Page 30 of Demon Found

Chano’s shoulders heave with silent laughter, and he slaps his hand on the desk in front of him sending flames dancing across its surface.

“You set your dorms—the whole upper level—on fire.” Tears are streaming down his face. “And you . . . you think you don’t know how?” He hiccups to a stop.

My lips twitch. “Okay, when I was pissed off, I managedsomething. But I doubt I could do it again. I’ve only had access to my magic for a week.”

He stills.

“A week? That guardian of yours should be hung, slowly.”

I’m not getting into a cozy chat about Frank with the Maverik heir, so I shrug, keeping my expression neutral.

“Look, inherently you know how. You were angry? So, it started with emotions.”

“Well, pissed off, overwhelmed. Yeah, I guess.”

“I taught my little sister like this . . . Hold both your hands palms facing each other, a shoulder’s width apart. Eventually you won’t need to do it this way, but for now it’ll work.”

Hell, he seems keen to teach me, not pissed. Straightening on my stool, I turn my hands to face each other and look at him expectantly.

“Now think of something really emotional. Like someone who really fucked you up, or . . . someone you’re in love with.”

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. “Let’s go with the first option.”Love? Yeah right.

Chano’s eyes soften, and he places his rough hands around mine. “Now, concentrate on pouring that pissed-off energy into your hands. I’ll guide you the first time. Prof will be cranky if we set the room on fire. Not that I’d say no to ‘accidentally’ setting a few of the students alight for a laugh.”

Remind me not to piss this guy off.

It takes the whole hour, but finally I can reliably produce a flame between my hands. Not a fireball, just a measly purple flame. But it’s a start. I can’t keep comparing myself to students with years of practice. I need to get decent enough grades to pass, but for now, I’ll take a teeny tiny flame and not burning anyone alive. Although dammit, Chano has a point, a crispy Camille would be cathartic.

By the time I find Naeve for lunch, she’s already got us a table and Zephyr is just sliding away.

“Are you and Zephyr back to being friends?” I ask, taking the seat beside her. “Am I relegated? I can’t blame you. His skills in Divination today were a-maz-ing! I mean he was behind a screen. How’d he still identify all the things the professor held up?” I’m gabbling and I know it. It’s only been a week but I’m already uncomfortable at the idea of losing Naeve’s friendship.

“Magic.”

“Alright, smart ass.”

Naeve shrugs. “It’s child’s play for him. He’s the best visionary in our generation, Lorelei. Or he would be if he stopped the stupid drugs.” She sighs, and a worried frown flits across her face.

“I . . . I saw him licking blue powder off his finger. Whatisthat stuff?”

“SupeZ. It’s next level.” Naeve’s voice is thin and strained. “We’ve ignored his habit for too long. Gave him an out, because of Farrell.”

She turns her big eyes on me before continuing her rant. “SupeZ needs to be banned! Drugs shouldn’t be getting into the academy.”

“Pssht!”

Naeve drops her fork with a clatter, and we both turn to look at the dark-haired satyr behind us.

“Nothing wrong with a dabble. Loosen up, bookworm.” He wiggles his horns in our faces. “Bet you even have a nice body underneath all that frump, if only you’d chill out.”

“Piss off, goat face,” I snap. “No one was talking to you.”

The satyr laughs, ignoring me, and reaches over, flicking two of Naeve’s shirt buttons undone.

“Much better. Show those big girls off.”

“What thehell?” I yell.

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