by Lucy Auburn
I blink at him. “The list?”
Petra snaps, “Keep it simple for her, Sam!”
“Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.
“Anyway,” Petra goes on, “we’re all students here. I’m third year, Sam and Olivia are first years, Liam is a second year. We each have animal forms—you met my wolf and Olivia’s hawk.”
“Yeah.” I feel a little bit of that incredulous, out-of-body insanity come back at the thought of it. “So I’m hallucinating, basically.”
Sympathetically, Olivia says, “It’ll all make sense in the morning, after a good night’s rest.”
“Anyway.” Petra is clearly determined to be the leader of this little speech, and no wonder if she’s older than the others. “Like Sam said, there’s a list with all potentials on it, so normally we’d have some idea you were about to become a phoenix, and you would too. But sometimes surprises turn up, apparently. You’re one of them, so it’ll be confusing at first, but in the morning Headmaster Towers will be back and I’m sure she can explain it all to you.”
“Okay. Phoenix, shifters, something about a list. This is a weird magical school. You were all somehow stalking me, so you showed up to save my life because it was your duty. You’re a hawk. You’re a wolf.”
I feel like I should sit down, but there’s nowhere to do it. Fuck it, I realize; I can just sit on the ground. I’m a street rat, and I stole this dress.
Woozily, slowly, I lower myself to the grass knees first, and kind of blink at the others.
Then I ask, in a calmer voice than I feel like should be possible, “So what do you guys know about those demons that ripped Richard’s dick off?”
Dick-severing demons are, it turns out, not a part of the academy’s curriculum.
In sympathy to my current confusion, the four of them have brought me into the front doors of the Great House and into a kind of reception area near the front, where Petra said parents and butlers—because some of these people have help—usually chill while waiting for their kids to get done with class, or turning into animals, or whatever.
As you can imagine, my brain is a little broken, and the part of me that understands things just knows: sitting, good; sitting on couch, nice; currently sitting, very good.
“Tell us about it again,” Liam says, like I’m not already halfway to drifting off into sleep just because my ass has connected with a soft, upholstered surface. “How exactly did these demons get summoned? And how did you know they were demons?”
I blink at him. “Well, I don’t know the answer to... either of those questions.” Shrugging, I tell him, “I guess maybe they’re not demons, but that’s just what they seemed like, what with the disemboweling and being evil and such. And I’m pretty sure those kids I went to high school with summoned them with this big book or something.”
I haven’t told them that I’ve been seeing the demons off and on since then, or that they went all incorporeal like a bunch of ghosts and I drove a motorcycle through them. For all I know that’s not normal, even here where students turn into wolves and hawks like it’s no big deal. I’m not dumb, after all; this place seems pretty posh, and if I really do get some kind of bed here, better to ride the opportunity for as long as the getting is good.
It’s not like I belong here, in a place where even the books on the shelves look like they’re worth a couple hundred dollars each. Like everywhere else I’ve lived in my life, this place is going to be temporary.
The students all look at each other, like they’re reconsidering bringing me here, or even saving my life in the first place. I don’t blame them; if experience is any indication, I’m kind of bad news for people who like their bathtubs unburnt and their houses still standing.
“Alright, well, we’re not experts on demonology, and it sounds like the threat has passed.” Petra stands, stretching her back, and I’m struck with the sudden thought that she’s a bit like a wild wolf even in human form, from her close-cropped pinkish blonde hair to her slightly feral dark brown eyes. “We should get you to one of the temporary room assignments so you can get a good night’s rest. I’m sure Headmaster Towers will be wanting to meet you in the morning, and she can figure out this, uh... dick-tearing demon.”
Wincing, Sam presses his knees together exaggeratedly and moans. “I wish everyone would stop bringing that part up.”
“Really?” Olivia raises a brow at him, head cocked like the predatory hawk that lives beneath her skin. “You’re more freaked out about that part then the part about disemboweling someone with a sword?”
Liam blanches. “All of it freaks me out, so let’s not talk about it.”
I study him for a moment, wondering what shifter animal he has. My eyes can see a hint of the shimmery aura beneath his brown skin, now that I’m looking for it, but it’s not as blatant as it was with the demons or the creeper who tried to kill me. In fact, the more I stare at it, the more it seems to subside beneath his skin, like he’s somehow hiding it.
Catching me staring, Liam cocks an eyebrow. “Like what you see?”
“She’s clearly trying to figure out your shifter form,” Olivia snaps, sounding irritated—or jealous. Maybe there’s something there. “Don’t bother asking him, Dani; he likes to brag about it so much that he’s liable to shift right here and tear up half the upholstery.”
“I’m a lion,” Liam supplies, sounding proud—and ignoring Olivia completely. “And yeah, couches don’t tend to hold up to seven hundred pounds of muscle.”
“Seven hundred pounds?” Sam gives him a look. “I’m pretty sure the last time we sparred, I weighed in more than you, and in tiger form I’m six fifty.” He glances over at me, straightening the collar of his jacket, preening like I should be impressed. “That’s right, I’m a tiger shifter.”
