her. “Don’t think I’ll forget this, kid. And remind me to thank you later for forcing me out of my bad habits.”
She chuckled and couldn’t look away from the point of the machete.
“Don’t worry about being polite, either,” Fred added. “If you don’t like strawberry rhubarb, I can pull out something else for you. Just say it.”
“What? Oh, no. It smells amazing.”
“Then eat the damn pie!” He roared with laughter, and the other pixies joined in, shaking their heads.
Amanda dug in, consuming her first three bites without actually tasting it and ignoring the fact that the gooey center was still hot enough to burn her tongue. “It’s perfect,” she said around a huge mouthful.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Fred slapped the counter. “Clarissa’s recipe finally got some love. Hey, tell her it worked.”
Greg leaned over the open hole beneath the trapdoor and shouted, “Clarissa!”
“What?”
“Kid likes your pie.”
“And?”
Greg looked up at Amanda and shrugged. “You want some?”
“No! Shut up!”
The blue-haired pixie burst out laughing, throwing his head back and waving the machete around like a lunatic. When he finally settled down again, he kicked the trapdoor shut with a loud bang.
“I said shut up!” Clarissa shouted, her voice muffled through the floorboards.
“Eh, she’ll be back to her usual self again. It’s that time of the month.”
Amanda choked on her next bite of pie and stared at him.
“Don’t listen to him, honey.” Gloria waved him off. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greg replied. “’Cause it’s true.”
Carlos snorted and shook his head.
“It’s the new moon,” Gloria clarified. “Makes her shut herself up in her room for about a week. Then she’s up here as bright and chipper as ever.”
“Huh.” Amanda swallowed and had to try a second time to get all the pie down. “So that’s where you guys sleep.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t on the prep table!” Carlos slammed his hand down on the table to emphasize his point, and the pixies broke into another round of laughter.
“You want some water with that, kid?” Greg cocked his head and pointed at her plate.
“Oh, my bad.” Fred reached toward the stack of freshly washed plastic cups. “I’ll get it for ya. Fix your eye, man. You’re gonna scare this girl away from ever paying us another visit if you keep letting yourself go like that.”
“Shit.” Greg looked at Amanda, and she noticed his left eye was turned so far to the outside, she could barely see the dark-blue iris. Then he slammed the heel of his palm against his temple twice—really hard—and the eye flashed with blue light before correcting itself. “Damn enchanted eyeball.”
“I told you to get the warranty,” Carlos added.
“I know what you told me. The guy seemed legit!” Blinking furiously, Greg straightened and focused on Amanda again. “There. Better?”
She couldn’t help but burst out laughing, struggling to keep the remains of her pie from sliding off the plate.
“Aw, see? Give the kid more credit, Fred. Nothing scares her.”
Huffing
out a laugh, Fred waited until Amanda’s fit died down before he handed her the water. “Sure. If a few washed-up kitchen pixies don’t scare you away, I don’t know what will.”
“Who you callin’ washed-up, you hairy beast?” Carlos slapped the table again. “Now get your ass over here so we can finish this hand and I can whoop all of you.”
“You better not be looking at my cards.”
“Man…”
Amanda finished draining the water and let out a loud, contented sigh. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, kid. I’m glad to see somebody enjoying that pie the way you did.”
“You can take it with you if you want,” Gloria offered.
“Yeah…I don’t think I can get back into the dorms with a whole pie.” Amanda shrugged. “Thanks. You want me to put the dishes in the—”
She stopped when the quick patter of feet outside reached her ears—fast, not very covert, moving in rhythm to the owner’s heavy breathing.
Fred and Greg climbed back onto their stools at the makeshift card table, and all the pixies stared at her. “You gonna finish that thought?”
“What?”
“If you were gonna say ‘put the dishes in the sink,’ you’d be right on point. We’ll take care of it after that.”
Carlos waved his hand in the air. “It is our job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” She quickly dropped the dishes in the huge sink below the window facing the outdoor cafeteria and frowned. That did not sound like a teacher. Who else would be running around in the middle of the night?
“You okay, honey?” Gloria asked as she picked up her poker hand again. “You look a little distracted.”
“I’m good. Should probably get back to my room, though. Thanks for the pie. It was great.”
“Any time.” Fred took a long drink of his whiskey.
“You know us, kiddo. We live to serve.” Greg shot her a mocking bow from his stool until Gloria smacked him on the shoulder.
“Have a good night,” Amanda mumbled as she headed quickly for the door.
“You come back any time, Amanda. We got you.”
“Thanks.” As she slipped out of the kitchen door, the pixies returned to their poker game.
“She’s a good kid,” Gloria said.
“Good at sneaking out of the dorms at night,” Greg added. “How’d she manage that, you think?”
“Who cares?” Carlos shouted. “Play the damn hand!”
The door shut behind her, muffling the pixies’ voices, and Amanda stepped across the dark grass, listening intently for the same pattering footsteps across campus. The faint creak of a door opening made her turn, but then the sound disappeared beneath the humming buzz of cicadas and the chirping of crickets.
Anyone stupid enough to try breaking into this school should be stopped, right? If I’m the only one who knows…
She took off slowly toward where she’d heard the creaking door, which could have come from any of the buildings.
I should at least see who it is first. Maybe no one else has to know.
Chapter Twelve
It took her less than two minutes to pick up the scent of the “intruder,” and when she did, Amanda stopped and cocked her head.
Summer? How the heck did she get out?
She followed the scent across the campus, lost it once in the central field when a mouse scurrying through the grass stole her attention, then found it again. It led right to the front doors of the main building.
I thought they kept all the doors locked at night.
