Jealousy

industrially prepared food, went silent as soon as I showed up. Djamphir, wulfen, they all stopped and stared at me. I stood right inside the doors for an uncomfortable ten seconds before Graves pushed me from behind and got me going again.

It was hard to eat with everyone staring. But Graves was there, looking around like he was enjoying himself. He put away a whole plate of pancakes, a mountain of hash browns, and a mound of crispy bacon in the time it took me to pick halfway through my cellophane-wrapped ham sandwich.

Good for him.

Leon led me through a labyrinth of quiet halls away from the sound of slamming lockers and male voices. The flooring changed to hardwood, and the marble busts came back, staring at me like I was an interloper. Long velvet drapes framing the windows were alive with the golden glow of dusk, the kind of light that lasts maybe five minutes before twilight falls and the Real World comes out to play.

I shivered. Pulled my hoodie closer around me, and zipped it up, too.

We ended up at a long dim windowless room with a mirror-polished conference table on the right side—the inner side—of the wall. The other side had windows, but the djamphir seemed to hold all their important meetings away from the windows. I’d thought they would want sunshine and fresh air—things suckers seem to hate. But on the other hand, I suddenly thought, it was harder to break into a windowless room. Or pick off someone with a rifle through a wall instead of a window.

I hate thinking things like that.

A slight, short brunet djamphir in a red T-shirt stood on one side of the door, his arms crossed. The shoulder holster he wore looked absurdly oversized, and his designer jeans looked painted on. He was pretty even for here, dark curls brushed back, wide liquid eyes in an almost feminine face.

Poor kid. I mean, I felt more boy than he looked. He would get a hard time in some of the high schools I’ve blown through.

If he was human, that is.

Leon glanced in, gave me an unreadable look, and stepped aside. “Safe enough, Milady.” He said it a little more loudly than he necessarily had to, and I stepped over the threshold.

And right into Uncomfortable City.

There, at the head of the table, sat Anna. The dimness turned her skin into poreless perfection, not a curly coppery-blonde hair was out of place, and her little red high-heeled boots were on the tabletop. She lounged there like she owned the whole room, a froth of petticoats covering her silk-stockinged legs.

And she smiled. “Oh, hello.” Bright as a new polished penny. “It’s Dru! Did you sleep well, dearie?”

Kir sat at her right, his shoulders hunched. He looked miserable, but he perked up a little when I came in. I wondered briefly if he dyed his hair to match Anna’s, but hers was russet gold and he was a carrottop. His was obviously natural, and if hers wasn’t, the Order probably had enough money to keep her in salon appointments for a long time.

Next to her, even the prettiest djamphir boys looked gawky. I felt myself turn even paler, more greasy-faced, and awkward.

Graves stepped into the room behind me, sniffed audibly, and stopped dead. I could almost feel him stiffening, his shoulders hunching.

I understood completely. I just did not like her.

I found my voice. “Like a log. How about you?” Or do you sleep in between knocking on people’s doors?

Her smile widened, pearly perfect teeth. When the aspect came over her she would have delicate little fangs. “Like a baby. I was just sitting here with darling Kir, hoping I could see you before you start orientation.” That smile was absolutely perfect, and it was kind of like looking at Christophe. I wanted to check for loose threads and stand up straight.

Except Christophe would never look at me like this. Not even the first moment I met him, when he drove Ash away and told me to go home. I’d thought he was a sucker then, and he didn’t scare me half as bad as this.

And that’s saying something.

How weird was it that this blonde bit of cheerleader was more terrifying than a gruesome death by sucker? It just goes to show my priorities were all whacked-out. It might’ve been all the excitement lately.

She scared me because I’ve seen her type all over the country. And if you’re not scared when they grin at you, or when they act friendly, you haven’t been paying attention and you deserve everything you get. Still, some of them are okay, just thoughtless and irritating without any real malice.

My jury was out on Anna’s malice level. But I’m cautious when it comes to things like that. I learned really quick that Dad didn’t understand girl cruelty. He understood when I got into fights, but if I came home sobbing after a run-in with a girl, where only words were exchanged . . . well, he didn’t get it.

Anna’s baby-blue gaze swung over, settling above my left shoulder. “And that must be Mr. Graves. My, aren’t you the handsome one? If I had a space free on my Guard, I might almost break with tradition and offer you a Trial challenge.”

Trial challenge? What? Probably some djamphir thing. I could ask Benjamin. Or Leon.

Just as soon as I got out of here.

Kir stiffened. He’d looked handsome in the Council room, but he was pale and his skin gleamed slightly. Was he sweating? That was weird.

I heard cloth moving—Graves was still in his long black coat—and the crinkle of paper and cellophane. Then, my God, the click of a lighter and a long inhale.

He was smoking. “That’s assuming,” he said quietly, “that I’d take it.”

Kir’s hands hit the tabletop, and he made as if to push himself up. The aspect folded over him, fangs sliding free and golden streaks spilling through his short hair, and I braced myself. I actually drew myself up as tall as I would go and stared at him.

There was no way I could match a djamphir past his drift, let alone one old and powerful enough to be on the Council. Still, I heard Dad’s voice, way back from the time before my whole life had turned upside down. This is where you do the starin’ down, before the throwin’ down, honey.

Dogs can smell fear, and people—or things from the Real World—are pretty much the same way. Predators have finely tuned antennae for terror. But ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a dog can also smell when you’re the alpha. It takes the same kind of flat look and decision to be fearless as facing down a bunch of jocks bent on harassing someone.

I just hoped I was giving Kir the staredown, and not an exhausted, oh my God look.

Anna eyed Kir for a long, taffy-stretching second. She made a soft, sliding motion with one hand, the lacquer on her nails glinting. “Oh, Kir. Relax. Mr. Graves has a sarcastic sense of humor. It’s something to appreciate in a man. Boy humor is so juvenile.”

The redheaded djamphir’s face scrunched up like he smelled something really bad. I caught Anna’s flash of a smirk before she looked directly past me at Graves. I’ve seen cheerleaders look at boys that way before.

It meant they were marking their next cut of prime rib. My heart gave a sick thump. If Graves wasn’t interested in me—or was only kind of interested—maybe he’d be interested in a girl who looked like a fashion model. No matter that she’d chew him up and spit him out. That kind always does.

Gee, Dru, you think you’re judging her by what she wears much? I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I was just judging her because I did not like her way down in my bones. It wasn’t fair.

“It wasn’t sarcasm.” Graves blew out a cloud of acrid smoke. “It was pointing out a fallacy in your logic, babe.”

Anna’s jaw actually dropped. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or push him out of the room. Way to go, Graves.

“I must be late.” A pleasant tenor, behind me. Hiro slid into the room, his footfalls eerily silent against the