“But why? You're literally their golden boy.”
“Golden half-breed, you mean. They'd stick me out in the woodswith all the other monsters if they knew. With the incubi you're so fond of.”
I suck my teeth. “Shut up. And no they wouldn’t.”
“At the very least, Darkbirch would never truly see me as one of them if they knew what I really am.”
I exhale. That, maybe. I guess it would be hard for him to escape at least a bit of discrimination. Chad just gives me this look, like I'm the world's biggest idiot.
“We both know better,” he says, then suddenly goes all concerned again. “How're you feeling now?”
My ribs feel less like they're being stabbed with hot pokers, so that's progress. “Better. But don't change the subject, demon boy. How the hell are you even possible? I've read practically every demonology text in the Darkbirch library, and hybrids are barely footnotes.”
“Practically every text?” Chad smirks. “Not all of them?”
“There are like three volumes I haven’t gotten to yet.”
He rolls his eyes, but I catch the way his jaw tightens. “Biology 101, Salem. Demon dad, human mom—darkblood, specifically. Boom, you get me.”
“Wait, a Valgrave woman shacked up with a demon?” The gossip potential alone makes my head spin.
“Yeah, and they threw her out faster than you can say 'family disgrace.' Coven expelled her and everything.” His voice goes flat. “She raised me alone for years.”
I can't help staring at him now, watching those little red flickers dance behind his eyes. Not gonna lie, it's kind of mesmerizing. “Must've been a bitch hiding all this at Darkbirch.”
“Breathing exercises and a decent blocking spell do wonders.” He flexes his fingers, and I swear I see phantom claws. “Blew the spell to bits when I went full demon back there, though.”
“You did that for me.” The words feel weird coming out of my mouth. “Thanks, I guess.”
One corner of his mouth ticks up. “Don't make me regret it. Let’s just find this stupid dragon.”
“Hold up, I'm not done interrogating you.”
“Of course not,” he mutters. “Stupid of me to hope.”
“Your dad… who is he? Where is he?”
“No clue and don't care. Never met him. Mom wouldn't talk about him, said he 'didn't matter anymore.'”
“And your mom?”
“Dead.” The word falls like a stone. “Valgraves took me back a few years ago.”
Chad stands up, clearly done sharing. “Can we go now, or do you want to drag this out until more clearbloods show up to finish the job?”
I push myself up, testing my weight on shaky legs. My lungs expand without screaming in protest, so that's something.
I stretch my arms overhead, feeling my ribs shift without triggering a fit of agony. Damn, I'm good at potions. I wish I could rely mainly on alchemy-based magic for combat too, like Esme sometimes does on undercover missions. But no, DarkbitchAcademy—and Chad—insist I master the “purest form” of our craft: slicing myself open every time I need to cast something useful.Mental note: brew more cut-healing serum when we get back.
I sigh. “We made it this far, right?”
Chad scans the horizon like a paranoid hawk. “There's no one else around, for now. So find those warding runes Hedder mentioned before that changes.”
“Okay...”
I squint across the endless white expanse. My gut says we're not out of the woods yet, but if demon-boy says we're alone, we probably are. His face is doing that thing where he's clearly stressing about something he's not telling me. Whatever. Not my problem if he wants to be all broody and mysterious.
“We need to get to the middle of the salt flats,” I tell him. “I can summon my ancestors there. If they can manifest, they'll know.”
