Hades Academy: Second Semester

by Abbie Lyons

“What does happen when the mead gets flowing?” I said. “I mean, these are real axes, right? What if Morgan loses her grip and chucks one into poor Matthias’s skull?”

  Collum chuckled. “They’re safe.”

  “Safe how?”

  “Demon magic.”

  Of course. I took another long gulp of my mead, which tasted less bad the second time around.

  “Pssh, you can do better than that,” Morgan called. She took an even bigger swig to show me up. “Drink up, Noves!”

  She paused a moment, then yelled another “woooo!” for no apparent reason. Somebody was getting white girl wasted tonight, and it wasn’t going to be me.

  “That stuff seems to be going to her head pretty fast,” I observed to Collum.

  “You think it’s just for show?” he asked. “To get us good and wasted too, so that she can pry, yeah?”

  He had a point. Morgan definitely wanted us drunk enough to supply some juicy gossip. But in her quest to do so, she too was gonna get hella fucked up. Even if she got something good out of us, remembering it the next morning would be another thing entirely.

  “So howsabout you give the throwing a go?” Collum asked.

  I picked up an axe and gave it a look over. “I’m probably gonna suck.”

  “But better than him, that’s the truth.” He nodded toward Matthias, whose axe proceeded to miss the target by about two feet. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He put his strong hands on my shoulders and gently moved me into the perfect throwing position.

  “That’s it,” he said. I could feel his breath warm on my face. “And you’re going to grip the axe just like this.” He moved my hands down the handle, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

  “I guess all the double entendre here is pretty clear to both of us,” I joked.

  “And there you go, making it weird,” he laughed, his hands still on mine. He moved the axe up behind my head. “This here is going to be your throwing position. When you’re ready, you’ll just bring it forward as fast as possible and let go. All clear on this, then?”

  “Got it,” I said. “Now you can go ahead and back off a bit so that I don’t accidentally send this thing flying directly into your face.”

  Around us, other people were starting to fill up the remaining axe-throwing lanes, students I recognized from around the halls of Hades, although it took me a moment to place them as such without their uniform jackets, ties, and/or skirts. That, or maybe the mead was starting to get to me.

  As I let the axe fly, I had the distinct feeling—demon intuition or just regular sensing—that people were watching us. Me and Collum, the item. Which was the whole point, of course. The plan was working. But I really didn't mind showing off, a little bit.

  The axe whipped through the air, tumbling end over end with frightening speed, and then thwack, buried its dagger-sharp point right to the left of the bullseye.

  "Ooh, rough one," Collum said. "I'm afraid you're not going to be the champion this time, Donovan."

  "Just you wait," I said. I went back for my mead. Because honestly, I was enjoying myself. This felt like the most normal thing I'd done in...I couldn't remember how long. Since Chaos had struck, for sure, but maybe since I'd come to Hades. There was this stability I felt around Collum, this sense of surety.

  But was it just because this was all fake, with rules, goals, and—presumably—some kind of shelf life?

  Or was it despite it?

  We went for another few rounds, both of axes and of mead, the underground range of the Bronze Blade growing louder and chattier as more and more demons flowed in and more and more mead was consumed. Morgan actually did get better the more she drank, while Matthias, her poor date, really didn't seem to have a talent for it.

  "It's all right, dude," Collum said, clapping Matthias on the shoulder after his axe barely took some fibers off the very top of the target. "These girls are just having beginner's luck."

  Morgan responded by almost pushing Matthias out of the way and sinking a dead bullseye.

  Collum looked back at me, eyebrows raised. I giggled, and I am not a giggler. That was when it occurred to me that the mead was really taking its toll on me.

  Also, I had to pee.

  "Be right back," I called to my friends, where Morgan was halfheartedly trying to show Matthias how to grip his axe properly, clearly not interested in the flirtatious possibilities of the interaction. I didn't exactly know where the bathroom was, but I was invested with that kind of tipsy courage that if I just walked purposefully up the stairs to the main floor and the general store, I'd either spot the doors instantly or someone would intuit what I was after and point me in the right direction. The stairs back up were treacherous, but I felt pretty stable—maybe that was demon magic too, I thought. All over I felt warm and content, and I almost wished we could stay here forever. Could we get a demon AirBnB in Westrock? Did I really have to go back to class?

