“Sadly, I have never played the game,” Jiro said.
“But I have.” Julien’s eyes lit with glee. “Are you afraid I’ll beat you with an audience?”
“Nobody beats me at DDR.”
He crossed his arms and cupped his chin with the heel of his palm. “But if you do not dance… you certainly couldn’t have any amount of skill at the game.”
I knew what he was doing, and because I couldn’t take the slight against my nonexistent video gaming reputation, I shoved another cookie in my mouth, choked down my strawberry virgin daiquiri, and followed him to the machine. Jiro and Liadan trailed after us and took up spectating positions nearby.
“Do I get to pick the song?”
“Of course. After all, I challenged you.”
“Perfect.”
I kicked off my shoes and moved onto the metal pad to pick a song, choosing “Butterfly” and Expert mode. He raised both brows at me.
“Better than ‘Candy’ I suppose.”
“Shush.”
A crowd gathered around us as the countdown started. We took our places on the metal pads, and I braced my hands against the bar behind me until I glanced at Julien and saw he was standing between the four sensors, tall frame relaxed and loose.
Figured he’d be one of those guys who could play the game without needing the damned bar. I let go of it too and mirrored him as assembling students cheered.
“Kick his ass! He never loses!”
Damn, the pressure was on.
“Go, Skylar!” Lia called, clapping loudly.
Playing a beloved video game was like riding a bike. No matter how long you were away from it, the skill, the muscle memory, it all comes flooding back when you need it. Listening to the initial notes, I tapped a foot to the rhythm and waited for the dance prompts.
Arrows slid across the screen, easy opening steps surfacing from rusty memories of spending way too many hours in my living room playing the game with Mindi or at the arcade with our mutual friends. A dozen more flew over the screen, progressing in speed, complexity rising and requiring me to plot out movements a few steps ahead if I didn’t want to trip over my own feet.
Spinning, I tapped every prompt in time with the music, achieving scores of Great.
Our audience grew. I didn’t see them, but I felt their rising interest like the swelling tide, growing and gathering, a snowball rolling downhill.
The louder they cheered, the higher my mood soared until it was like the two went hand-in-hand, one elevating the other in a reciprocal pattern. Their amusement, happiness, and support washed over me in shimmering waves pulsating to the beat. I risked a glance over at Julien. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, but I stumbled over a step while keeping tabs on him. The game still registered it as a Good instead of a Miss, saving my flawless score.
Head in the game, girl.
“Go, Skylar! Go, Skylar!”
Admiration was basically crack for a fae, but a good and clean drug instead of an evil narcotic that would waste us away. And since you had to do good things—usually—to earn the admiration of others, there was no risk of harming anyone or becoming a darkling.
Warmth and golden light flooded the area, my wings emerging of their own volition as I drank in the crowd’s entertainment.
“Wooo!” someone cried. “Show them wings, girl!”
When the song came to an end, the room burst into cheering applause. Our scores popped up.
I’d beaten Julien by ten points.
He just grinned. “Nice wings.”
“Thanks.”
“Another song then?”
“Yes!”
He chose this time. As we neared the end, sweat poured down my face, my shirt stuck to my back, and hair plastered to my temples. I pushed a few lank, curling strands behind my ears and laughed. The scores were close enough that students took bets on which of us would win.
I didn’t have a chance. He knew the song inside and out, and I’d never danced to “Dynamite Rave” before. Julien had been grace personified, pulling off breakdancing moves that would have twisted my ankles if I tried without practicing.
It ended with him in the lead by thirty points. He wiped a wrist across his perspiring brow. “Feel better?”
“I do. Thanks.”
Better didn’t cut it. An exhilarated buzz zipped across my skin, flooding down every nerve ending until I bounced with joy. Avoiding their parties had been a mistake. I might not have been a muse, but the company of my fellow fae uplifted me.
His grin widened suddenly. “Do you want to learn to freestyle ‘Afronova’ together?” he asked, referring to one of the most difficult songs in the game’s catalog. “There are team competitions once a month, and we pool together prizes.”
“Dude, I am so there.”
* * *
It was just before two in the morning when Liadan and I returned to the townhouse. Pilar still wasn’t home, but Holly sprawled across the couch, texting on her phone.
“There you are, Sky. I didn’t see you or Gabriel in class, and you missed boot camp. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, um… Charge stuff came up.”
“Well, you missed a lot.” She tapped out something on her phone then sat up. “I have so much gossip for you both.”
I perked up. “Yeah?”
“Yes. So, I’m kind of dating this senior vamp guy—relax, this one is totally Sebastian approved—and he spends a lot of time at the sentinel office. He said there was an actual sighting of the Scary Godmother. A real sighting. Some students here saw her.”
Ripples of apprehension rolled through my stomach. Liadan took my hand, squeezed, and smiled bright enough to vanquish the dark shadows threatening to blanket my newly recovered good mood. I smiled back.
“Anyway, I’m trying to get Victor to give me a name. If I can’t get it from him, I’ll find out some other way.”
“You don’t have to look far, Holly. It was me.”
