Chapter Six #3
If I wasn’t red before, I definitely was then. Red from the bottom of my feet to the top of my bald head.
Tristan took off, leading me away, before the shouting and cursing started.
I glanced up at him, my shoulder tingling from where he clasped it—his hand heavy and warm.
“Um, thanks for that,” I said. “Stepping in and blocking that punch. It was nice of you to make an enemy of that guy for my sake.” I glanced back.
There were still four fae guys on him, tearing his fancy clothes trying to hold him back.
“Because he looks like he’s getting ready for a good, long grudge. ”
Tristan laughed. “Fuck that winged piece of shit, and fuck you too,” he said almost good-naturedly. “I didn’t do that to be nice. I did it because even though you’ve got some impossible power over hellhounds, you’re still a weak, ugly little freak.”
All the fond feelings I had brewing up for him vanished like a smile in hell.
“For some reason, Belphe let you live, so you’re gonna need someone watching your back if your plan to shove the word inferior down the throat of guys like that is going to work.” He clapped me on the back, voice hardening. “And believe me, I’m more than happy to help you do it.”
I didn’t say anything as we headed into the classroom.
I didn’t want Tristan to have the wrong idea about me or my intentions but Sabrina had been more than clear about the dangers of letting anyone know that I’m human.
I was here to save Dora and get her home.
I couldn’t do or say anything to risk that goal.
Just like when I entered the hallway, I scanned every face milling around the lecture hall.
There were about two dozen students taking up the seats in the auditorium-like room.
The stairs opened up at our feet, leading down, down, down to the teacher’s desk and podium.
All of that was familiar, but where this hell university differed was once again through the décor.
Instead of hard, plastic back-achers, the chairs here were plush and upholstered. They lined long rows of mahogany tables, and although there was more light in here, those lights were still provided by screaming skeletons hanging off the walls and ceilings.
This isn’t going to be enough, I thought, gazing at the unfamiliar faces. I’m going to have to ask around. See if anyone knows those guys or where they could be.
“Tristan,” I spoke up, “I know you’re new to the academy too, but I’m looking for a couple of demon guys. One with a man-sized scorpion tail. One with a lion’s maw. One with a horned frog head. There’s also a snake demon and a tiger demon. Have you seen or heard of them?”
He scoffed. Moving out ahead of me, he looked around for a seat. “You know as well as I that you could be describing any-fucking-one. There are a billion of you demon fuckers with scorpion tails and lion maws.”
I choked. There are?! But—! No, stop, I said to my rushing panic. Even if those features aren’t unique, I’ll know the ones who took my sister when I see them. I just will.
“Okay.” I breathed hard. “Then, is there a time or place where everyone in the school gathers? I know the mess halls are separate, but are there like assemblies? Meetings? Rallies? Events? Something where everyone from all years has to be in the same place?”
He shrugged. “Not that I’ve ever heard of,” he tossed over that broad, muscled shoulder. “But I’m going to go with no. Having everyone in the same place like that is begging for a brawl to break out. Profs aren’t allowed to make us kill each other unless there’s some lesson in it.”
The man dropped that like that wasn’t the most horrible thing ever. Where did I even begin?! With the fact that Tristan didn’t doubt for a second that getting everyone in the same room would result in a massacre? Or that said massacre would be A-OK as long as it was for educational purposes?
“This isn’t Happy Daisy Fairy Land,” I muttered to myself.
Tristan jogged down to the front and grabbed a seat next to the aisle. I followed him because what else was I going to do? He already pledged to have my back, and support like that was nice right about then, because not all of the faces in the room were unfamiliar.
The cat demon grinned at me the second I walked in.
I saw him move out of the corner of my eye as I claimed the seat next to Tristan. He was on me from the second I set my books and pencils out.
“What’s this?” His shadow fell over me, and was soon joined by two more. “Has the freak found a pet?”
I looked up, taking in the smirks bearing down on me.
They were all cat demons in a way. There was the one with the humanoid black cat head who tried to kill me, and then on his left and right were a tiger demon and, going by his big eyes and markings, a margay demon.
To be honest, it was more than unsettling to have bipedal, red-eyed demon cats looking at me with such malicious intelligence.
If demons are humans, why did they look like this?
Did they undergo some kind of transformation when they crossed over, or did they magic themselves to look this way?
