Jealousy

The chairs faced south, and in front of them, set to the left, was a sort of enclosure. Waist-high railings of dark antique wood, carved with crosses and hearts, marched in a square around hard pew benches. Christophe opened a little gate-thingie and pointed me in with a half-bow. “If you please, skowroneczko moja. Stay here.”

Leon followed me, and when I settled down in the first row, he chose the seat right behind me and a little to the left. Christophe leaned on the railing in front of me. “Whatever happens, Dru, don’t worry. I don’t think anyone can harm you with the entire Order in attendance.”

I didn’t say anything. Who knew how many of them had some grudge against me, for whatever reason? Anna hated me, and seeing Christophe wasn’t guaranteed to put her in a good mood either.

I had other things to worry about, too.

If Graves was here we could have a whole conversation in a split second just by giving each other one of those Significant Looks. It’s not just anyone you can do that with.

But there was that scrap of material in my pocket. As soon as I was alone, I could clear my head out and see if it could lead me anywhere. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d found someone using the touch.

It would, however, be the first time I’d found someone without Dad.

“I mean it,” Christophe persisted. “You’re safe. I promise.”

More djamphir trickled in. I could feel their eyes on me. New girl again, for the three thousandth time. Christophe watched my face, searching it like he expected to find gold there.

“Don’t worry about me,” I finally said. “Really. I’m more worried about you.” And even more worried about where Graves is.

“Are you?” A fey smile lit his face, and I caught my breath. It was a shock to see him look so happy. “Well, then.”

Leon leaned forward, I felt the movement even though he didn’t touch me. “Here comes Benjamin. Don’t look surprised.”

Benjamin stamped across the stone, his face a thundercloud. He pushed past Christophe, through the little gate, and dropped into the pew on my other side. “Goddamn it.” It was a jail-yard whisper; his lips barely moved. “Nobody knows anything. What the hell is going on?”

“Have you found Graves?” I didn’t care if everyone heard me. “Please tell me you found him.”

I knew he hadn’t even before he shook his head, dark eyes moving over the crowd. “His personal effects are still in your chamber, Milady. Torn apart and spattered with nosferatu ichor, but still there. Wherever he went, he didn’t take his clothes with him. Shanks was the last person to see him. Can’t find hide or hair of him anywhere. Thomas and George are still looking, but you won’t be lacking protection. I’ve got two other crews on standby, and I’ll vouch for them personally.”

My face tightened up on its bones. If they had what the hell in the dictionary, my expression right then would be the perfect picture. “I know he left his clothes. There was a place, outside the gym—” The words stumbled over each other, trying to get out in time to tell him that I’d seen where Graves went right after—

“Shh.” Benjamin made a quick shushing motion with his left hand. “I think something’s . . . no, I guess not. Not yet.”

A hush fell over the assembled djamphir. The crowd had grown while I wasn’t looking. The glass dome above filled with sunset, pink clouds and orange glow like a blind multicolored eye. Just figures that the ceiling would be staring at me, too. Jesus.

Every time I looked around there were more djamphir. When there’s a whole sea of them looking at you, you can get to see some faint similarities in bone structure, no matter the skin color. Bright eyes, and whispering passed through them. The aspect went in waves over the crowd, fangs peeping out and hair changing shades.

Have you ever heard a cornfield on a breezy afternoon? Or been out on the Great Plains and seen waist-high grass when the wind moves over it, brushing it like hair? Watching the aspect in a crowd is vaguely like both. I hunched my shoulders. But Christophe was right in front of me, leaning on the barrier, and every once in awhile a stray breath of apple-pie scent would brush me.

I won’t lie. It was comforting. But my roving gaze kept getting snagged on the chair hung with red fabric.

“Wulfen.” Leon was leaning forward, his arms crossed on the back of my pew. “They’re watching closely, too. Want to bet why?”

“It’s insulting.” Benjamin’s jaw set like concrete, and the emo-boy swoop over his eyes ran with auburn highlights.

“It’s not personal.” Leon actually snorted a little, laughing. “They don’t trust anyone. I don’t blame them.”

I saw Zeke in a sapphire silk button-down, his blue eyes dark with worry. I actually lifted a hand and waved at him a little and instantly regretted it. He actually blushed, dropping his eyes, and a couple of his friends elbowed him. Someone laughed, and my cheeks were hot.

There went my Sunday coffee date. It wasn’t like I was really counting on it, but damn.

Leon laughed again, a weird choked chuckle, and I considered turning around and punching him in the face.

“Who’s that?” Christophe wanted to know, but I just slumped down in the pew and rolled my eyes.

“Nobody. He’s from my history class.” I wish Graves was here, dammit. No matter how this ended up, the first thing I was going to do when I got out of here was go looking for him. I was going to slip out of here somehow, anyhow, and follow the touch until it led me to him. I was going to find him and make everyone leave us alone long enough for me to tell him . . .

. . . what? What could possibly make this sort of thing better?

I didn’t know, but I’d find it. I’d say anything I had to, to make him understand.

The crowd went still again, but differently than before. When I looked up I saw why. The Council had arrived.

From left to right they stood in front of their chairs: Kir with his red hair echoing the flaming sky filling the glass, Marcus in another gray suit, and Bruce placed precisely one step out in front, halfway between his chair and the big red throne. On the other side, Alton looked somber as he folded his arms and looked out across the crowd, Hiro stared steadily down at me with something I think was supposed to be an encouraging expression, and Ezra pulled his sweater sleeves down and settled into watchful immobility.

I’d forgotten to breathe. I inhaled.

Bruce tilted his head a little. He didn’t have to yell; the words cut the silence like hot knife through butter. “The Kouroi are assembled. The Trial will begin.” His mouth turned down for a moment, like he was tasting something bitter. “Christophe Reynard, you stand accused of treason. Present yourself.”

Half of Christophe’s mouth quirked up. He stayed where he was for a few moments, looking intently at me, then straightened. Turned on his heel and paced toward the dais, where the crowd had magically melted away.

He moved out into that space like he owned every inch of it. “Isn’t the head of the Order supposed to be here?” It could have been possible to put a little more fuck you into his tone, but some of it might’ve slopped out the sides.

Kir stiffened. Hiro looked bored, but his eyes glittered. I knew that look, having seen it in a few bars where Dad took me, looking for information on the Real World while I sipped a Coke and ignored pretty much everything except whomever he was talking to.

“You’d think he’d learn to be tactful.” Leon’s whisper drifted to my right ear. “Breathe, Milady.”

“You will be judged by your peers, Reynard.” Hiro’s weight was all on the balls of his feet, and the aspect actually crackled around him. His hair stood up, short black spikes rubbing against each other.

I began to feel sick. Way deep-down sick.

“And who among you is my peer? My ancestry is ancient, and my deeds are taught