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  “I don’t want to know.” I brace for his answer.

  “Because they’re too stoned.”

  “Oh my God!” I make a face at him. “That one was bad.”

  “It was awful,” he agrees.

  “And you obviously loved it. I’ve created a monster,” I tease, shaking my head in mock horror as I lean into him.

  But Jaxon’s eyes are shadowed now, the laughter slipping away as easily as it came.

  “No.” Jaxon watches me with an intensity that shakes me to my very bones. “I’ve always been a monster, Grace. You’re the one who’s made me human.”

  My stomach sinks like a stone.

  Because while Jaxon is definitely becoming more human…I’m deathly afraid that I’m turning into the real monster at Katmere Academy.

  23

  Saturday Morning

  Cartoons Never

  Prepared Me

  for This

  Jaxon’s words stay with me all day, melting me whenever I think about them. About him. Making me more determined than ever to find my way back to him, fully.

  With that thought in mind, I decide to skip lunch—both Jaxon and Macy have study-group plans anyway—and head straight for the library, where I’ll have a couple of hours of uninterrupted time to research gargoyles.

  To research myself.

  Which I really, really need to do, considering my knowledge on the subject is incredibly limited. And when I googled them last night, all I got was an architecture lesson when what I really need to know is why I am apparently prone to bloody attacks and amnesia.

  I should probably set up an appointment with Mr. Damasen, see what information he can give me on gargoyles that doesn’t involve pages upon pages about how they’re really good waterspouts and gutters.

  I mean, I didn’t know that much about vampires, dragons, or witches when I got here, but I had a basic understanding of what they were and how things worked for them—though Jaxon, Macy, and Flint have still blown my mind on several occasions.

  But gargoyles? I’ve got almost nothing. Except that they don’t seem to like vampires much.

  In fact, the extent of my knowledge about myself pretty much comes from studying the Cathedral of Notre-Dame in art class and from what I can remember of the Gargoyles TV show reruns I watched when I was little. My mom always got a little agitated when she found me watching that show… Now I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she and my dad knew what was coming.

  It’s a horrible thought—the idea that my parents deliberately kept who I really am from me my whole life—so I shove it to the back of my head and force myself not to think about it. Because learning that I’m a gargoyle is bad enough. Learning that my parents didn’t care enough to prepare me for this? That’s unforgivable.

  Or it would be if they were alive. Now that they’re dead…I don’t know. Something else to go in my growing “Shit I Don’t Have Time for Today” folder. Because dwelling on it now definitely isn’t going to help me.

  Instead, I paste a huge smile on my face—a smile that I’m far from feeling right now—and walk straight up to the circulation desk in the center of the library.

  Amka is there, thankfully, and she smiles at me just as widely—hers looks genuine, though, which is nice. “Grace! It’s so good to have you back.” She reaches across the desk and squeezes my hand. “How are you?”

  I start to give her a trite answer—I’m good, thanks—but the warmth and concern in her eyes get to me, even though I don’t want them to. So instead of lying, I just kind of shrug and say, “I’m here.” Which isn’t exactly what I’m feeling, but it’s close enough to get the point across.

  Her smile turns sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. And I’m really glad about that.”

  And there she goes again, putting things in perspective for me really quickly. “Yeah. Me too.” My manners kick in a little belatedly. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing well. Just getting the library in shape for the Ludares tournament. Teams like to meet in here to strategize before the big day.”

  “What’s Ludares?” I ask. “And is that what that’s for?” I point to the table now taking up space in the center of the library. I didn’t get a good look at it on my way in, but I plan on checking it out later, when I need a research break. From what I saw, it’s filled with all kinds of interesting and magical objects.

  “Originally, it was designed as a Trial to compete for spots on the Circle—the governing body for supernaturals—but…since no one on it has died in a thousand years, there haven’t been any new openings to compete for. Which means for now, it’s just a sporting event.

  “Of course, the version of Ludares that’s the actual Test is a lot more dangerous than what we play now—and the odds are way stacked against the challenger’s success. Now it’s more for fun and to promote interspecies relations, since the teams are made up of all four of Katmere’s factions.” Her eyes twinkle. “It’s the highlight of every school year.”

  “So how do you play?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s something you have to be a part of to understand.”

  “That’s so cool. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “See it?” Amka laughs. “You should compete in it.”

  “Me?” I’m aghast. “No way can I compete against a bunch of vampires and dragons. I mean, what am I going to do? Turn to stone? I’m pretty sure that’s not much help in a competition.”

  “Don’t be so negative. Gargoyles can do a lot more than turn to stone, Grace.”

  “They can?” Excitement bubbles up in my voice. “Like what?”

  “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  I’m a little annoyed—that’s not much of an answer—and my shoulders sag, but then she turns around and points to one of the heavy wooden tables in the corner of the library. There are about three dozen books piled into several haphazard stacks, plus a laptop sitting right in front of a comfortable-looking armchair in a patchwork of colors.

