Chapter 15 – Micah
Chapter
Fifteen
MICAH
“Istill don’t understand why I’m the one being punished.”
I set down yet another cardboard box labeled “CRYSTALS (DO NOT DROP)” in increasingly aggressive handwriting. My lower back is about to call OSHA.
Sadie’s practice room is on the fourth floor of Briar Hall, because the good rooms all belong to seniors. And of course, the elevator’s been broken since before I enrolled.
“Rowan is the one who made the call,” I continue, straightening up and wiping sweat from my forehead.
Sadie doesn’t look up from where she’s arranging jars on a shelf that’s been painted with some kind of crackle glaze to make it look ancient, but I’m pretty sure it’s just from IKEA.
The whole room has that slightly-off quality of spaces that have been magically expanded.
The walls don’t quite meet at right angles. It makes my wolf twitchy.
“Rowan is a goodie two-shoes,” she says. “He would never think up something like that on his own.”
She’s right, of course.
Rowan was literally a Boy Scout. And an Eagle Scout. I don’t even think you’re allowed to be in both, like rival mafia families, but that’s probably the only rule he’s ever broken in his life.
“Besides,” she continues, “you’re as bad as Sean. You’re just smart enough to get someone else to take the fall for you half the time. Remember Mrs. Plinkert’s garden gnomes?”
“Those gnomes had it coming.”
“They were arranged in a pentagram on his lawn at three AM.”
“Artistic expression?”
“Yeah, well I got grounded for your ‘artistic expression,’ because ‘Sweet Micah would never,’” she huffs and goes back to her jars.
I can’t even tell what’s in most of them. Some are filled with liquids that seem to move on their own and not just in the usual liquid way, but in a may-or-may-not-be-sentient way. One jar near the back definitely has eyes, and they’re watching me.
“Hand me that box,” she says, pointing. “The one marked ‘herbs, not drugs.’”
“Is that distinction important?”
“It is when campus security does random room checks.”
Fair point. I grab the box and carry it over to her, setting it on the work table that takes up most of the center of the room. The surface is covered in scratches and burn marks from past rituals.
Sadie’s practice room is exactly what you’d expect, really. Black curtains cover the single window. Candles in various states of melt crowd every horizontal surface. There’s an altar against the far wall draped in dark velvet, surrounded by skulls that I really hope are fake.
“Are those real?” I ask, nodding toward them.
“The skulls?” She shrugs. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“The raccoon is ceramic. I got it at a garage sale.” She pauses. “The previous owner said it was haunted, but I think she just wanted to get rid of it.”
“Only you would consider haunted a selling point.”
She considers this.
I lean against the wall—carefully, because nothing in this room feels entirely trustworthy—and watch her unpack dried herbs into labeled containers.
It all looks like jumbled chaos to me, especially in contrast to Regina’s meticulously ordered supplies, but she somehow knows exactly where everything’s going.
“So, how’s Cujo doing?”
“Sadie.”
“What?” She looks up to arch an eyebrow. “Too soon?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s…” I stop, considering how much to reveal. “He’s hanging in there.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I’ve got.”
She pauses her sorting, a bundle that smells like burnt herbs in her hand. “The virus is progressing.”
“Yeah.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “Viruses do that. The veins under his skin are spreading. He’s stronger than he should be.
Keeps breaking things.” I try for a laugh but it sounds like a cough.
“And keeps treating himself like a bomb about to go off. Won’t let anyone get too close. Especially not Regina.”
Sadie sets down the sage. “That must be hard. For all of you.”
“We’re managing.” The words are automatic. They’re the kind of words you say when you don’t want to think about how not-fine everything actually is.
“Uh huh.” She gives me that look that says she can see right through my bullshit. “And Regina? How’s she handling it?”
I don’t answer right away. The truth is complicated.
“She’s researching,” I finally say. “Every spare minute. Every book she can find. Villeneuve’s library, the campus library, anywhere that might have answers.”
“That sounds like her.”
“She thinks we don’t notice.” I stare at a spot on the floor where something has been scorched into the wood.
Some kind of sigil, maybe. “Gets up in the middle of the night, sneaks down to Villeneuve’s study, raids his bookshelves until dawn.
Then acts like she got a full eight hours when we see her at breakfast.”
Sadie is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. That definitely sounds like Regina.” She purses her lips. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”
“And say what? ‘Hey, babe, maybe stop trying to save Killian’s life and get some sleep instead’?” I shake my head. “The worst part is, it’s not like any of us can do anything either.”
Sadie resumes her sorting. The silence is filled with the soft sounds of dried herbs being transferred between containers and the distant hum of whatever magical apparatus is running in the room next door.
It sounds like an evil doomsday device, and under normal circumstances, I’d already be texting Sean to come and investigate, but I just can’t muster the enthusiasm to meddle right now.
“Alphas are pretty shit at doing nothing,” she finally says.