I can’t believe I died, came back to life, almost died again, and got dragged all the way to a secret academy for the paranormal only to encounter a universal experience I thought I was done with: testosterone-fueled young men trying to one-up each other with shows of bravado because they think it makes them irresistible to women.
Maybe if I ignore it long enough, it’ll go away.
Rolling her eyes, Petra leans down and murmurs in my ear, loud enough for the others to hear, “You should probably just come with me now. They could do this all night.”
“Better watch out,” I quip back at her, “if there are any fire hydrants nearby I’m pretty sure they’re about to go piss all over them.”
This shames both the guys long enough that they shut up, though I can tell they’re thinking about whether or not there’s room in the reception area for them to turn into their animal forms and put on a real show. I can’t help thinking it would be amusing to watch—if also a little terrifying. Dainty little Petra turning into a fully grown wolf was enough for me; I don’t want to see the whole meat-eating population of the local zoo eviscerating each other on the fancy couches.
Leading me through a wide hallway, Petra stops at an open door towards the end, and motions inside. “There are guest toiletries in the bathroom, and a school uniform in the closet.” I glance at her; she’s wearing club clothes. “We wore street clothing to blend in, but students wear uniforms on school ground unless it’s the weekend. After the headmaster talks to you tomorrow, she’ll get you a class schedule and a room assignment, and you’ll be enrolled.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Looking into the room, I’m briefly blown away. The bed is a wide queen mattress covered in plush quilts; there’s a wardrobe in one corner made of solid wood, and a chair by a fireplace that has a decorative grate covering it. It’s bigger than any room I’ve lived in since... well, ever, as far as I can remember.
And as I’ve well learned, when something is too good to be true, it’s almost always a lie. Before Petra can go, I ask her, “What if I don’t want it?”
“What?” She blinks at me, like I’ve just suggested she turns into
a frog—which, for all I know she does.
“A class schedule. A uniform.” Crossing my arms, I lean up against the wall, even though all I want to do is sink into that giant bed and sleep for days. “You brought me here and just assumed I would want it. What if I don’t?”
“You’re a phoenix,” she says, sounding like the idea of me turning this down hasn’t occurred to her. “And a homeless one at that, based on everything you told us. Why wouldn’t you want to be a part of the academy? It’s the only safe place for you.”
I wouldn’t count on that. This place seems like it could be dangerous, if all the students turn into seven hundred pound predators.
But clearly Petra isn’t going to get it, which makes sense if she’s been going here for three years. “I’ll stay for the night. But I can’t make any promises about sticking around. I’ve got plans.”
“Sure,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to soothe a toddler. “Just—don’t leave the academy tonight, okay? We had that guy picked up and he should be in custody for a while, but now that they know you’re a phoenix, they’ll be hunting you.”
“They.” My mind whirs. “Who is ‘they’ exactly?”
“The Grims.” Her mouth thins to a line. “I didn’t want to tell you while you were so... out of it, but the reason why phoenixes like you study here is because it’s dangerous out there in the real world. The awakening you just went through makes you vulnerable, and until you learn how to hide yourself, people will be after you. Especially Grims. They hunt your kind for a living.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure I believe her, even though she seems so earnest; I still don’t even properly understand what a phoenix is, much less why I might be one. “Whatever you say.”
“Just trust me.” She sounds frustrated. “It’s dangerous out there for you, and we barely got you out alive. So just—stay here. Even if you don’t believe me, just pretend like it’s a hotel room and stick around for a little while. Soon enough you’ll understand, and then you won’t want to leave. This place is going to be your new home before you know it.”
Words I’ve heard before a dozen times. But I give her that oh-so-grateful foster kid smile I’ve flashed at more people than I can count, and it seems to convince her.
“Goodnight, Dani,” she tells me. “If you need anything, I’m on the third floor, room fifteen.”
“‘Night, Petra,” I tell her.
As soon as I’ve got the door closed and I’m sure she’s gone, her little footsteps trailing down the hall, I pull the money out of my bag and stuff it in the top of the wardrobe, behind one of the folded-up uniforms she was talking about, which is a dark shade of red with gold embroidery.
An academy full of students who turn into animals. Of all the things I got myself into, this was low on the list of possibilities. Nineteen year olds aren’t supposed to moonlight as “lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
But I take the opportunity to wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on a clean pair of pajamas that I find in the linen closet. They’re the same dark red as the uniform, with a pair of wings printed on the back in gold ink—this place really has that whole branding thing down pat.
Then I stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking it in.
No bruises from falling off the cliff onto the ground. No sign that I died at all, other than the dark circles under my tired hazel eyes.
Leaning in close, I count the faded freckles on my cheeks, which will come back in full force in summer. I play with the ends of my hair, which are split from being bleached and dyed teal—something I let a cosmetology student do for free because I was desperate for a little TLC.
Other than being exhausted and somehow coming back from the dead, I look normal. Ordinary. Even to my freaky eyes, there’s no shimmer at the edges of my skin, no optical illusion whispering that I’m me but not me at the same time.
