Page 22 of Demon Found

He lets out a huge grumble, twists around and flings himself back into his seat. “Proceed, Max. Quickly.”

The whole room lets out a collective sigh. Dammit, I need to watch my mouth.

Chano leans back, nonchalantly swinging on his seat and reaches a hand over his shoulder.

“Chano Maverik, intrigued to meet you, chica.” His big rough hand grasps mine and he tugs me slightly toward him. “But don’t ever challenge me again.”

Chano Maverik, as in the eldest son of the Maverik gang? Heisa big fucking deal then. My stomach flips. I just faced up to the leader of one of the biggest gangs in Venez, bigger even than Las Ratas. I rub at my neck. I’m lucky he didn’t lynch me. That’s their signature move. Hung and quartered, like ye olde days of yore.

“Chano. Mr. Chano, if you’d like to come first? Hands into the Element Box, if you please, sir.”

I crane my neck as Chano places his hands inside a little velvet box. It’s a grubby-looking thing, the material worn away in places by the years, but it’s giving off a powerful energy. The hum vibrates through the air, worming its way down into my gut. Without ceremony, a small globe of water floats up from the box, positioning itself over Chano’s right shoulder while a single burning flame alights over his left.

“Very good, Mr. Chano. Water and Fire . . . and . . .” the professor pauses, one eyebrow raised “ . . . and the ability to balance yourself. Enviable for a demon.”

Chano slouches back to his seat, no sign of surprise on his face. Of course not. Maverik boy has probably been burning people alive or drowning them since he could toddle. A shiver runs down my spine, and I edge farther away.

The shifters go next, jostling each other. Typical damn shifters, all touching and teeth. It surprises me the reverence with which they treat the little box though, falling silent and trepidatious before slipping their hands inside, one at a time. Earth and air for them both. Going by their yips of excitement, they’re pleased with that.

I kick back as a few more students have their elements read by the creepy all-knowing box.

“Miss Lorelei Smith.”

I slick my palms down the stupid plaid uniform and march toward the desk.I’m not afraid.Clenching my fists, I shove my hands forward into the darkness of the box.

After an eternity, a swirling tornado rises slowly to settle on my left shoulder, followed by a bright flame which alights over my head. A small shadow floats from the box and hovers on my right. Another tornado? No wait, it’s water. Now fire, now a glob of soil, now a tornado again. It flickers, never settling in one form. My palms start to sweat.What’s with this?Shifting on the spot, I pull my hands toward me.

The professor grabs my wrists, shoving them back inside the box, muttering.

“There’s another element. I canfeelit,” he says.

I tense up at the unexpected strength of his grip. That will bruise, dammit. He finally lets my hands drop with a weak smile.

“Take a seat, Miss Smith.”

“Wait. I have fire and air?” I rub at the red marks on my wrists while I stare him down.

“Yes, yes, dear. A common combination.”

Snorting, I stomp back to my seat. “Common, yep, that’s me.”

The professor crooks an eyebrow. “You have a third element. Although, the Element Box couldn’t determine what. With time, and the right training, it should develop.Thatis not common, Miss Smith. Hewie Ugo? You’re next.”

I slide back into my seat, my head buzzing so much I barely pay attention to the banshee’s elemental reveal.

Mistake.

The shriek shatters the mirror on the wall and has me slamming my hands to the sides of my head, covering my ears.

“One? One element? The shaaaaame. My family will never live it down. Neeeeeeeeever.” Hewie slinks back to his desk, wailing pitifully every few steps. His gangly frame slumps, shoulders drooping, and he eventually quiets to faint background sniffling.

“Well, we’re finally done here. Happy element day, chica. Three? That was worth the wait. Never heard of a harpy with three.”

I find myself gazing up into Chano’s swirling gray eyes.

He’s so close, his deep oaky musk invades my senses. Shit. He’s sex on a plate, in that bad-boy-gonna-ruin-you kinda way. I catch a glimpse of intricate tattoos swirling up his chest, poking out his shirt and reaching above his rakishly angled tie.

Chano turns on his heel and strides for the door, his massive frame having to angle slightly sideways to get through the door. I don’t even manage to tangle my tongue around a reply before he’s gone.

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