by Meg Collett
She hadn’t told Luke yet, and he was acting differently. Normally, she spent her nights in his barracks apartment. He knew something was up; I could tell by the narrow-eyed way he watched Ollie. He tried to corner her in the halls between classes or the cafeteria during lunch, but she was a ninja at avoiding him.
Almost as good as Hatter was getting at avoiding me. Or me avoiding him. I couldn’t tell which one of us was keeping away.
Hatter and I were two different moons in completely different galaxies. Our orbits never crossed anymore. In the few glimpses I caught of him, he seemed more hollowed out, more distant. If anything, he looked healthier and fitter than he had before thanks to all his training with Luke. But I could tell the additional sparring and work with his sniper rifle wasn’t going well. I saw it in the way he carried himself: shoulders slumped and his head hanging. All the things he had known as truths about himself weren’t adding up anymore.
My eyes drifted closed. The hand propping my head up dropped out from under me, and I almost smacked my chin on my desk before I caught myself. Jerking upright, I glanced around. The other students shot me a few glances, but no one had really noticed. It was the last class on Friday afternoon, and I was the least of their worries. There was a dorm party tonight, hosted by a popular fifth-year, and rumor was a hunter had smuggled in some vodka to spike the drinks. Everyone was ready to cut loose, but I was most likely spending the night in the fear sim.
Great.
When the bell finally rang and the students practically sprouted wings and flew out of the classroom, I trudged out, my backpack thumping against my hip. In the hall, Ollie stood with one foot propped against the exposed brick wall. The wide floor-to-ceiling windows opposite her were cracked open to let in the warm wisps of summer air. Outside, the sun bloomed bright in the sky, the evergreens were a sparkling shade of green, and just beyond was the glimmering deep blue of the bay. Birds chirped happily, and from the courtyard, strands of laughter and music drifted through the windows.
“There you are,” Ollie said, ambling over.
She wore torn jeans and boots with the laces undone; it gave me anxiety just to look at. I thought she purposefully did it to stress me out. Her shirt featured a band I didn’t know, and a baggy flannel shirt hung unbuttoned over it. She’d pulled her blonde locks into a sloppy ponytail that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else.
I almost wanted to roll my eyes at her casual beauty. Her baby would be gorgeous. It almost wasn’t fair.
“How did your Strategy Analysis test go?” I asked. Between vitamin shopping and the pros and cons of veganism during pregnancy, I’d helped her study last night.
She blanched. “Not good. I felt queasy after the meatloaf we had for lunch, and it all went to hell once I read the essay question.”
“Ollie, you can’t fail Strategy Analysis.”
“I know.” She huffed out a breath. “Maybe we can study more tonight. I could turn in some extra credit.”
I snorted out a laugh. “I never thought I’d hear those two words come out of your mouth.”
Adjusting her backpack, she frowned at me. “What words?”
“Extra and credit. Used in the same sentence to mean additional homework for a higher grade.” I raised my brows at her. “I guess miracles do happen.”
Her frown fell away, and her eyes gleamed like ice beneath an afternoon sun. She threw her head back and laughed. The little knot in my stomach uncoiled. When she looped her arm around my shoulders and we started walking down the hall, chatting and laughing about our classes, I felt the warmest glow deep in my belly.
I squeezed Ollie’s waist tighter and laughed a little louder because I could.
Maybe today was the day she would let go of her fear and tell Luke. Maybe today she would think of her baby and not panic. I hoped so. I wanted this so badly for Ollie. Watching her hold Peyton as he cried, I’d seen what a wonderful mother she would make. I just wished she could see herself as clearly as I did.
We came to the stretch of glass wall that looked into the third-floor gym. Inside, Marley and Mr. Clint sparred, working with strike pads and boxing gloves. Sweat poured down Mr. Clint’s bare chest. Marley’s long auburn hair hung in a tight braid down her back, whipping back and forth as she parried and struck, ducking around Mr. Clint with a smooth grace that dumbfounded me.
