Blackbiird
Delores
I’m flat against Aubrey’s neck, nose full of scales and the wind coursing over me.
The world blurs past below, quartered by the campus architects’ secret love for separation.
There’s enough moon to edge everything in silver, but Aubrey’s body blocks most of it.
I see over his left ear, just enough for tactical scanning—my favorite new hobby—because reconnaissance flyovers are definitely going on my list of things to do as much as possible.
Aubrey banks low, and I feel every muscle in his back tense before he does it, so I brace.
The drop is deliberate; it’s a deadfall over the place Felix flagged for us to check.
He was right that something feels hinky, despite the cameras, motion sensors, and patrols that seem to include it in their patterns.
If there’s one thing you can say about our Raj, it’s that he is sharp as a tack with this military-esque stuff.
His dickhead father had him trained so well that even the slightest thing tweaks him eventually, and this path certainly has a weird vibe, even from the air.
The path is between two dorm buildings, and there are no lights, not even the faint blue of emergency LEDs, at the moment.
It’s empty, no movement to catch our eyes.
But my gut is reacting the way I assume Felix’s tiger did, so someone or something is using this walkway for nefarious purposes.
If it was students or staff, I don’t think the secretly Fae part of me would be sparkling inside right now.
My dragon lifts us again, his heavy wings stirring eddies through the cold as we fly away before a single sensor can ping our thermal signature.
Ren is coasting higher, watching the ground for anyone who might see us accidentally and require an explanation of why the two professors were roaming the skies over the school.
It’s not that they can’t fly about—plenty of the winged preds do—but it’s late and the way we’re moving would definitely make people suspicious.
That’s before they realize I’m on board as well, obviously.
We gain altitude as my fliers swing northeast toward the edge of the school’s footprint, where the lawns yield to a tangle of weeds and stubborn wildflowers before collapsing into the dark wall of the forest. Once we’re there, Aubrey drops us on a patch of frosted grass just outside the treeline, landing so softly you’d think the dragon thinks I’m made of glass.
Renard lands a half-second later, his onyx wings angling for a controlled skid.
His landing is less poetry than physics, but I grin anyway.
Swinging my legs over one side, I slide down Aubrey’s bulk to the ground with a soft thud.
I turn to look at Rennie, and he walks over to pull my sweatshirt up gently.
“Are you ready, ma petite? This trip means we will need to stay half-shifted to help us creep around without alerting the beings squatting here.”
Looking over at the forest, I tilt my head as I use the amulet inside my clothes to do what he said and pull my hood up over my tall ears. “Okay, babe. I’m ready to rock.”
The big guy is already in half-form with his arms scaled, chest massive, and claws flexing for effect.
He keeps his wings snapped closed so they don’t catch on anything, and Rennie does the same.
I don’t have that kind of thing to worry about as my bunny form, even as big as it is, is made for running through a forest to elude predators.
It’s one of the few times I’m at an advantage over these enormous mythicals, and I twitch my nose happily in excitement.
Score one for Dolly the mutant bunny/Fae hybrid.
We start with Rennie on point, me at his back to the right, and Aubrey behind to the left.
His bulk blocks the line of sight from campus, which hopefully means we won’t encounter any other surprise visitors.
While I’m pretty sure no one cares about this quadrant of woods, I also know that unlike Apex, students do not come here at night.
It’s odd to me, since it’s a much better place to party than we had at Cappie, but I guess the artsy kids who come here really aren’t the outdoorsy types.
I have my eyes up and nose open to every shred of information possible as we walk slowly and carefully through the trees.
The ground is frozen and uneven, but I know Rennie is following the path he mapped out when he did recon earlier in the week.
Despite how safe I am with these enormously intimidating preds, my mind runs through failure scenarios.
We could run into an ambush and get frog-marched to the vamps’ lair like sacrifices.
There could be other shit hiding here, including our angry Fae Lady who hates Rennie and, by extension, me.
Someone could get injured, and we’d have to figure out how to get them back without getting caught by baddies.
This is my life since the Fae onslaught started—threat analysis, risk management, and an endless game of What’s Out There Trying To Kill Me.
It features regular cameos by ancient grudges and new enemies with self-esteem issues.
It’s exhausting at times, but then I remind myself that people only come after those they see as threats.
They don’t bother with the weak and useless, especially in the pred world.
And I no longer believe the lies about me being those things, so I know they attack me out of fear.
Carefully, we advance as a team into the unknown with nothing but our wits and strength to keep us from being harmed.
There are worse ways to spend a Tuesday night, and I’m much happier doing this than wasting my time counting followers in my cult on social media.
The woods are old, so as we pick our way through, we hit a thicket of wild roses, the thorns gone brittle in the freeze.
I make mental notes of every footprint we pass—foxes, canines, and several different prey animals that were probably accessing secret tunnels for the staff.
There’s nothing fresh, though, so I don’t worry about it.
We take our time, not because we’re scared, but because it’s smart.
Everything that wants to kill us out here is patient or very swift.
I’m both, and I know Rennie is too, but Aubrey relies on brute strength.