  “I took the liberty of pulling every book we have about gargoyles. The piles on either side of the laptop are the ones I think you should start with—they approach things pretty broadly and give a good overview. The back piles are more nitty-gritty research-oriented stuff and will answer more specific questions you might have as you learn more.

  “And the laptop is already signed in to the top three magical databases in the world. If you have any questions about how to use them to research, let me know. But to be honest, they’re pretty self-explanatory. I think you’ll do fine.”

  Despite not being a crier—I’ve never been a crier—I can feel tears burning the back of my throat for, like, the third time today. I hate it, absolutely despise it, but I can’t seem to help it. I feel so topsy-turvy, and realizing so many people have my back…it’s just a little overwhelming.

  Or a lot overwhelming. I haven’t decided yet.

  “Thank you,” I tell her when my throat finally relaxes enough for me to speak. “I…I really appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Grace. Anytime.” She smiles. “We bibliophiles need to stick together.”

  I grin back. “Yeah, we do.”

  “Good.” She reaches behind her to the small, stickered refrigerator she keeps next to her workspace and pulls out a can of lemon La Croix and a Dr Pepper and hands them to me. “Researching is thirsty work.”

  “Oh, wow.” I take the cans from her with suddenly shaky hands. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Just get to work,” she says with a wink.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I give her one last smile and then head toward the table in the corner.

  My fingers are itching to dive in to the books—and so is the rest of me, to be honest—but I take a few minutes to get situated before I start. I pull out the notebook
I’ve designated just for my research and a handful of my favorite pens.

  I put in my earbuds and get my favorite playlist going before pulling out the pack of M&M’s I bought at the vending machine in the student lounge on my way here. Then, and only then, do I settle into what very well might be the most comfortable chair in existence…and finally reach for a book.

  I just hope it has some of the answers I need.And I wouldn’t mind a good memory retrieval spell, too…

  24

  Go Smudge Yourself

  “Gra-ace. Come on, time to wake up.” A familiar voice penetrates the hazy fog of sleep that surrounds me. “Come on, Grace. You need to get up.” Someone taps my shoulder.

  I swipe a hand across my face. Then roll over and curl up into a ball.

  “I don’t know what to do.” This time I’m conscious enough to identify the voice as Macy’s, even though I have no idea who she’s talking to or even what she’s talking about. Nor do I care.

  I’m so tired, all I want to do is sleep.

  “Let me try.” This time it’s my uncle Finn who bends over me and says, “Grace, I need you to wake up for me, okay? Open your eyes. Come on. Right now.”

  I ignore him, curling into an even tighter ball, and when he runs a comforting hand over the top of my head, I moan and try to pull my pillow over my face. But there’s no pillow under my head and no covers for me to yank up and hide beneath.

  I’m almost conscious enough to recognize this as strange—almost—and when someone shakes my shoulder more forcefully this time, I manage to crack my eyes open just enough to see Macy, my uncle, and Amka staring down at me, all with worried looks on their faces.

  I don’t have a clue what Uncle Finn or Amka is doing in our room, and at the moment, I don’t actually care. I just want them to leave so I can go back to sleep.

  “There you are, Grace,” my uncle says. “There you go. Can you sit up for us? Maybe let us get a good look into those pretty eyes of yours? Come on now, Grace. Come back to us.”

  “I’m tired,” I whine in a voice I’m sure I’ll be embarrassed about later. “I just want to—” I break off as pain registers for the first time. My throat is so dry that every word I speak feels like a razor blade scraping against my voice box.

  Screw mornings. And screw three-person wake-up calls.

  I close my eyes again as sleep continues to beckon, but apparently my uncle has had enough. He starts shaking me gently so that I can’t even curl up in peace now. “Come on, Grace.” His voice is firmer than it was before, more no-nonsense than I have ever heard it. “You need to snap out of this. Right now.”

  I sigh heavily, but I finally manage to roll over to face him. “What’s the matter?” I rasp, forcing myself to speak, and to swallow, despite the pain. “What do you want?”

  I hear a door open and close and then rapid footsteps coming closer. “What’s going on? Is she all right? I came as soon as I got Macy’s text.”

  The worry in Jaxon’s voice finally manages to do what the coaxing and shaking couldn’t. I push myself into a sitting position and this time actually manage to pry my eyes all the way open.

  “Can I have some water?” I ask through lips that feel absurdly parched, considering I’m not wandering the Sahara.

  “Yeah, of course.” Macy grabs something from her backpack and hands it to me—a stainless-steel tumbler with the lid off. I take a long drink. Then go back for two more as my throat finally begins to feel human again.

  As does the rest of me.

  The cold water has the added benefit of getting my brain going, and as soon as I’ve slaked my thirst, I turn to Jaxon with what I’m sure are still sleep-fogged eyes.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “Why is everyone in Macy’s and my room?”

  There’s a weird silence as the four of them look at one another, then back at me.

  “What?” I ask again.

  Macy sighs. “I hate to break it to you, Grace, but this is definitely not our room.”

  “Whose room is it, then?” I ask, looking around. And that’s when panic hits me, because I realize Macy is right. This isn’t our room. It isn’t Jaxon’s room. In fact, I’m pretty positive it isn’t even a bedroom, unless the person furnishing it is a huge fan of Scary Dungeons ’R’ Us.