As she approached the front doors, a loud buzz rose behind her, particularly loud for how far behind it was.
Amanda looked over her shoulder and saw a purple streak of light blazing into existence beside the dirt road that was the only way in and out of the Academy campus—at least by land. The buzz grew louder, the flickering purple light flashed brighter, and a spray of purple sparks burst into the air before filtering down to the dew-studded grass. She sniffed and found the same sulfuric tinge in the air, this one with a sweet undercurrent.
Weird. For a brand-new school, this place has a lot of loopholes with its wards. Guess it’s all trial and error.
When the invisible wards around the school’s perimeter—meant to keep others out of the school, especially humans—didn’t act up again, she turned back toward the main building and gently tried the handle. Sure enough, it was unlocked.
There’s no way a teacher forgot to lock this up.
Slipping quickly inside, she carefully guided the door shut again without a sound and turned to sniff out the new girl’s trail.
Her bare feet moved silently down the hall, and she followed Summer’s scent—reminiscent of black pepper, oddly enough—as if she was back on the hunt with Johnny and the hounds.
Definitely didn’t expect to be hunting down another student at school, though.
Once she turned down the next hall into the west wing, she knew the girl was up to something. Principal Glasket had made it clear this side of the main building was off-limits. Apparently, Summer still didn’t think any of the rules applied to her.
The grating scrape of metal on metal echoed down the hall, followed by a short hiss of a curse. Small metal items clinked against each other, and Amanda paused at the end of the hall before it curved to the right again. Peering around the corner, she saw what she knew she’d find anyway.
Summer crouched on the floor beside the door to the alchemy supply room, the sign painted on the door in white paint clear as day, even in the dimly lit hall: “Alchemy Storage. Faculty Access Only.” The other doors at the back of the west wing were labeled the same way—storage rooms for spell ingredients and potions, weapons, parts and devices for Mr. LeFor’s Augmented Technology class, extra school supplies, training gear. The last one on the left read “In-Game Live,” although Amanda had no idea what that meant.
In front of Summer was a black canvas bag that unzipped all the way to lay flat on the floor, and Summer paused in selecting another small metal tool from the assortment inside. Then she rose from her crouch and brought two different implements to the door’s lock, delicately pressing them together in a series of quick twists and turns as they clicked against each other.
Wow. Picking a lock in a magic school. Probably a magic lock.
“You know, you’d be a lot more useful if you came to help,” Summer muttered. Amanda froze, but before she could disappear around the corner again, the new girl added, “Yeah, I can tell when someone’s watching me. Feels like a hot poker on my back—ow!”
The lock spat a surge of orange sparks at her, and Summer quickly jerked both lockpicks away and raised her hands as if the door could tell she was surrendering.
“Don’t just stand there. Come help.”
Amanda frowned and glanced at the bag of at least a dozen different lockpicks, plus a few tools that looked a lot like the tiny implements Johnny kept in his workshop. “No thanks. I’m good.”
“Oh, come on. You followed me in here. That means you wanna be involved somehow.”
“I wanted to make sure whoever was sneaking around campus wasn’t trying to hurt somebody. It looks like you probably will if you keep that up.”
Summer growled and drew away again when her newest lockpick brought another spray of hissing sparks from the door the second she tried to slip it into the lock. “I don’t need a babysitter, shifter girl. So now you caught me. You gonna rat me out now? Get me sent to detention?”
“Not if you can’t break into that room. Until you do, we’re at the same level of—”
“Breaking the rules? You sure do have a weird way of defining ‘acceptable rebellion.’” Summer turned away from the lock and smirked as she squatted again beside her lockpick collection. “I’ll get this door open eventually. With or without your help. Don’t worry. Either way, I won’t put a black mark on your record.”
She snorted and went back to selecting a new instrument for her futile task.
A sinking feeling settled in Amanda’s gut, and she swallowed. “How’d you get out of the dorm?”
“Please.” Summer looked up at her and grinned. “You think I don’t know an open-door invitation when I see one? Gotta hand it to you, though. You still didn’t make it easy to find, but the mop bucket was a nice touch. You didn’t even mention the break in the wards. How’d you find them?”
She thinks I left the door open for her. Jeeze. She doesn’t give up.
Choosing not to answer that question, Amanda shoved her hands into the back pockets of her shorts and frowned at the new girl. “Well, I’m going back. To bed.”
“Uh-huh. Look, if you need to cover your tracks, I get it. There’s more than one way in and out of the barracks.” Her smile broke with a wry chuckle. “So you won’t be leaving me stranded. We’re good.” Summer nodded curtly, then returned her attention to her tools.
More than one way. She used my open door and didn’t even need it. Great.
Without another word, Amanda headed silently back down the hall of the west wing, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. She didn’t really expect Summer to come after her, but it wouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, either.
No wonder she got kicked out of her last school. Everything’s a game to her. I played right into it without even knowing. At least if she tells anyone, she’ll have to explain why she was out here too.
By the time she got back to the girls’ dorm—shifting one more time and carrying her clothes back inside between her powerful wolf’s jaws—she was exhausted. She didn’t even care that she’d put her shirt back on backward and inside out as she hurried up the enclosed stairwell toward the third floor and slipped quietly back into her room. The weight of the pixies’ strawberry rhubarb pie in her belly made flopping down onto her bed and ready to drift off to sleep a lot easier. The thought of Summer still out there, trying to break into restricted storage rooms, made the actual falling-asleep part seem impossible.
There was no reason for Summer to go right to any of the teachers about seeing Amanda out of her room. Oddly enough, that slim possibility didn’t worry her at all.