by Bailey, G.
She’s really on my wavelength, I think, and reply, “Damn. You’re reading me like a book.”
The girl waves a dismissive hand at me. “Hardly. I’ve just been there before, that’s all. Just two months ago, actually. When the recruiters tracked me down, I thought I’d completely lost my mind. Thought it was all bullshit.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “Are you… I mean, do you have parents?” It comes out sounding more insensitive than I intended, and I wince, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, I have parents,” the girl replies, “but they’re human, both of them.”
My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I ask, “How is that possible?”
She shrugs. “I think being a shifter is more like a genetic mutation than something hereditary. That’s what they say, anyway… whoever “they” are. It sounds like they still don’t know what causes some people to be born with shifter magic. But I guess that’s why we’re here, right? Sorry,” she adds, going a little red, “I’m rambling. My name’s Hazel, by the way.”
She sticks out her hand, and I shake it. “Millie,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Millie. Listen, I’ve got to get to class--I’m already on thin ice with Professor Freemantle. But I’ll catch you later, yeah? Got dinner plans? Of course you don’t. We can eat together, if you want.”
“Okay,” I say, my smile growing. I’m already starting to like this girl. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” She nods, grinning, and starts away. “Good luck with that professor,” I call after her, and she raises a hand in acknowledgement.
Feeling a little better after my interaction with this bubbly classmate, I push open the heavy wooden door to the dormitory. I find myself in what looks like a parlor, with couches and ottomans all around. On the opposite side is a fireplace, but given the weather, there’s no fire burning in the hearth. To the left and right are two narrow spiral staircases, disappearing into the upper levels. Aside from hallways leading to washrooms and what looks like a study area in the distance, there’s nowhere else to go. There are a few students around, and some of them shoot me curious glances from their seats around the common area.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach when I look around and realize that I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here. Why the hell didn’t I ask Hazel for directions? The others in the room don’t seem nearly as friendly at first glance, and by now Josie is long gone. Sighing, I take a few steps forward, realizing that there’s nothing for it but to try. The left and right wings of the dormitory aren’t marked, so I pick the left one at random and head for the stairs, not wanting to waste any more time. I need a shower and a nap.
If I was expecting the stairs to move or somehow teleport me to the fifth floor, I was sorely mistaken. By the time I’m two flights up, I’m already breathing hard, and I’m just glad nobody is around to see me struggling. Have I always been this out of shape? Gritting my teeth, I power up a few more levels, finally arriving at the fifth floor landing and turning into a long hallway. Nondescript wooden doors line either side, along with windows that let in a great deal of the daytime light. I start to hurry down the hallway, keeping my eyes peeled for my room, and I’m so distracted that I don’t see the guy heading my way until it’s too late.
I collide with him, coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway and staring up at the newcomer with wide eyes. He’s tall and sturdily built, and bumping into him seems to have done more damage to me than to him. His eyes are a golden brown, standing in sharp contrast to his jet-black hair. His features are rugged, and I notice a scar running from his upper lip to just above his chin on the left side. Embarrassed, and a little intimidated, I take a couple steps back. “I’m so sorry,” I say, holding my hands up. “I was completely distracted. I didn’t even see you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the guy says, giving me a half-smile. “I’m pretty hard to knock down.”
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can see that, yeah.”
He takes in my clothes and says, “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
Sighing, I reply, “I guess it’s pretty obvious, right? You’re the second person in, like, five minutes who’s asked me that.”
“Well,” he says, his smile growing a little, “considering the rest of us have to dress like we’re in some kind of new-age cult, it’s pretty easy to tell.” He gestures down at his pristine white uniform, and I snort. “Anyway,” he says, “I’m guessing you’re looking for your dorm room, right?” I nod, and he replies, “That’s what I thought. Some bad news for you, though: this is the boys’ wing.”
Groaning, I run a hand through my hair. “That means I’m going to have to walk up all those stairs again, doesn’t it?”
The guy laughs at that. “You’ll get used to it. Anyway, though, it’s nice to see a new face around here. I’ll see you around.”
He turns to leave, looking surprisingly happier than he did when I first ran into him. He’s almost out of sight before I think to call after him. “Hey! What’s your name?”
The guy turns back around, an amused but thoughtful look on his face. “Silas,” he calls back. “Silas Aconite.” And before I have the chance to say anything else, he’s turning the corner and disappearing out of view.
I’m left to go back down the stairs and slog up to the girls’ wing, where I easily find room 12-B and unlock the door with the skeleton key. It’s not elaborately furnished--no more than a double bed, desk, and dresser--but the window is big, with a view of the sunny campus and the rolling hills and forests stretching into the distance beyond. I pause for a minute to take it in, still unable to quite believe I’m here, but too caught up in it at this point to do anything but marvel.
Soon, though, I’m hit with another wave of exhaustion, and it’s all I can do to strip off my threadbare jumper and collapse into bed, the weight of everything that’s happened falling on me all at once. Before I even get around to pulling the covers over myself, I’m already asleep.