I snort. “Yeah, well, apparently sirens are shit at doing anything,” I mutter. “Vyse hasn’t found anything. Or if he has, he’s not telling us.”
“Vyse sounds like a dick.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t even know why he’s helping us, other than Villeneuve supposedly saving his ass at the black market years ago.”
“You believe him?” she asks.
I shrug. “About as much as I believe anything. But I believe he’s doing this for Regina, if nothing else.”
“Villeneuve?” Sadie’s arched eyebrows kick up. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s obvious.” I shrug. “Especially after that stupid game of truth or spin. And he totally rigged the bottle to land on Regina.”
“Truth or what now?”
“Sean’s version,” I explain, waving my hand in the air. “It was a ploy to get Regina to make out with us.”
“So technically, you rigged the game first.”
“Well, yeah. But he did it with magic. That’s cheating.”
She rolls her eyes. “You dumbasses asked for it, inviting him to play spin the bottle with your mate.”
“Hey, it was a decent cover for interrogating him.”
“How’d that work out for you?” she asks, folding her arms.
I grimace. “We still don’t know shit about Villeneuve, except that he’s a dragon who’s killed a lot of people. And he almost kissed our mate.”
“Yeah. Sounds like a real successful interrogation. If the pack doesn’t work out, you’d be a shoo-in for the Council taskforce.”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” I grumble, reaching for another box. This one is unlabeled, which is probably a bad sign. “Where do you want this?”
“Closet. Back corner. Don’t open it.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
I carry the mystery box to the closet and shove it into the corner as instructed. The closet is deeper than it should be. The back wall keeps receding as I move toward it.
I decide not to think about that.
When I come back out, Sadie is watching me with that worried look. It’s rare enough that I always know I’ve fucked up when I see it.
“Look, twerp,” she begins. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”
“Twerp?” I arch an eyebrow. “I’m like a foot taller than you now.”
“I don’t do the touchy feely woo bullshit, so shut up and listen,” she mutters.
Once she seems satisfied that I’m not going to interrupt, she continues, “You know I think your little pack of Moon-Moons is completely hopeless on the best of days, and Killian is by far my least favorite idiot out of the bunch. But you guys have changed. Regina’s been good for you, and even if she’s completely out of all your leagues to the point where you’re basically playing foosball and she’s playing chess—“
“Gee, thanks for the pep talk,” I say flatly, even though I can’t say I disagree.
“My point is,” she continues, “You’re not the same clueless morons you were before her.
You’ve all grown up. Even Sean. When that coven of douchebags showed up, you stood your ground and protected what’s yours.
When Villeneuve offered to let you stay in his mansion, you did it even though you guys all have some kind of paranoid wolf hive mind complex about the guy, and I know it’s driving you crazy. ”
“You have no fucking idea,” I mutter.
“But you did it anyway,” she reasons.
“It’s the only way we could guarantee Regina is safe, and keep an eye on Killian’s condition,” I say with a shrug.
“Exactly.” Her black lipstick cracks slightly as her lips do something it takes me a few seconds to realize is a smile.
Her version of it, anyway. It looks painful.
“When one of your own is in trouble, you show up. You put your bullshit aside and rally around whoever needs it. I still think wolves are by far the most annoying variant of shifter there is, squirrels included, but you guys make the whole pack thing look… tolerable.”
I can’t help the smile tugging at my own lips, even though I know she’s probably going to accuse me of being a cheeseball in about three seconds. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying, you all have your thing. Killian’s the hardass leader who keeps you in line, Sean’s the one who keeps things light, Rowan’s occasionally in possession of the group braincell, and you… You’re good at the holding things together part. Being there for people.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late. I’m already insufferable.”
This time she does smile. Just a little. Just for a second.
“What I’m trying to say is, maybe you can’t fix Killian or make Regina stop worrying, but you can be there for them.” She turns back to her altar, organizing herbs that are already organized. “Both of them. That’s not nothing, Micah.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Sadie being sincere is almost as unsettling as the possibly haunted ceramic raccoon.
My phone buzzes before I can come up with something appropriately deflecting to say.
SEXY WITCH
Get back here as soon as you can.
NERD
What’s wrong??
SEXY WITCH
Vyse is here.
I stare at the message. Twice.
“What is it?” Sadie asks, apparently picking up on my sudden silence.
“Vyse is here.” I’m already moving toward the door. “At the mansion.”
She drops whatever she was holding. “I’m coming with you.”
“Sadie—”
“Don’t even start.” She’s already grabbing her jacket. “You think I’m going to miss a chance to interrogate that sexy red-haired bastard in person? I’ve got questions.”
“This probably isn’t a good idea.”
“Most things I do aren’t good ideas.” She rushes past me through the door, heading for the stairs. “That’s never stopped me before.”
I follow, because what the fuck else am I going to do?
Tell Sadie no?
That’s not how this works.
Besides, if this impromptu meeting goes sideways, we’re gonna need all the backup we can get.