Page 17
“The back would be great.” I’m more accustomed to isolation, and the cacophony of voices around me—excited chatter about nightly plans or who was seen dating who—is overwhelming, to say the least.
As we head up the stairs, Bree in the lead, me in the middle, and Ever behind me, gazes stray toward us and whispers start to build. Though, this time, they’re thankfully not about me.
“Hey, Ever,” some cocky shifter says as we pass, one foot on his chair and a forearm resting on his knee.
“Ugh, please, Ryker. You’re not one of my mates.”
“That’s not what my wolf says.”
She spares him a bored look. “Don’t make me alpha bark you. It’s too early in the morning to force you into submission.”
The guy simply smirks. “Your wolf can’t force me into submission, Ev. You know what that means.”
“That your days are numbered?” she asks, smiling sweetly as she delivers the threat. She turns to me and Bree. “Let’s go.”
Bree and I exchange confused looks before continuing up to a section close to the back of the room. We shuffle into the mostly empty aisle. After Ever’s encounter, I finally have some reprieve from the stares and gossip.
“What was that about?” I ask as I tug out the university-supplied laptop.
“Nothing,” she says, setting her computer on her desk.
“That was not nothing,” Bree murmurs, shaking her head and chuckling.
Ever crosses her arms, scowling at the guy who is watching her, one eyebrow lifted in challenge. They clearly have a history and not a good one.
A man with pallid skin and graying hair that’s short but a little on the side of shaggy strides in, distracting us all. He drops his tan briefcase onto the wooden desk with a snap and immediately goes to the whiteboard. I navigate to the classroom site as the professor grabs a marker and begins writing.
Knowing myself, I open a document to type in, otherwise I won’t pay attention. My fingers fly across the keyboard, mirroring what the professor has just finished scribbling.
Composition of Orders:
Bastion
Vanguard
Archive
Crucible
“Right, let’s get to it.” Turning, he scans the class with keen eyes. “The syllabus is in the virtual classroom, but let me reiterate my three rules. Do not speak when I’m speaking, or I will shut you up. When I ask questions, interact or I’ll make you, and no casting. Save that for the labs or combat training.”
Do all the professors or instructors have the same rules? His sound a whole lot like Carver’s rules for those of us in Vanguard.
“I can’t wait for training,” Ever murmurs.
The professor continues. “First question: What do the orders do?”
A dozen hands shoot into the air. He calls on someone in the front. “The orders align affinities so they can send students into the appropriate fields after graduation. People with affinities that would be useful fighting the demons go to Bastion or Vanguard. The rest of us end up in Archive or Crucible, either working to preserve history, teaching, healing, or providing specialized spells.”
He nods. “Good. Why are you all here?”
Bree raises her hand and he calls on her. She beams—nerd—and answers. “Without the paranormal universities, young vampires, shifters, and mages would threaten the veil.”
“Why?” His gaze moves to me, and he tips his head, pointing to me, even though I haven’t raised my hand. “Given what she did with the Threshold, let’s see what Raina has to say.”
The class turns to look at me. Great. Fucking great. Between this and breakfast, any hope I had for blending in is gone. I consider resisting, but as soon as the thought crosses my mind, words bubble up my throat. “Fully manifested powers are unstable until they’re trained, and with the demons finding new ways to penetrate the veil every day, we have to be smarter, stronger. More powerful so we can keep the balance that prevents the world from collapsing,” I conclude with a scowl.
Mother fucker. I didn’t choose to say all of that. I didn’t even see him cast, but I can taste the spell on the back of my tongue, a tangy metallic taste.