Chapter 9
I’ve never been a heavy sleeper in my life, so I’m astonished when I start awake, roused by what sounds like the chiming of an old church bell. It’s loud--loud enough to carry into the dormitory, even though it’s clearly coming from outside. Frowning, I clamber out of bed, peering out the window and trying to find the source of the noise. Sure enough, around my corner of the building, practically out of sight in the courtyard between the dormitory and the main academic facility, is an enormous brick clock tower, the bell ringing rhythmically. Part of me wonders if its volume is due more to the acoustics of the dorm or the fact that this is a school run by magical beings. Maybe both. Either way, the sun is low in the sky on the horizon, and one glance at my phone tells me it’s seven PM. I slept for eight hours, something almost unheard of for me under normal circumstances. Then again, these aren’t normal circumstances.
Someone has laid a fresh set of clothes outside my door, several clean sets of white leggings and white shirts. Realizing I won’t be able to track down the washroom and take a shower in time for dinner, I change into these, fighting to get my hair in some kind of order before leaving my room and following the crowd of other girls down the hallway and to the lower level. A few of them cast me sideways glances as we make our way across the quad, but being in new clothes puts me at ease a little, and I find myself examining the others, wondering what kinds of shifters they are. The truth is, I have no idea how to identify them when they’re in human form, if there even is a way, and my knowledge of supernatural lore is limited at best.
I’m eyeing a group of older-looking students as we file into the main building when I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Staring’s not polite, you know.” Turning around, I see Hazel sidling up to me, smiling. “Fancy running into you here. Millie, right?”
I nod.
“I was looking for you back there,” she continues. “Didn’t think you’d have changed al
ready. It’s damned difficult to recognize people in these uniforms.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, how are you liking it so far? Are people being nice to you?”
“So far, yeah,” I reply, thinking of Silas. A cluster of students moves to the opposite side of the front room, where a couple of paned glass doors lead into the dining hall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much food before.At a buffet table on the far wall are heaps of meat, tossed salad, grains, and gravy. Tall bottles full of soda and water stand at one end, with stacks of plates and utensils on the other. I follow Hazel’s lead to the line, almost paralyzed with indecision. Eventually I pile things onto a plate, wondering when I last had a meal that wasn’t microwaved. Keep going at this rate, and you won’t be able to fit into this uniform, I think dryly.
Hazel leads me to one of the long, bench-style dining tables, where a mix of boys and girls are seated. We take a seat side-by-side, and I’m glad to know someone here as I look from one unfamiliar face to the next. “Can I ask you something?” I say, turning to Hazel.
“Sure,” she replies. “Go ahead.”
“What kind of shifter are you?” It’s a question that dawned on me after she left me earlier. “If that’s not, like, a breach of etiquette, or something.”
She laughs her tinkling laugh again. “Hardly. I’m a siren.”
“Like the sirens from Greek mythology?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“A little,” she replies, “although maybe not like you’re picturing. Here,” she adds, leaning in close to me, and I see the tips of her curly hair go briefly from blonde to sea green. “We have scales, too,” Hazel continues, lifting her hand to show me an array of shimmery green scales, much like the ones I saw growing from my own skin back at the warehouse. Quickly she returned to normal, stealing a glance around to make sure no one had caught her shapeshifting, and then turned back to me. “The fun part is the singing, though,” she said in a conspiratorial voice.
“Do sirens really sing?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Sure we do,” she replies. “Although don’t be expecting Adele or anything. It’s more like screeching, really, but it does wonders for getting people to leave us alone. Men, especially. Advanced sirens can lure people to them and seduce them with song. Even to the point of mind control but it takes years of practice, apparently.”
I nod, pursing my lips as I begin to dig into my food. “Speaking of which,” I say, “are all sirens female?”
“That’s where the myth gets it wrong,” Hazel replies, taking a bite out of a heel of bread. “There are plenty of male sirens. Like Landon, here, for instance.” She nods to a boy sitting across the table from us. “He’s a siren. In my class, actually. Landon, this is Millie. She’s new.”
The boy looks up from his food. He’s quite possibly the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen, with softer features and skin of a dark caramel brown. There’s a dusting of freckles across his nose, and his hair is dark, curly, and unkempt. He smiles broadly at me when I meet his black eyes. “Pleasure,” he says, reaching across the table.
I shake his hand, a little amused at the gesture but appreciating the friendliness in his expression. “Landon Thyme. It’s always nice to see a new face around here, especially one as lovely as yours.”
I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks, and Hazel kicks at him under the table. “Come on, Landon.”
“What?” he asks innocently, grinning at her.
“She’s been here for all of a day and you’re already hitting on her!” Hazel retorts, but her tone is light-hearted.
“I was stating a fact,” Landon shoots back, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. “That’s different than hitting on someone.”
Hazel rolls her eyes, turning to me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”
I chuckle. “He seems okay to me,”
“Checkmate, Hazel,” Landon says, laughing. “Everyone knows I’m the best thing to ever have happened to this school.”