  “Where are we?” I ask when I can finally find my voice again.

  Amka steps in before Jaxon or my family can answer. Squatting down next to me—and for the first time, I realize I’m on the floor—she asks, “Where do you think you are?”

  “I don’t know.” I look around again, this time hoping to find a clue as agitation builds inside me. I’m just beginning to realize that not only do I not know where I am, but I also have absolutely no idea how I got here.

  And can I just say, this is seriously getting old?

  The last thing I remember is sitting down to work in the library, with a sparkling water and some M&M’s. After that…nothing. It’s a blank. Again.

  “Is someone hurt?” I demand, panic roaring through me. “Did I do it again? Did I attack someone?”

  “No, Grace. Everything’s fine.” Amka puts what I know she means to be a calming hand on my shoulder, but it doesn’t work. It just makes me more freaked out, as does the low, soothing tone of her voice.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t try to placate me.” I push away from her, leap to my feet…and turn to Jaxon. “Please, please don’t lie to me. Did I hurt someone? Did I—”

  “No!” He says it much more vehemently, voice adamant and eyes steady as he stares into mine. “You didn’t hurt anyone, I swear. You’re the one we’re worried about right now.”

  “Why? What happened?” I believe Jaxon, I do, but the memory of waking up covered in blood this morning is so strong that I can’t help looking down at my hands, my clothes, just to make sure. Just to feel safe.

  I’m not bloody, thank God. But the sleeve of my blazer is ripped all to hell. Because that’s not terrifying at all, considering it’s just now reaching a high of freezing outside.

  Suddenly, the concern on everyone’s faces makes a lot more sense. They aren’t worried that I hurt someone. This time, they’re worried that I’m the one who’s gotten hurt.

  I swallow the fear exploding inside me like a hand grenade and try to breathe. I am going to figure this out. It’s bad enough that I lost four months to this mess. No way am I going to just accept that I’ve brought it back with me. No way am I going to let this become my new normal.

  “Where am I?” I ask for a second time, because I am absolutely positive I’ve never been in a room with a crystal ball before ever, let alone at Katmere Academy. And I’ve certainly never been in a room with a candle collection that rivals Bath & Body Works—if Bath & Body Works was into carved-up ritual candles and enough incense to cover Alaska twice over.

  “You’re in the casting tower,” Macy tells me.

  “The casting tower?” I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

  “It’s on the opposite side of the castle from my room,” Jaxon adds in what I assume is an attempt to help me get my bearings.

  “Oh, right. The smaller tower on the gazebo side.” I shove a hand—one that I’m working overtime to keep steady—through my curls. “I guess I just always assumed it was somebody else’s dorm room.”

  “Nope.” Macy shoots me a grin that almost touches her eyes. “Your boyfriend is the only one who rates a tower. This one belongs to all the witches.”

  Of course it belongs to the witches. If it belonged to anyone else, I’d be really concerned. Especially since I just looked down and realized that I am standing dead center in the middle of a giant pentagram.

  And not just any giant pentagram. The giant pentagram that makes up the center of an even more giant casting circle…

  Oh, hell no. Lia cured me of ever wanting to be anywhere close
to the middle of another spell. Ever.

  I take several big steps backward, not because I want to get away from Jaxon or Macy or the others but because I am getting the hell out of this circle. Now.

  Call it an overabundance of caution, call it PTSD, call it whatever the hell you want; I don’t care. No way am I spending another second in a circle surrounded by red and black candles.

  No, thank you.

  The rest of them follow me, because of course they do. Each of them takes a step forward for each step I take back. My uncle and Amka look really concerned, and Macy looks curious. But Jaxon… Jaxon’s got a small, rueful smile on his face that tells me he knows exactly what’s got me so freaked out. Then again, he’s the only one here who was down in that tunnel with me.

  With everything that happened to him that day, too, I’m surprised he hasn’t run screaming from this room. God knows I’m considering it.

  “Grace?” Macy asks as I continue to step backward. “Where are you going?”

  “Out of, ummm…” I break off in frustration as I realize I’m still in the circle. “How big is this thing anyway?”

  “It takes up most of the room,” Uncle Finn answers, looking even more confused. “We have a lot of witches who need to fit around the circle. Why?”

  But Macy seems to have finally clued in. “Oh, sweetie, the circle isn’t cast. Nothing can hurt you right now. And in here we do magic that does no harm anyway. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Of course there isn’t. I know that. I’m still just going to…” I use my thumb to point backward over my shoulder.

  “Would it make you feel better if we left this room completely?” Amka asks.

  I focus on her as relief sweeps through me. “So much, I can’t even tell you.”

  “Okay, then let’s go.” Just that easily, Uncle Finn starts herding everyone toward the door. “There’s something you need to see in the library anyway.”

  “In the library?” Now I’m even more confused. “You mean the gargoyle books Amka got out for me? I saw them earlier, and I’m planning on working my way through them.”