Page 128 of Junk Magic

“Self-defense, and I could ask the same of you!” I said, turning on her.

She had gone more subtle than Jen in the bling department, but was still chic in a smart little black dress that probably also bore a designer label, but I wasn’t well-versed enough in such things to know which. It was a cute, off the shoulder cocktail dress with two rows of sparkly buttons down the front that she’d paired with thigh high black boots that had to have had a five-inch heel. The ensemble shouldn’t have worked, but it did, giving her a slightly pirate-y vibe, which went well with the stubborn look on her face and the still crossed arms.

I wondered if we were going to have a problem, and my face must have reflected that, because the tilt of her chin got a bit more pronounced.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I reiterated. “And what do you mean, your offensive form? What the hell was that last night?”

“Self-defense,” she said, throwing my own term back at me. “It takes less energy, since it just turns an enemy’s own spells . . . on . . . them . . .”

She trailed off, her bravado faltering in what was probably a withering stare, but I was in no mood to soften it. “You’re a Were?” I said harshly. Because that was just great. Nothing the clans liked better than being spied on by other shapeshifters.

“Nagual, but I can only shift at night, into a jaguar—”

“I know the legend!”

“—and why are you so freaked out?” she said, rallying. “It was in the folder—”

“It was not in the goddamned folder!”

“—or haven’t you gotten around to reading that yet?”

I glared at her. She glared back. Her shadow on the wall paused to lick a paw, apparently unphased. I liked boring old human students, I decided; they were easier to intimidate. And then I had to pause to stomp at one of the shadow things, which had gotten a little too close.

Damn it all to hell—literally!

“You can just do a repulse spell,” Jen said helpfully. “They don’t have much power left—”

“Neither do I!”

“Could have fooled me,” Sophie muttered.

“Your magic hasn’t built back up?” Jen said, looking surprised. “I thought war mages were supercharged or something.”

“I used what little I had this morning—”

“Wait. You really don’t have magic?” Sophie interjected. “And you came here? Do you know what they’re saying about you? Cyrus almost had a fit when he got back—”

“And you didn’t call him,” Jen said, disapprovingly.

“I haven’t had time,” I said angrily. Because I was feeling guilty about that myself.

“It takes, what, ten seconds to send a text?” She reached into a sparkly purple bag, because the girls had apparently soaked Sebastian for all he was worth, and pulled out a phone. “Here, I can do it for you—”

I caught her wrist—for about a second. Before one of her “dogs” grabbed mine in a grip like ice, and the other snapped at me. “God damn it!”

I let her go.

“What is it?” Sophie snorted. “Afraid he’d forbid you to come?”

“Cyrus and I aren’t in the habit of forbidding each other to do things—”

“But?”

“—but he might try to come with me, and he’d be killed on sight!”

“And you won’t be?”

“Can we talk about you?” I said bitingly. “This isn’t Wolf’s Head, but the idea is the same. You can’t be here—either of you!”

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