  I clomped up the last few stairs to the store area and looked around. The shelves were packed with all the mysterious doodads like they had been before, and I found myself irresistibly drawn to touch some of the elegant blank, DIY spellbooks they had laid out on a table right next to me—desperate to pee or not, I've always loved the feel of a good notebook.

  The sound of two low, male voices caught my attention. These weren't more people coming to throw axes—it almost sounded, from the tone of it, like they were conducting some kind of mafioso deal. Emboldened by my liquid courage, I glanced over to the counter area to see just what was up, and then, after a brilliant flash of inspiration, picked up one of the books I was browsing and held it open so that only my eyes were visible over the top. Perfect disguise, I congratulated myself. Good thinking.

  Then my eyes widened.

  Because, of course, it was Wilder at the counter.

  I could only see him from behind, but there was no mistaking that broad-shouldered frame and crop of blonde hair. The guy behind the counter, who was dignified and sharp-looking, with hair the color of a firetruck, looked left and right and left again before whispering a response to his question. On the surface between them was a small, black case, just like the one Wilder had at my exetasis.

  Or maybe it was the same one.

  Book held over my face, I took another two steps forward, heel-toeing it so that my Docs wouldn't make a sound. Fortunately, there was some kind of drums-and-bagpipes-y demon music playing from some unseen source, so I didn't feel like I was too noticeable. What kind of stuff had Wilder given me during the exetasis? I tried to remember. The crystal, definitely—amethyst. The sickle, made of silver. And the wand. Rhabdos. Whatever.

  For some reason, the name struck me as hilarious enough that I snorted. Snorted just as the music paused, right before its final dramatic swell.

  Wilder whipped around, lasering in on me immediately.

  "Nova?"

  And I, in all my probably-legit-drunken genius, responded by raising the book up over my whole face.

  It was a stupid move, which I realized as soon as I did it. Not only did it make me look like an idiot, and basically confirm that I was trying to hide from him, but there was no way my giant hair was going to fit behind the book, no matter how splayed-out I held the spine. I almost regretted all the mead I'd consumed—almost.

  Swift, hard footsteps. The book was pushed down from my face.

  "How long have you been there?" Wilder's face was taut, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. Or obsidian. Ha—exetasis joke, get it? I chuckled a little.

  "Nova? Answer me."

  I snapped to attention. What the hell was wrong with me?

  "Nothing," I said. "I mean...not long. I'm just here with some friends...Collum. My boyfriend. We're throwing axes. You know, in the thing in the basement. I came up because I had to..."

  Wilder's eyes didn't glow red like his half-brother's, but if they could have, they would have. The expression on his face was a kind of naked fury the likes of which I'd barely ever seen on
another human, let alone a full-blood demon.

  Fear shot down my spine. My fear. Followed by a desperate hope that Raines could feel it, too. He was the only one who'd understand the danger I was in. Might be in.

  He might be the only one who could really save me from his brother.

  "I need to make one thing clear, Nova," he said. "What I do outside of class, or outside of our sessions, is none of your business. I don't take kindly to being monitored like this."

  "I wasn't..." I choked. "I wasn't monitoring. I was looking at notebooks." I held up the evidence. "See? It's just so pretty."

  "Don't," Wilder snapped. "Don't pull an innocent, shallow, simple girl act on me. You're too smart for that and we both know it."

  I'm too buzzed for this, I thought. And I wasn't pulling an act—was I? Then again, con games were kind of my thing. God, none of my feelings made sense to me anymore.

  "Nova?"

  My heart flooded with gratitude before I even fully placed the voice. I spun around to see Morgan, my best friend, my savior, my angel—well, not literally, I guess—coming up the basement stairs after me.

  "There you are," she went on. "We thought you'd gotten lost. You found the toilets? Because I'm desperate."

