“So his file says.” Bruce nodded. “He was bitten by the Silver-head?”

“Yeah, Ash bit him.” They hadn’t said anything about Ash. They had to know he was bottled up in the room downstairs. But I wasn’t going to bring it up and maybe have them decide he was better off locked up somewhere I couldn’t get to him.

I felt . . . responsible.

“The loup-garou has a Record.” You could just hear the capital letter in Hiro’s tone. “Normally he would be at a . . . satellite Schola, even with the happy accident of half-imprinting.”

“All the benefits, few of the drawbacks. And less hair.” Marcus leaned back in his chair. I didn’t see how he could lounge in something so hard and uncomfortable, but he managed it. “He’s a fortunate one.”

There it is again. Something crystallized inside my head.

There were no wulfen in this room. Here I was full of breakfast, and Graves was waiting outside, probably hungry. These were the heads of the Order, and there wasn’t a single wulfen in here. It was always djamphir in control and snarky comments about the wulfen. Talking about how lucky Graves was because he didn’t get all furry.

Gran raised me in Appalachia, and Dad and I stayed below the Mason-Dixon most of the time. I know the word for behavior like this, and I’ve seen it all over. It’s never pretty. Maybe I’m lucky, since moving around so much showed me people are the same everywhere. Still, there’s something ugly down South. When you aren’t sure you’re at the top of the food chain, it doesn’t make sense to make everyone below you on that chain suffer—but people do it anyway, and they do it all the time. Because it makes them feel bigger, more secure.

I was just about to say something—I don’t even know what, maybe something like, He’s a person too, you know—when the mahogany doors swung open. A flash of crimson silk, a long fall of curly reddish hair, and high-heeled boots with buttons marching up their front all came to a halt. Just like a cat will see you looking at it and stop dead, one paw in the air.

Did I just imagine it? I was exhausted and running on nerves, but I swear to God I saw a flash of something nasty far back in the other svetocha’s eyes.

Sometimes you meet a girl and it’s like matter and antimatter. You just hate each other for no damn reason. I already knew I didn’t like her. Besides, she hated Christophe.

Why did I care so much about that?

Anna lifted her pointed chin, and her blue eyes widened just the tiniest bit. She was in a different red silk dress than the one I’d seen last time, something with a full skirt and a bodice that was just short of indecent. A cameo on a thin gold chain rested in the hollow of her slim white throat, and long delicate golden teardrop earrings trembled as she halted. And, God help me, she actually chirped at the roomful of boy djamphir. “Well! Late again, but I see you’ve started without me.”

“You’re safe.” Bruce didn’t sound surprised. “We worried needlessly.”

A taffy-stretching silence ticked by. Kir’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood slowly, and the rest of them followed suit. I stayed where I was.

I stayed because my knees had gone mooshy, and the muffled beat of feathered wings filled my ears like a heartbeat. Cold little prickling fingers skittered over my skin, and I was suddenly very sure something was Not Right. A draft of warm perfume dipped in spice marched down the table toward me.

Why did she smell like that? And Christophe, why did he smell like a warm apple pie?

The scalding flush that poured through me at the thought of Christophe being here met the icy consciousness of danger, and they both fought over me. I began to wish I hadn’t drunk so much coffee. Why is it that the only thing you can think of when you’re terrified is how much you need to pee?

Maybe that’s just me, though.

“I was en vacances; you know how I lose track of time. Perfectly safe, with my boys watching over me. And it’s Dru!” She sounded oh-so-happy to see me, a candy-coated voice and a wide dimpled smile. “When did you come in? I’m glad they didn’t keep you at that second-rate Schola for very long.”

They? Who was she talking about, they? The guys in this room, who didn’t seem to have any clue about where I’d been or what I’d been doing?

The standing djamphir were completely motionless, but I could feel the tension running through them. Hiro’s fingertips rested on the tabletop, half an inch away from his silver fork. I had a sudden Technicolor vision of him picking up the fork and launching himself at Anna. Blood spurting, screaming, the fork making a popping sound as it buried itself in one pretty blue eye.

I sucked in a small breath. Hiro’s head moved the slightest fraction, and I was suddenly very sure he was keeping track of me in his peripheral vision.

Maybe it’s me he wants to stick a fork in. My mouth started working again. When in doubt, say something flip. “I got in a couple days ago. It was fun.”

“Fun?” She raised one exquisitely arched eyebrow, the open door yawning behind her. The fire in the study room popped once. She looked like a storybook illustration, and I wished I could sink back into the chair. My face felt greasy and I could still taste bacon.

It was official. I disliked her. She probably felt the same way. But she was older, right? She wouldn’t act like a teenager, would she?

But I couldn’t stop myself.

“Yeah, fun. A real blast.” My right hand rested on my knee under the table. I stopped it from creeping up to touch the reassuring bulge of the switchblade with an effort of will that threatened to make me sweat. “I almost got burned alive. There was a car chase, too. If it wasn’t for Christophe I’d’ve been dead.”

“Christophe? Reynard?” Her candy-pink-glossed mouth turned down a little. To give her credit, she didn’t look in the least surprised. “Really.”

“Really.” Flat and unapologetic, as if she’d just insulted me.

“I’ll expect your debriefing, then.” A sparkle in those narrowed baby blues. Like a cheerleader taunting a nerd.

Even if she was older, she was cut from the same cloth. There’s only one reason someone like that is even civil to someone like me.

It’s either because they’re setting you up for something, or they want something.

A nasty supposition rose like bad gas in a mine shaft, up from the very bottom of my mind. I stared at her, wishing I could shut out all the tension and awkwardness in the room and just think for a bit.

But one thing was for damn sure—I wasn’t going to tell the whole story again. Not to this lacquered, pretty cheerleader. “I’ve already given it.” I made my hands come up and flatten on the tabletop. It was hard, with the muffled wingbeats in my ears trying to drown everything out. I hoped Gran’s owl wasn’t about to make an appearance. That was the last thing I needed right now.

Of course, if nobody else could see the owl, I was worrying about nothing. They probably wouldn’t think I was crazy. But I wasn’t gonna take any chances.

Not anymore. I figured I’d better stop taking chances, starting yesterday.

I pushed myself up slowly. My eyes refused to move away from Anna’s face. I stared at her liked she was a rattler I wanted to keep in view while I reached for the shovel to behead it. It made me think of Gran, actually. Which was a painful comfort. Move nice an’ slow, and don’t you give that snake a reason to strike at you. Just slow an’ easy, honey.

“And very charmingly, too.” Marcus glanced significantly at Hiro. “I think we may excuse Milady Anderson; she’s very tired.”

Bruce stiffened, Kir’s eyebrows went up, and Ezra smirked. He smirked so loudly, in fact, that I could almost hear it through the noise in my head.