Page 92 of Demon Found

“Locked.” I glare at the man. It’s obvious, isn’t it? I needed in, it was locked. Now I’m inside. The door is open, sort of. We can sort the rest of this shitty mess out when Lorelei wakes up. He lets out a strangled snarl, and I sink into a chair, leaning back, challenging him to make any more of his damn door.

Clattering echoes down the hallway. Seconds later Farrell careens into the room with Zephyr, Naeve, and Camille on his tail. Fuck, he looks beat up. Oh, yeah. That was me.

Lorelei gives a slight moan and rolls toward the edge of the desk. Before I can move, Farrell rushes forward and lifts her. Sweeping books off the dean’s couch with his foot, he gently places her down, cushioning her head on some papers. The dean lets out a noise like a werecat barfing a hairball.

Lorelei’s eyes roll, her head flops back, and she’s out again. Overcoming the suppression she placed on her demon has taken it out of her.Why the hell was she hiding? Is she in danger?

Nostril’s flaring, the dean marches behind his desk.

“Would one of you imbeciles like to tell me what is going on?”

I glance sideways at the others. I won’t be the one to grass Lorelei up. None of these assholes look like they want to either. Good.

“Sir.” Camille’s honeyed tones break the strained silence. “It was awful. She lost control completely. I knew something like this would happen again. She’s unstable.”

The dean glances appreciatively at Camille, and she simpers.

“She attacked Belinda, for no reason. She strangled her. She burned her. She . . . she . . .” Camille’s voice wavers, and she glances up at the dean through long lashes before letting out a shuddering wail. “She tried to kill my friend. And that’s not the worst part!”

“She didn’t. Lorelei wouldn’t!” Naeve protests.

“She’s been hiding what she really is, again,” Camille says, talking over Naeve. “She’s a demon, sir. A dangerous, unstable one. Poor Belinda.” Camille squeezes out a big fat tear and gazes at the dean with doe eyes.

“What’s wrong with being a demon?” I growl.

“Back in your box, Mr. Maverik. Nothing is wrong with being a demon. But if Miss Smith knew what she was . . . if she was hiding . . . that is against academy policy. All genera must be logged properly to ensure students get appropriate training.” He turns to the bouncers who’re still fidgeting in the corner. “Get me an update from the medics on Belinda. And for the love of all things holy, find someone to fix my poor door!”

The dean moves toward Lorelei, rubbing his hands together. I stand, knocking my chair over, and move into his path, vaguely aware of the others doing the same. My horns prickle my forehead for an instant before they erupt.

“Mr. Maverik, Mr. Cuelebre, Miss Haliai! I am not about to hurt the girl.”

I hesitate, shooting an uncertain look at the others. He steps around us all and places his hands in the air above Lorelei, humming quietly. My tail swishes.Fuck. When did my tail pop out?I’m losing control.

The dean moves slowly up and down Lorelei’s prone form, occasionally muttering under his breath. A dull purple glow surrounds them both. Luckily for him it doesn’t seem to be hurting her. Eventually he walks slowly back to his desk, crumpling into his chair.

“Well, that was rather more taxing than I expected,” he mutters to himself.

Farrell clears his throat, and the dean finally seems to register we’re still here, waiting.

“Is she okay? Why is she not waking up? What’s wrong with her?” Naeve gabbles, grabbing up Lorelei’s hand, patting it like a maniac.

“She’s fine. She is, however, covered by a very powerful suppressant spell, hiding her demon nature, her very genus. Very complex indeed.” He's clearly intrigued. “The spell is shattered, but not completely gone. It should disintegrate fully in a matter of days.”

“I knew it! She needs to be expelled,” Camille crows.

“No, Miss Fumus.”

My gaze flicks between Camille and the dean. I wasn’t expecting him to be in Lorelei’s corner. Not even a little.

“This is not something the girl did to herself.” The dean rubs at his chin, gazing into space.

“A suppression spell that powerful can only be created by someone with vast control of their magic.” Farrell adds. “Lorelei doesn’t have that, not yet.”

Farrell knows about genus suppression. How fucking weird. It’s not exactly standard academy textbook material.

“Indeed. The spell has traces of a demon magic that doesn’t belong to her. That’s all I can tell—it was cast by a demon. A powerful one.”

“It’s not Lorelei’s fault. I goaded her into being so angry that she overpowered the spell. Blame me.”

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