She should get that set, I thought in that weird dispassionate way. It’s broken. Probably hurts like hell, too.

Good, a deeper voice replied. I hope it hurts. I hope she chokes on it.

“Bitch.” Her voice was a trembling half-hiss, staggering under a load of pure hatred. “Oh you bitch.”

“Look who’s talking.” It was hard not to lisp, because the fangs meant my tongue hit the roof of my mouth weird. “You started this.”

“And I’ll finish it, too.” She twitched, as if she wanted to go another round. I stiffened, and the owl’s clear Who? Who? reverberated through the gym. “You’re just like her. Just like her. Elizabeth.”

It shouldn’t have made me feel better, but it did. I got my hair from Mom and my eyes from Dad, and Gran said I got her beaky nose. Maybe she was just being nice. But hearing someone else say I was like Mom, even when their face screwed up like the very thought of it was a bad smell, was good. It shouldn’t have warmed me up, but it did. The feeling cut straight through the rage pulsing under my skin, spiking it with gasoline. The fumes filled my head, just waiting for a spark.

I swallowed the rage as best I could. It only made the burning in my throat worse. “Good,” I said quietly. “I’m glad.”

Anna’s hair was pulled half-down; blood smeared her face. She didn’t look so glossy now. “You shouldn’t be. She was weak.”

“Braver than you.” I don’t know what made me say it. It was like someone else’s voice in my mouth. The sound of wingbeats echoed in my ears, and the owl called again. The cat was spitting and hissing, but I ignored it. I had all I could deal with right in front of me. “When was the last time you really went anywhere without a bunch of bodyguards, huh? Did you bring them when you came creeping around my door? I’ll bet they’re waiting right outside for you after you finish picking your fight with me. And getting your ass handed to you, bitch.”

Anna went pale, two splotches of ugly color high up on her flawless cheeks. People hate it when you call them on jackassery. That’s a big fact of human nature: Not a lot of people want to be called on being assholes. They prefer to do their assholishness in the dark and cover it up with fancy words. Because they don’t mind being evil—they just hate being evil where people might see. People who matter, that is, instead of “victims.”

A lot of them won’t take on anyone who might bite back. They just like to cull the weak out of the herd. It’s Wild Kingdom all over.

Anna straightened. Air snapped and crackled with electricity. The cat’s yowl faded away, like it was being carried on a train out of town. She stepped back mincingly, and I found out I was shaking. The urge to go running after her, fists flying, had me in its teeth like a terrier with a toy.

“You’re going to regret this.” Now she was calm. Or at least, she sounded disdainful, cool as a cucumber. The mask of blood on her face said otherwise, along with the dead paleness and the splotches of feverish ugly red high up, an unhealthy mix. Somehow her sweats had gotten torn and there was a stripe of blood high up on her biceps along with flowering red marks that would certainly turn into bruises; I didn’t remember how that happened. I struggled to stay still, to keep my feet in one place.

Because a good bit of me wanted to leap across the room and finish this fight.

“You started it,” I reminded her. “You had everyone clear the room twice now because you thought I’d be easy. You came creeping by my door when you thought I was asleep. Coward.”

She actually flinched, like I’d thrown something at her. “You should have stayed with your stupid human daddy.” The ugly red spots became a flush suffusing her entire face, spreading down her neck. “You’ll never be good enough. They won’t love you. Not the way—”

“Nobody loves you.” I didn’t know it was true before it came out of my mouth. It stung like a bad hex biting before you can unravel it. The owl banked, dove sharply across the space between us, and veered off just at the last second before its talons hit. The wind of its passing ruffled Anna’s hair, and she actually ducked, the rest of her not-so-carefully-coiffed-anymore curls falling down. The aspect fled her, and she looked like a little girl before she broke and ran for the door with eerie, stuttering speed. It opened, she piled through, and I heard boy voices.

I braced myself, waiting for whatever would happen next.

The owl cruised in another tight circle overhead. I wasn’t inside it anymore, just inside my own scraped-raw, throbbing skin. The aspect retreated, and I sagged, my knees hitting the mats with a jolt that smacked my teeth together. They were only bluntly human now. I was glad. Sharp fangs might have taken a chunk out of my lip, and that would have been no fun.

What the hell was that?

I bent over. My stomach hurt. Nausea filled it, kicked against its rubbery insides, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten lunch.

“That was interesting,” someone said from behind the bleachers. They rattled a bit as a shape slid out from behind them.

What? I turned my head gingerly. Blinked a couple of times. The clarity had gone, and the world was getting fuzzy.

Shanks picked his way over the mats, shoulders hunched. “You don’t look so good.”

“How—” I bent over as a retch came painlessly up from my guts and was kept occupied by the struggle not to paint the mats with anything my stomach could come up with.

“Figured I should stick around. Graves is going to shit a brick over this one.”

“Don’t . . .” I tried swallowing; it hurt my throat. Smelled the fur and wildness on him, a collage of brunet scent that made up his gangly long legs and quick dark eyes. It was like the pictures the touch painted inside my head when the ampoule of blood broke open in Aspect Mastery. “Don’t—”

I meant, Don’t come any closer. The bloodhunger was clear and unavoidable, burning just under my skin. Like the touch.

Like the anger. Rage. It was just looking for an outlet.

If I got to Graves first and told him about this, maybe I could somehow make him understand that we needed to leave this place before things got any worse.

Shanks squatted, an easy graceful movement. “Don’t worry, I can smell the red on you. Not gonna get close until you calm down.” A quick flick of a glance up over my head. The owl gave one last soft hoot, and the sound of wingbeats retreated. “Which you’d better do soon, before someone comes in here and finds you like this. You’re bleeding.”

That, right now, was the least of my worries. I shut my eyes and dragged a deep breath in. Blew it out between pursed lips. “Don’t. Tell.” I needed to talk to Graves first. To explain.

“Hm.” He didn’t agree or disagree, just made a noncommittal noise. “I never thought I’d see the Red Queen in person. She don’t show herself to the peasants much.” He glanced up at the door she’d retreated through. “Jesus.”

Red Queen? I made a shapeless noise, but it was definitely a question.

“Oh, yeah.” A small, humorless laugh. “Wulfen know about her. We’re not stupid, Dru. We like to know who’s playing the game.”