Defiance

It’s like they forget their bodies are there while their attention turns inward. When he was still like this, you could see where he’d be handsome if he would get a different haircut and stop with the wallflower act. Even Benjamin seemed to sometimes forget Leon was around, until he opened his mouth and delivered a sarcastic little bite.

I liked that about him.

When he finished thinking, his chin dropped a millimeter and he looked at me. “There’s a simple enough way to find out if they’re truly looking for him, Dru.”

I couldn’t help myself. I looked over my shoulder, nervously. Checking to make sure nobody else was in the hall. Benjamin couldn’t hear us on the other side of the caf, and he would be more interested in his spaghetti anyway.

Leon gave a little half-snort of almost-laughter. “Don’t worry, I’m one of the few Reynard trusts on my own around you. Well, are you interested?”

I let go of my hair, wet curls slithering through my fingers. My stomach settled, like a fish giving up the fight and drowning on dry land. “I’m all ears.”

“Formally charge me, as a member of your Guard, with finding out.” A humorless smile—his lips never relaxed; they stayed bloodless-thin all the time. It kind of looked like he was constantly sucking on something astringent. “A private commission, from a svetocha to a Kouroi who has sworn obedience. If you trust me that far.”

My mouth snapped shut. I thought it over hard, eyeing him. “Great. Perfect. How do I do that?”

His mouth twitched. He rolled his shoulders back in their sockets, once, precisely. His jeans looked battered and his sneakers weren’t much better—it was a wonder Benjamin didn’t fuss over him about his clothes. Or Nathalie. “Consider it done. Give me a week to find out. Can you wait that long?”

Normally, I’d’ve jumped on it. But I stood there for a few more seconds, considering him.

“Very good,” he said finally. “You’re beginning to weigh people instead of judging them solely on instinct. That’s a relief.”

Wonders never ceased. “You’re not just going to turn around and tell Christophe all about this, are you?” Because he seems to know everything I do anyway.

He actually looked amused. At least, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. “I’d be in more trouble than you could imagine if he knew I’d even suggested it. I’ll consider it a formal commission, then. Come on, let’s get you some princess slippers so you can go consort with your faithful dog.”

I fell into step beside him. Was it relief I was feeling? That lightness under my heart, right next to the empty hole that had opened up when I figured out Dad wasn’t coming back? “Every time I think I like you, Leon, you say something like that.”

“It wouldn’t do to get too fond of me, Milady.” He shook his hair back down over his face. “Those you get too fond of seem to have a dreadful time of it.”

“Fuck you too,” I muttered, and that shut him up. It was funny, though.

I was still feeling relieved.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The heavy, barred iron door was pitted with rust, but still solid. Down here the halls were stone, no paneling to soften them up. No velvet draperies, no marble busts, no bookcases or lockers. Every school has industrial places, where they don’t bother even slapping on a coat of paint. Usually that’s the best place to slip around if you don’t want to be seen.

But I was down here for another reason.

The door was locked, the key hanging on a nail. I had to go on tiptoes to grab it. It was high enough that a wulfen in changeform could reach it easily. Which was thought-provoking, really.

Leon stepped back. A low, throbbing growl rattled the entire huge iron thing, but I was in no mood for it. “Stop that,” I snapped, and the growl petered out. “You know it’s me. Jeez.”

“He’s reacting to me.” Leon retreated further and leaned against the wall a good fifteen feet away. He closed his eyes and, to all appearances, settled into a light doze.

I wasn’t fooled, but I did appreciate the privacy.

I pushed the door open. It groaned, despite me oiling the hinges the first night we’d brought him down here. It was way too heavy to do anything else.

At least he’d stopped throwing himself against the walls every night. And he’d recovered from taking on three vampires at once. It had been touch and go there for a while, but he’d made it.

I could feel good about that, even though I hadn’t had anything to do with it, right? It had been all Dibs, patching him up and fighting for his life.

Ash greeted me with a low whine, his narrow head dropping. The pale streak running along his left temple glowed in the light coming in from the hall’s fluorescents. The crusted seepage along his jaw, where I’d shot him with one of Dad’s silver-grain bullets, was slowly healing. Nobody was sure if the silver still buried in his flesh and bone was interfering with Sergej’s control of him—his master’s call, Christophe would say, grimly. If his body expelled the silver and I was in the room with him . . .

. . . well, they called him the Broken for a reason. Broken to the will of the king of the vampires. I was looking at something Graves might become, only he wouldn’t get all hairy, unable to change back into a boy.

Nobody could tell me quite what would happen. Not even Nat, and she was probably the only person I could bring myself to say anything about this to. I hadn’t yet, though. I was working up to it.

I even had the note in my bedroom, locked away in a vanity drawer, Sergej’s spidery handwriting in scratchy, rusty-red ink. Since you have taken my Broken, I will break another.

The room was actually a cell. There was a long narrow metal shelf that served as a bed, and he hadn’t shredded the last blanket I’d brought down. The bowl his nightly meal had come in was licked clean and shoved in a corner, and that was an improvement too. There was a toilet bowl, but I didn’t look at that. Instead, I stamped across the cell to the shelf bed, picked up the plaid blanket, and shook it out. Folded it in quick swipes. “You’ve stopped tearing them up. That’s great.”

Ash settled back on his haunches. Almost eight feet of pretty-unstoppable werwulf regarded me with his head cocked to one side. He looked for all the world like a golden retriever wanting to play but afraid to ask.

“All sorts of fun. First I get beat up, then I get attacked by the Spaghetti Monster. Only not so nice, and it’s not so much fun to fight off loads of spaghetti when you’re naked in the shower. You ever had that happen to you? Probably not.” I dropped down on the bed, holding the heavy blanket awkwardly. I’d done a sloppy job folding it; the edges were all messy. Gran wouldn’t approve.

Maybe I could even introduce a mattress now. Big fun down here, between the Broken and me. Both of us useless. At least, he was useless to Sergej. Or so we hoped.

Ash was pretty useful when it came to saving my bacon, though.

The Broken werwulf settled down further. If he’d had stand-up ears, they would have drooped.

“We’re a good team, you know.” I didn’t look directly at him. I know enough about stray dogs not to do that. He inched closer, moving with slow supple grace. “We kicked a sucker’s ass last night, didn’t we?”

He made a low whining noise. Cocked his head. He was really good at telling when I was upset. Funny, he was about the only boy who reliably could. Or who knew to keep his yap shut when I was.

Of course, the fact that his jaw wasn’t made for talking in changeform probably had something to do with it.

It was about between midnight and one, almost lunchtime for the rest of the Schola. If I was where I was supposed to be, I’d be sitting on a stool in an empty classroom, trying to make the aspect show up on command while the tutor lectured me. Christophe would show up, too, and add his two cents.

Abruptly, my skin itched. It was night out there. The Schola had a lot of green space. I couldn’t wait for another daylight run, even if the djamphir did tag along all invisible. Now I could see if I could catch them doing it, and figuring out how to be invisible . . . well, that would be a skill worth having, wouldn’t it.