Page 31 of Faerie Gift

He spoke as though I got into these situations on purpose. It wasn’t true. I just seemed to have the worst luck in the world.

“I was walking down the hall! Nothing else,” I insisted.

“And you happened to stumble onto a crime scene. Yes, I understand. Poor kid.” It was as kind and supportive as Wilson could be, with only the tiniest hint of sarcasm. “Keep your nose clean, and in the future if you catch a whiff of anything suspicious—and you know what I’m talking about—you run in the opposite direction.” He hurried to speak over me when I tried to interrupt. “I know it’s against protocol, but you let me do my job. Someone else will discover the scene, or if we’re lucky there won’t be one, and you will be out of the spotlight.”

I slumped down. “Okay, yeah. You’re right there, too.”

“You want my advice?”

“I’m sure you’re going to give it to me whether I want it or not,” I said dryly. “I probably couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

He tapped the side of his nose to let me know I’d gotten it right. “Stay out of damn trouble, Tavi. Whatever is going on here, leave it to me and my people to handle. I absolutely mean it. You smell anything, run.”

“The headmaster isn’t happy you’re involved in another case.” Or on the school premises in general.

“Of course not, but he has no choice in the matter. He knows I can get the job done.”

I remembered the first time I’d overheard a conversation between Wilson and Leaves. Gah, I really did need to stop with the eavesdropping. Leaves had been pissed because awerewolfdetective headed up the murder investigations last semester.

If Leaves still felt the same way this time around—and I had no reason to assume he did not—then it already made for a tricky situation. Not to mention the, well,murder.

My insides felt like I’d scrubbed them in espresso, letting the caffeine sink in until the whole of me trembled and not in a good way. My mind kept flashing back to the body.

To the pools of cooling blood.

I’d thought we were finished with this kind of thing last semester when we caught Roman. What were the odds of having another murderous student in the building?

Apparently, they were pretty darn good.

Wilson stashed his notebook in his jacket pocket again. “Let me do my job, you study and keep practicing your woo-woo magic”—he wiggled his fingers for emphasis—“and I’ll solve this case before we have any other unfortunate accidents.”

“Yes, because being ripped to shreds is anunfortunate accident.”

“Quit the sarcasm and get back to class. Call if you need anything. The phone line is always open.”

“I appreciate it.”

He stood and took a step away from the headmaster’s chair, distinctly uncomfortable and trying his best not to look it. It didn’t matter. I could read him. Part and parcel of beingpack.

He sent me on my way with an awkward pat on the shoulder like he wasn’t used to contact. But it was good to have him in my corner. Being a shifter himself, he understood the delicacy of my predicament with the school.

What would the others have to say when they realized we had another incident on our hands? And how I was smack in the middle of it again?

* * *

I tried to force the murder out of my mind and do what Wilson said: focus on my studies and keep out of trouble. It was much easier said than done.

Call if you need anything.

I refused to call him and put more focus into this random incident than I needed to.Sit down, shut up, and study. My new mantra.

The first few weeks of school flashed by in the rearview mirror and brought us into February, leaving me little time to do anything except study and work on developing my cognitive manipulation power. The focus of the curriculum changed from the first semester. This time, instead of following through on our basic History of Faerie lessons, we were moving on to more magic and more specialty classes. Divination, herbalism, talismans and charms.. Earth spells. Water magic.

Less memorization and more application, which was right up my alley. I could appreciate hands-on lessons versus tests on chapters we were forced to read.

Friday night I sat next to Mike in the quiet of the library and listened to him moan about his own innate power. His head dropped to his hands with a harsh thud and golden strands of hair poked through his fingers. “Time manipulation. Do you know how hard it is to figure out? Just trying to remember the rules is supremely difficult,” he complained. Shooting me a pleading look through the hair. “Help me.”

He looked like an adorable, sexy elf. I wasn’t sure whether to ogle him or laugh. Or leap across the table and lock my lips on his, although surely he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

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