They’re dead wrong about this “phoenix” thing. Whatever happened at the bottom of that cliff, it must’ve had more to do with the demons, or whatever spell book Richard had, than with me. I’m nobody; I always will be.
Just when I’m trying to decide if I should shove any of the free toiletries into my bag, I spot someone staring at my in the mirror. Lifting my eyes, I stare behind my shoulder—right into an unsettling gaze.
Swordwielder’s green eyes are watching my reflection.
Jumping, I whirl around, heart beating fast—but he isn’t there. When I slowly, cautiously, look back in the mirror again, I don’t spot him there either.
But I can’t help feeling like they’re following me.
Calm down, Dani. No one is following me; I’m just paranoid and running on next to no sleep. A good night’s rest will fix it.
At least, I hope that’s all it is.
I can’t stop myself from wedging the chair up under the doorknob to the door, though. Just in case something murderous and psychopathic wants to break in.
Petra said this place is safe, but she’s also convinced I’ll wear a uniform and attend classes, so clearly she’s delusional.
Chapter 7
“Good morning. Thank you for coming.” Rising from behind her grand mahogany desk, the headmaster of Phoenix Academy holds out her hand for me to shake. I take it limply, stifling a yawn. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
And a lot of itches; when Petra fetched me this morning, she made me wear the school uniform, and even threatened to use her four-legged form on me if I didn’t do as she asked. Apparently meeting this headmaster is a big deal; so big of a deal that it requires a starched wool blend.
She dragged me through my morning routine, found a comb for me to pull through my hair, and marched me up three flights of stairs to this office right as the sun finished rising. Now I find myself staring at a woman with impeccably ironed clothing, a perfectly manicured hair bun, and a far too chirpy attitude for this time of day.
“Mostly, I just want coffee,” I confess to the headmaster, ignores Petra’s glare. “Also, does that thing come with blinds?”
I point above our heads, to the glass dome of the headmaster’s office. It’s impossibly bright, even without the sun directly overhead; I don’t know how she sits all the way up here all day, cooking in the glare.
“Oh—of course. My apologies for forgetting.” The headmaster paces over to the wall and presses a button that makes a tint wash over the dome, cutting a significant amount of the glare. “I’m a Red Phoenix, you see, and we tend to prefer sunlight. Need it, even.”
I have no idea what that means, but I decided before we got here that I wouldn’t ask too many questions. It’s all confusing enough without adding more to it.
Looking back and forth between the two of us, Petra licks her lips and says, “You should know, Headmaster, that Dani wasn’t raised paranormal. At all. She lived in a foster home.”
Annoyed at being talked about, I correct her. “Foster homes. Plural. And a group home.”
“I see,” says the headmaster. “Well, this must all be very confusing for you. Petra, I imagine this meeting will take a while, so feel free to go if you wish—I won’t keep you.”
The traitor, damn her, practically skips out of the room at this, looking eager to be off. I have the feeling that means I’m about to be put through a wringer of information and questioning, which is the last thing I wanted.
Staring up at the dome, I wonder if there’s a way I can escape through it.
The smell of coffee brewing is the only thing that keeps me from seriously contemplating slipping out of the door and never looking back. The headmaster is over by one of those instant coffee brewers, fiddling with the buttons. Within moments, there’s the distinctive sound of coffee pouring and a waft of steam. She returns to her desk with two mugs, and sets one on the edge near me.
“Go on and sit down. I’m sure you’re tired—feel free to drink as much coffee as you want. There’s sugar and cream on the tray next to my desk.”
“Thanks. Black is good.”
I never adjusted to the too-sweet, sickly taste of coffee with all the frills in it. The harsh, cheap, watery stuff is all they ever really give you at the shelters.
As I take a sip from my mug, though, it becomes clear that this is far from the canned bulk crap I’m used to drinking. It has body and flavor—and a kick of caffeine that goes straight to my head. I may not plan on sticking around here, but maybe I can settle in for story time if it gets me the good stuff.
“What do you want to know?” The headmaster leans back in her chair, delicately sipping her coffee—in stark contrast to my feral slurping of the stuff. “Ask me anything, Dani. I’m all yours for the next hour.”
“Okay.” I consider all the questions I have. It might be nice to have them answered, if it helps me shake off all the disturbing things that happened last night and never run into another guy like Creeper again. “So, maybe explain this whole thing from the beginning and I’ll start to understand it. This school... why does it exist? How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“Ah.” Leaning forward, she visibly brightens as she starts to tell the story, and I get the sense that it’s one of her favorites. “The Phoenix Academy was founded in the 18th century—a long time ago, I know. It’s been expanded and updated since then many times, but in a lot of ways, certain things haven’t changed since then. Do you know what a phoenix is?”
“Not exactly,” I admit. “They were kind of... vague about that.”
“A phoenix is a special person who dies and comes back to life. In Greek mythology they were birds, and are still depicted that way in TV shows and movies. But they’re far from it—we are far from it.”
I can tell she wants me to react a certain way to this whole “we” thing, like I’m excited about being a Greek bird or whatever. So I give her my best fake smile and take another slurp of coffee, already eyeing her fancy machine for round two.