Ollie and I paused on the other side of the glass to watch.
“She moves like a hummingbird on meth,” Ollie grumbled.
I gently elbowed her ribs. “You’re just jealous of her right hook.”
She snorted. “Please, I could take that hick cowgirl any day.”
As if she’d heard us, Marley looked up. Mr. Clint lowered the strike pads and took a deep breath. With her ever-present smile in place, Marley waved at us.
Neither of us waved back.
“It’s creepy. No one should smile that much.”
I shrugged and turned away from the glass. “Maybe she’s just happy.”
Ollie took my arm again as we continued walking down the hall. “That’s exactly my point. No one is ever that happy. Especially on meatloaf day. The indigestion alone.”
“I don’t think that’s indigestion.” I laughed. “Maybe Pinto doesn’t like meatloaf.”
Pinto was our nickname and code word for Ollie’s baby since it was technically the size of a pinto bean, and Pinto just sounded cool. It also meant we didn’t have to worry about the gossip queens, like Jolene, catching wind of Ollie’s bun in the oven.
“Speaking of, did you get an appointment with that doctor in Kodiak?”
I bit my lip. When I’d called the gynecologist’s office, I’d pretended to be Ollie. I’d explained that I was a young student in college with no insurance. It had taken some doing, but I’d eventually finagled an appointment. “I scheduled one for next Friday afternoon. But how will we explain a trip to town?”
“You let me worry about that.” She scowled. “Mr. Clint can’t keep me locked up forever.”
“I still think going to see my parents is the best option.”
Stepping onto the first floor, Ollie glanced at me. All around us, students milled about, coming and going, dropping their bags off in the dorms before scurrying outside to soak up the sun. “But Hatter can’t fly anymore, right?”
I grimaced. I’d forgotten. It was so easy to assume we could hop in Hatter’s bush plane and head off to see my parents in Juneau, but it wasn’t that simple anymore. “I guess so. I haven’t asked him.”
“Have you talked to him at all?”
We made our way into the Death Dome, which was rocking with pre-party activities. Students were blaring music of all types that merged into one cacophonous racket. Others were stringing lights and streamers. Down near the guard tower, people were arranging a table of food and drinks. It already gave me a headache.
Or maybe the headache was from thinking about talking with Hatter.
“Not much,” I said. We started up the stairs to the fourth-year level of dorms. It was almost the highest level in the dome. “But it’s not like I’m avoiding him,” I hurried to add, but even to my ears I sounded guilty. “He’s avoiding me too.”
“Luke is pretty worried.”
I noticed Ollie was careful not to look at me as we went into my dorm and set our things down on my bed.
I hated that whatever was happening between me and Hatter was affecting Ollie and Luke, and because Luke wanted her to talk to me, it was now a thing between me and Ollie, because she felt like she needed to talk to me and help me and help Hatter. And it was just this big, giant, horrible thing, and I had no clue how to make it better.
In truth, the Hatter who’d woken up post-surgery after nearly bleeding out at the slaughterhouse wasn’t my Hatter. He’d changed, and I didn’t know how to talk to this new version of him.
“I’m worried too,” I finally said, pulling out my textbooks and organizing them on my desk.
Ollie flopped down on my bed and sco
oped up my teddy bear, holding him tight to her chest as she leaned back against the wall. “Are you?”
I paused in aligning my books and glanced back at her. “Of course. I still …” I’d almost said “love him.” But did I? Could that even describe us? A few months ago, I’d thought I loved him. But so much had changed. We’d changed so much. And it seemed if we did—or had loved each other, then Hatter had loved the version of Sunny Lyons who was scared of her own shadow, who wore silly pajamas and glasses, and who jumped at the slightest sound. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I had contacts, and I might still wear silly pajamas, but I hunted with Ollie and I’d killed almost five ’swangs by myself since the start of school.
Needing to change the subject, I asked, “What about hunting?” I nodded at Ollie’s belly. “Have you thought about stopping?”
