by Lucy Auburn
"Who says I'm in trouble?" Eve just raises a brow. "Yeah, I'm probably in trouble.
For the first time since I walked through the doors and onto a campus full of killers, Headmaster Shu looks like an assassin.
Her office is inexplicably, almost eerily clean. Everything is in its place—even the flasks are next to the liquor bottles on a shelf behind her desk. It's like a clean fairy came through here and waved her magic wand, with a side of alcoholism.
But more than the space, it's the headmaster herself who looks different. Back straight, standing behind her desk and frowning at us with her arms crossed, she's dressed to the nines. A sleek black head-to-toe outfit of leather and stretchy Spanx-like material makes her look like Catwoman, but plausible, and without the yeast infection that comes from wearing a leather suit. Her black hair is pulled back from her head, every flyaway piece slicked down, tightened into a high bun. She's wearing austere makeup that emphasizes her cat-like eyes, sharp black brows, and round cheekbones. Even her nails look put together—not a chip in the polish to be found.
"I'm about to go out on a mission, so I want to keep this short," she says, explaining in one sentence why she looks the part of an assassin instead of an assistant principal desperate to retire early. "I know you killed someone last night, Ellen Arizona."
I keep my mouth shut, ignoring the way Eve bumps her elbow into my side and briefly cuts her eyes over at me. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, not even Eve—though I should've known that my sloppiness got me in trouble. That, or...
"Which one of the Fuckfaces told you?" I amend my statement, "My, uh, Conduits. You see, something happened while we were out on surveillance—"
"I don't give a shit," she says, which seems surprising. "I would give a shit, if your kill hadn't been retroactively approved by the Shadow Fold council, and a Mark placed on his head. Apparently when the cops searched his place, they found evidence that links him to seven rapes in five years." At my confused and disgusted look, she explains, "He kept locks of hair."
A shudder of revulsion goes through me at this news. "That's, uh, not good? But good, I guess, that he..."
"You were damned lucky." She leans forward, placing her hands on the surface of the desk. "Not only did you get caught—the first rule of secret, off-the-books-kills is not to get caught, Ms. Arizona—but you actually killed someone related to your target. That would've complicated things if further surveillance on Delia Reynolds had revealed that our suspicions were correct, and a Mark been placed on her head.
"Thankfully for you, Ms. Reynolds quit her job and is moving back to Ohio to be with her parents. Apparently the death of her boyfriend, followed by the revelation that he's a serial rapist, has shaken her. She won't be making biological weapons or changing the world for the worst—yet."
I keep my mouth shut and nod sharply, sensing that there's nothing I can say right now that will please Headmaster Shu. I'll be lucky if the reason why she's dressed all in black has nothing to do with me and all the rules I've broken in my short time here.
"So." The headmaster narrows her eyes in my direction. "You're going to need a new Mark. This time, I'm not sending you on surveillance. I'm just giving you an assignment, to be completed by the end of the semester. We have a high level Mark that no one has managed to kill after three encounters. He'll be your goal in the coming months."
I swallow. "And if I don't manage to complete it?"
Almost overlapping with my words, Eve protests, "But she won't have even finished her first year! Most students don't have to find a Mark until their capstone project, and they get years to finish. To expect her to do four in two and a half years is one thing, but the first so soon is impossible, especially a high level Mark like the one you're talking about."
"Clearly she's capable." Headmaster Shu arches a brow in my direction. "Or isn't that what you were trying to show me with this little stunt, Ms. Arizona? How incredibly talented you are. How gifted, that you could kill someone on surveillance and not get caught—at least, not by the police, a mistake that would've gotten you expelled. Well, I recognize your abilities. Show me that you can behave on leash as well as off."
So it's a punishment, then. I killed someone I wasn't supposed to, and while the Shadow Fold council has decided to allow it because of what a shitstain he was, the headmaster isn't pleased with me. She's not expelling me, maybe because she doesn't want to get rid of her special four-trick pony, but she's going to make sure I know that she's the one in charge.
