Page 21 of Misfit Monsters
I stalk the rest of the way to my dorm, letting a wintry chill course out of my body. Reminding everyone who passes me that I’m by far the most powerful fae at the academy, and they’d better respect that.
Fucking school and its ridiculous tests. I could have done ten times worse to those humans and their hunks of steel, and they’d have deserved it.
I’m sure as shit not going to let the administration chase me back to the shadow realm.
I push into the dorm, and my gaze lands on the only other being currently in the common room: the short-and-pudgy, teal-haired new arrival who thinks she can wield her perkiness like a weapon.
Periwinkle. A ridiculous name.
She’s standing at the far end of the hall by the kitchen area, clinking a spoon in a glass. At the sight of me, one of those absurdly sunny smiles darts across her face. “Oh, hi! It’s Hail, right? I was making iced tea. Do you want some?”
Is that supposed to be a jab about my powers? Or does she think if she sucks up to me, I’ll get Gloss off her back?
I pitch my voice to be both languid and cold enough toburn. “If you want to drink stuff that tastes like sugared piss, it’s all yours.”
Most shadowkind would wince. The wimpiest of them would scuttle away.
Periwinkle the whatever-the-fuck-she-is keeps smiling at me like I complimented her taste in beverages. “Let me know if you change your mind!”
Her aquamarine eyes sparkle like gems. Who the fuck has eyes like that?
I scoff and stride into my room, yanking the door shut behind me. Does the dimwit not have two braincells to rub together?
There’s definitely something wrong with her. Even if the shine of her eyes lingers on in the back of my head like stars I can’t quite reach.
8
Periwinkle
When I walk into the workout room where the self-defense classes are held, my heart sinks twice.
I see the burly, ruddy-haired shadowkind from the admin team standing at the front of the room, looking just as gruff as when he suggested I be banished to the shadow realm, and the thumping organ in my chest seems to drop to my knees.
My gaze slides over to Gloss standing by the far wall, and it plummets right to my feet.
What’s she doing in this class? It’s supposed to be for reform students.
“Wonderful,” Fen mumbles next to me.
I summon all the good spirits I can for my friend’s benefit. I should be cheering her up, not draggingher down.
“Maybe we’ll learn something to defend againsther,” I murmur, and consider it a win when I earn a giggle.
As more students arrive, it gets harder to keep up my optimistic attitude. Mirage bounds into the room with a flip followed by a somersault, but the next beings who pass through the doorway are the brawny woman and her clawed friend, Vim, who got angry with me in the Geography and Culture class.
The moment they notice me, their eyes narrow, as if they’re deciding how to best stomp me into kibble.
A few of Gloss’s reform student friends sashay in next, giving her a wave and our teacher coy looks through their lowered eyelashes. Lust laces the air like overripe plums.
One of them takes on a sultry tone. “How are you today, Gnash?”
If she’s trying to flirt, he doesn’t appear to be interested. “Looking forward to finally getting this class started, Tansy,” he says with a scowl.
More students trickle in, including a few who go to stand by Gloss. There are seven beings now who I haven’t seen in my past reform classes, their badges with circles rather than reform triangles.
It’s a smaller class than usual, only some of the level ones. Why would they bring in extra beings on top of that?
Fen must pick up on my confusion. She tips her head closer to mine. “For the self-defense classes, the teachers ask trusted higher-level students to help with the hands-on exercises. Unfortunately, we don’t get any choice in who those students are.”
