Which I knew was the word Drakes called their fated mate—the one they were supposed to be Blood Bonded with.
At last Saint’s Drake seemed to accept this.
“Later,” he repeated. And looking at Avery again, he added, “But soon!”
Then the flames leaping in the red depths of Saint’s eyes began to fade and the feeling of a huge, shadowy creature with wide-spread wings dissipated as well.
“Dios!” Saint yanked his hand away from Avery’s and staggered backwards. He would have fallen if Ari hadn’t caught him.
“What…was that?” Avery’s voice was shaky as he sagged back into one of the faded armchairs.
“My Drake, he…” Saint shook his head. “I was afraid there would be trouble if he sensed you,” he said to Avery. “If he knew you were close enough to touch.”
“Why?” Avery’s eyes went wide. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” Saint put his head in his hands. “I’m tired,” he said. “I need to rest. Wrestling with the Blood Drake takes all my energy.”
“Thank goodness you got him to back down,” Kaitlyn said. She looked at the dorm where we were all peeking out through the cracked door. “It’s okay, you guys—it’s safe now. You can come out.”
We all trooped out—including Jalli, who was careful to keep her chimelings away from Saint. The dark Drake was slumped on the couch with his head in his hands. I felt terrible, like his struggle was all my fault. But when I said as much to Kaitlyn, she shook her head.
“No, Emma—it’s not you. Saint has always had to fight with his Drake. It’s cursed, you know—it doesn’t act like a normal Drake does,” she whispered, taking care that Saint didn’t hear.
“Well…” Avery still looked shaken but he clearly wasn’t going to let the strange experience ruin the evening. “What about a celebration?” he asked. “I have a few ingredients I liberated from the kitchens earlier. Who wants second supper?”
“Me!” I exclaimed. “I haven’t been able to eat all day. I was too upset about having that awful skink in my ear!”
“I’m starving too,” Megan said and Kaitlyn nodded as well.
“Hey, Bran, would you like something to eat?” I asked, looking around for him. “Avery is a wonderful cook.”
But when I saw him, he was already climbing the spiral staircase that led to the trapdoor exit of the Norm Dorm. Was there something different about his appearance? It was hard to tell in the firelight but I thought he looked taller somehow. And did his shoulders look broader? Weird…
“Yeah, I thought you were staying the night,” Avery remarked. I wondered if he was looking for a reason not to be alone with Saint in the boys’ dorm room that night. If so, I couldn’t exactly say that I blamed him. That encounter with the Blood Drake had been nothing short of terrifying.
“Thank you, but I need to be getting home.” Bran waved at us and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And maybe later this weekend too, if you’re working,” he added, speaking to me.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I nodded. “I’m working tomorrow night.”
“Great. See you then.”
And then he was out the trapdoor and gone, like a genie vanishing in a puff of smoke.
20
The next day was Friday and after the horrors of the day before—what with the skink inhabiting my ear and then barely being forced out by Saint’s super scary Blood Drake—I was more than ready for a normal day of school, followed by a normal night of waitressing at my after-school job.
Unfortunately, I was never going to get normal again. But I didn’t know that when I biked home from school that day. I was blissfully unaware of just how weird my life was about to get.
And if you think it couldn’t get weirder than having a magical creature take up residence in my ear and make me talk in rhyme, you haven’t been paying enough attention to the way things go at Nocturne Academy…
I made a quick stop-off at home to change into my waitressing uniform—black shorts and a white t-shirt with a screaming eyeball on it—before heading off to the I Scream diner.
My mom was sitting in her work room, which was dark, except for the glow of her computer and the dim red ember at the end of her cigarette. She always said she preferred to work in the dark, although I could never understand why. Maybe it was easier on her eyes.
I heard the muted clackity-clack of her keyboard as her fingers flew over the keys as I came in. She could type about a bazillion words a minute and she was extremely accurate which meant she was exceptionally good at her job. Under the sound of her typing I heard the drone of her earphones—some doctor in a distant hospital dictating medical reports in a bored, sing-song voice.
The air in the little room was hazy with cigarette smoke. I batted at the grey clouds with one hand and coughed loudly to show I disapproved as I came in to talk to her. She’d promised about a thousand times to quit but she could never even seem to make it a whole day without lighting up again.