  Her gaze flickered to Wilder, who rearranged his features into something calmer a microsecond too late. Nothing got by Morgan, that much I knew. But if she did catch on, she didn't betray it in her expression.

  She nodded, a sunny smile spread over her lips. "All right, Professor Frost?" she said cheerfully. "Where's that loo, then, Noves?"

  "Over there." The firetruck-hair guy from behind the counter pointed a spindly finger at a set of doors in the back corner of the store.

  "Thanks," I said, and made for them as quickly as my legs would carry me. Morgan caught up with me, and immediately filled the room with chatter about Matthias and what was he on about and what did I think of him and a thousand other questions that I answered fairly vaguely, but hopefully in a friendly way.

  "That Collum, though, eh?" She nudged my shoulder as we washed our hands in identical copper basins. "He's a goner."

  "Really?" My mind almost stalled out shifting gears.

  "Sure," Morgan said. "I mean, look at the way he looks at you. And those little axe-throwing tutorials—you're honestly disgusting me."

  It was all I could do to smile. "Thanks." I dried my hands. "Let's get back to our boys, shall we?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  We spent another hour or so at the Bronze Blade before calling it a night—well, as soon as Morgan had had ample time to peruse the demon skincare section and selected some choice products. Another few rounds of chucking sharp objects at things calmed me down a little, and by the time we were back in the common room, I felt almost relaxed again—almost.

  "Thanks for the date," Collum said, loosening his scarf. I saw him glance to the corner, where the Infernal Two-Thirds were engaged in a game of demon chess that Raines, at least according to what I could intuit from his feelings, was very intent upon.

  "You're very welcome," I said. "Thanks for suggesting that place. It was..." My voice hitched just a little.

  "You all right?" Collum said, not unkindly. "You can tell me if you hated it, you know. No sense in keeping secrets."

  "No, no, it was great. Really," I said, and meant it. The date and the axes and Morgan almost murdering Matthias had all been, genuinely, wonderful. There was no need to bring anything else into it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. A certain raven-haired third-year demon pouting on her armchair, trying to appear nonchalant while all the while death-staring her ex-boyfriend.

  Collum noticed it too. Of course he did.

  "Listen," he said, leaning in close and speaking low. "Would you mind..."

  "Roger that," I said, and grabbed him close for a long, lingering hug. I didn't know if a liplock-free embrace was going to be enough to piss off Aramind, but I wasn't going to push any further. That was in the rules.

  Besides, as soon as I nestled myself in Collum's arms—really playing it up for show, I told myself—I felt a sour ache in my chest, like heartburn cranked up to 100. I swallowed a few times, but it wouldn't go away.

  Raines.

  As I disentangled myself from Collum—who, it really bears repeating, smelled awfully good—I shot a glance at Raines that hopefully said, Dude, come on. He snapped his eyes back to the game board, and I felt his feelings ebb back to intense concentration. At least he was getting a little better at compartmentalizing.

  Across the room, Aramind's face went positively putrid-looking. It was all I could do not to high-five Collum. I wasn't sure if this skill would transfer anywhere else in life, but damn, I was a good fake girlfriend.

  We were a good fake couple.

  "Goodnight, then, Donovan." Collum flashed his grin.

  I saluted. "Right back atcha, Tavish."

  SUNDAY, MORGAN DECIDED, was time for a spa day.

  "I'm miserably hungover, for starters," she said into a heaping full English breakfast in the refectory, "and I picked up some ace volcanic ash face masks yesterday that I'm dying to try out. Not all of us can have your poreless skin, Nova."

  I frowned. "Can't demons just magic their skin smooth, or something?"

  Morgan sighed and threw a look at Teddy, who was stirring his cornflakes halfheartedly. I felt kind of bad that we hadn't invited him along, but then again, where was Teddy going to get a date?

  "Honestly, you half-humans." She shook her head. "We still have skin and sebaceous glands, Nova. See?" She leaned over right into my personal space and stretched her undereye skin. "Dark circles! I look exhausted."

  Teddy said something low under his breath.

  "What was that?" I said.

