Red

  If only child services could see us now.

  Colt stepped out of his cover, standing with his spear. I knew the idiot was picturing himself as a gladiator. This was his idea of practicing for his Trial. Still, at least the only thing being drawn to beef and stupidity was a Stymphalian marsh bird. They liked human flesh, but there was only one of them. And frankly, Colt deserved to get knocked on his ass, especially if it had the slightest chance of knocking sense into him as well.

  I might believe in chimeras and dragons, but some things were fictional—like Colt’s good sense.

  He was laughing as the marsh bird screeched, descending fast on jagged wings. It was the size of a small crane, with bronze- and steel-colored feathers. Its talons were curled, aiming for his eyes. He waited until the last second before batting it away with his spear. The bird smashed into a tree, and blood spattered to the ground. The bird shook its head, lifting into the air again, looking slightly drunk. And mad as hell.

  “Nice of you to join us, Sloane,” I said when she slid into the undergrowth beside me.

  “Quit your bitching.” She grinned. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “I thought you said you weren’t doing this anymore.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Who else is going to watch your back?”

  “I will,” Justine said coldly from above us.

  “Watching his ass and his back aren’t the same thing.” Sloane snorted. I elbowed her. “What?” She blinked at me innocently. “Where’s Tobias?”

  “Here.” He emerged from the cedars without disturbing a single branch or needle. “You’ll wake the moss girls and then you’ll really be screwed.”

  “Too slow!” I shouted when Colt tripped on a root and fell on his ass, narrowly missing both of his eyeballs being eaten. He grabbed for his spear and finally skewered the bird. It made an awful sound as it died. My anger at Colt kindled all over again. This wasn’t training or game control. There had to be another lesson we could learn, something more than killing.

  Sloane sighed, watching Colt swing his spear triumphantly. “How drunk is he?”

  “Not drunk enough to not know better.”

  “That was nothing,” Colt panted, pushing to his feet. “I need a little challenge.”

  “You need an ass kicking,” Sloane called. “Can we go home now?”

  “Hell, no,” Colt replied, pulling a bag of dead snakes off his belt. They were small, more like worms than snakes, and black with a white spot on their heads. Colt dumped them on the raw meat with a handful of gold rings and a splatter of his own blood. “I’m calling a wyvern.”

  Wyverns were like small, stupid dragons. But even a small dragon could cook you with a single breath. And there was a glint in Colt’s eyes that made me swear under my breath.

  “You idiot—” I broke off as the distinctive sound of a loud, heavy body moving toward us, scales scraping the ground, hissed between the trees. I used tranquilizer darts as often as I could, but sometimes they weren’t enough. He was going to force me to go home with blood on my hands. Again.

  It wasn’t long before a snakelike creature slid into view, thick muscles contracting under black scales. A crown-shaped fan jutted out of its head above a white spot. It had a bird’s beak and leathery wings, like damp skin, and its breath was so putrid it was practically visible. Leaves withered and ferns shriveled as it passed. It glanced up briefly, and an owl squawked and fell out of a tree, dead. The owl had petrified to stone before it hit the ground.

  “That’s not a wyvern,” I said. “It’s a basilisk. Don’t look!”

  My tranquilizer gun wouldn’t work. It was set with drugs for mammals, not reptiles. I reached for my biggest knife, hoping it was wide enough to act as a mirror.

  Colt gave a war cry and leaped, alone, at the basilisk. He was so desperate to prove himself to his parents that he was going to get us all killed. Never mind that Summer was dead and he should damn well know better.

  The basilisk scented us, touching the air with a forked tongue. I fell back, being careful to stay behind its head. One second of eye contact and we’d turn to stone, one drop of saliva and we’d be poisoned. “Justine, stay high. Tobias.”

  Tobias nodded, scaling the nearest tree. Justine was still wedged between two branches. Justin emerged below her, his sword held steady.

  Just another Saturday night.

