then motioned with a hand. “Give me your bag, and I’ll stick it in your chair.”
“Thanks,” I said, and made the transfer.
Jason and I watched Scout trot down the sidewalk and disappear into the building. It wasn’t until she was gone that he looked at me again.
“About yesterday.” He paused, eyes on the sidewalk, as if deciding what to say. “It’s not personal.”
I arched my eyebrows. I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.
He looked away, wet his lips, then found my gaze again. “When you were in the hospital, we talked about the Reapers. About the fact that we’re in the minority?”
“A splinter cell, you said.”
He bobbed his head. “In a way. We’re like a resistance movement. A rebellion. We aren’t equally matched. The Reapers—wecall them Reapers—they’re not just a handful of misfits.
They’reall the gifted—all the Dark Elite—except for us.”
“All except for you?”
“Unfortunately. That means the odds are stacked against us, Lily.” He took a step forward, a step toward me. “Our position is dangerous. And if you don’t have magic, I don’t want you wrapped up in it. Not if you don’t have a way to defend yourself. Scout can’t always be there . . . and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
An orchestra could have been playing on the St. Sophia’s grounds and I wouldn’t have heard it.
I heard nothing but the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, saw nothing but the blue of his lash-fringed eyes.
“Thank you,” I quietly said.
“That’s not to say I wasn’t bitter that you ignored me Sunday.”
I nibbled the edge of my lip. “Look, I’m sorry about that—” Jason shook his head. “You saw the mark, and you needed time to process. We’ve all been there. I mean, you could have chosen better company, but I understand the urge to get away. To escape.” Jason looked down at the sidewalk, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. “When I found out who I was,what I was, I ran away. Hopped a Greyhound bus and headed to my grandmother’s house in Alabama. I camped out there for three weeks that summer. I was thirteen,” he said, raising his gaze again. His eyes had switched color from turquoise to chartreuse, and something animal appeared in his expression—something intense.
“You’re a . . . wolf?” I said it like a question, but I suddenly had no doubt, and no fear, about the possibility that he was something far scarier than Scout and the rest of the Adepts.
“I am,” he said, his voice a little deeper than it had been a moment ago. Goose bumps rose on my arms, and a chill slunk down my spine. I wondered whether that was a common reaction—
Little Red Riding Hood syndrome, maybe.
I stared at him and he stared back at me, my focus so complete that I actually shook in surprise when the tower bells began to ring, signaling the end of the lunch period.
“You should go,” he said. When I nodded, he reached out and squeezed my hand. Electricity sparked up my spine. “Goodbye, Lily Parker.”
“Goodbye, Jason Shepherd,” I said, but he was already walking away.
He’d walked to St. Sophia’s to see me—to talk to me. To explain why he hadn’t wanted me to sit in on the Adepts’ meetings, mark or not.
Because he wasworried about me.
Because he hadn’t wanted me to get hurt.
The moment I’d shared with Jason had been so incredibly phenomenal, the universe had to equalize. And what was the chosen brand of karmic balance for a high school junior?
Two words: pop quiz.
Magic in the world or not, I was still in high school, and a high school that prided itself on Ivy League admissions. Peters, our European history teacher, decided he needed to ensure that we’d read our chapters on the Picts and Vikings by using fifteen multiple-choice questions. I’d read the chapters—I was paranoid enough to make sure I finished my homework, magical hysterics notwithstanding. But that didn’t mean my stomach didn’t turn as Peters walked the rows,
dropping stapled copies of the test on our desks.
“You have twenty minutes,” he said, “which means you have a little more than one minute per question. Quizzes will account for twenty percent of your grade, so I strongly recommend you consider your answers carefully.”
When the tests were distributed, he returned to his desk and took a seat without glancing up.
“Begin,” he said, and pencils began to scribble.
I stared down at the paper, my nerves making the letters spin—well, nerves and the thought of a blue-eyed boy who’d worried for me, and who’d held my hand.
Twenty minutes later, I put my pencil down. I’d filled in the answers, and I hoped at least a few of them were correct. But I didn’t stress over it.
Infatuation apparently made me intellectually lazy.
Scout waited until dinner to interrogate me about Jason’s visit to campus. It being Monday,
we’d been blessed with brand-new food. Since I didn’t eat chicken, it was rice and mixed vegetables for me, but even simple food was better than dirty rice or stew. Or so I assumed.
“So, what did Mr. Shepherd have to say?” Scout asked, spearing a chunk of grilled chicken with her fork. “Are you engaged or promised, or what? Did you get his lavaliere? Did he pin you?”
“What’s a lavaliere?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a fraternity thing?”
“Well, whatever it is, there wasn’t one. We just talked about the meeting. About the attitude he copped. He apologized.”
Scout lifted appreciative brows. “Shepherd apologized? Jeez, Parker. You must have worked faster than I thought. He’s as stubborn as they come.”
“He said he was worried about me. About the possibility that I’d get wrapped up in a Reapers versus Adepts cage match and wouldn’t have a way to defend myself, especially if you weren’t there to work your mojo.”
“And what spectacular mojo it is, too,” she muttered. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. “Listen,” she finally said. “I don’t want to warn you off some kind of budding romance, but you should be careful around Jason. I’m not sure I’d recommend getting involved with him.”
“I’m not getting involved with him,” I protested. “Wait, why can’t I get involved with him?”
“He’s just—I don’t know. He’s different.”
“Yeah, being a werewolf does make him kinda unique.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprise in her expression. “You know.”
“I do now.”
“How did you find out?”
“I heard him growl after I got hit with the firespell. I confirmed it yesterday.”
“He admitted he was a wolf? To you?”
“He let me see his eyes do that flashy, color-changey thing. He did the same thing again when we talked in the hospital.”
“After you made us leave?”
I bobbed my head. Scout made a low whistle. “In one week, you’ve gone from new kid in school to being wooed by a werewolf. You move fast, Parker.”
“I doubt he’s wooing me, and I didn’t do anything but be my usually charming self.”
“I’m sure you were plenty charming, but I just want you to be careful.”
“Is that a little were-ism I’m hearing?”
“It’s a little reminder that he’s not like the rest of us. He’s a whole different brand of Adept. And you don’t have to buy my opinion. I’m just telling you what I think. On the other hand, in our short but explosive friendship, have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Did you want me to start with the getting hit by firespell or becoming an enemy to soul-sucking teenagers?”