Page 43 of Misfit Monsters
Because it was either that or banishment. Because as much as I hate the damage I’ve done in the mortal realm, I can’t eat shadows.
Some sadistic quirk of shadowkind nature makes some of us reliant on what only this realm can provide. My basilisk stomach craves fresh raw meat.
The hardest part is learning how to stop my deadly anger from seeping from my eyes and skin when I’m not on a hunt.What excuse do the others have for being on the verge of banishment?
I peer at the figures on the seats. Hail’s expression is a picture of perfect cool. Ice crystals dance above his outstretched hand—he’s looking out the window rather than at the fragments as they consolidate into a sculpture of a miniature mountain range.
Show-off.
I think the winter faelikeshurting people. He never looks away when Gloss and the other beings who follow at his heels harass our fellow students. He didn’t hesitate to insult Periwinkle the second he saw her in the administration room.
If he dislikes so much about this place, why does it matter to him to stay? Does he think he’ll ever graduate if he’s treating mortal beings like garbage too?
He must have agreed to Rollick’s deal for some reason, even though it involves working with the rest of us.
At the front where he’s driving, Jonah switches on the radio. Mirage was already swaying even when the van wasn’t, but he smiles now, adding a bounce of his slender leg and a click of claws that glint from his fingertips for brief instants.
I’ve never known what to make of the fox shifter. Does he enjoy flouting the rules? He seems happy when people laugh at his bizarre behavior, but it’s obviously gotten him into a lot of trouble as well.
As I watch, he starts drumming his palms against the seat while tapping one foot. Hail glances across the van, his eyes narrowed. “Can’t you sit still?”
Mirage grins wider. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The fae man lets out a huff and turns farther toward the window as if he wants to pretend he’s not even in the same vehicle as us.
I’d gladly punt him out the window if that wouldn’t end our mission before it’s really started.
Periwinkle has kept quiet for most of the ride so far. Her eyes brighten at Mirage’s seated dance, in a way that twists me up for reasons I can’t explain.
“I like music too,” she says. “Anything with a good beat makes it easier to keep your spirits up.”
Mirage hums vaguely, his head veering back and forth with the rhythm. “We’re going to need our spirits ever so high for this puzzle we have to puzzle out.”
Periwinkle swipes her hand through the waves of her turquoise hair, looking a bit awkward as if she’s not sure how to reply. I wouldn’t know either.
Looking at her reminds me of the other aspects of the mortal realm I’d miss. I don’t need beautiful sights to survive, but there’s something amazing about taking in stunning landscapes and artful creations that don’t exist in our home world. Seeing all the things that still exist undamaged, no matter how badly I’ve screwed up.
Periwinkle’s human-like form is definitely pretty. All those vibrant colors that match the warmth I’ve seen her offer our fellow beings.
I wonder what her actual shadowkind form looks like.
As if she senses my attention on her, her gaze veers toward the slanting shadow I’m lurking in. A hint of tension grips her posture.
She vanishes, leaping into the shadows herself.
My heart sinks. She felt me staring—I must have made her uncomfortable.
Then a ripple of distinctive energy moves toward me through the darkness along the edges of the van. Somehow, even merged with the shadows, this being gives the impression of light.
Periwinkle comes to a stop near enough to give mea concrete sense of where she is but not so close that our energies touch. Her soft voice sounds clearer when we’re on the same plane. “Hi. Um. Is it okay if I talk to you? If you want to be left alone, I won’t bother you.”
The fact that she’s being so careful about my feelings twists me up even more. “You’re not bothering me.”
Her voice instantly turns cheerier. “Oh, good! I wanted to tell you I’m so sorry for how this all turned out. I promise I didn’t vandalize our room—I never would have ruined anything that didn’t belong to me… or anything thatdidbelong to me, really?—”
“I know,” I break in, unable to keep the gruffness from my voice. “A few minutes after I left, I heard the beings who did it laughing about the ‘prank.’ I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have assumed you were trying to get me kicked out.”
When has my unexpected roommate done anything out of malice? How could I have thought she’d do that?