  The basilisk hissed at Colt. The bushes at his feet wilted. “Get behind it,” I yelled, irritated. “Standard drill.” The basilisk wasn’t the only monster in these woods that could kill with a glance. But it was the only one that’d been here since before we were born, untouched.

  “Anyone got weasel pee?” Sloane asked. “Apparently it repels them.”

  “It’s mongoose, actually,” I said.

  “Well, got any of that handy?”

  “Not so much.” I whipped one of my least favorite knives at its tail. There was no saving blades from basilisk venom. The basilisk flicked its tail angrily when the steel bit into its scales.

  Sloane threw her head back and ululated like a rooster.

  Even the basilisk paused, confused. It shivered once but didn’t stop its attack. “What the hell are you doing?” Justin asked.

  “Basilisks are scared of roosters,” she explained.

  Justin snorted. “Now I am, too.”

  “Just get it to the lake,” I yelled, throwing another knife. Scales severed, leaving blood and some vile green substance. Sloane threw a rock at the basilisk’s head when it turned to glare at me.

  “You’re in my line,” Justine yelled down at her. “Move!”

  The basilisk snapped its tongue out like a whip, curling it around Colt’s spear before tossing it aside like a toothpick. “Sloane, get off the ground!” I ordered. “It’s not safe.”

  “I suck at climbing.”

  “Then get out of here! You’re barely armed.” I tossed her one of my daggers and reached for my gun. I fired at the ground, grazing the basilisk. It was enough to convince it not to slide toward Sloane, but not enough to break its focus on Colt, who was still on the ground, looking nauseous.

  “So I guess that makes me bait.” She smiled softly in that slightly melancholic and mad way of hers before darting out of her hiding place. Justin kept pace with me on the other side of the basilisk.

  Its tongue touched the tip of Colt’s boot. He kicked out, forgetting his beer-queasy stomach. The basilisk made a strange screech-hiss that had adrenaline burning through me. My muscles quivered with the need to push harder, faster. My vision narrowed to the basilisk, to the flutter of movement under the scales, foreshadowing where it would strike next. The barbed tip of its tail swung hard. I dodged, but it was close enough that I felt the shift in the cold predawn air.

  It kept moving, striking the trees with its tail as it passed. It was strong enough that when it hit Justine’s tree, she lost her footing. She tumbled off her branch, landing hard in withered ferns. Justin ran to help her up.

  Tobias dropped silently to the ground, taking Justin’s place beside the basilisk. I fired again, distracting it from Sloane, who was standing in the middle of the path leading it to the lake. She had my knife in one hand and the splintered end of the broken spear in the other. Colt wiped blood off his face, scouring in the undergrowth for some kind of weapon. Tobias poked the basilisk with the end of a long branch. The smells of dying plants and mildew breath wafted around us. The lake glinted between the trees. The light was opalescent, like the inside of an abalone shell.

  “Come here, you freaky little worm,” Sloane taunted. A dragonfly darted past, then tumbled like a stone into the lake. Basilisk saliva sizzled on the shore. Sloane swore and jumped aside. I vaulted over a fallen log and came down hard, using the momentum of my weight to stab a knife into the basilisk’s tail. The blade slid through scales, pinning the basilisk to the ground. It thrashed, shrieking and spitting.

  Saliva seared through the side of my sleeve, and I yanked my shirt off before it cou
ld burn through my skin. One of Justine’s bullets tore through the basilisk’s left wing. As it screamed, I tossed my shirt at Sloane. She caught it, then dropped it over the reptilian eyes, shielding us. I pulled the knife free. Green blood oozed, corroding the steel handle. I dropped it before it could hurt me.

  The basilisk, momentarily blinded and maddened with pain, slid forward to get away from Tobias’s staff and Justine’s sword. It glided into the water, sinking quickly until there were only ripples left. We hadn’t killed it, but at least it wouldn’t be coming after us again tonight.

  “Dude.” Colt rolled onto his back, wiping blood from the gash on his forearm. “I totally had him.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kia

  If I thought fixing one little faucet and classical piano music were going to change Ethan’s mercurial attitude, I was dead wrong.

