Page 10 of Blood on the Ice

“Fine. But she’ll need to speak with me before she sends her people on campus. Everything is locked down for the moment because the board is convinced that if youdidn’tkill Pierre, whoever did is hiding there.” I shake my head as I stare out the window. I don’t agree and despite several passionate emails back and forth while Lucas was being questioned, I was overruled.

“Hmm,” he mumbles. “That’s interesting. I doubt it’s true; anyone leaving that messy a scene without drawing suspicion seems too thorough to get caught snoozing in an empty dorm or crouching in a broom closet.”

Looking over, I don’t hide the surprise on my face. “That’s what I think, too.”

“Obviously, you also like crime shows and mysteries. Dame Agatha or Sir Conan wouldn’t make the solution so obvious and likely, neither would someone with that skill set. The way they set me up spoke to this being planned—they knew it would be believable because I have a rivalry with that lunkhead. But they also had to be watching; no one could predict me getting fouled out that soon into the game.”

Sweet baby Zeus, is this guy for real?

“Lucas, you’re not the detective in this case. If Jackson gets you cleared, you need to stay way the hell away from their investigation. You’ll end up looking guilty again if you meddle or gossip about it.” I look down to see my hand on his and yankit back, scolding myself internally for initiating the touch, even innocently.

“I won’t bite,” he says with a wolfish grin. “That is, unless you ask nicely.”

This time it’s my turn to arch a brow and smirk. “I don’t ask for things like that, Lucas. I command. Despite whatever rumors may be going around the community, Magnus wasnotthe ruler of my world before his well-deserved death. And he certainly isn’t running my life now.”

“You’re locked in this region until your sentence is complete, Morgana. He may not be in charge of you, but his ghost is haunting you.” His expression turns sympathetic as he glances over at me. “Sorry. I hear all the good stuff from my family, so I know you have a tag that lets the Society know where you are. Kinda shitty of them to tie it to the thing that helps you keep your shifting under control when your emotions are strong, though.”

How in the motherfucking hell did his family get all of that info? Some of it was sealed at the trial!

“My privacy has been invaded enough as it is. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making it worse.” I pause, considering whether I want to correct him or not. Finally, I decide it’s better to be honest than to hide shit if rumors are circulating. “My amulet doesn’t suppress shifts. I can do that on my own; Iamthree hundred years old. It helps me keep my clothes intact when I shift to either form, so I’m not running around naked afterward.”

The sound he makes when I say ‘naked’ is sinful. “As much as I’d appreciate getting to see that, the convenience of it makes sense. The gargoyle or the Gorgon form would definitely tear your lovely designer suits to pieces.”

A tiny hiss echoes in the car, and I reach back to the back of my head. That’s Desdemona, the one snake I cannot control about ninety percent of the time. All of them have names, of course, because I have to talk to them when they are being unreasonable, but Des is the absolute worst one with acting out. “Goddamn it, Des,” I mutter under my breath.

“Younamethem?!” Lucas’s voice is full of wonder as I reach back and pinch the unruly shit to hopefully force her to go away.

Inhaling deeply, I glance at the car’s roof, praying I can leave soon. “Yes, I name them. How else am I supposed to talk to my hair when I need individual strands with minds of their own? If I didn’t, I couldn’t scold the ones who misbehave—like Des.”

“That’s possibly the coolest thing I’ve heard in a while. They all have, like…sentience?”

Unfortunately, like djinns and other rare supes, both gargoyles and gorgons are insular groups whose numbers are dwindling for various reasons. Neither are commonplace and most supes won’t meet one of either of my descendants in their entire lifespan. That’s another reason Magnus loved showing me off, and it rankles a little to find out Lucas knows. It makes me believe I’m definitely a checkbox in his macho diary; he wants to tick off another rare supe on his long list of conquests he can brag about.

“Yes. But I prefer not to discuss it and I’d rather you not tell people. I’m not a sideshow, nor am I a circus freak for people to gawk at. The trial made me infamous for my crimes and that already puts me under a microscope.”

“I get that. People treat me differently once they hear about my Nana, too. I hated it as a kid because I could never trust ifsomeone was my friend or if a girl liked me for me. Still can’t half the time, to be honest,” he replies as he pulls into the parking lot in front of the rink.

I tuck my phone into my purse before opening the car door. “Thank you for the ride, Lucas. Please remember what I’ve told you. I’d hate to see your career end before it begins because of something you didn’t do.”

“Where’s your car?” he asks, ignoring my statement completely.

Stepping out, I touch my amulet with a grin and my wings unfurl, stretching out behind me. “I didn’t drive here. Goodnight, Mr. Wolfberg.”

As I push off the ground, his wide eyes follow me as I take off.

That will quiet him for a bit. At least, I hope so.

fire under my feet

The next morning is, as predicted, utter bullshit. My email crashes every couple of hours because I’m receiving so many missives from parents, alumni, staff, and, of course, the authorities. If I had a fucking assistant, I’d fob some of the less pertinent shit off, but after my placement here, much of Magnus’ ex-biddies quit. I wasn’t shocked or upset by that development until now. I’m buried by this incident, and I have more than enough on my plate. When my computer reboots itself—again—at noon, I avoid throwing the damn thingacross the room by pushing to my feet and walking away from the desk.

I need to address this situation now before I lose my composure.

A touch of my amulet allows my wings to burst free, and I step onto the balcony again. Looking at the poorly designed app, I find the public relations office tucked in a side building close to my coffee shop. That makes me smile and I swipe to the text screen quickly.

Morgana LeCiel: Channing, I need to speak with you about something of utmost importance. Are you able to meet me at The Beanery in five?

Channing:…

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