orite time of night, when the streetlights can barely compete with the darkness. It’s a time to think.
The unavoidable truth has shown itself. The Seelie never used to cross these kinds of lines. Tricks and pranks between Winter and Summer fae were common, a safe way for us to push each other’s limits. The glory came from avoiding physical harm, not causing it. As long as it didn’t disrupt the academic setting or negatively impact other students, Dean Tanaka usually let such matters slide, trusting the faerie monarchs to mete out justice if anything went a bit too far. That’s probably why he doesn’t understand how this is different. In my time on campus, I’ve never seen a student physically assaulted on campus grounds. If they went after Ripthorn and receive no punishment, they’ll find other Unseelie. They may start harassing our allies, as well. Friends from other Pantheons. People like—
A low, buzzing hum vibrates down my spine.
Smith?
My steps falter and I glance up. About a hundred yards away, the library stands, an island of warm light in an ocean of shadow. Herne and the hunters, how did I end up here?
I turn, determined to walk away, to ignore the uneven tug of Smith’s magick, when the library’s door opens. Out walks the idiot, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down. He must have fled the apartment so quickly he didn’t even bother to take his work with him.
The sizzle of the ley line’s energy reaches my glamour in spite of the distance between us. I run a hand over my arm to ease the sensation and wonder if anything else can sense the alluring promise of his magick. Wonder if even now something other than me crouches in the darkness and watches him.
Walk away. Following him will only lead to trouble. He’s not yours.
I wait until his silhouette’s nearly vanished before following after him.
Phineas
A sharp prickling around my ankle as something tightens its grip, using my step forward to yank me off balance. Flashes of light spark behind my eyelids when my chin hits the dirt. The jarring impact slams my mouth shut and the cloying coppery salt of blood drowns me.
There’s no time to focus on that. Whatever snatched me is hauling me deeper into the garden. The damp grass tickles my stomach as my shirt rides up. I focus on kicking with my free foot, attempting to roll myself onto my back so I can at least see what the hell I’m supposed to be fighting.
We’re rapidly approaching the covered trellis that leads into the garden proper. Once I’ve been dragged off the main path and find myself alone in the darkness with this thing... Past experiences have proven that is when things try to eat me.
I spread my arms wide, digging my fingertips into the grass. We’re turning, which is bad. The curve necessary to pull me that direction brings me close to the edge of the path and I finally can snag a hold of the base of one of the hedges, which is good. So much pressure against my shoulder, against my tenuous grip. Gotta take advantage of this.
I haul my free leg up, pushing off with my toe so I can get my other hand around the trunk. Arms and leg working in tandem to haul me forward against the grip on my ankle.
My sudden movement must surprise my attacker, because the prickling against my skin eases. I grit my teeth and yank my trapped leg. The hold vanishes and I half-fall, half-somersault away. A quick adjustment and I manage to pop back up into an upright stance.
It’s dark here. I need to see what this thing is. I need light.
Illuminating charm from freshman year. The ley line jumps at the request and the tiny amount of magick I try to tap into transforms into a freaking geyser. The ghostlight I’m supposed to summon doesn’t appear. Instead, a nearby bush goes up in a blaze.
Crap.
Focus on the positives. Okay, I’ve got light. Not how I wanted, but it’s better than nothing. Trying to blink away the spots, I search for whatever wants to kill me. First rule of magickal combat: You’ve got to see what you’re fighting if you want the hexes to land correctly.
The firelight flickers and jumps around the garden. Ghastly shapes twist and snarl around me, false shadow enemies. Just beyond that circle of illumination there’s something else, something big and sinuous hovering out of sight, waiting for a moment to strike.
A flash at my right. I spin, trying to catch the movement, but miss it. A squelching pop from behind. Pivot that way. Miss it again. Around and around until I grow dizzy. I stop moving so I don’t lose my balance and realize the bush is half-consumed.
This thing is playing with me, waiting for my protection to burn out so it can finish me off. Well, fuck that. I shift closer to the bush as the light’s reach lessens.
“Yeah,” I call, “I’m not that stupid. If you want to eat me, you’re going to need to show me your ugly face.”
Silence but for the crackling of the fire at my back. Then there’s a painful creaking, like muscles and bones grinding against each other. A paw appears from the shadows. At least I think it’s a paw. It’s flayed, dark red muscle, yellow veins, white tendons pushing and pulling and flexing while black blood drips over them, creating a viscous layer to cover the skinless flesh. Sharp white claws spike into the grass.
I follow the paw up the thickly muscled leg, higher. A shoulder, curving and slipping into the light with catlike grace. Its face will haunt me if I survive. Double row of black eyes edged in yellow, short snout, and a wide jaw, too wide for anything I know. And teeth. Rows and rows of shark teeth, gnashing and grinding.
Holy fuck.
The ley line has surfaced so close that it scorches the soles of my feet through the thin layer of earth.
No explosions this time. Don’t destroy another part of the school in your final year.
The hell beast snarls at me. Fire. Most things don’t like fire. The current of power churns beneath me and I wince when I reach in to draw out enough for a protective spell. It’s unstable in the face of the imminent threat and I can barely think of a hex fast enough to shape its intent before I have to fling it away, shaking my hands against the lingering burn. The monster flinches, but the hex bounces off its nose and fizzles out in the damp grass.