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My sneakers are quiet as I slip down the steps, suddenly all too aware of the silence. The academy is almost always full of students and staff, even during the evening. It’s weird not hearing anything.
I can’t access the basement from this stairwell, so I duck into the halls, searching for the doorway that leads down.
I make it maybe five feet when a flash of motion catches my eye near a glass door that leads outside. Kyler stands in the small courtyard, surrounded by—
Frick.
Three half-shifted lycans. Where are the Guardians protecting the door?
I burst outside without even thinking, prepared to drag her to safety. Kyler whips around to face me, eyes huge and swollen from crying. “Summer? Tell them. Tell them they’re not allowed to touch us.”
One look at the three hulking lycan males and I know that plea is off the table. Black snouts protrude from their faces, their eyes an eerie gold.
The alpha stands in front of the others. He’s grinning.
But not the nice kind of grin.
My flesh prickles with fear. “Kyler, get behind me.” As soon as she does, I whisper, “Now open the door slowly and back inside.”
The alpha shakes his head. “Why would we let you two go when we’re ready to party?”
The other two begin to circle us.
I hold up my brand. “Know what this is, dickwad?”
His lupine eyes flick to Valerian’s brand, and a hint of fear ripples over his countenance. But, surprisingly, he doesn’t back down. “The Winter Prince doesn’t run this place anymore.”
“No?” I hiss. “Touch either of us and I assure you, you’ll be dead by morning.”
Kyler tugs on my hood. “What is that?”
“What?” I follow her finger to shadowy shapes near picnic tables.
Something about the inhumanly fast way the shapes move sends alarm jolting down my spine. The alpha freezes, sniffs the air, and then growls.
On some silent signal, they all bolt.
But they’re not fast enough. I watch in horror as the dark shapes converge on the lycans. They snarl as they try to fight back, but they’re quickly overwhelmed by the surge of shadows swarming the courtyard, and their snarls soon become whimpers of pain.
“Darklings,” I whisper as I drag Kyler back inside. My sweaty, shaking fingers fumble with the lock. A moment later, I stumble backward, trying to collect myself. I need to alert someone.
What’s the fastest way? I think there’s a darkling switch by the doors . . .
I run to the red button on the far wall, encased in plexiglass, lift the case, and hit it.
Blue flashes of light pulse from the ceiling as a siren wails to life, its loud scream echoing through the school.
“We’re safe,” she whispers as we retreat away from the window. “They’re too stupid to open doors. We’re safe,” she repeats.
The door handle jiggles. She yelps, scrambling farther into the hallway.
Glass shatters as a hand snakes through the window next to the door and—
“They’re unlocking it,” I blurt. I might be able to believe a darkling learned how to open a door, but to have the mental acuity to break a window to unlock that door?
The lock twists to the left with a click, and then the door swings open.
I know even before recognition hits who’s on the other side. As I take in the deformed creature, I almost think Evelyn is somehow human again. Unlike the darklings waiting behind her, she stands on two legs. Her bones aren’t gnarled and twisted. Her hair hasn’t fallen out. And her clothes aren’t tattered, which means she found new ones at some point.
