Three Kinds of Wicked

by May Dawson

  Once we’re in Mycroft’s room, with the door closed, I sag against the footboard.

  “You all right?” Airren asks. “Did he hurt you?”

  “He didn’t hurt me,” I say, although I’m sure a bruise is forming where he grabbed me. I don’t answer his first question. My heart is pounding so hard it aches. Worst of all, as I replay the fight, I see David and Josie behind Jon, looking on with hard eyes. They all think I killed Luca. How the hell do I go in this house?

  I clear my throat, pressing my palm over my heart. “I thought you hit him.”

  “I grabbed him to stop him.” Airren shakes his head. “Mycroft prides himself on his dispassionate nature. I’m sure he’ll try to come up with some perfectly logical reason why he hit that boy.”

  “Is he really… dispassionate?”

  “Not since you walked into our lives, Tera Donovan.” There’s a light in his eyes and a quirk to his lips.

  “You think this is funny,” I accuse him.

  “No.” He steps in toward me, resting his big hands on my shoulders. “It’s definitely not funny, and I’m sorry that someone in your own House treated you that way. But watching Mycroft lose his mind? That’s a little bit funny.”

  “Tell that to the boy with the broken jaw.” But Airren has pacified me on Mycroft’s behalf. I shouldn’t find a man throwing a punch endearing. But I like the thought that Mycroft feels genuinely protective of me.

  Mycroft and Cax come in later, and Mycroft looks quite put out.

  “Someone’s going to end up having to say he’s sorry,” Cax says.

  Mycroft gives him what can only be called the evil eye. Cax ignores him and sets a plateful of sandwiches on the desk. “Let’s try to get through one meal without punching anyone out, all right?”

  The door flies open. Suddenly every single one of the guys is in front of me, wand in hand. Once I realize it’s just Cutter, whose eyes widen at the sight of them, I duck my head to hide a smile.

  “I’ve got news,” Cutter says evenly. He closes the door behind him. “Is there some particular reason you’re all more keyed up than usual?”

  “Someone accosted Tera downstairs,” Cax says.

  “How did that go?” Cutter doesn’t sound particularly interested.

  “Someone went to the hospital.”

  “What?” I demand. “Mycroft. Jeez.”

  “Nothing personal, Tera.” Mycroft crosses his arms, avoiding my eyes. “Well? Talk, Cutter.”

  He sounds rude, even by Mycroft’s standards.

  “That was definitely personal,” Cax stage-whispers.

  “Luca seems like such a good guy, doesn’t he?” Cutter asks.

  “He certainly seems to have a lot of loyal friends.” Such as the guy who shouldered me in the cafeteria who is probably now regretting that choice. He’s also probably plotting his revenge, which likely involves disemboweling us all.

  “But he was True.” Cutter says triumphantly. “After Tera asked me about the magical discharge on the body, I had my forensic team check for any strange magic trails in his room. He wasn’t just turning his lights on and practicing his homework. There’s some serious dark magic residue.”

  “What kind of spells was he using?”

  “It looks like he was trying to master mind control and explosive magic,” Cutter says. “I’m not sure where he was discharging the explosive spells, though.”

  “I’d like to think his RA would have noticed,” Airren says.

  “So, now I have a mission for our girl,” Cutter says brightly.

  When he says our girl, it doesn’t give me the same warm fuzzy feeling I get from the boys. It worries me.

  “Nope,” Airren says.

  “You haven’t heard what it is yet.” Cutter stuffs his hands in his pockets, his posture tall. He’s relaxed, as if he’s sure he can convince us to follow his plan.

  “We’re not putting her in danger.” Airren cuts his eyes toward me like he’s worried about more than keeping me safe.

  “Of course not,” Cutter says easily. “But we need to figure out who else in your House might be True.”

  Airren bares his teeth in what could be meant to be a smile, but looks a whole lot more like a snarl.

  “We’ve got something for you.” Mycroft’s voice is gruff, and he looks to Cax, avoiding my gaze.

