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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.
But her horrific mouthful of sharp teeth are absolutely darkling, and when her all-black eyes find mine, I know she’s still one of them.
A monster—only somehow still in control of her mind.
“Summer.” Her raspy, low voice comes out like a faint breeze.
“Oh my God,” Kyler whimpers. “She’s . . . she’s talking.”
Grabbing Kyler by the arm, I drag her down the hall.
Don’t look back. Just run.
But I do, flinging a desperate gaze over my shoulder just in time to see hundreds of twisted darklings surging inside the academy.
28
Once I gather my bearings, my only thought is saving my friends. They’re on the roof, but if the darklings make it to them, they’ll be trapped. Surely the sirens have alerted them something’s wrong?
I head for the same stairwell I took down here, Kyler in tow. Halfway up, the stairwell explodes with the crashing boom of countless feet coming toward us. It takes all my strength not to get trampled in the chaos. Someone slams into my shoulder, whipping me around. My head cracks against the wall. I stumble and nearly drop to my knees, fighting against the bodies, but there’s nothing I can do as the crowd pushes me in the other direction.
Toward danger.
“The darklings are downstairs!” I warn, but my voice is lost in the mob.