  I saw him at his locker with Justin, two handsome seniors everyone couldn’t help but stare at. I caught his eye when I passed by and smiled. “Hey, Ethan.”

  He nodded in that annoying way guys did, that lazy, arrogant half lift of the chin. Like I wasn’t good enough for a full nod, or like he couldn’t remember my name. Then he shut his locker door and left without a single word. I’d been an idiot to think I’d seen another side of him.

  Justine, sadly, didn’t leave with him. She laughed at me from her own locker, a few feet down. I could smell her perfume even from here, cloying and flowery. “God, stop throwing yourself at him. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  It wasn’t only my palms that burned that time, but the soles of my feet. The smell of burning dust hung in the air. I was too afraid to look down to see if my shoes were melting.

  Justine wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that?” she asked her friends.

  One of them sniffed. “No, what?”

  She looked at me pointedly. “Desperation.”

  They flounced off to catch up with Ethan, who was halfway down the hall, laughing with his friends.

  So when I got back to the castle after school, I already knew following Ethan was a bad idea.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I was taking out the bucket of compost from another fancy dinner when I saw him crossing the lawn toward the dark forest with Justine, Justin, and Colt. They were dressed weirdly, in linen tunics and leather.

  “What are you doing?” Ariel asked curiously from behind me.

  I was so startled I squeaked and nearly decapitated her with the bucket. She cringed back, the garden light gleaming on her braces. “Sorry.” I dropped the bucket. “I was, uh, taking out the compost.”

  “They never let me go with them, either.” She pouted.

  “Do you know what they’re doing?” I asked.

  “Justine says it’s none of my business, and Justin says they’re partying.”

  Oh, God, I’d nearly gotten caught spying on Ethan and the others partying? I did not need to see that. I turned away to dump the compost in the huge animal-proof barrel tucked under the stone wall. Ariel trailed behind me, looking bored. The smell of the compost made her wrinkle her nose. “That’s gross,” she said and hurried back toward the castle.

  If I’d been smart, I would have gone with her.

  Instead, I stood where I was, wondering why I was so intrigued, why I couldn’t let this mystery go. Why I couldn’t help but search the shadows for Ethan.

  I darted from cedar hedge to pine tree, staying hidden as best I could. I hesitated at the edge of the forest. I didn’t have a flashlight, and it seemed monumentally stupid to go waltzing in blind. I moved slowly, aiming my cell phone at the ground. The light was weak, but it led me to a clump of birch trees I could hide behind. I could hear them talking, and the cracking twigs under their boots. Whatever they were doing, they didn’t care about stealth.

  Someone had started a fire—I could see the dancing orange light and smell the smoke. My palms tingled. I curled my chilled fingertips over the burn, trying to cool the tiny invisible embers I held in my hands. They stood in a circle around the fire. There was an altered wooden pagoda, built to be a complete circle over the benches, with posts sturdy enough to hang shields and swords on iron hooks and lanterns strung through the trees.

  Justine looked haughty, but she was rubbing her palms against her leather pants as if she was nervous. I knew a nervous tic when I saw one—especially one of my own. I was pretty sure she was warm from the fire outside, though, not the fire inside her skin, like I was. Justin stared at the smoke rising, as if he expected it to turn into a naked girl. I thought I heard the clink of metal and some kind of animal sound that had my mouth going dry. Colt glanced behind him, but no one else reacted.

  The thin clouds raced away, and the sudden moonlight made Ethan’s hair look like gold. He hung back at the edge of the trees, his hands in his pockets. Tobias joined him from out of the shadows. “You know it’s too dangerous,” he said softly.

  “I know,” Ethan answered. His voice was tinder, waiting to catch fire. I knew that kind of sound intimately.

  They were murmuring too quietly. I nearly fell on my face leaning out to hear better.

  “It’s time,” Justine called out. She sounded different. Less bitchy, more subdued.

  “Screw the Cabal. I can’t be here,” Tobias added angrily before loping off between the trees toward the lake.