“You know, just because you’re a siren, you don’t have to be so predictable,” Hazel retorts. “Landon’s the biggest player in the school,” she tells me. “Or at least, he seems to think so.”
“I know so,” Landon replies. “But for your sake, Millie,” he adds, making a put-upon face, “I’ll tone it down a little. Don’t want to spook you or anything.”
I shook my head, grinning. I like this guy. “Hazel was just telling me a little about sirens,” I tell Landon. “I’m not really familiar… I mean, like she said, it’s my first day.”
“No classes yet, then?” Landon asks.
“Not yet,” I answer. “I start tomorrow.”
“Nice,” he observes, nodding.
“So what classes do you have on your schedule?” asks Hazel, leaning an elbow on the table. I can feel a surge of nervousness at the question. I guess I should have known it would come sooner or later, but I was still futilely hoping that I would be able to fly under the radar for a little longer before explaining my situation. I lick my lips, my shoulders slumping. “Was that the wrong question to ask?” Hazel says. “Do you have Professor McDonald for History of Shifting or something?”
I shake my head. “I’m actually not taking that class. That’s the thing.” I take a breath, feeling self-conscious. Will these tentative new acquaintances think I’m some sort of unnatural adnomination? But by now they’re both staring at me pointedly, and I can sense the curious gazes of some of the others at the table who have been listening in. “They don’t know what kind of shifter I am,” I reply, chewing my lip as I look from Hazel to Landon.
Hazel frowns. “What do you mean, they don’t know? Usually that’s the first thing the recruiters tell you when they track you down.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “This is the part where you guys will think I’m a freak and you’ll never want to talk to me again.” My tone is joking, but there’s real worry beneath it.
“Listen, Millie,” Landon says, “we’re all freaks. That’s kind of why we’re here. I don’t think anything you could tell us would surprise us at this point.”
Hazel nods, eyes wide, and I can tell they mean it. Steeling myself, I reply, “The thing is, back when I first transformed, I sort of… shifted into all five clans at once.” Seeing the others’ confusion, I elaborate. “I mean, I had fur and claws, right? But also fangs, and red skin, scales like yours… and I breathed fire.”
I’m half-expecting them to move away, or burst out laughing. A lifetime of difficulty making friends has me prepared for the worst, so I’m surprised when Hazel just purses her lips. “Interesting,” she says. “The fur and claws would mean wolf shifter--werewolf, to the uninitiated.” She gives me a conspiratorial grin. “The red skin means witch, obviously, and the fangs…”
“Vampire,” Landon adds, nodding. I pull a face, and he laughs, adding, “Don’t worry. They only need to drink blood when they’re in vampire form.”
“Thank god for small favors, I guess,” I mutter, and he snorts.
“The scales are a siren thing,” Hazel continues, glancing at Landon, “so welcome to the club. And as for the fire breathing… Well, I’m sure you can figure that out.”
“That’s wild,” Landon remarked. “I can’t imagine having to learn to control any more powers than I already have.”
“But it’s cool, too,” Hazel rushes to add. “It means you’ll have access to every shifter form. That’s, like, unheard of. What were your parents? Were they humans or shifters?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea, actually. They left me at the hospital when I was a baby and never came back. They ended up placing me in the foster system, and that’s where I’ve been… until now. My whole life I’ve just been going from home to home. I’ve never really settled down.” Almost instinctively, I reach down and finger the necklace Mollie gave me, which is still tucked into my boot.
London seems to have perked up when I said that. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters, his food completely forgo
tten.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Because the same thing happened to me,” Landon replies, and I see that his amused expression has dissolved.
My jaw might as well have hit the floor. “Are you serious?” This is the first time I’ve ever met another orphan. I never shared my foster homes with other kids, and in retrospect, I’m sure that contributed to my sense of isolation along the way. The idea of someone else having gone through the same thing--especially another shifter--is almost too impossible to believe. For the first time since arriving here--the first time since before that, actually--I’m starting to feel at ease with the people around me.
Landon nods. “Dead serious. Same story, down to the foster families. An anonymous kid in a hospital in Glasgow. The only difference is that I can’t shapeshift into anything other than a siren.”
“Wow,” I say in disbelief. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever met who’s been in the same situation.”
“Likewise,” Landon says, smiling a little, and our eyes meet for a moment. He clears his throat and leans back in his seat. “So does that mean you’ll be in every shifting class?”
I nod. “Every shifting class, as well as one about mingling with humans… or something.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Hazel says, draining her glass of soda and pushing her plate away.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Hazel turns to me. “You’re in for a busy day tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
"I'm going back to my room. I'm super tired," Millie says, brushing a strand of her light blonde hair over her shoulder as she softly smiles at me. Her dark blue eyes remind me of an ocean when a storm is above it. Dangerous. Seductive and so damn beautiful. But I know better than to stare for too long...or at least part of my mind tells me to look away. I could stare at this girl forever and never stop finding beautiful things about her. I struggle to take my eyes off her as she stands up and walks off, her tight pants showcasing the amazing ass she has. Sure, I've seen lots of stunning girls but there is something different about Millie Brix.