8. SKYE’S THE LIMIT
SKYE’S THE LIMIT
DESPITE THE MISSTEP WITH DOUR MERLE—AND WHAT RYE might think—by Friday anyone would be very hard-pressed to convince Embry that the world wasn’t her oyster. Or perhaps an alternative that wasn’t so slimy? Her seared scallop? Buttery lobster tail? Flaky salmon?
Whatever the correct metaphor, by the end of the first week of school, the queen bee of Raven’s Head had inched her pedestal further into the atmosphere with three raging successes.
First: There were now exactly seven new femmes in Jonesy’s advanced stage performance section, which meant Into the Woods was most assuredly on. Auditions were Monday.
Second: Oakley was officially seen as part of Raven’s Head’s Witch clique, the other groups’ courting of the vampire petering out from full-press recruitment to simply yearning looks as Embry’s senior Witches marched across the paths veining the grounds.
Third: Balthazar Hale was hers. Well, theirs.
Too. Maybe it was Embry’s luck, or maybe it was simply that reputation that had preceded her, but the sorcerer slipped right into the Witch crew without hesitation in spite of his sect’s antisocial reputation.
To Embry’s knowledge, no other groups had courted Balthazar.
Not that they didn’t notice him. Everyone suddenly knew Balthazar.
Handsome, friendly—regardless of his magical type—and fashionable despite being within dress code (much like Embry herself), he was impossible to ignore.
Which meant Embry was quite gratified when someone would show overt interest, he’d acknowledge it blithely, and go right back to paying attention to her. Well, them—the group—but mostly to her.
And because Embry was currently flying high in this game called life, she wasn’t surprised at all when she was sought out by the neediest of Bitches.
“What’s she doing here?” Ames halted.
Oakley nearly plowed her extra-rare burger and to-go cup of type O negative straight into the taller girl’s stationary elbow, while both Embry and Balthazar made more graceful stops from where they’d been walking together behind. Embry followed her BFF’s line of sight.
Already at their table was… Fairfax Mirza grinning his face off about five inches too close to Skye Wolverton’s lavender-streaked head.
Nowhere in her DNA did Amethyst Oberon have shifter genes of any sort, but a little miffed growl escaped her lips all the same as her gaze narrowed on Fairfax. He was laughing now, all blinding teeth and burnished skin, Skye lightly touching his hand.
The brow arch that Ames drew along with one angry breath was sharp enough to kill a man.
Most probably this one. Worse, they were alone—none of Skye’s sycophantic Bitches were in attendance and Alistair was nowhere to be seen.
Striding up on staccato steps, Ames plastered a sharp smile and yell-whispered, “What the hell is this, Mirza?”
If Fairfax was anything, he was smooth. He didn’t startle, just pointed that sparkling grin at Amethyst as if it were always meant for her. “Babe, there you are.”
Ames’s head tipped at an even deeper angle to the side, the effect like the tightening of a bowstring. Fairfax was about to get skewered. “Yes, here I am. And here you are, checking your reflection in Skye’s lip gloss.” As Fairfax’s brow flickered, Ames gritted a grin at his companion. “Hi, Skye.”
The werewolf gulped, her smile wavering as if she didn’t have claws that could shoot from her fingertips.
Ames had a way of intimidating the magical gifts straight out of anyone at Raven’s Head.
Well, anyone but her long-term, on-and-off-again boyfriend, who wasn’t truly afraid of Ames despite time spent with her brothers on the junior boxing circuit in Florida.
Embry was convinced this quality was exactly why Ames liked Fairfax so much, even if their pattern of blowout fights and kiss-to-makeup was basically as consistent as a chessboard.
Embry took pity on the class president and cut to the chase.
“Skye, if you’re here to recruit me to help with the homecoming dance, my schedule is full.
” Every year they asked. Every year Embry demurred.
“I’m sure Fairfax probably informed you, but it really is a hard no.
What with being a head prefect and the upcoming play, I’m just swamped.
I very much look forward to admiring your effort as an attendee. ”
Embry winked surreptitiously at Fairfax. Because Fairfax was indeed as smart as he was handsome, he yanked that lifeline with gusto. “Yes, I did relay your schedule constraints with the social committee, which is why—”
“We’re here for Oakley, actually.”
There was a collective whoosh as every head swiveled toward Skye all at once. The werewolf’s eyes—as lavender as her hair—brightened as she took in the multiheaded beast of shock before her. Embry, Ames, Balthazar, and Oakley all gaped at her.
“Me?” the vampire asked. Her tone wasn’t the Pollyanna-esque squeal she’d previously used in surprise.
Instead, over the course of the week, she’d shrugged on Embry’s and Ames’s assurances as easily as her new-and-improved wardrobe.
These days, Oakley truly believed she was the most interesting girl at Raven’s Head.
