Chapter 10
Leonie was starting to worry that convincing Shan to pose as a counselor had not been wise.
Not that he was bad at it. That wouldn’t have been a problem.
In fact, it would have been business as usual.
As head counselor, she always assigned the least experienced new recruit as her own partner.
She was used to working with a nervous newbie who needed just as much supervision as the actual kids.
If Shan was nervous, he didn’t show it. He didn’t need handholding, either. Every time she turned around to ask him to do something, he was already taking care of it—handing out drinks, collecting stray dodgeballs, carrying trunks to cabins. He just got on with things, quietly and without any fuss.
Which was just as well, as she certainly had her hands full.
“All right,” she sighed, surveying the carnage. Muffled titters and whispers ran around the dining hall as other packs craned their necks to see what was going on. “Who wants to tell me what happened this time?”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Beth, at least, looked appropriately mortified. Then again, she had for all the previous incidents as well. “I take full responsibility.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Finley said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Don’t blame Finley,” Estelle chipped in. “I kinda tripped him. But only because Archie made me jump.”
“Graw,” protested the bear cub sitting next to her.
“Not that Archie did anything wrong either,” Beth said quickly. “I’m sure he just got a little overexcited when he saw me and Finley coming back with the trays.”
The bear blurred, and then Archie was back, tugging his T-shirt straight. “I couldn’t help shifting. That dessert smelled really good.”
Tiff gazed mournfully at the wreckage. “Yeah. It did.”
Repressing another sigh, Leonie looked at Shan. “Are you all right?”
Chocolate pudding dripped from the agent’s sunglasses. “Yes.”
Leonie shook her head, turning back to the kids. “I can’t believe you managed to dump both trays right on his head. You couldn’t have plastered him more thoroughly if you’d tried.”
Finley shifted from foot to foot. “We really are sorry. We’ll clean up all the mess.”
“That’s right.” Beth grabbed a napkin from the table. “If you give me your sunglasses, counselor Shan, I’ll wipe them for you.”
“Oh my gold.” Ignatius—who’d spent most of the day pointedly ignoring everyone—slumped further in his chair. “Are you idiots going to be like this all summer?”
Leonie hoped not. She was used to a certain level of camper-driven disasters, but this was reaching a new low. At this rate, poor Shan wasn’t going to survive to the end of the week.
“Sometimes accidents happen,” she said to the guilty campers. “But they shouldn’t keep happening. You need to be more careful, or someone could get hurt.”
“We are being careful!” Estelle protested. “We didn’t mean to nail Shan with all those dodgeballs.”
“At least not in the family jewels,” Ignatius said under his breath.
Leonie folded her arms. “Just like you didn’t mean to trip him up while he was carrying the trunks to your cabin? Or send him flying during Capture the Flag?”
Archie had the wide-eyed innocence of a kitten on a Christmas card. “We didn’t see him.”
“Yes, because he’s so easy to miss,” Ignatius said. “Take my advice, Shan. Don’t stand near any compost heaps. Or cliffs.”
Leonie shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you kids. It isn’t like any of you to be this accident-prone.”
Tiff perked up. “Maybe it’s the ghost!”
Not this again. Leonie was beginning to regret putting Tiff in the group. She’d thought the girl would be a good match with Finley and Spencer, since her application form had listed ‘books and reading’ among her favorite hobbies. Unfortunately, her parents hadn’t specified what kind of books.
Beth stomped a foot, looking as exasperated as Leonie felt. “For the last time, Tiff, there’s no ghost!”
“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were under the control of one.” Tiff eyed her fellow campers speculatively. “Maybe you’re all possessed by ghosts.”
Spencer scoffed. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Tiff countered. “Just because you’ve never personally seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
Spencer’s chin jutted out. “That doesn’t mean I have to believe in nonsense. Ghosts aren’t real. Neither is anything else supernatural.”
Finley cleared his throat. “Spencer, we’re shifters.”
“And we exist,” Spencer retorted. “Therefore, by definition, we’re part of the natural world. Some of the things we can do might seem like magic, but that’s only because we don’t understand the underlying principles yet.”
“Okay,” Archie said, sounding a little dubious. “But Finley turns into a giant flying shark.”
Spencer adjusted his glasses. “It’s probably something to do with quantum physics.”