“What? Oh my God, are you okay?” She tossed the phone away and jumped from the couch, crossing the floor to hug me with a superfast vampire shadowstep that made it seem like she vanished and reappeared.
“Oof. A little lighter on the hugs, lady.”
Her embrace eased. “Sorry.”
I laughed and squeezed her back, soaking in the good friendship vibes that filled our house. “I’m okay now. It was a close call. I mean, we almost got pulled into the wreck.”
“I took her to the student center to recharge,” Liadan said.
Holly frowned. “Wow, it must have been bad if you managed to drag her to one of those parties.”
“I jumped Gabriel’s car through a pileup.”
She stared like I’d suggested I was the second coming of Titania. “What? Okay, now I seriously need details.”
It took only a minute to tell her everything, and by the end, her mouth hung open.
“Whoa. That’s terrifying. Is her charge okay?”
“We don’t know yet. Pilar is still at the hospital.”
“And the Scary Godmother? What’d she look like?”
“We didn’t actually get a good look. Brunette, that’s about all we know. I couldn’t even say for sure if it was her, but… it makes sense. A fae was in that car before it crashed.”
“And a good fae would have done anything to help,” Liadan said.
“Remember Gloria Stoltz? I tried to stop her, but she was so set on doing what she wanted. Like someone had already swayed her, but the wrong way.”
Holly raised her brows. “Is it possible it was a good fae, but they bailed out before the crash to save their own life?”
“Doubtful. Well… I mean, it is possible, but why didn’t they stick around to help after the wreck? If it was me, I would have bailed out too, but I would have at least tried to stay and help with the responders.”
“Damn. Point.”
“A mystery for another time.” Liadan tried to smother a yawn. “As for me, it’s bedtime. Night, girls.�
��
“Night.”
“You should do the same,” Holly said.
“Yeah, I think I will, thanks. Night.”
We split apart, and I went to my room, passing out the moment my head hit the pillows.
11
A True Monster
Despite sending a few texts to Pilar throughout the morning, we didn’t hear from her. After Magical History, I popped in at home with Liadan and Holly to dump my books in the living room, wondering if Tristal would cancel our lessons.
Pilar was on the couch when we came inside, face plain and freckled. I hadn’t realized she had freckles, because I’d never seen her without makeup before. She had her hands in her lap, picking at her nails while she stared at the powered-down television.
Dread pressed an iron weight over my heart. Liadan had gone sheet-white beside us, and I knew the answer to the question on the tip of my tongue before I even asked, because there were no longer any colors around Pilar. Her faerie light was bleak and muddy gray, like furious storm clouds preceding a hurricane.
Because there was always a chance, I asked the question on all our minds anyway. “How’s Yasmina?”
“Her family let her go this morning.”
Holly gasped. “Oh no.”
“There was too much to do. Her spinal cord had been severed by a piece of bone fragment, and her brain was swelling faster than we could coax it down. One of her lungs had collapsed. She was in cardiac tamponade.”
I held my breath.
“Tristal looked at the Destiny Lines. It was as if there was a tremendous kink in all the threads connected to Yasmina. For every knot we untangled, another one rose in its place. Tristal tried to call another fae in to help, but we were not enough. And… and she was suffering. She was suffering so much. I tried everything I could to help her, but her parents—” Raw and agonizing sobs cut her words off with choking, rattling noises from her chest.
“Sweetie, I am so sorry.” Holly sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around Pilar’s quaking shoulders.
When Liadan edged away to make tea, I took cues from her and fetched Pilar’s gourmet chocolate stash, adding a few of my special Kit Kats I never shared with anyone. Thanks to Gabriel, I’d been introduced to a world of Japanese flavors like matcha, sweet sake, and purple yam. He’d mailed me the latter over the summer.
Pilar blinked up at me when I placed the bag in her lap. “You’re giving me your Kit Kats?”
“Yup. You need them more than I do, girl. Start with the sweet sake.”
Moisture brimmed over her lashes. “Thank you.”
“I have to get to my lesson with Tristal. Want me to bring anything back from the food court afterward? Lunch is on me.”
“No, I’m good, but thanks.”
I nodded, hating to leave and wondering if I could get a raincheck.
No. As much as I wanted to stay with my friend, I needed to talk to Tristal about what I saw.
* * *
A charmed dandelion seed encountered me on the walking path, bearing an audible message in Tristal’s voice to meet her at the combat training ground in the sentinel compound instead of our usual spot in the gymnasium. I found her there inside the place where the sentinels usually trained in their spectacular gun-wielding fighting styles, resembling action heroes like Christian Bale in Equilibrium and Neo from The Matrix.
That’d be me one day. If I didn’t flunk my once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Wizards had enchanted the entire building, bulletproofing interior walls and equipment while also fortifying the spectating room’s glass shields. It still smelled like magic and gunpowder, since mages like Holly learned to combine spellcraft with ammo. A dozen or so pockmarked dummies filled the arena.
“Good day, Miss Corazzi. Thank you for coming.”
“There’s nothing good about today.”
“There isn’t,” she agreed. “But the day must go on.”
“It was a darkling, wasn’t it? That’s who messed everything up with Yasmina.”