“Yes, you.” They blinked at her, and Skye laughed, tucking her sideswept bangs behind her ear.
“The theme of this year’s homecoming dance is the Night of the Living Dead, and the social committee”—here, she gestured between herself and Fairfax—“thought your intrinsic knowledge might help to flesh it out. Please don’t be offended; the theme’s supposed to be a pun. ”
Embry was sure her blood sugar was low enough that she was hallucinating.
Or worse—perhaps Rye was right at the Witches’ Sabbath a few nights ago.
It wasn’t always about her. And yet, Oakley had been sought out.
Her gut churned—this was suspect. Unprecedented.
It wasn’t as if Oakley were more popular than Embry or even Ames.
Not in a week. Still, Embry realized she’d heard correctly, as a laugh bubbled from Oakley’s lips. “Flesh it out? Are you kidding?”
Skye was aggressive, but she wasn’t usually mean. Oakley’s total diss of the Bitches in spite of her own fangs must have really put her out. And Embry wasn’t going to allow for that.
“Skye,” Embry interjected, as coolly as possible, “I know you think you’re very clever and that you’re probably angry that Oakley and her fangs have no interest in joining your Bitches’ brood, but recruiting a girl who has never been to a school dance just so you can gaslight her ideas while reaping the benefits of her hard-earned social capital—”
“Whoa, whoa, Em.” Fairfax held up a hand. “It’s not like that at all. I promise. You know I wouldn’t have signed off on this without good reason.”
Embry wanted to believe this but considering Fairfax had nearly lost an eye via Ames about three minutes ago because of his proximity to Skye’s thirsty nature, she didn’t put anything past him.
Neither did Ames. Her nostrils flared, and Embry realized no matter the earlier lifeline, Fairfax was going under. “So, what is it like, Mirza?”
Nodding at his girlfriend, Fairfax turned his placating grin on Oakley.
“The truth is that the Stitches are vastly underrepresented on our committee, which means the chances of us voting on decorations that are mildly offensive to the actual living dead without knowing it is basically a coin flip.” His big brown eyes seemed to double and deepen in size as he looked at her now, not a trace of an illegal compulsion spell coming off him.
The boy simply used what he was born with very well. “Please help us get this right.”
“I’ll have play practice, too,” Oakley began, and Embry was pleased she’d given her friend an out—then a curious smile spread across the vampire’s face.
“But I’m sure Fairfax has some great tips for balancing rehearsal and committee obligations, and honestly, I’d love to make time for such an invitation. I’m truly honored.”
“As you should be!” Skye flashed sharp teeth as her lavender eyes pointedly slid to Embry’s. “Not everyone recognizes and cherishes what a unique opportunity it is to create a magical night for their fellow students.”
Well, that was just uncalled for—
“I recognize and cherish it,” Oakley answered brightly, as if she used those words on the regular. Then she gestured with her blood-filled cup to the surrounding mass of students. “What’s the point of hard-earned social capital if you don’t use it to help others?”
Embry’s throat tightened. Hadn’t she been doing just that for Oakley?
Utterly pleased, the werewolf extracted herself from the table and to her full height of six-foot-and-more-than-change.
It was then that Embry noticed she’d traded her usual copycat faux leather satchel for a backpack very much like Oakley’s.
Huh. “Our next meeting is Thursday night. Fairfax will swing by your room and pick you up.”
“I’m totally looking forward to it,” the vampire assured her before taking a big swig of O negative. Her teeth were crimson. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
With a wave from Oakley and a rather snooty “Ciao” from Skye, the class president decamped for her waiting Bitches four tables away.
The three girls and Balthazar converged on the table in tense silence.
Embry waited for Oakley to acknowledge that she’d spent all week bathing the vampire in her own social capital.
But Oakley just took another bloody slurp and watched with barely disguised glee as Amethyst sank into the seat across from Fairfax.
“Ames, babe, she insisted on talking to Oakley at lunch and ambushed—”
“I,” she said, cutting him off with one swift syllable, “would like to join your little social committee. That is, if you have room for your girlfriend.”
Fairfax managed to grin at Ames as if her request wasn’t a verbal knife pressed to his jugular. “Everyone knows you have the best taste, my love.”
Alistair—the coward—arrived just then from the opposite direction, carrying forks and napkins.
Planning to use his entrance as a chance to pointedly steer the conversation in the opposite direction of this unfortunate social collision, Embry had nearly prepared the perfect segue when Balthazar opened his objectively sexy mouth and asked, “Would you have any room for me? My transcript could use another extracurricular.”
A pang of something—jealousy? regret?—clanged down Embry’s windpipe and rattled around her empty stomach. Balthazar joining? Now she wished she hadn’t been so firm with Skye. It’d most definitely look strange for her to beg onto the committee after her harsh refusal.
So Embry stayed quiet as Fairfax toasted Balthazar with his Americano. “Of course.”