Chapter 28 Kendra
KENDRA
The academy sits behind a row of old pines that open into a campus larger than anything I was prepared for, and I stop on the path with my mouth slightly open.
This is not a school. This is a compound, a small city built for supernatural children, and every building I can see from this entrance looks like it belongs on a university brochure, not tucked into a forest on a Michigan island that most of the world does not know exists.
The wolf shifter wing is to the south, the lion shifter wing to the north, dormitory halls flanking the central structure. I also notice a set of gaming fields in the distance with bleachers and a regulation pitch, and I stare at it long enough that Kojo touches my elbow to keep me moving.
“The children here live like gods,” I say.
Growing up in Detroit, my schools had leaking ceilings and textbooks older than my parents, and the idea that supernatural kids get this, while human children in my neighborhood fought over seats in overcrowded classrooms, lands somewhere complicated in me that I do not have time to unpack right now.
Kojo walks on my left, ridge visible through his shirt, amber eyes tracking the buildings, the paths, the children we pass. He does not speak but I can feel the tension in him. His teeth set once, then release, and he shakes his head at nothing I can see.
Zaki flanks my right, her ridge fully extended, her silver-ringed eyes sweeping the campus. She has not said a word since we left the cabin. She doesn’t like this place, and I understand why. The Bouda were destroyed by humans with technology, and this campus is built on it.
The technology center sits on the east side of the campus, a modern building with wide glass panels and clean lines that stands out from the older stone architecture around it. Kojo steps ahead and opens the door, holding it while I enter first, Zaki after, and the interior stops me in my tracks.
Screens line the walls, projection surfaces I have never seen outside of concept demos at tech conferences, holographic displays hovering above sleek workstations, coding terminals arranged in curved rows with interfaces that shift and adapt as I watch them.
The lighting is warm and the space is open and everything in this room is at least a decade ahead of anything the human tech industry is producing.
I walk deeper into the room and my fingers itch to touch every surface, to sit at one of those terminals and see what the architecture looks like from the inside.
Amari is already there, standing behind one of the workstations, his suit jacket draped over a chair, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. He watches me explore with the expression of a man who built something he is proud of and has been waiting for someone to appreciate it properly.
I stop at a projection display mounted on the far wall, studying the interface, and I can see where the adaptive layer sits in the design.
The UX shifts based on biometric input, restructuring itself for the user in real time, and I notice a lag in the transition between species profiles that could be smoothed with a cleaner handoff protocol.
“Your transition latency between species profiles is running about two hundred milliseconds too slow,” I tell him without looking away from the display.
“If you layer the biometric read into the authentication sequence instead of processing it after login, the interface could adapt before the user even reaches the dashboard.”
Amari’s eyebrows lift and he sets down the tool. “That would require restructuring the entire authentication pipeline.”
“It would, but you’d cut the load time in half and the user would never see the species adaptation happening.
It would feel native instead of reactive.
” I turn to him and I can see in his face that he has already started mapping the solution in his head.
“You built something incredible here, Amari. With a few adjustments it could be seamless.” He grins, and for a second the vampire disappears and I am looking at a developer who just found his favorite kind of collaborator.
Kojo and Zaki have not moved from the doorway. They stand on either side of the entrance, ridges out, arms at their sides, their bodies positioned the same way they position themselves when they flank me on the street.
Kade’s voice carries from behind them. “Why are you two standing in the doorway like guard dogs?” She pushes past Kojo with Leah at her side and walks into the center. Kojo’s jaw tightens but he does not respond, and Zaki’s lip curls but she holds her position.
Amari looks up and the playful energy shifts. “Come. There is something you need to see.” He leads us through a reinforced door into a larger lab space with worktables and equipment I do not recognize, storage racks lining the walls, and sealed cases holding devices that look military-grade.
Zaki hisses before I can identify what she is looking at.
On the far table, laid out in a row, are helmets.
The same helmets the poachers wore the night they attacked us in the parking lot.
Kojo sees them too, his ridge spiking hard, but he does not speak.
He stands very still and his hands curl at his sides.
“These are the models Brookstone and Blackburn developed for the raids,” Amari says, picking one up and turning it in his hands.
