“Isn’t that the bloody truth.”
—
The following day, while the rest of the students at Angelthene Academy were stuffing their faces with supper in the dining hall, Loren and Dallas made their way across the vast lawn.
A fourth person had been reporting missing that morning. Eighteen-year-old Zoe Brown, a freshman at Angelthene City University. A human—the second human missing in less than two days. When Loren had texted Darien, he had told her he’d do some digging, but she hadn’t heard from him since. Checking her phone every two minutes was a dangerous habit she’d fallen into.
And she had to admit she had her doubts that he was following through. For someone who’d offered to help her with this mess, he certainly was preoccupied with other things most of the time. Unless he was keeping what he was doing a secret from her, the same way he hadn’t told her when he’d gone out and bought the Avertera talisman, hadn’t told her everything Cain had revealed. And if that was the case, she would be more than a little irritated. Sabrine washerfriend; she deserved to be in on the plans Darien was making.
Which was part of the reason why her and Dallas were out here tonight, attempting to do something Darien was simply too busy to help them with. Or perhaps he didn’t think Loren was right about there being something worth finding in the Old Hall. Maybe if they found a lead and brought it to the Devils, Darien would be more inclined to include her in his decision making.
Loren looked over her shoulder as they reached the chain-link fence bordering the Old Hall. A few students milled about the lawn, poring over the grimoires spread before them. Magic sparked from staves as they practiced spells, entirely oblivious to what Loren and Dallas were doing—or so she hoped. The rosy light of the setting sun threw the loops of barbed wire at the top of the fence into stark relief.
Although the powerful spellwork encasing the dilapidated building wasn’t visible to the naked eye, Loren could feel it humming through the air, as real as the warm, dry wind that snaked across the lawn and sent the pleated skirt of her uniform flapping against her thighs.
“Let’s go around back,” Dallas said. She fumbled around in her bookbag until she found her Focus, then began picking her way through the brambles choking the fence.
At the back of the building, where they were hidden from the students dotting the grounds, Dallas tried for an hour to find a weak spot in the magic rippling over the hall. She tried for so long that by the time the hour was up, her face was slick with sweat. Her concentration was so wholly spent on testing the magic for apertures, that she could longer hang onto the glamour she used in place of makeup. If only Dallas was a hellseher; the Sight would certainly make this endeavor a whole lot easier.
“You can’t let anyone see me like this,” Dallas grumbled as they made their way back across the now-deserted grounds. She snapped open a pocket mirror and applied a coat of mascara to her copper lashes. Loren was impressed that she managed to not poke out her eye while walking.
“I’m sorry, Dal,” Loren said, knowing full well that it was more than just her lack of beauty glamour that was bothering her. “You gave it your best shot.”
Dallas tucked the mirror and tube of mascara into the side-pouch of her bag. “Why do you think they’d bother to protect the Old Hall anyway? Why not just tear the thing down?”
“Beats me,” Loren said as she tipped back her head, holding her arms out at her sides to let the warm wind blow through her blouse and feather through her fingers. “That breeze is a godsend.”
They were a hundred yards from the west entrance when Dallas suddenly froze. Her nostrils flared, picking up on a scent Loren couldn’t make out.
“What’s the matter?” Loren asked.
But Dallas didn’t say anything as she slowly turned around, away from the school. She began making her way toward the empty bleachers flashing a bright silver in the sun.
Loren followed her, grass crunching beneath her shoes. “Dal, you’re scaring me. What are you smelling?”
Dallas whispered one word that was nearly lost in the whistling of the wind. “Blood.”
Every thought in Loren’s head went dead silent. “Blood?” she stammered. “Maybe we should get inside, Dallas. We should tell one of the professors.”
Dallas ignored her, instead turning the corner to the backside of the bleachers, her sneakers inaudible on the springy grass. It wasn’t until Loren had caught up to her that her human sense of smell picked up on it: the sharp reek of urine and the salty tang of blood.
Wind gusted them in the face, carrying more rancid smells, just as they both saw it.
There was a dead body at the far end of the bleachers. The grass around it was soaked with blood, and looming overtop the torso, teeth ripping into the chest cavity, was a demon.
It was hairless and vaguely humanoid in appearance, the bare skin a mottled gray. The knobs of its spine were horribly sharp and pronounced, the fingers so elongated they looked more like claws. Beastlike feet were braced behind it in the grass.
There was the wet crunch of bone snapping and muscle tearing as the…thethingate its way to the heart. A professor who taught the second-year students, Loren realized with sickening clarity. His mouth was stuck open in a silent scream.
“My gods,” Dallas whispered.
Loren pressed her hands to her mouth, forcing back the acid that rose to coat her tongue. They had to run before that thing noticed they were here, but she couldn’t move her feet.
The wind changed directions. A gust of it blew against their backs, tossing their ponytails over their shoulders, as it swept toward the corpse of the professor and the creature feasting on it.
That creature froze. Slowly lifted its hairless head.
Dallas’s fingers closed around Loren’s wrist. “Run.” They began moving backward as the demon’s head swiveled around, the triangular nostrils on its flattened face widening.“Run!”
