Page 17 of Demon Found

Turning to her, I let out an exasperated huff.

“Jett was a foster kid like me. He was mybestbuddy. We did everything together. He vanished one day, just . . . gone. It broke little twelve-year-old me. So, I decided—no friends. If you don’t have them, you can’t lose them, can you?”

Naeve stands, one hand on her hip, tutting. “That is the saddest thing I have ever heard, Lorelei Smith. Just you wait, you’ll change your mind.”

I roll my eyes.

“Tell you what, Naeve, I’ll be your buddy for classes until this shit with your brother blows over. But if Farrell is your friend, I’m betting you’ll be back in with the popular crowd before the Solstice break.” I shrug. “I’ll be your stand-in friend.”

Her eyes light up, and she does a little excited hop from foot to foot.

“But no damned hugging!”

“Yes! Iknewyou’d cave. Farrell won’t let anyone take it too far, but his father forbade him from being seen with me, for now.”

Wait, what if . . . was she dating him? Is she dating him?

“Are you and Farrell together?”

Naeve erupts in a cackle of laughter.

“No, silly. Ew. That would be like dating my brother. We grew up together—me, Zephyr, and Farrell. Farrell will step in if I really need him to. But he can’t beseenbeing too friendly. Someone will tell his father, and he’d never go against the Virrey. Not openly.”

Thank the heavens and hells. That would have been awkward, especially since I kissed the asshole. We gather up our things for class in a comfortable silence.

Opening our door, there’s a small paper bag bang smack in the center of the doorway. I circle carefully around it, poking it with my toe. It might be a prank. Although, it’s not exploding in my face so . . . that’s a plus. I snatch up the crisp white note perched on the top and read it aloud.

“Remember these? Stay out of trouble and I’ll make sure you have a constant supply – Seth.”

The elegantly written note vanishes in a cloud of smoke and a faint waft of warm cinnamon hits me. Bending over, I scoop up the bag. There, nestled on a paper napkin is the most amazing looking cinnamon whirl I have ever seen. The pastry is flaky perfection, and the smell? The smell is divine.

I shovel it into my mouth before turning, mouth bulging, to shrug at Naeve who’s doing her best impersonation of an angry medusa. She has to stop that shit. It’s not pretty.

“There was only one. All mine!” I grin and take off down the corridor. Seth might not have checked if I was okay last night, but he’s obviously trying to make amends. I can’t believe he remembered the pastries. I’d forgotten Dad brought us them every Sunday.

I take off for class, with Naeve bustling behind me grumbling about roommates sharing. She can complain all she likes. Those pastries are all mine if Seth really does keep sending them. I reach the quad and pause, realizing I’ve no damn clue where I’m going from here. Naeve puffs toward me through the crowds of students now hurrying to class. She’s definitely not a gym bunny then.

Waiting for her to catch up, I meander around the grassy quad which is flanked on all four sides by majestic buildings. Student posters litter the walls, plastered up with no regard for the ancient stone they cover. A band picture catches my eye. A purple-haired harpy with a mic announces a concert. Shit, I’ve even heard of her. Val Tormenta? She’s a student here? I am one hundred percent going to that.

The next poster has a more formal air.

Nearing graduation?

Already found your allegiance?

Sign Up for three years with the Angel King’s Army and have your post-graduate education fully funded.

Huh. Now that’s something to consider. More free education . . . it’s not like Eltanin’s at war with anyone. It’d be a pretty cushy number if it’s still a thing when I get to fourth year. If I get to it. I’ve not even gotten to my first class yet.

Naeve grasps my elbow firmly, towing me toward a smaller building behind the quad. Smaller, but somehow even more awe-inspiring. The stone is dark, almost black, and the windows are small but inlaid with silver which glints in the morning light. It even has teeny tiny turrets. It would make sense that Supernatural History is held in a building that looks like it came straight out the history books itself.

The classroom is a tired lecture theater. As we walk in, I feel rows and rows of student’s attention on me. Maybe I should wave, or curtsy. Yep. That’s me . . . the new girl. Satyr shit. Farrell’s even got me referring to myself as new girl.

Naeve drags me into a row near the front. The same row as Belinda? And right in front of Zephyr. Awesome. I hunch over, trying to ignore the sneer Belinda sends my way. At least here I have to be pretty much on par with everyone else in this class. We did history in school.

Wrong.

The professor starts lecturing a version of history I’ve never heard. He’s a chipmunk of a man, with big red cheeks and a hideous habit of cracking his knuckles when he gets excited about any particular aspect of his lecture.

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