Eve mutters, "You can't be serious."
"I can, and I am. You're a favored member of the Fold, Evelyn, but that doesn't mean your friend can get away with anything, Brutus or no. We value discipline around here. She'll show it, or we'll find somewhere else for her to go."
I don't like the sound of that. Before Eve can muster up another protest, I tell the headmaster, "I'll do it."
"Good."
"But... can I bring backup?" Licking my lips, I point out, "I'm sure that if you all figured out what went on last night, you know I wasn't alone."
Eve volunteers, "I'll go with her. With my help, she can—"
"No." Headmaster Shu cocks her head at me. "Fine, bring your Conduits. They're the ones you had last night, after all. Maybe they can finally return with a completed Mark instead of failing like they always do. After all, their weaknesses will be no match for your strengths, will they? Here. Have your assignment. I'm sure it'll be easy for you."
She paces over to her filing cabinet, pulls out a drawer, and grabs a file so thick that it's basically a textbook—and I've never been very good at reading those cover to cover. Throwing the file down in front of me, she smirks at me with a glint in her eyes.
I have the feeling Grayson is going to love this about as much as a feral cat likes a dunk in ice water.
"I'm not sure about this," I tell Eve. "I mean, just because you tell him doesn't mean he'll believe you. And just because he believes you doesn't mean he'll like me."
She snorts. "I'm not sure Grayson really likes anyone. But there are people he trusts and people he doesn't. Until he's convinced you didn't kill anyone in your family, he'll be impossible to work with."
"If you say so."
We're walking down the east wing, where the headmaster's office is, towards the courtyard, past which we'll go into the west wing and find the boys. Grayson and Wyatt room together, just like Mason and Levi do, and Eve wants to go with me to give him the bad news. The thick file folder is under my arm, heavy enough that I can feel its weight dragging me down. I haven't even opened it up—I'm not sure I'm ready to find out how dangerous this new target is, considering how the last one went.
Something occurs to me. "How did you know those memories were implanted in Bernard's head, anyway?"
Eve fiddles with the gaudy ring on her finger. "Just call it a hunch."
I narrow my eyes at her, then stop in my tracks, refusing to go any further. "No. Tell me the truth. And tell me why you touch that ring on your finger anytime you're trying to lie to me."
She sighs, spinning on her feet and leaning in close to me. "You don't understand, Ellen. I can't tell you. It's Shadow Fold business."
"A gaudy, spooky-looking Halloween-style class ring is assassin business?"
"It's not a class ring." Frowning at me, she adds, "And it's not gaudy, either. It's made of real silver, bone, and a few... other things."
I wrinkle my nose. "Still gaudy. But I'm not going anywhere until you at least try to tell me what's going on. C'mon—I thought you aren't able to lie."
"I can't lie outright. I can sidestep the truth, or say another version of it, and let people leap to their own conclusions." Glaring at her, I cross my arms stubbornly, and she sighs as she relents. "Fine. But I can't tell you much, just that... the ring is only given to members of the Shadow Fold. And it helps with certain... things. As for Bernard's memories, another Shadow Fold member helped me there. Someone you don't know."
"Am I ever going t
o meet these mysterious black-robed figures of the night?"
She rolls her eyes. "We don't wear black robes. And you've already met me and Headmaster Shu. Some of the others are teachers here, which is why you should probably start going to class. Now, does that answer all your questions?"
Hardly, but it's more than she wanted to tell me, and probably more than she should have told me. So I decided to accept it as the gift it is.
"I'm satisfied. Let's go talk to the Fuckfaces."
Eve leads me through the courtyard and to their door, then knocks twice. The door opens to her fist, swinging wide and revealing a room that has to have been recently ransacked by a dozen drunk goats and their leader, a pirate captain. There are papers strewn everywhere, a bookcase that looks like it was chopped in half and messily reassembled, two beds pushed to the far side of the room, two desks stacked on top of each other, and an honest-to-god saber on the ground, its naked blade sharply gleaming.
