He liked being in that category almost as much as he liked having a nickname and an open invite to most everything on campus that might interest him. But he wished to hell the same could be said of his status among the Nightkeepers. It seemed that the more functional he got in the outside world, the more Strike wanted to keep him there, away from the magic.
“She’s in her office, last I knew.” Smitty waved in the direction of Anna’s first-floor window, which was closed and blocked off by the curtains she kept drawn most of the time these days.
“Thanks. Catch you later.” Rabbit sketched a wave and headed across the causeway, which always made him think of the drawbridge leading to a castle, albeit a short, ugly castle.
Smitty dogged him, apparently headed the same way. “You coming to the thing tomorrow night?”
Rabbit didn’t have a frigging clue what thing he was talking about, but lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.
Hafta see—family stuff, you know.” If he had anything to say about it, he and Myrinne would be back in New Mex by the weekend. Screw Strike’s plan for having them stay in Texas through summer school and on into the fall semester. There were more important things than class credits, especially when there was a solid chance that the credits themselves would cease to exist prior to graduation day, 2013.
“You should come,” Smitty pressed. “It’s going to rock.”
“I’ll bet.” They passed through the main entrance. Rabbit turned and made himself punch the other guy in the shoulder. “Have a good one.”
As he headed off, Smitty was standing dead-ass still, looking like someone had just given him a million bucks. Rabbit nearly shook his head, but didn’t, because who was he to say the human college set had it wrong? Theirs was a different culture; that was all. One he was learning to live inside, and maybe even to thrive within.
Didn’t mean that was where he wanted to be long-term, though.
Pausing at Anna’s door, he knocked. “Professor Catori? It’s Rabbit. I need five minutes.” Maybe before he would’ve walked right in, or called her by her first name just to show he could. But before, he’d admittedly been an asshole most of the time. These days, he tried to play the little things pretty straight . . . and save up his asshole quota for the big stuff.
“Door’s unlocked,” Anna called, her voice muffled by the heavy panel separating them. When Rabbit pushed through and closed the door at his back, she looked up from where she was seated behind her desk, working on what looked like e-mail. She was wearing a soft steel gray sweater that blended with the backdrop of bookshelves holding artifacts that he privately thought of as All Forgeries Great and Small. She greeted him with a smile. “Hey, Pyro.”
He winced, only half joking. “Great. Now they’ve got you doing it.”
“Fits.”
“No shit, huh?” But despite the friendly exchange, he stayed standing, not because he was trying to loom over her—even though he could loom if he wanted to these days—but because he was twitchy.
Silence stretched between them for a moment . . . and that was enough to give him his answer. “Let me guess. It’s a ‘hell, no.’ ” Anna sighed. “Rabbit . . . you know he’s only trying to do what’s best.”
“He” was Strike, and in the king’s world, “what’s best” was apparently keeping Rabbit and Myrinne as far away from the action as possible by loading them with classes regardless of the school year.
Except, of course, when the magi absolutely, positively needed Rabbit’s specific talents, whereupon Strike zapped in, grabbed him for the job, then dumped him back in his dorm room as quickly as humanly—or magely—possible.
“This sucks.” Rabbit heard his own tone border on whiny territory as a familiar churning frustration rose within him. Reminding himself that he was better than the anger, he tamped it down to a low simmer, lost the whine, and said, “Sorry. I know it’s not your decision. You’re not king.” Though there were times he’d thought she would’ve made the better ruler of the two of them, in large part because she wanted nothing to do with the job. Or really, he suspected, with the Nightkeepers.
“You’re getting to him, though.”
Rabbit narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. The longer you keep your nose clean here, kick it in the classroom, and generally behave like someone he’d want to have at his back, the more he’s going to forget why he doesn’t want you around.”
From anyone else, Rabbit would’ve figured that for a blatant pitch to keep him on the straight and narrow, i.e., attempted bribery with no real commitment to an endpoint. Coming from Anna, though, he was tempted to believe it was for real. She thought she owed his old man a life debt, and upon Red-
Boar’s death had transferred that owesie to Rabbit. That was why she’d stepped up and gotten in Strike’s face over whether Myrinne would be allowed to stay at Skywatch even though she was pure human, not bound to any of the magi, and had a history of dabbling in the occult. More, Anna had, for the most part anyway, tried to be available when Rabbit needed her, and tried to fix the considerable amount of shit he’d screwed up in past years.
All that made him want to believe her, as did his desire to think that life was fair, that he’d be able to work his way into the fighting core of the Nightkeepers by proving that, six months shy of being legal to drink, he was ready to do a man’s job as a warrior. But he’d learned early and often that life wasn’t fair . . . and when Anna looked at him now, she didn’t quite meet his eyes. Maybe it was her vibe, maybe his blunted mind-bending talent, but he suddenly knew she was lying. He wasn’t sure about what, but she was definitely hiding something. Maybe not about Strike’s opinion or the school stuff, but there was something important going on that she wasn’t telling him about, no doubt because Strike-out had decided it was need-to-know and Rabbit wasn’t on the list.
“Anything big going on back there?” he asked casually.
She shook her head. “Nothing really. They’re gearing up for the solstice. Strike’ll pick you and Myrinne up for the day, like we planned.”
The lie was still there. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to wait for the solstice, or else the solstice was part of it, but there were already major plans being made . . . without him. Anger flared, hot and hard and feeling like fire. For a second, he thought about yanking down his mental blocks and getting inside her head, looking for what she’d chosen—or been ordered—not to tell him. What is it? he wanted to scream at her. What’s going on? Why doesn’t he want me there? But he held it together.
Barely.
She looked at him for real, finally, and he didn’t see the lie anymore. It had been there, though. He was sure of it. “Be strong,” she said softly. “Your time will come.”
“Thanks,” he said. But inwardly, he was thinking, What-the-fuck-ever.
“Was there something else?”
He didn’t know if that was a hint, or if she really wanted to know the answer, but either way, he wasn’t in a sharing mood anymore. Maybe he’d hiked over to the ugly castle rather than called because he’d been toying with asking her about the Order of Xibalba and some of the stuff Myrinne had been bringing up lately, sort of get Anna’s take. But now? Forget it.
“Nah. Just wanted to check in with some face time, so you can report back to big brother that I’m behaving myself.”
She smiled, the expression reaching her eyes. “I’ll do that. And, Rabbit?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.”