But I didn’t bother to voice any of my questions. These guys were clearly not here to teach me the ways of demons.
“So, you think we should all get along and support each other,” he mocked in a high-pitched tone.
“Well, that sounds good to me. I’m Kazuya,” he stated.
“This is Pravat”—he pointed to the tiger demon—“and that’s Bruno.
” He pointed to the margay demon. “And if you’re in the mood for a little mutual cooperation...
” Kazuya flashed me that same gleefully homicidal look that would forever haunt my dreams. “Tell us how you did it?”
I looked around. “How’d I do what?”
“You know what.” An edge crept into his voice. “How’d you get that hellhound to cheat for you? Compulsion magic can’t compete with an ironclad will, and there’s nothing more ironclad than a hellhound’s hunger.”
If this were a cartoon, there’d be little question marks floating around my head. Compulsion magic? Ironclad wills? What the heck was this guy talking about?
“So give it the fuck up,” he hissed. “What are you using to juice your magic? Huh? Larimar? A painite amulet?” Smirking, he brushed his whiskers against my cheek and whispered, “You got a human stashed somewhere?”
I stilled.
A low, scratchy laugh filled my ear. “Sipping on that sweet, soul juice, ain’t ya? Because that would do it. That would give a disgusting little worm like you the power needed to make a hundred hellhounds do your bidding.”
My body was rigid, but not my mind. It raced in a hundred million directions, and all the runners were screaming at me. What the hell was going on? Why did he bring up humans and human souls to me? Did he know I wasn’t a demon?
But how could he know that? I looked like a demon, albeit a frightfully hideous one. I had the red eyes, the demon speech, and the weird tinge to my green skin that came from having black ichor, not blood.
I drew back, eyes narrowing on that grin. “How—?”
“You must be using that same power on this mutt?” he announced, straightening up.
“So that’s how you’ve survived this long, Tristan No-Name.
You’ve got a souped-up worm holding your leash.
But how are you paying for this protection?
” His smirk curled in on itself. “You must give wicked good blowjobs. I wouldn’t mind one my—”
Tristan punched his face in.
Cartilage crunched under bone, spurting blood from his feline face. Snapping up before anyone could think to react, Tristan seized his ears and smashed his face on the desk.
Out cold, my would-be killer left a trail of blood sliding off the desk and onto the floor.
“Argh!” His two companions bellowed their rage, flying at Tristan. Neither one of them spared half a second of concern in their fallen friend’s direction. The margay demon, Bruno, even stepped on Kazuya’s head leaping over the desk.
“Roar!” Tristan ripped out of his seat, transforming before my eyes.
I clapped my hands over my mouth, muffling my forbidden scream.
Razor-sharp claws sprang from his fingertips as fast as coarse, golden fur enveloped his arms and hands.
He seized both of their heads in the palms of his hands, piercing through their cheeks, ears, and skulls—and smashed their heads together. They dropped like stones.
But Tristan wasn’t done.
Jumping over the table, he fell on the still-conscious Kazuya, grabbed his head, and started pummeling.
“Wait, stop!” I cried, eyes bulging out of my skull. “Tristan, stop, you’re going to kill him!”
He didn’t slow or pause. Powerful, lethal fists pounded Kazuya’s face until I couldn’t make out what was blood and what was black fur. What I could see clearly were the shattered teeth embedded in Tristan’s knuckles—making his punches even more devastating.
“Stop it!”
No one else was shouting but me. No one made a move to stop the fight.
Half the class wasn’t even looking in Tristan’s direction.
They were taking out their textbooks, messing on their phones, or finding their seats like it was just another first-day-of-school morning, and someone wasn’t getting slaughtered right in front of them.
“Tristan, please!” I shrieked, desperation leaking into my voice as Kazuya’s limp body jerked helplessly with every hit.
This is hell. I get it, okay! I get that kindness and compromise don’t move the needle down here. Only power does but—
“True strength is mercy!”
Tristan’s head snapped around—his elongated maw snarling and covered in demon blood. He glared at me with a furious, frozen sort of look on his face like what I just shouted at him was so obscene, I shocked him into stillness.
“I wouldn’t say that mercy is strength...” A deep, whispering voice tickled my ear. “But knowing your place is.”
I blinked, and Tristan was flying.