“Estelle, you and Archie gather up these bowls and take them back to the kitchen,” Leonie said.
“Tell the cooks I said it was okay for them to give you more pudding. Finley, Beth, go get some cloths and start cleaning this up. I’ll be back in a few minutes to help. Shan, let’s get you sorted out first.”
Shan rose, pushing back his chair. He’d managed to get some of the mess off himself, but pudding still smeared his sunglasses. “I can manage on my own.”
“You can barely see where you’re going.” She took his arm firmly. “There isn’t time for you to take a shower before the evening ceremony. We’ll just have to fix you up as best we can for now. Come on.”
She steered him out of the dining hall, toward the private staff-only bathroom. The door swung shut behind them, cutting off the rising buzz of gossip.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” she muttered. She locked the door, just in case anyone tried to follow them in. “Sorry about this, Shan.”
“No need to apologize.” Shan took a handful of paper towels from the dispenser. Without removing his sunglasses, he started to wipe pudding off his face. “I understood the risks when I agreed to this assignment.”
“You can’t have expected to be bombarded with bowls of pudding. That wasn’t really an accident, was it?”
Shan hesitated, as if reluctant to get the kids in trouble. “The children were telling the truth when they said they were sorry.”
“Shan, I’ve worked at this camp since the day it opened. I know when kids are playing pranks. I honestly don’t know what’s up with those four. Do you have any idea why they’re targeting you?”
He didn’t reply immediately. When he did speak, it was with slow care, as though each word was a landmine. “Earlier, Archie commented on my gloves and sunglasses. I told the children I needed to wear them at all times, but not why.”
That explained why the kids were so curious. “You could just show them, you know.”
“No,” he said curtly. “On the topic of glasses, it seems I am not the only person who needs to keep his eyes covered. Did you know about Spencer?”
She let him change the subject, though she would rather have tried to change his mind. “His animal, you mean? Yes, I do. Did he mention it?”
“Only indirectly. He told the other children he, ah, shot death rays out of his eyes. They thought he was joking. He was not.”
Leonie snorted. “Death rays is a little over-dramatic. It’s true he needs to wear his special glasses all the time, but he’s not actually dangerous.”
“He believes he is.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Normally I let the campers choose whether to tell their counselors and pack mates about their inner animals. It’s important for the kids to learn to respect each other’s privacy, and it’s easier to do that if we respect it as well.
But in this case, you should know. Spencer’s a basilisk shifter. ”
Shan stilled. “Ah.”
“I see you know what that means.” She wasn’t surprised. Basilisk shifters were extraordinarily rare, but they faced unique challenges in hiding their nature. “Have you encountered any of them in your professional role?”
“A few times.” Shan’s mouth tightened. “Their nature makes them highly valuable to criminal gangs. I take it Spencer has the usual problem?”
“Yep. Anyone who looks him directly in the eyes is affected by his basilisk gaze, even when he’s in human form. Though since he’s still young, his animal isn’t all that powerful yet. According to his parents, the worst he can do is paralyze someone for a few hours.”
Shan rubbed a paper towel thoughtfully across his chocolate-streaked T-shirt. “That sounds like they are speaking from experience.”
“Unfortunately, yes. Even with his special glasses, there have been a few incidents. They had to pull him out of school.” She waved a hand, indicating the camp in general. “Hence why he’s here.”
“He does not seem happy about it.”
“I think he’s worried about hurting people. His parents told me he’s been isolating himself ever since his basilisk fully manifested. He sees his animal as a curse.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Remind you of anyone?”
Shan gave her a level look through his sunglasses. The effect was somewhat undercut by the fact that he still had chocolate pudding streaked through his hair. “Something tells me Spencer was not originally assigned to this group.”
“Why, Agent Zhao. Whatever makes you think that?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Though I do take great care to match campers together. And to the right counselors.”
He shook his head. “And you think I can help Spencer gain better control over his animal?”
“Nope.”
It was true, yet Shan frowned, like he’d taken a bite of a familiar food only to discover an unexpected flavor. “Why did you put him in our pack, then?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She gestured at his head. “You’ve still got some in your hair. On the left. No, your left.”
Shan made an ineffectual pass with the disintegrating paper towel. “Better?”
“No, you’re just spreading it around.” Pulling more paper from the dispenser, she went over to him. “Here, I’ll get it for you. Bend over.”