He’ll take out a huge part of this place if he has to shift or unleash the fire to protect us.
That will entail days of paperwork, and I know none of us wants that in the slightest.
There’s a stutter every few feet—my foot catches on a root or someone’s shoe slides, followed by a low, furious snarl.
We’re moving deeper into the trees toward the spot where Rennie and the crew found the weird cabin.
There’s no actual path, only a strip of trampled grass and frost that isn’t tamped down enough to see without enhanced vision.
The first warning that we’re getting close is the birds breaking from cover about a thousand yards ahead.
None of us say anything, but I feel the tension ripple back through our group as the gargoyle continues moving us in the correct direction.
Suddenly, he stops, holding his hand up, and I bump into his elbow, muttering, “What—?”
Rennie shakes his head at me. So I listen harder to see what is tweaking his radar. The woods are quiet, but not in the customary way. There are no frogs, no wind, not even the distant chirp of a bird. It’s a thick, suffocating silence, and my teeth ache from the pressure of it.
Aubrey crouches beside me, one palm down for stability and his claws extended but not threatening. “Something’s off,” he says in a low voice made for the dark. “I sense it, too.”
I nod because I know the birds’ panicked flight isn’t them running from us. They’re fleeing whatever is at the old cabin. None of them even look back, and it’s as if the center of the woods has been declared a no-go zone.
Apparently, we’re the only ones dumb or brave enough to ignore the signs.
We press on, moving in short bursts and always with a pause to listen.
The frost is thicker here, and the ground is weirdly soft—spongy, like there’s something under it waiting to move.
I check the sky. It’s open above, but the trees are packed tight around the next clearing.
The moonlight should hit the leaves, but it’s as if someone turned down the exposure by hand.
After ten minutes of this, we reach the outer ring.
The trees here are birch and maple, with old pines just beyond.
There’s the faintest scent of iron—blood, maybe, but I haven’t heard about any neck wounds.
Underneath it all is a taste I recognize from dreams and several bad nights at various schools.
Circling the perimeter, we fan out just enough to see the cabin from all angles.
It’s smaller than I expected, but it’s ringed by what looks like a collapsed stone wall.
There are no obvious entrances besides the front, and the windows are covered completely.
The whole place smells of old wood, mold, and underneath, that same metallic sweetness.
I’m not sure I want to know if that’s the Fae lady magic or vampire leftover, truthfully.
Rennie crouches at the edge of the trees, scanning for movement.
Then, just past the far side of the hill, a branch snaps like a femur under pressure.
We exchange silent looks, getting lower so we aren’t noticed by whatever this is if possible.
That’s when I see a shadow moving against the cabin’s flank.
It’s a blurry distortion that’s hard to parse, as if someone is painting with the color black and running out of pigment.
Even so, it’s weirdly three-dimensional, but doesn’t track with the pattern of light through the trees.
For a heartbeat, I think I see eyes, then they’re gone.
I don’t move; hell, I don’t even breathe, but neither does anyone else.
The shadow just… exists, pressed to the side of the cabin without aggression, just a brutal confidence.
Whatever it is, it knows we’re here, and it doesn’t care.
It could be one of the vampires Rennie is certain about or something else, but it doesn’t seem to have a scent.
I sniff again, shaking my head in frustration as it defies all natural laws.
Aubrey is in full freeze, every muscle in his body tight, his tail low and angled for leverage.
My gargoyle is sneering at the cabin, not watching the same spot as me.
I feel the weight of their anticipation, but they don’t seem as bothered by the shadow as I am, only by the occupants of the structure.
Is it possible they don’t even sense the fucking thing? Am I the only one who can see it?
I run the numbers in my head. If there’s a bunch of vamps in there as Rennie suspects, we can’t fight our way in and deal with this spooky thing.
The only genuine option is to observe and report back when we get home.
The shadow shifts, tracing the line of the cabin until it merges with the deep black at the corner.
It lingers there, waiting, and I sense it wants us to see it but not to follow.
It’s a warning, clear as any I’ve ever gotten.
I tip my chin toward the way we came, asking the winged men if they want to get out of here.
Since nothing is stirring in the cabin that we can see, Aubrey moves first, never turning his back to the clearing.
Rennie waits for me to follow, and I do so while keeping my eyes on the area where my secret watcher thing was.
I don’t trust it, and since I can’t tell the guys about it without giving away our position, I need to be vigilant.
When we’re finally a safe distance away, I let a long, slow breath out.
The pressure in my teeth fades and my ears feel less tense.
I think we’re out of the range of whatever is in the cabin and the creepy shadow, which helps my heart ramp down as well.
Together, we make our way back toward the edge of campus, the lights now just visible through the break in the trees.
The world returns to normal as we slip out of the trees.
I feel the wind and hear the distant noise of a party two dorms away.
But under it all, I feel the hum of energy from what we left behind.
Whatever that was is separate from the fanged fuckers, and it’s probably working with them.
That means it’s tattling on our presence as we speak.
Tomorrow, we’re going to have to deal with that, and I have no idea how.
But for tonight, I know everyone I love is safe, and that’s enough—for now.