  “I can’t, either,” Ethan whispered to himself. He couldn’t know the housekeeper’s granddaughter was lurking in the shadows like some creepy stalker. But I couldn’t look away. His profile was throwing off pain like heat waves off hot asphalt. But when he strode forward, it melted off him and he looked bored and arrogant, as usual. I was beginning to think there were as many Ethans as there were leaves in the forest.

  “We all have to prove ourselves,” Justine intoned. There was no other word for it. It wasn’t her ordinary voice, it was full of assumed importance and power. To be honest, it creeped me out.

  So did the knife in her hand.

  It looked old-fashioned, covered in jewels that I’d bet were real, down to the ruby in the handle. The gold gleamed, as did the narrow blade She jabbed the knife into the tip of her index finger until blood welled on her skin. Then she smeared it on Colt’s forehead. He was standing like a soldier, all stern and unyielding. Justin followed suit.

  The tree was a good vantage point for secrecy’s sake, but the air off the lake hurled straight at me. It was cold enough to raise goose bumps on my arms, and I rubbed my hands together, hoping the friction would create enough warmth.

  I should have known better.

  Somehow, I was still surprised when sparks leaped off my fingers, landing in the dried pine needles and leaves at my feet. One minute I was eavesdropping and the next the back of my neck was tingling. I had that feeling you get when you just know someone’s right behind you. But when I turned, there was no one there. I could hear footsteps, though, and the rustling of dry leaves and crackling, like ice. There was frost on the bark of the tree in front of me, like silver fur.

  There was a cold, vicious breath on the nape of my neck, as if a winter storm was blowing in. I shivered violently, and the sparks on the ground flared high. My hands burned, my eyelids burned, and the forest floor burned around my feet.

  And then suddenly that was the least of my problems.

  Something scurried through the undergrowth, hunched over like a man but shuffling like some other kind of beast entirely. Primal fear skittered through me like insects. I’d never wanted to run so desperately in my life, but I was frozen. Vulnerable. Useless.

  Its lips were black and crusted with frostbite, and it was wearing mostly mud and hoarfrost. Its hair was bedraggled and white, eyes rimmed with red. The worst part of it, even worse than the blood on its teeth and under its fingernails, was its breath. It was so cold, it was like needles stabbing into my skin, even when it was already several feet away. It smelled like blood and salt and iron.

  The sparks raced through the fallen pine needles and maple leaves. In
the forest, the gold and red light changed. The fire flared suddenly high, as if someone had tossed gasoline into it.

  I was still frozen. Minuscule, perfect ice crystals formed on the ends of my eyelashes, casting prisms in my vision. I tried to breathe, but the air was snow and frost and jagged broken ice. It caught in my throat, strangling me. The fire reacted as if it was part of me. It died down slightly as I started to see gray spots, desperate for air. When I managed to haul oxygen though my nostrils and into my cold, parched lungs, the fire exploded.

  There was a hiss and then flames everywhere.

  The ice that encased me cracked and shattered. Icicles detonated, flung out like translucent arrows, and stabbed into tree trunks and through leaves. I stumbled back, hands trembling, eyes wild. I didn’t know what to do. Smoke hung thickly between the trees, and the crackling of fire as it ate through the forest was getting louder. An animal made frantic sounds of panic from somewhere at the heart of the woods. I shivered again and rubbed my neck, running backward, away from Ethan, away from the creature, just away.

  But the fire followed me.

  At the garden wall, I grabbed the discarded compost bucket, scattering apple peels and carrot tops. I dashed to the lake to fill it with water and dashed back to throw it on the fire. Some of the flames sizzled, thinned. Water sloshed over my hands, cold and clear. I tasted soot and ice in my mouth, running back and forth until even my spleen was exhausted. But it wasn’t enough. The reflection of the flames was orange and yellow, flickering like strobe lights. The surface of the lake dimpled all over, as if even the fish were trying to get away.

  I was going to have to call for help.

  When you get kicked out of school for setting it on fire, you’re suddenly guilty of every fire in a hundred-mile radius. And even I had to admit this didn’t look good.