  Cax rolls his eyes. “That’s a really classy way to give a lady a gift.”

  Am I a lady? Am I really getting a gift? I crinkle my nose, willing to bet that Mycroft has all the same questions. Cax rustles through the rubble of gears and electronics and papers on his desk before he turns to me with a triumphant look on his face.

  Cax’s long fingers dangle a shiny pendant. At the bottom of the chain hangs a white gold ball, studded with pave diamonds—or what looks like diamonds although I’m sure they aren’t.

  I don’t move to take it, although there’s a rise of feeling in my chest. It’s so pretty; it catches the light in the room, reflecting back a scattered prism. “What is that?”

  “It’s a necklace,” Cax says cheerfully. “It’s also enchanted. We’ll be able to hear everything you say.”

  “That’s super creepy.” I take it from him anyway. It’s surprisingly weighty in my hand, and I rub my thumb over the texture of the tiny diamonds. Creepy, but quite pretty.

  “What’s really creepy is being alone in a world infected with True,” Cutter says. “This will be good. You’ll have backup now.”

  “You’re ruining what was kind of a romantic moment,” I whisper to Cutter.

  “I know.” He flashes me a smug grin.

  I slip the necklace over my neck. It hangs between my breasts, an oddly comforting weight.

  “Someone hold my egg,” I say. “I’m going in.”

  30

  The door to Luca’s room is closed and locked, unlike all the other rooms in the hall, which stand propped open. I toy with my new enchanted bauble as I wait for Erik to answer my knock.

  It’d be nice if a boy gave me something pretty and it wasn’t for spying.

  When the door opens, Erik, Luca’s roommate, eyes me suspiciously. Cutter’s already interviewed him, of course—poor kid—but if Erik shared Luca’s interest in the True, he might just be willing to talk to me.

  I am so excited about the potential to use my evil legacy for good, I almost can’t bear it.

  “Hi,” I say. “Can we talk?”

  He leans out into the corridor, darting a look each way before his gaze returns to me. “About what?”

  I cock my head to one side. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yeah. You’re the one who murdered my roommate.”

  Two girls walking by in the hall were already side-eying me. His voice is loud. The girls stop, gawking at us openly now.

  He starts to close the door on me. I lean my shoulder into it, sliding my shoe in to block him. I grit my teeth, waiting for the pain as it slams into my foot, but instead it rebounds, almost smacking Erik in the face. He stumbles back. The door yawns open like an invitation.

  Mycroft is continuing to use his magic to improve my reputation.

  “Hi,” I say again, breezing in. I turn and flash the girls a bright smile. Then I slam the door shut between us.

  He stares me down. But there’s a faint tic at the corner of his nostril.

  I assumed I couldn’t feel the magic around the corpse because I had lost all sense of magic. But that’s not true. In this room, I feel dark magic prickling at my skin. How the hell had no one else noticed? The air feels so thick to me, I can barely fill my lungs.

  I draw a deep breath through my nose, pushing down the sudden rise of panic. The dark magic stink in here is oppressive, and I taste the iron tang of blood in the back of my throat. “I’d like to talk to you about the True.”.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not interested.”

  “Do you have something against me?” I ask, my voice full of fake surprise. “We’ve never met before.”


  “No,” he says flatly.

  “Because some people think I killed Luca.”

  He pales slightly, and I go on, “I didn’t. I promise. I’m very invested in finding out who did.”

  “Of course,” he explodes. “Listen, Luca got mixed up with people he probably shouldn’t have. But I can’t tell you anything about them. I never met them, I don’t know who they are.”

  “He got mixed up with True,” I correct.

  “Are you one of them?” he asks bluntly.

  “Are you?” I step in close to him. My nostrils flare, even though the last thing I want is to breathe in more of the oppressive stink. “This room is soaked in dark magic. Are you?”

  “No,” he says quickly. “Of course not.”

  I run my fingertips up his arm to his shoulder. His muscles contract under my touch, as if he’s terrified by me.

  That should bother me, but it doesn’t. Not this time.

