Page 49 of Demon Found

“For now.” I shuffle a few feet back. “What happens if you hallucinate again? What if you’re not just a spider with a web next time? What if you’re a Lorelei-eating lion?”

Zephyr blinks, one eyebrow raised, confused. His gaze drifts back to his scribbles on the walls.

“Never mind, Spidey.”

I peer between Zephyr and his hieroglyphs again. What if he’s solved this thing? Maybe I’m clutching at straws here, but what if . . . ? Quickly, I pull my tablet from my pocket and snap photos of each wall.

If I’m going to burn bridges with Professor Allegra, I can at least do it in style. I can send her these damn hieroglyphs. If they turn out just to be the scribbling of a druggie on a come-down, it’s hardly going to make our relationshipworse, is it?

“It might just work,” I mutter. I’ll have one more shot at persuading Professor Allegra not to waste her talent. I’ll see what she thinks of your vision, if she’ll even acknowledge me now . . .”

“Doc says I should get out of here by the weekend. Want to stay and talk for a bit?” He glances at me. “It’s lonely when I’m not delirious.”

Backing up, I shake my head. He can stew in his own damn thoughts. I am one hundred percent nope-ing out of this. The forlorn look on his face tugs at my resolution. Shit, when did I get a soft spot for druggy assholes?

I give him a pat on the shoulder and shut the door firmly, turning the key. The clunk of the bolt is echoed by a thump as he leans against the door and slides to the floor. A muffled sniffle follows, quickly disguised by a cough.

Well, shit. Pressing my back to the cool wood, I slip down until my bum hits the floor.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Zephyr’s past the worst of it. It only took a whole damned week and a half. He’s almost a functioning member of the academy again. Almost. His freaking charisma hasn’t worn off with the drugs, although Ireallywish it would. The number of girls traipsing to his room to “cheer him up” is rising exponentially. And it’s really fucking annoying.

If I turn up one more time for a welfare check and yet another half-naked giggling girl answers his door, I’m going to barf.

Cursing the stupid rota we’ve made up, I rush from the cafeteria across the quad toward Zephyr’s room. I need to check in on him and still get to my room before curfew.

The chatter of students as they head to their dorms dies away so suddenly the hairs on my neck stand up. Up ahead a shriek rips the air in two. A few skittish students shift and bolt past, away from the noise. Elbowing forward, I peer around the wall of onlookers.

On the ground, crawling painfully out of the trees is a bloody, whimpering mess of burned flesh. Someone has pulverized a person and what . . . Burnt them to a crisp, then thrown them in the bushes to die? Edging closer, the acrid scent of charred flesh hits me. Fuck, who is it? The face is barely face-shaped.

“Hunter?” Another student steps forward. “Shit. Itis Hunter, call the medics.”

All hell breaks loose, and I allow myself to be jostled further away. The darkest part of me is delighted at his pain. He nearly raped Naeve, and I don’t think she’d have survived. She wouldn’t have been the same innocent nutty girl . . . I should know. I barely escaped Dexter, even then only thanks to Dog. And I was shaken enough.

Someone went to town on Hunter, and I’dreallyfucking like to thank them.

I scuttle back toward the dorms, humming. Sometimes bad things happen to bad people. I skip around the next corner before grinding to a stop.

Why the hell are those two all friendly?

A Maverik and a Cuelebre, talking and with no bloodshed—something’s up. I slow my pace. What is Zephyr doing with Chano’s second? My jaw tightens.

I’m too far away for the actual words, but I don’t miss Zephyr’s hand sliding to Deago’s back pocket, a smirk playing over his face. It almost looks like they’re flirting, but those two? Nah. With a flick of his wrist, Deago clasps Zephyr’s hand before slapping him on the back and quickly stepping away, strolling off down the path.

Shit, shit, shit.That was a handoff. I’ve seen plenty. It was slick, smooth, and could easily pass for Zephyr hitting on Deago. Except he hates Deago.

Before I can form a coherent thought, I’m charging down the path. Grabbing Zephyr by the elbow, I march straight to Farrell’s rooms, ignoring his yelping protests.

“Show them,” I growl, and shove Zephyr in front of Farrell and Naeve’s little study nest. “Five fucking days without being locked up. That’s all you managed? Five days?”

“It’s not what you think.”

Bollocks, it’s not.Everyone starts talking at once, distracting Zephyr. I dive for his pocket. He swears, shoving me away. Our hands fight for control of the little plastic baggy in his pocket.

I rip the pocket clean off his jacket and yell in triumph. The contents spill onto the floor.

Silence.

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