  "I said you're not the only one," Teddy said. "Is anyone else feeling like this semester's kicking our ass more than last?"

  I took a glance around the room. The kyrioi stationed around the edges of the refectory just felt like part of the furniture or something now—not something I really noticed.

  "Not just us," Morgan said. "The profs have got to be feeling it too."

  I wasn't sure if she was alluding to Wilder in the store the day before, but then she plunged on.

  "I mean, what was up with Mantel's class the other day? What d'you think Dean Harlowe wants with her? Is this like that...what's the thing Lattimore mentioned in Human History last semester? The Red Scare? Is Dean Harlowe trying to round up all the subversives so that we'll get off probation?"

  "That sounds pretty...sinister," I said. "Plus, Professor Mantel doesn't strike me as a dissenter type. She hasn't really tried to recruit us into an uprising or anything, has she?"

  "So far as we know," Morgan said grimly. "I'm just saying, the way they took her out of class the other day was awfully suspicious. Wouldn't be surprised if she started showing dark circles, if you know what I mean." She sipped her tea. "Just kidding, that woman's skin is flawless. I wonder how she does it."

  "Do you want to join our spa day, Teddy?" I said, since it seemed like the least we could do. “It’ll help us relax.”

  Teddy got a strange look on his face. "A spa day? Seriously?"

  I felt weirdly defensive. "Yeah, why not? Morgan's got a whole hoard of stuff."

  "No, I'm fine," Teddy said, a little brusquely. "I think I'm going to just go to the library, actually. See you ‘round."

  He got up from the table, shouldered his satchel, and left. Morgan frowned.

  "Wonder what that's all about. Maybe he doesn't want to insult his manliness with some quality skincare. But you're still down, right?"

  I nodded. "Of course."

  Fifteen minutes later, we were sprawled out on our dorm room four-poster beds, black gunk spread across our cheeks, noses, and foreheads, and some relatively soothing demon music playing out of what looked like a brass seashell, but what Morgan told me was top-of-the-line demon media technology.

  "Is it supposed to burn?" I a
sked. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, sort of like a fresh pepperminty sensation, but I couldn't help but wonder how that would translate to Raines's interpretation of my feelings. Hell, maybe it'd help him relax. He could use it, if my heartburn last night was any indication.

  "I think so." Morgan picked up the jar, squinting. "I can't read the writing. It's in Cyrillic or something."

  "Maybe we should ask Aleksandr," I joked, since the blonde, snobby-looking member of the Infernal Three was the only Russian I knew.

  “I’ll leave that to you,” Morgan said, lying back on her bed. “Noves, I know I’m an incurable gossip, but can we seriously talk about Collum?”

  A jolt of energy stabbed right in my heart. “Uh...sure. Only if we can talk about Matthias first, though.”

  “Argh.” Morgan started to bury her face in her hands, then remembered she was wearing very expensive face cream. “Can we not, actually? I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s really not much of a conversationalist. Or much of an anything.”

  “He’s cute,” I said. “In a real way, not just a Teddy way.”

  She threw a pillow at me. “Seriously, Nova. Talk to me. You and this Collum Tavish have about as little interaction as any two randos at this school, and all of a sudden you’re dating? It’s just a bit...well, I don’t want to say fast, but it surprised me, is all. And I’m your best friend.”

  Guilt twisted in my stomach—something I really wished Raines wouldn’t be able to feel. I knew I had to keep up the lie for both of our safety, but that didn’t mean I was going to like it at times like this.

  “I mean, there’s a lot about him to like,” I said, truthfully. “And...I don’t know, when he asked me to date, I realized there was a lot I hadn’t really experienced in life, like having a normal boyfriend. I’ve never had that kind of, well, social experience, for lack of a better word. And he’s...he smells good,” I blurted out, blushing under my mask. Morgan cackled.

  “Nova, you are adorable when you get down to girl talk brass tacks.” She sighed. “No, no, I get it. I mean, I would say yes if he asked me, too, you know? But aren’t you worried that maybe...maybe you’re a rebound? I mean, he seemed pretty devastated by Aramind. Almost as mopey as Raines.”