“They used the blood of female Bouda to isolate the sovereign frequency, then designed the helmets to filter it out entirely. Your cackle, Zaki, and the cackle of every Bouda female, was neutralized before the first shot was ever fired. That is why you never saw them coming. They built the weapon specifically to counter your strongest defense.”
Zaki’s hands are fists at her sides, her ridge locked.
Amari sets the helmet down and picks up a different device from the table, a slim bracelet made of dark metal with a faint blue pulse running through its surface.
He tosses it toward Zaki in a casual arc, and she catches it without taking her eyes off me.
I am at the far end of the lab examining a set of circuit boards.
“That is a frequency amplifier,” Amari says.
“I designed it specifically for the Bouda sovereign call. When you wear it, your cackle will overpower any helmet they build, any shielding they develop, any countermeasure they deploy. Their technology was designed to block a natural Bouda frequency.” He pauses and his mouth curves. “Now they will not see you coming.”
Zaki looks down at the bracelet in her hand and slides it onto her wrist. The blue pulse syncs with her heartbeat immediately, the light pulsing in time with the rhythm I can see at her throat. She flexes her fingers once and her ridge shifts.
“My mind has not changed about vampires.” She doesn’t look at Amari when she says it, her eyes still on me across the lab. “But you are one of the good ones.”
Amari adjusts his tie and the corner of his mouth lifts. “I will take that as a compliment.”
I set down the circuit board and walk back to the group, looking at Kojo first and then at Zaki. “We’re not staying long. I need to take care of my Bouda.” Kojo’s ridge softens and I catch the shift in his posture.
“I can respect that.” Amari nods. “But the offer to assist me with running the facility still stands. It could use your expertise, Kendra.”
I smile at him and the word yes is right there on my tongue but I hold it. “Thank you. I’m seriously considering the offer.” I look back at Kojo and Zaki, both of them watching me with expressions they think they are hiding and are not. “But I need to talk with my Bouda about it first.”
Amari smiles and turns to Zaki. “Come back before you leave Wintermoon. I have more for you, tools and intel that will help you fight what is coming.”
Zaki grins. “You will see me again.”
Kade stretches and looks between all of us. “Well, what’s next for the Bouda clan?”
“I will begin building our new village with House of Zorah,” Kojo says. “Levi and I will discuss the design and break ground when he arrives.”
Zaki turns to me and the smirk that crosses her face is the one I have learned to brace myself for — it means she is about to announce something I am not prepared for.
“I spoke with the seamstress Jackie about your gown for the customary feast.” I groan internally and open my mouth to protest but she is already moving forward.
“In two months, Zohar Pride gathers in our honor so you can be crowned matriarch properly.” She says it with authority, and the look in her eyes says I better not argue about it. “I will prepare you for this.”
She turns to Leah and her voice shifts from announcement to logistics. “Do you have my queen’s measurements?”
Leah lights up immediately, tapping her temple with one finger. “All ingrained in my memory. Every single one.”
“Come.” Zaki is already moving toward the door. “I need help with Jackie. There are details the seamstress and I could not agree on, and I require a mediator who understands both Bouda tradition and human fashion.”
Leah nearly trips over her own feet following Zaki out of the lab, the two of them disappearing through the door with Leah already talking about fabric options and Zaki’s voice carrying back down the hallway, correcting her on the difference between ceremonial draping and decorative excess.
Kade rolls her eyes but the smile on her face is real, and she watches her wife disappear around the corner. She turns to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, her pale blue eyes holding mine.
“You are fitting in here better than most humans do in their first month, and you have been here barely a week. I am proud of you, Kendra.”
“How could I not fit in here?” I say, and the words come from somewhere honest that I did not plan to open. “I can rest here. I can be myself. I feel loved.” I pause, and the truth of it settles into me as I say it. “That is more than a Black woman gets to ask for on a regular day.”
Kade smiles and leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, and then she straightens and walks out of the lab without another word. Amari has already returned to his workstation, his focus back on the holographic display in front of him.
Kojo takes my hand. His palm is warm and rough and his fingers close around mine. We walk out of the technology center and into the afternoon light, and he doesn’t let go of my hand until we reach the SUV.