Ollie’s lips parted in surprise. She hadn’t thought of it. “Oh. I mean, I guess not.” She glanced down and pressed a hand to the flat, muscular expanse of her stomach. “Thought about it, that is.”
I settled into my desk chair. “Maybe you should think about stopping for a bit. Especially with this Mr. Clint stuff going on. It’s a good excuse to lie low.”
She set my teddy bear aside, and just like that I’d won the “let’s not talk about anything that hurts too much” contest. She wouldn’t mention Hatter again for a while, and I wouldn’t mention her not hunting. Win-win.
“I’m bored,” she declared.
“If you suggest we go to this party tonight—”
“Gross, no. And get felt up by drunken fifth-years? I would rather swallow my own vomit, which, trust me,” she said, holding up a hand as if she were confessing, “I’ve done a lot lately.”
I laughed even as I cringed. “That’s disgusting.”
“Dude, you’re telling me.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
Her eyes sparkled, and my heart danced. This mischievous, always conniving Ollie had disappeared for a while. But my best friend was back in full force, and it felt like with the right amount of caffeine and chocolate, we could take on the world.
“Looked like Marley and Mr. Clint would be busy bumping pads up in the gym for a while.” Ollie waggled her eyebrows.
I grinned, my excitement growing. Maybe today was the day. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we snoop around in her room?”
I used to always try to talk Ollie out of these plans, but after the week we’d had, I thought Ollie could use a distraction. “How do we get in?” I asked.
Ollie waved off my question like it was humid air on a hot day. “I can unlock those old barrack rooms with a credit card.” She smirked at me. “Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.”
And just like that, it was like old times, before all the hard, bad stuff.
I grinned. Ollie grinned back.
We took off out of my dorm without a backward glance at the party preparations. The courtyard was bustling with students, and more than a few waved and called out to us as we strode past. But no one questioned why we were heading to the barracks, especially since it was where our boyfriends lived.
Ex-boyfriend? Had Hatter even been my boyfriend?
I shoved the thought from my mind and caught up with Ollie as she swung open the back door.
The barracks hallway was narrow and dark. The hunters worked all hours as guards on the fence or to keep the woods around the university clear of rogues, and night or day, someone was always sleeping. The barracks stayed quiet and dark as a tomb; the place had always creeped me out. Unlike Ollie, who hated the Death Dome, I preferred our safe dorms surrounded by the other students.
Luckily, no one was in the hall. We passed Luke’s door then Hatter’s. Hatter’s was pulled shut, and a light shone from the crack under the door. He was likely inside, doing something. I forced my gaze away.
“How do you know which one is hers?” I whispered.
Ollie turned down an offshoot of the main hall. The barracks formed a T with two halls branching off the center one. Since most of the hunters had stayed loyal to Ollie, the barracks were full, besides a few smaller spare rooms.
“I followed her the other night.”
My gaze jerked to Ollie’s profile as she stopped outside a nondescript room with the door closed and the light off. “Are you serious?”
She glanced at me. “I don’t trust her. Her timing was too perfect. And, like I said, no one’s that happy.”
“Even after her contact with the governor came through? Without her, we wouldn’t know there weren’t any oil deliveries scheduled for the day of the attack in Kodiak.” I grimaced as Ollie’s expression darkened. This was her least favorite topic, but I forged on. “It means those sick aswangs are probably Milhousse’s.”
“But why? Milhousse and Dean couldn’t have known those aswangs would come here. They would have had to rely on luck, and that’s not Dean’s style.”
“How can you still argue it’s not Milhousse making those ’swangs?”
“I’m just being logical. We have bigger problems right now.” She pulled out her student card and wiggled it between the lock and the doorframe’s latch. I turned and kept a lookout, my normal role.
“Wow. You really don’t trust her, do you? To prioritize her over Milhousse?”
Ollie snorted. “I hate her cowboy boots too. I mean, what kind of fashion statement is that?”
Carefully, I said, “I thought you didn’t like her because of, you know, your mom and stuff.”