  “I’m not very happy people think I murdered Luca,” I tell him. I’m not happy about Luca being murdered, either. Whatever he had gotten mixed up in, he shouldn’t have died that way.

  He won’t meet my eyes. He shrugs one shoulder, crossing his arms. I can’t tell if he’s afraid or defiant or angry.

  “You know who he spent time with, don’t you? Who do you think killed him? Because I can promise you, it wasn’t me.”

  His chest expands with rapid, unsettled breaths, and he walks to the window. When he throws open the window, I take a step closer and draw a deep breath of cool, fresh air, finally filling my lungs.

  His back is to me now. “I don’t want to get mixed up in anything. True, Crown… I just want to make the Dean’s list.”

  “You have to survive the semester for that.” I’ll be surprised if I survive the semester. I don’t know what his odds are either.

  He twists to look at me, his back against the window. “What are you saying?”

  “What secrets of Luca’s are you keeping? Some of the magic that hangs in this room…they’re blood magics. Someone did something terrible, brought something evil back into this room. But you—”

  I pause and then smile at him brightly again. “The universal you, of course, not you personally. You wouldn’t do something like that here. Where someone might notice.”

  “Luca was out a lot,” he says. “I don’t know where he went. Like I said, I knew something was up, but I tried to ignore it…”

  “And now he’s dead.”

  His face crumples, but he bites down on his lower lip, fighting for composure. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Did you ever think about turning him in?” I ask.

  “No. He would’ve been kicked out of school…it’s dangerous just to talk about tech-poison now.” His voice takes out on a petulant note. “Luca knew that. He was smart in his classes, he always said the correct things. He just slipped when we were talking once. I didn’t want to know…”

  I press him anyway, even though he seems on the verge of tears, even though it makes guilt spike in my stomach. “If he’d been kicked out of school, at least he’d be alive.”

  “I know! Believe me, I think about it all the time.” He shakes his head. “Or would he? I think he was scared of the True. What they could do.”

  “And you never met any of them? You never saw him give anyone a look or anything?”

  “We’d been growing apart.” He rubs his arm across his eyes. “We used to be so close. I hate that it all ended like…”

  There’s something about his ever-changing emotions that doesn’t ring true to me. I stare at him, suddenly sure that his tears may be real, but they aren’t for Luca. He’s crying for himself. I know what self-pity looks like, and this boy is soaking in it.

  “I’m sure Luca does too.” My voice comes out cold, acerbic.

  “Get out!” he shouts after me, but I’m already closing the door behind me. There are twice as many students in the hallway as when I walked into his room, clustered down the hall where they can hear but pretend they aren’t.

  I wave at them and head for the stairs.

  A few minutes later, when I let myself into the boys’ room, they look at me like I’m some kind of monster.

  “I’m sure Luca does too?” Cax repeats. “A touch on the heartless side, maybe?”

  I breathe in deep, breathing in this air that doesn’t stink of black magic. “I think he was lying to me. About something. About everything. It doesn’t put me in a good mood.”

  31

  “Who did Luca hang out with?” I ask Cutter, reaching for the files he brought through the door.

  He picks them up as my fingertips graze them. “Remember the part where I’m not convinced you aren’t evil?”

  “I’m not convinced about you either,” I retort. “Police brutality. The True all over your damn department—”

  “We don’t know that.”

  I quirk my eyebrows at his defensiveness.

  Cutter sighs. “Of course, we interviewed everyone we know he associates with, and then interviewed the people they talked about. No one admits to having the slightest idea that Luca was sympathetic to the True.”

  Airren had stepped out for a few minutes, and now he re-enters the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  “Erik claims that he has no idea where Luca went.” I chew on my lower lip. “He’s lying. Do you think so too?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. Of course he can’t admit to trusting my hunch, even if I’m right.

  I take the necklace off, and it briefly tangles in my hair. Airren notices and steps behind me, his fingers sending pleasant tugs up my hair to my scalp as he unwinds the chain from my long hair. I hold my hand out, and he dangles it into my palm, where the chain pools in cool, silver links.