When I imagined what the room of Grayson, a buttoned-up, constantly-scowling, disciplined guy looked like, this was the furthest from my mind. Even Wyatt didn't seem like the type to live in such a pig sty. But this is men we're talking about—their gender invented the hot dog. Tubed meat enthusiasts aren't always the neatest.
Men. Tubed meat. I kill myself sometimes.
At first I think no one is in the room, but then a familiar large, broad figure comes out of the bathroom, still zipping up his pants. Averting my eyes, I try to pretend like I didn't just see Wyatt's bulge. He really should at least make sure his door is closed before he takes a piss.
Like I said, men. Messiness. The two go hand in hand.
"Ellen! Eve." He sounds startled to discover us standing in the threshold of his open door. As he sheepishly rubs the back of his head, where black stubble is growing, I find myself feverishly hoping he washed that hand before he came out. "What are you two doing here?"
Eve says, "We need to talk to Grayson. And you too, I guess—all four of you. Ellen has some news for you, and so do I."
"Grayson is probably—"
"Right here." The cool voice comes from behind us. Just hearing the sound of his smug superiority is enough to set my teeth on edge. Turning around to meet Grayson's cold eyes, I wonder what kind of sick joke Lady Fate is pulling that she would tie the two of us together like two ends of a double-headed dildo. "What is it, Ellen?"
He somehow makes my name sound vaguely like an epithet. Because I'm irritated, I decide to dive right in with the bad news. "Headmaster Shu knows about that guy we killed."
"Technically, you killed him. I just helped cover it up."
I roll my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose at his pedantic bullshit. "Fine, whatever. She knows. Thankfully he turned out to be an even bigger asshole than we realized, so no one is upset. But she gave me an assignment... well technically, I guess it's an assignment for us, since you guys are supposed to come, and also I guess you get expelled if I do, right?"
"Just get to it." Sighing, he walks past us into the room, which I take as an invitation to walk in and sit... well, nevermind, I'm not sitting on the chair in the corner that has two balled up socks on it, because I don't want to think about where they've been. Gross. Boys are gross and men are grosser. "What's our punishment? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's far harsher than it should be, since you're at the center of it all."
Noticing the direction of my stare, Wyatt rushes over to the chair and "cleans" it off by brushing crumbs onto the floor and tossing the socks into the laundry basket. He looks embarrassed as his eyes sweep the room, which makes me hopeful that maybe he wasn't entirely raised in a barn.
Taking a deep breath, I tell the guys, "Apparently I'm supposed to kill this very high level Mark by the end of the semester, even though no one has managed to kill him yet. Also, you four are supposed to help me."
"Great," Grayson mutters, "nothing like being forcibly allied with a likely serial killer for the foreseeable future."
At least he said likely this time. Given how convinced he was at the start that I killed my own family, that's a slight improvement. Not that I'm going to give the ass much credit—his fixation is starting to get old.
"Actually," Eve says, stepping forward to address Grayson directly, "about that. I know that one of the reasons why you're convinced Ellen killed her family is because of a memory you saw in the mind of a supposed witness, Bernard Partridge. While I was doing some field work, I was able to talk to him."
Grayson's mouth turns down at the corners. "Let me guess, you tortured him to get him to recant his statement? I heard the warrant out for Ellen's arrest was recalled."
Eve narrows her eyes at him, looking like she wishes she had the power to blow him up with her mind. I can sympathize—I often feel exactly the same way. She tells him through clenched teeth, "I questioned him with another member of the Shadow Fold, one with a Mental Class ability similar to yours, but different. We were able to discover that his memories of that night were falsely implanted, no doubt by someone with an Affinity—something you would have realized if you'd done any investigation work into his statement and discovered that he was out of the state the night of those murders, instead of just relying on your powers to tell you the truth. You're not some kind of god, Hughes. We all make mistakes. Time to admit you misjudged Ellen."
