Incubus (28 page)

Someone snapped their fingers in front of my face. I turned, furious.

Royal was standing at our desk, giving me an odd look. “Earth to Braedyn, anyone at the helm?”

“What?” I blinked, and noticed that Seth was at the front of the room, talking with Mr. Harris.

“I was saying, I think I might actually have a date to my brother’s wedding in January.” Royal’s

eyes danced with anticipation. But something kept scratching at the back of my mind. I glanced back

at Amber and Ally, who were bent over their Bunsen burner, concentrating on the experiment. “Okay,

I was expecting a bigger reaction to news of my first actual boy date, but clearly no dice. Just let me

know when you’re accepting applications for friends again.” Royal turned and walked away.

“Wait, Royal,” I said. But he ignored me, returning to the lab table he shared with Cassie.

Whatever he said to her caused her to glance at me, frowning. I groaned to myself. I’d have to do

some serious work to earn back their trust. After winter solstice.

A shrill giggle banished thoughts of Royal from my head. I spun around, and this time I caught

Amber smirking at me. As our eyes met, she covered her mouth with her hand, as if saying, “oops, you

caught me.”

Seth returned to our table, looking at our experiment plan. “So, apparently we were adding the

wrong—”

“I’ll be right back,” I said, interrupting him. I walked over to Amber and Ally’s lab table.

Amber looked up at me, and genuine surprise flashed across her face before she covered it with an

irritated scowl. “What?”

“What are you plotting?” I hissed.

Amber very deliberately picked up her beaker and smiled at me. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped. “You hurt another one of my friends and—”

Amber flicked her wrist, sending her beaker crashing to the floor. At the same time, she flinched

back from me. “Braedyn?!” Her shriek cut through the lab chatter.

Mr. Harris looked up, instantly on alert. “Ladies? Is there a problem?”

“What is your damage, Braedyn?” Ally asked, getting into the act. “That was our experiment!”

Mr. Harris walked over to us, his concern deepening. “Braedyn? You want to tell me what you

think you’re doing?”

“What?” I felt like the room was closing in on me. “That—no, I came over to talk to her—”

“To threaten me, you mean?” Amber asked, eyes smoldering. I didn’t have to fake the hatred in

my glare.

“Clean it up, Braedyn,” Mr. Harris said. “And then you can take your write-up over to the

headmaster’s office personally. I do not tolerate fighting in my classroom.”

The entire class was silent, watching me with bated breath. I wanted to scream. I wanted to wipe

that smirk off Amber’s face permanently. But instead, I clamped my teeth shut and nodded.

“All right, Amber, I’ll get you another beaker,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Harris.” Amber even managed to make her voice quiver a little. When Mr. Harris

turned to head back to the front of class, Amber’s eyes cut back to me.

“Leave my friends alone,” I hissed. “Or you’ll wind up with more than a broken beaker.”

She tossed her icy blond hair and followed Mr. Harris toward the front of class.

My eyes shifted and I saw Seth staring at me. Concern pulled his forehead into furrows. He

gestured silently, offering to help me pick up the glass. I shook my head, resigned. I was about to start

picking up the shattered beaker when Amber passed Seth at our lab table. She stumbled, knocking into

him. He’d been focused on me and was totally unprepared for the hit.

Seth stumbled back into the lab table, hard. There was a soft
whoosh,
then someone screamed.

Amber’s face registered horror. Seth had stumbled back into the lit Bunsen burner; the whole back of

his shirt was on fire. He arched his back, eyes rolling.

“Get it off, get it off!” Seth screamed, struggling to free himself from the flaming prison of his

shirt.

Mr. Harris moved faster than I’d have thought possible. He ripped open a cabinet and grabbed a

thick grey fire blanket. In two strides he had it unfurled. He tackled Seth, catching him in the blanket

and controlling their fall to the ground. Within seconds, the smell of singed wool filled the lab. Seth

finally struggled out of Mr. Harris’s grasp, but the blanket had done its work. Blackened strips of

ruined cotton covered Seth’s back, sending an acrid smoke into the air.

A strange silence fell over the class as Mr. Harris and Seth recovered, rolling to their knees and

breathing hard.

Mr. Harris reached out to Seth. “Can you stand, son?” Seth nodded, tears of pain squeezing out of

the corners of his eyes. Mr. Harris helped him up. “Everyone turn off your Bunsen burners,” he said.

“I’ll meet you back in our classroom.” When no one moved, he glared around the room. “
Now.
”

Students moved toward the door quickly.

Ally passed me on her way out, eyes dangerous slits. “It’s like your friends are cursed or

something.”

I clasped my hands around my arms. Cassie. Royal. Now Seth. Amber was making good on her

threat, clearly undeterred by my feeble attempts to get her to back off and leave my friends alone.

She’d hurt every single one of them—except for Lucas. With a shiver, I watched the last student leave

the lab. Lucas. What did she have in store for him? And more importantly, how could I stop her before

she got the chance to hurt him?