  “You should keep wearing it,” Mycroft says gruffly. “God only know what trouble you’ll get into next.”

  “I think my favorite thing about you is your optimism.”

  Mycroft grunts in response.

  “I’ve got to get back to the station,” Cutter throws us a mock salute before he heads toward the door. “Don’t do anything stupid without me.”

  “And I’ve got to update Ruby.” Mycroft says.

  “Take Cax,” Airren says.

  Mycroft flashes him a quick look, but nods.

  When the room has emptied, Airren turns to me. “I don’t doubt he’s lying either. That’s why I put a spell on his wand.”

  “Isn’t that against the law?” I ask, mock-scandalized.

  “I can get away with it.” He winks at me.

  “Why?”

  He runs his fingers down my bare arm, raising goosebumps. “War hero.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing I want to talk about.” Those deep blue eyes twinkle. “But I will take shameless advantage of it to keep myself out of trouble.”

  “And to keep me out of trouble, apparently.”

  “Well.” He brushes my hair back from my shoulders.

  The feather-light touch of his knuckles across my shoulder raises butterflies in my stomach.

  “You’re going to need every resource we have to keep you out of trouble, apparently.”

  I meet his eyes evenly. He’s joking, flirting with me, even, and I want to respond in kind. But when I open my mouth, what comes out is exactly what I’m thinking. “That’s a full time job, Airren.”

  His eyes shift, and become serious, as if he takes my meaning, as if he understands all the layers underneath that say: it’s a job you won’t want for long.

  “I was bored before you came here,” he says. “I didn’t become an RA for the glamor, you know. I needed something to do with myself.”

  “You could take up knitting.”

  He gently turns me, his big hands resting on my shoulders. “I’m all thumbs. See?” His thumbs skate over my tense shoulders. They give slightly under his touch.

  “You could draw.”

  “Cax’s got that covered. The wor
ld doesn’t need any more oversized nudes of Mycroft.”

  “Are the canvases really oversized, though? Wouldn’t it be life-sized?”

  His wand rolls suddenly on the table, vibrating back and forth. He plucks it up. “Our friend’s on the move. You stay here.”

  “You can’t leave me alone.” I grab his wrist. “Haven’t you ever seen a single action movie?”

  He raises an eyebrow, but whatever he sees in my face makes his expression change. “All right. Come with me. But if I tell you to run, you run. All right?”

  “Do I look like the heroic type to you?” I demand.

  He takes my chin in his hand and raises it up to him, examining my face carefully. “I can’t tell yet.”

  I put my hand over his, about to say something glib, but I stop on the verge of a lie. The truth is, I like the idea of being an unknown quantity. Of being someone who might try something stupid and brave. If I’m not my father’s daughter, if I’m not dirt after spending five years in it, then who could I be?

  “I’ll run,” I promise him. “But probably not very fast.”

  His other hand drops to my hip and then skates down toward my knee. “Did Mycroft not heal you up properly yet?”

  I inhale at his fingertips drifting down my leg. Maybe he doesn’t notice the way my breath suddenly hitches in my chest. I’d like to play it cool.

  “I’ll take a look when we get back,” he promises me.

  Quickly, he scrawls a note for Cax and Mycroft. While he does that, I nestle my dragon’s egg under a towel, under the desk lamp. Airren brushes his fingers over the top of the brass light, murmuring to make sure it stays lit.

  When I follow him down the stairs and through the lobby, it seems like people are watching us. My cheeks blaze, and my eyes fix on the doors.

  Airren takes a step ahead of me, opening the door into the depth of night. He gives me a small, reassuring smile. But I trust him to make sure my body stays intact; it’s my soul I worry will be battered to pieces by the hatefulness around me. He can’t do anything about that.

  We find ourselves following Erik on a rambling trip through campus, as if he’s trying to shake off a tail. But we stay far back, shaded by buildings and trees. We don’t need to be too close to him to follow.