“Yes. I was able to confirm a leanansidhe snarled the Destiny Lines. The provost shall make an official announcement this evening regarding the danger.”
“Is it the Scary Godmother?” When she cocked a brow, I resisted the urge to fidget. “That’s what everyone on campus dubbed her.”
“All we know is what I have told you. This leanansidhe is… quite powerful.”
“How do we stop something like that? How do we keep our charges safe?”
“You do what you have always done and guide your charge to the best of your abilities. We can’t always be there for them, Miss Corazzi. What happened to Miss Sánchez’s charge is a tragedy.”
My shoulders sagged. “I was there. Maybe I could have—”
“Done what, exactly? Did you know there was a fae in that car?”
“Well, no.”
“Did you know the car would crash?”
“No, but—”
“We are fae. Some mortals may see us as guardian angels, but we cannot save everyone from their bad decisions. There aren’t enough of us for every human in the world, and we cannot be with our charges every second of every day.” Her voice softened. “You were there, but there was absolutely nothing you could have done. You know that.”
It didn’t make it hurt any less. I thought of Pilar and the pain that had been radiating off her. If it had been Sharon in that car, I had no idea what I would have done.
“How long will it take for Pilar to feel better?”
“A few days at the most. As she and Yasmina were only in union for a few weeks, she will likely rebound before this week finishes. The damage is less severe than it would be if say, Sharon were to perish prematurely.”
“What about you? How long have you been with your current charge, professor?”
“I don’t have one. Now let’s move on to your lesson. Today, you learn to battle the fae.”
I blinked. “Say what?”
“At some point in your future, it will be necessary to know how to battle your own kind. Our remaining lessons will prepare you for the event.”
The distinction between will and may had never seemed more significant.
I couldn’t tell if she was speaking in generalizations or if she’d let slip a tiny peek into my future. Both disturbing possibilities raised the hairs on my arms. My dreams of becoming a sentinel had always involved staking nosferatu. I’d never even considered darkling fae, because our kind rarely went bad.
“Your instinct will be to use Faerie Fire, but—”
“It doesn’t work against fae,” I said. “Not even darklings?
“It does. In fact, it works tremendously well against darklings, as we discussed before. The problem with battling a leanansidhe is that she will take control of your fire from you, thus endangering all others in the vicinity, and should it be your fire that harms or slays a mortal, it will be the guilt you bear.”
“Whoa.”
“Yes. It’s a little-known fact we try not to spread around. Do you recall how it felt to discover you had harmed members of the Wild Hunt Club?”
“Awful.”
“Now imagine it is a group of innocent mortals instead of skilled shapeshifters able to regenerate from the flames.”
I sucked in a breath between my teeth. “Then how do I fight her?”
“You fight using the faerie talents acquired during your Ascension this spring. These are gifts unique to the sylph alone, and as your particular breed are rare, unlike mine, you will find your abilities unmatched. There hasn’t been a darkling sylph in centuries. Show me your wings.”
Mercifully, the weeks of practice had paid off. I drew the spectral wings from within my soul and let them flourish, becoming more than an invisible, perpetual state of warmth around my shoulder blades. The light glowed in strands of ruby, fuchsia, and gold as I swept both out to their full span.
“Excellent. You practiced.”
“I did.”
“Were you
aware the most powerful sylphs are able to create storms?”
“Seriously?”
Professor Tristal dipped her head. “Wind and lightning fall within the jurisdiction of your powers. The provost has beseeched the Summer Court for a sylph to provide further instruction, but until they make a decision, I will do my best to guide you.”
The professor directed me to the center of the sparring ring across from a training dummy. She made a few gestures with her hands and dismissed the magical dome that usually arced over the open ceiling. Without the barrier, the sun radiated warmth against my head and a cool breeze snaked through the room. “Calling the winds to aid you can be useful in several ways. You can use them as deflection against incoming attacks, to speed your steps, or to push your opponents away.”
“So how do I do that?”
“Reach out with your magic. Feel the wind and try to nudge it toward the target. Imagine the breeze as something you can sculpt and mold to your whim without the need for glamours and silly mage’s spells, because the wind is part of you. It is in your blood, a living essence joined with your soul. As you are a sylph, you are forever bound to the sky and all things that are part of it.”
Being forever bound to the sky was a laughable notion when I hadn’t floated more than a few steps at a time, or flown higher than jumping distance from the ground, terrified of plummeting to my death.
She made it sound easy, but every time I reached out for the wind, figuratively and literally, nothing happened. It was only air, with nothing tangible for me to grasp. After several fruitless attempts, my professor directed me to fly laps around the room.
And those laps consisted of me jogging to gain momentum for my wings to carry me forward a few yards. After two rotations of that, Tristal sighed in disgust.
“Don’t you know how to flap your wings?”
“They move?” Feeling dumb the moment the words left my mouth, I added, “I guess I already knew that, but I’m not sure how to do it.”
“As luck would have it, you have no afternoon classes and I am free from other obligations until three. I refuse to let you leave my company until your negligence is rectified. Three laps flown by wing power alone shall be sufficient, of course.”
The Scary Godmother: The Paranormal University Files: Skylar, Year 2 Page 10