Defiance

fourth year of schooling.

Great. One more thing to feel happy about. Not.

“You’re lucky. Drbarnak—those things—are nasty.” He arranged his knife and fork with prissy exactitude, picked up his fork, and spun some spaghetti around the tines. The pasta writhed against itself as if alive, drenched in marinara.

I didn’t want to think about it. And if he wasn’t going to say anything else about the daylight runs, I wasn’t going to, either. I know a peace offering when I see one. “Lucky.” I tried not to laugh, half-burped, and made a weird strangled noise. “Yeah. Listen, Benjamin . . .”

“Huh?” He forked up a cartload of pasta, slurped it down. His gaze kept moving, roving over every surface in the cafeteria. He’d chosen a spot where he could see the entrances, a wall behind us, and locked doors on either side.

Knowing why he’d done that didn’t make it better. It was exactly where Dad would have chosen to sit, too. Civilians don’t think like that.

I want to get out. I want to get away. “Nothing.”

For a boy with such a prissy way of laying out his fork, he certainly ate like a bandit. He swallowed a load of spaghetti large enough to be floating the Hudson on its own barge. “Christophe won’t get mad at you, you know. You can do pretty much whatever you want. He’s, uh. You know. He’s just like that. He’s old-fashioned.”

“Old-fashioned.” I picked at the cellophane. What kind of sandwich was this? I didn’t even remember.

“Yeah. He thinks we should protect . . . You know, you shouldn’t be bothered with stuff while you’re training.”

“Stuff like people trying to kill me?” I’d put a banana on my tray, too. That, at least, didn’t remind me of anything trying to kill me. Could you kill someone with a banana? It didn’t seem possible. Maybe a possessed banana. I’d seen possessed pets before, but not possessed fruit. But I’ll bet it’s out there somewhere. “Or other stuff?”

He coughed a little, twirled more spaghetti. “Come on, Dru. Once Reynard decides about someone, he’s loyal. I never believed all those rumors about him working for his father.”

“Yeah. He’s some angel, all right.” I set the banana back down. My stomach had closed up. Now not only was I hungry and unable to eat, but I also felt like an idiot for screaming at the one person I should’ve been able to trust. Hadn’t he proved as much, over and over again?

He’d always arrived just in the nick of time. And there were the times he did things like . . .

Like holding the knifepoint against his own chest and telling me not to hesitate. Like forcing me to drink his blood after Anna shot me and I lay dying.

Like kissing me so hard I felt it in my toes.

So that’s it, huh? He swaps spit with you and all of a sudden you’re not into Goth Boy anymore? How do you know how you feel now? Graves is somewhere out there, he’s probably being tortured, and he’s betting on you finding him. Here you are playing footsies with Christophe. You told him you didn’t even like Christophe that way!

Oh, God. Now I was going to start thinking about that, too, and getting even more tangled up. I pushed my chair back with a long linoleum-scrape sound. “I’m going to my room. No, stay here and eat your spaghetti.”

Benjamin was already halfway to his feet. “I’m supposed to—”

“Leon’s right over there.” I pointed at the hall where I could feel a djamphir lurking. The touch told me who it was, too, like picking out where in America you were from the quality of the radio static. “I’m getting better at spotting you guys.”

Benjamin relaxed a little. Lowered himself back down slowly, with one quick longing glance at his plate. He was pretty much always hungry. The other djamphir on his crew were the same way, almost wulflike in their urge to chow down at every possible opportunity. “You sure you don’t want me to—”

“I’m sure. I just want to go up and lock my door.” And cry. Or try to cry. Funny how I don’t seem to have any tears left. Just this lump in my throat and a serious case of water blindness.

He didn’t look convinced, but he did take another mouthful of spaghetti. I felt his eyes on me all the way across the cafeteria’s empty expanse, each table sitting neatly with chairs around it, like a hen brooding over chicks.

The hall I’d pointed at looked empty, sure. Heavy hunter-green velvet drapes, marble busts, dark wood wainscoting—and a little patch of wall a few doors down that shouted don’t look at me.

“I can see you, Leon. So cut it out.” I didn’t even bother to glance at him as I swept past.

He caught up with me easily, swiping his lank mousy hair back from his forehead. Of all Benjamin’s crew, he was the only one who wasn’t classically handsome. He would’ve been cute, if he hadn’t fought it so hard. “Getting better, fräulein. Soon I might have to start trying.”

“Blow me.” I was really feeling savage. It’s hard to get a satisfying snit on when you’re barefoot.

“No way. Christophe would have a fit.” He gave his sarcastic little laugh, and I lengthened my stride a little. Heat rose in my cheeks. “Oh, I see. Trouble in paradise?”

He was so not going to analyze me. “Didn’t I just tell you to blow me?”

“What’s gotten into you?” He sighed. “Other than getting attacked by tentacles during your shower, that is. Or is it something else? Something missing? Something perhaps tall, and not so hairy, with green eyes?”

I rounded on him, my fists itching and my teeth tingling. Leon stepped back, his hands raised.

There was no sardonic smile. He looked deadly serious, and if you’ve ever seen a lank-haired, average-looking djamphir look serious, you know it’s not comforting. Especially if you’ve seen him in action. Christophe treated him almost like an equal, which was thought-provoking in its own way. “Easy, svetocha. I’m not blind or stupid. I am, however, a very good guesser.”

“They can’t find him.” The words burst out of me. “They can’t find him, and I don’t even know if they’re really looking. They can’t even find Anna, and she’s not likely to keep a low profile. They have to know where Sergej is, or at least have a good guess. But Christophe says it’ll take months to get me ready. Months. The same thing he said a month ago.”

Leon nodded, his hands dropping. Said nothing, just waited for me to finish.

I appreciated it. But he wasn’t who I wanted to be talking to.

I wanted Graves. I wanted my Goth Boy in his long black coat, with his goddamn cigarettes and his sarcastic little asides and his green eyes and the way he made me feel like I could handle this shit. I wanted to hear him breathing in the middle of the night, from his sleeping bag. I wanted to see him in the morning while he teased me about always being late. Girl can’t ever get out the door on time, don’t worry Dru, first one’s free, and all the little things he did. Like pecking me on the cheek before walking off to class.

What’s that saying? You don’t know what you got until it’s gone? Yeah. Sure. I hadn’t even known what we had while he was around.

I swallowed, hard. “He could be Broken. Or dead.” I stared at Leon’s narrow chest. And it’s my fault.

“Then we need to be sure you won’t join him.” Leon didn’t shrug, but his tone was dismissive.

“Sure, he’s just a loup-garou, right? One step up from a wulfen, but still a second- class citizen.” I pushed back my damp hair, twisting it up. It would come unraveled as soon as I took two steps, but I twisted it into a bun. Tighter and tighter, slippery against my fingers. The more I twisted it, the better I liked the almost-pain. “I know the score, Leontus. I’m getting some shoes and I’m going to visit Ash.”

He shrugged. “Visiting the Broken won’t make you feel better. And don’t you have an appointment with Taft for Aspect Mastery?”

“What’s the point? I’m not fricking bloomed yet, Christophe’s going to come looking for me and we’re going to have another fight, he’s not even going to let me out of my room without a guard, I’ll bet they’re not even looking for Graves, and all of this is fucking useless!”

Yelling. Again. Like it would solve anything.

He cocked his head, going still in that way older djamphir have. That’s sometimes how you can tell the old ones—the way they go immobile, like a cat with one paw in the air, considering something.