Grayson frowns at her, then at me. "I'm not required to do any such thing. Not until I've investigated this myself to back up your claims. Implanted memories... someone would have to be very powerful to mislead my Affinity. I'm not even aware of anyone with one as powerful as mine."
I roll my eyes. "Fucking shit, man, is your other weakness your arrogance?"
He stiffens, glaring at me. "Just you wait. Your powers are still in their infancy, but soon enough you'll develop a reactionary weakness as they grow more powerful. Maybe we'll all be lucky and you'll be struck completely mute—sorry, Wyatt."
Wyatt shakes his head. "I'm not mute. Ass."
Ignoring him, Grayson tells us, "Let's go inform the others that we have a nearly impossible Herculean task ahead of us. Then I want to go find this Bernard and question him again. If what you said is true, Eve, then there's someone out there very powerful who we don't know about—someone with powers who's using them to kill and isn't under the Shadow Fold's jurisdiction."
I exchange a look with Eve; we both already know that my parent's killer is likely such a rogue. Maybe it's time to actually go to the Shadow Fold council about it, but I'm still not sure that I trust them. If the person who killed my mother isn't a rogue free agent, then they're a member of the Shadow Fold themselves, though I can't imagine how someone as kind as my mother or boring as Herb would have a Mark out on their heads.
Sounding resigned, Eve admits, "We might as well go question Bernard again. Grayson is right—whoever did that to his mind is powerful. Maybe now that some time has passed, his memories will have straightened out enough that we can get some kind of witness statement from him, and narrow down our search for whoever altered the state of his mind."
Chapter 26
Levi rolls his eyes so dramatically that I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head. "Of course we get a high level Mark. Headmaster Shu has been wanting to get rid of us for months. Just watch, it'll turn out to be some rogue assassin. Let me see the file."
I hand the file over, and he calmly opens it up, scoffing at whatever he sees inside. I haven't looked at all—I'm afraid to see some kind of seven-foot-five genetically engineered super-soldier staring up at me.
He's taking the news rather well, considering. Mason looks distinctly uncomfortable, but I can't tell if it's because I'm in his room, or if Grayson has something to do with it. The mind reader keeps shooting looks at his friend, eyes narrowed, looking like he's trying to figure out what Mason is hiding in his head.
I have the feeling I know what it is, and it has something to do with Mason hiding his pig in my blanket. Hopefully Mason manages to keep his mind closed down and thoughts
turned away from what happened last night. If Grayson sees that particular memory, I'll be mortified.
"This guy will be tough to beat," Levi says, flipping the page on the file. "He's the rogue agent who killed Maher last year. And he's believed to be behind the massacre in South Africa. Whoa—his Physical Affinity is a transformational ability that lets him escape the scenes of his crimes."
My heart does a skip-jump type of thing, and I snatch the thick file from Levi's hands. Skimming the profile on our target, a man named Lionel Copenhagen, my heart sinks when I come to the line about his Affinity.
Physical Class, very strong. Ability to transform into any living creature he's recently touched and get away. Is believed to have turned into a mouse in Johannesburg after assassinating the ambassador. No other known Affinities.
I was expecting to read something about fog. It was too good to hope for, that the headmaster's assignment and my own personal vendetta might line up. But at least tracking down and taking out this guy will give me experience that will help in my ultimate goal: killing the man who murdered my mom.
"I don't care about the Mark," Grayson says, slashing a hand through the air. "I want to see Bernard Partridge again and figure out who's been rooting around in his mind. No one should be able to pull the wool over my eyes—if that is indeed what happened."
Eve glowers at him. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm telling the truth."
"If you say so."
Arrogant Grayson would have this much trouble believing someone fooled him. It clearly pricks at his pride, and no wonder: his Affinity is an incredibly powerful one that must make him feel invincible. He has the ability to control the mind and body of anyone in the room with him, at any time—with few exceptions. Having that kind of power, only to begin to doubt it, must be driving him mad.