The card stilled against the door. She took a deep breath and resumed her work. “Maybe she did know my mom. Maybe they graduated together. But that has nothing to do with why I don’t trust her. It feels too easy that she swooped in like our knight in shining armor and won Mr. Clint and all the other hunters and professors over. Even Luke. She has them wrapped around her finger, and I don’t like it.”
I bit my tongue. Part of me—a tiny part—wondered if Ollie wasn’t a touch jealous. For a while, she’d been the one everyone needed and looked to. She’d been the savior of Fear University, and she’d liked it. Now, she was just a student.
But I kept that to myself. I wasn’t stupid.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
“Wow,” I whispered. “I didn’t think that would work.”
Ollie strode inside Marley’s apartment. With a quick glance both ways down the hall, I eased the door shut behind us, leaving it cracked an inch so we could hear if anyone came down the hall.
Ollie was already picking through the dresser and rifling through shirts and jeans before carefully putting them back in their places. The nostalgia hit me right in my stomach. Funny as it sounded, it was nice to be breaking and entering with Ollie again.
“Check this out,” she said. She’d stopped at the third drawer down, which contained loose personal items. I walked over to find her holding a silver locket. It was old-fashioned and dull with age.
“Open it.”
Carefully, Ollie slid her nail between the two sides and popped it open.
I expected an old picture or nothing at all, but inside was a relatively new picture of a striking man with sharp, angular cheekbones, a dimpled chin, raven-black hair, and brooding eyes. He looked like the devil himself, and my breath caught at the sight of him.
“Looks like Marley has a boyfriend,” Ollie said.
“He’s hot.”
Ollie laughed and closed the locket. “Well, he’s important to her. We know that at least. Let’s keep looking.”
I searched the bedside table, beneath the mattress, and under the bed. Ollie had moved on to the desk. I was about to turn away and work on the closet, when a hiss escaped her mouth.
“What is it?” I asked, perking up instantly.
She held a large white notebook, opened to the first page. Without looking up from the page, she said, “You need to see this.”
I walked over and stopped beside Ollie’s shoulder. The notebook was actually a sketchbook with thick wh
ite pages. Thick, scratching black lines swept over the page in an artful, almost abstract rendering. I’d never been one for art—preferring science and math—but I could admit the drawing was good.
Then I looked closer at the subject.
“What is that?” I asked, almost gasping.
“It’s the school,” Ollie said. Her finger traced the dome’s arc, the tall windows on the third floor, the vines curling up the brick facade. But it wasn’t the nearly exact rendering of the school that had my stomach churning. It was the broken windows, the fire consuming the building, and the dashing outline of people silhouetted in one of the third-floor windows, trapped and dying.
Ollie flipped another page. Stark black lines scarred the thick, creamy pages to form an image of a burning tree, its limbs upturned in agony as the flames writhed all over it. Behind the tree was a tall stone wall, and in the corner of the page was the beginnings of a rook’s nest.
“That’s the fence,” Ollie breathed out.
I turned the next page for her. Beside me, Ollie sucked in a breath.
The next sketch depicted a body strewn across the ground, facedown, its limbs twisted at odd angles. An aswang tore into the person’s back, ripping out mouthfuls of flesh and muscle.
“Oh, doo-doo,” I whispered.
“She’s crazy.”
I had to peel my eyes off the page to meet Ollie’s gaze. “Is she planning to burn the school down and kill everyone?”
Ollie shook her head. “If she is, she’s pretty damn stupid to draw it in her sketchbook.” She was coming out of her shock, and her eyes burned just as much as the tree on the pages of the book she clutched. “I’m going to kill her. I’m literally going to go kill her right now.”
“Ollie, wait.”
We stood at the same time. Ollie’s knuckles were turning white around the book.
“Why?” she snarled. “What is it with people? Why does everyone have to be insane? Can’t we all, like, just get along?”
I would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the sketch of the body. Instead, I held out my hands, palms toward Ollie. “All I’m saying is we don’t know if it’s hers. Before we confront her—”