If I’d thought Mr. Harris would forget about sending me to the headmaster’s office, I was disabused of

that notion as soon as he returned to class. After briefly reassuring us that Seth was okay—an

ambulance had been called as a precaution but his skin didn’t appear to have even blistered—Mr.

Harris wrote up a quick note to the headmaster and dismissed me from his classroom for the day.

I walked the note up to the administration building, stewing. I arrived and handed the note to

Fiedler’s administrative assistant, a woman I’d seen a few times before but had never spoken to. She

glanced at me disapprovingly over her glasses and told me to have a seat, Headmaster Fiedler would

be with me shortly. “Shortly” turned out to be half an hour, giving me plenty of time to sit with my

thoughts. When he finally opened the door to his office and beckoned me inside, my anger had faded,

leaving me feeling sick inside.

“So, Braedyn, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Headmaster Fiedler had my record up on his

computer, and whatever he saw there had him worried.

“Amber broke her own beaker,” I started.

“I’m not talking about the incident in class, although that is going to warrant some discussion.” He

steepled his hands, studying me. “Up until last semester you were an exemplary student here. Your

teachers couldn’t say enough good things about you.”

He watched me, waiting for some kind of answer. I shrugged, uncomfortable. “I guess it’s been

kind of a hard year.” I heard myself utter the words, then had to bite my lip, suppressing a manic urge

to laugh. A
hard year?
Welcome to my entry for “understatement of the decade.” In the last 12

months, I’d learned my father wasn’t my father and I wasn’t human, I’d watched a powerful Lilitu

drag Lucas off to kill him, and I’d fought my way through her guards to save him—nearly dying

myself in the process. I looked down at my hands, struggling to maintain my composure.

“I understand,” Fiedler said.

“No disrespect intended, sir,” I murmured, “but I don’t think you do.”

“You watched a burglar murder your friend Derek in your home,” Fiedler said. I looked up,

stricken. Derek. He hadn’t even crossed my mind. “I can’t say I’ve ever been through what you’ve

been through, Braedyn, but I know that it’s affected you profoundly.”

A stinging pressure spread through my nose and into my eyes. I bit my lip, holding back the flood.

“And then, just a few months later, you were in a serious car accident with another good friend.

Lucas, wasn’t it?”

I dropped my eyes, avoiding the necessity of lying. That “car accident” was our cover story for the

extensive injuries Lucas and I had sustained in our battle against Ais.

“I’m afraid that we’ve failed you,” Fiedler continued.

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“You’ve been through significant trauma—both you and Lucas. We should have mandated

counseling sessions for you both.”

I felt my head snap up. Fiedler was watching me closely. I swallowed, afraid to speak. It was hard

enough fitting everything in as it was, if I had mandatory counseling sessions on top of everything

else...

“I think I’m just really tired,” I said, trying to sound reasonable and sincere. It helped that it was

true. “I haven’t been sleeping well. So, I’ve kind of got a short fuse right now. But I’m going to do

better. I promise.”

Fiedler frowned. “You know it’s not a punishment, right? Speaking with a counselor could really

help you sort through everything you’ve experienced.”

Unlikely,
I thought.

Fiedler must have sensed my resistance. Instead of pushing, he sighed. “How about this? Promise

me you’ll consider it. Anytime you’d like, we can set you up with the school counselor. And I mean

anytime. During class, during lunch, after school—whatever you need, if you need it.”

I forced myself to smile. “Okay. I’ll consider it.”

Fiedler nodded, then leaned forward, crossing his arms on the desk. It was an oddly informal

gesture. “So about this business with Amber.”

“Right.” I slumped in my seat, steeling myself for the fallout.

“I think we can give you a pass.”

“Really?” I looked up, genuinely surprised.

“Just this once. But promise me you’re going to take better care of yourself. Get some sleep. And

consider visiting the school counselor if you need someone to talk to.”

“Yes,” I said. “I promise.”

“Then I think we’re done here. If you hurry you should still be able to enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing. Fiedler nodded, then waved me out. I left his office and my stomach

growled. Lunch sounded just about right.

“Braedyn.” Seth was waiting for me in the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you were on the way to the hospital.”

“Naw,” Seth said. “The paramedics checked me out and said I was fine.”

“But—” I started, unwilling to believe that was that. I mean, he’d been on
fire
less than an hour

ago.

“Look, this is the perfect excuse,” Seth said, lowering his voice. “Everyone knows what happened

to me. Just call Lucas and tell him you’re skipping lunch to come visit me at the hospital.”

“Why?” I asked. After this morning, the thought of lying to Lucas turned my stomach.

“Because we’ve got some fresh
ericameria nauseosus
to collect, and it’ll be a lot harder to find it

at three o’clock in the morning. Who knows,” Seth gave me a conspiratorial smile, “we might even

have time to get some sleep tonight.”

That settled it.

“I’m in.”

We drove out of Puerto Escondido, heading northwest. Seth had been following several “wildflower

sightings” blogs, looking for news on a flowering Chamisa (which was also called “Rabbitbrush” by