Page 71 of Dead Wolf Falling (Bad Moon Academy 2)

Sniffing, he shuffles in after me and slinks to the table and couches where the current stack of books lies. I don’t shame him for crying, nor do I acknowledge the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Picking up the smallest book of the stack,High Demons of the Underworld,I hold it out to him.

“No slacking.”

Erron grabs the book and begins to read. I stand and watch him for a second. His hands are shaking, but he reads like he’s supposed to. Turning my attention to the books, I grab one about witches and settle into the plush leather chair.

Time to see if I can find out something more about Raven and her powers. She sees the dead and brought Brayden back. With great power comes great consequence. One cannot simply raise the dead and not have side effects.

* * *

BRAYDEN

After finding a few wandering chickens on the property, Draco and I drag them back to the academy before he sets off to find Raven. I don’t like him going alone, but he doesn’t seem concerned, so I’m not going to make a big deal about it. Since I served some of the fruit that was left in the pantry for breakfast, I’m low on supplies, but I can make it work for lunch.

Pretty soon we’ll be down to eating whatever it is we manage to kill or find in the forest. During my run, I noticed a few mulberry trees, a small patch of strawberries, and what looked like the tops of carrots. It won’t be much, but anything is better than attempting to eat whatever food Jinx conjures.

I’m in the middle of plucking a chicken when a slight vibration works its way through the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, I shake my head when I see it’s eleven. Jinx is consistent, I’ll give her that. Every day at five, eleven, and four the vibration happens; then about ten minutes later the buffet is full of fresh food and the coffee pot or juice containers are full. She’s expending massive amounts of power to make the food appear, and taste, real. Draco, Carter, and Everett told me twenty-four shifters have been taken since I died. Twelve each year I’ve been gone.

Ripping out a feather, I stop and sniff. Is that. . . pesto chicken? With a scoff, I toss the feather into the growing pile and roll my eyes.

“You’ll have to do better than that if you want them to eat your food,” I sing-song. “Even my measly dishes are more appealing to them right now.”

“Who are you talking to?” a soft voice asks.

I spin, swinging the chicken at the intruder. Bea, Raven’s little friend, screams and ducks, covering her head with her hands. Letting the chicken fly, I drop to my knees. The bird thuds into the wall and plops to the floor in a gross squelch.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.” I reach for her, then stop short, unsure if I should touch her because she is trembling, pressing her forehead to the tile. “Bea?” I ask, softening my voice. “It’s okay.”

Ever so slowly, she lifts her head, squinting at me and glancing around. Her eyes land on the chicken I let fly, and she bursts into giggles. Sitting all the way up, she slaps her hands over her mouth, still laughing.

“So you’re okay?”

She nods, laughing so hard tears begin to fill her eyes. “I. I wanted to help,” she says around giggles.

“Well, you scared me. What sort of thirteen-year-old sneaks around like that?” I raise my right eyebrow, pretending to be upset.

“I’m fourteen.” She stops laughing and fixes her shirt as if that’ll make her seem more grown up.

“Oh, fourteen. My apologies to the lady.” I place my hand at my stomach and give her a small bow, earning a snort.

“You’re weird,” she observes, though her eyes are more curious than rude. There isn’t a single ounce of malice written on her face.

Staring into her brown eyes, which are too knowing for how young she is, I nod. “That I am.” Slapping my hands to my knees, I shove off the ground and go pick up the chicken. I’ll finish plucking it then wash it. By the time I slap the bird back on the counter, she’s standing and tapping her little fingers against the wood.

I start plucking, side-eyeing her as I do. “So, what can you cook?”

Lifting a shoulder, she blows out a breath. “I know how to make macaroni, grilled cheese, pizza. . .” She trails off. “Nothing useful, I guess.”

“Well, here’s your first lesson in cooking.” I yank out the last feather and slap my hand against the skin of the chicken. “Wash this in the sink.”

Her eyes round like saucers, but she gives me a curt nod and picks it up, holding it away from her body so it doesn’t touch her shirt.

“Good. Water should do it, not hot though, don’t want to cook it while you wash.”

“Oh my god, you can cook it with hot water?”

“Cook what with hot water?” Raven pushes through the door, smiling at Bea before glancing at me. “Hey.”

“Chicken can cook in hot water!” Bea says this like it’s some new discovery for the whole world.

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