Miss Thing claps her hands. “Your attention, class!” She strides across the front of the room, her long robes swaying with each step. Unfortunately, she’s decided to wear her hood down today, and the combination of her bright red lips and bald gray head is downright spooky.
“I’ve a very important lesson for you today.” Miss Thing stalks back and forth before her desk, her red heels click-clacking with each step. “You may have heard terrible rumors about demons.” She laces her long red fingernails under her chin. “I won’t mince words. Some say the demons may one day attack us, their beloved ghoul allies.”
I lean back in my chair, my brows rising. Anti-demon rumors? That’s new. Normally it’s all demon-love, all the time.
Miss Thing sighs. “Demons are poor, misunderstood creatures that are true friends to ghouls. Maybe not so much to quasis.” She taps her chin with her long gray finger. “But since you’re our minions, that means they’re really your friends too!” She glances about the classroom expectantly.
I scan the faces as well. Everyone looks at our teacher with open, accepting stares. My chest tightens with frustration as the word ‘minion’ rattles around my brain. We used to rule ourselves, sistah, and did a damn good job of it too.
Miss Thing gazes at one of the many Oligarchy glamour shots she’s taped to her wall. “Besides, our brave and handsome leaders tell us demons will be our allies forever. And we know the Oligarchy could never lie or make a mistake.” Her eyes flutter as she exhales. “So, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Huh. That was a lot of explaining for something not to worry about.
Miss Thing walks up to the board. Using super-screechy chalk, she starts listing examples of how demons have been trustworthy through the ages. Twenty minutes go by and she’s reached one and a half items.
Zeke shifts his weight; his chair lets out a soft squeak. I turn to him and realize he’s been whispering to me about Cissy this whole time. I smile and pretend I’ve been listening all along.
“It’s been so awesome having Cissy around,” says Zeke. “My parents don’t get a lot of support from the ghouls. Basically, they let us keep our house and that’s it. We have to pay for all the diplomatic events. It adds up.”
“That’s too bad, Zeke. I had no idea.”
“My parents are pretty picky, too. They worry about every little thing. Cissy’s really good about the details, though. Like at dinner, she figured out how to get floral centerpieces that were periwinkle instead of cerulean. Mom was pumped.”
Wow. I have no idea what he just said.
“That’s totally cool, Zeke. I’m happy for you.”
“Anyway, she’s a great girl.” He smiles. “And you’ve done an awesome job adjusting to our relationship. I know it must be hard, seeing us together all the time.” He arches his eyebrow and winks.
Just when you think it’s safe to have a conversation with Zeke Ryder, he turns back into the Lust Monster. My voice drips with a healthy dose of venom. “I’ve adjusted, Zeke. You should too.”
The rest of the day zips by and before I know it, I’m driving my green station wagon over to the Ryder mansion.
Betsy putters up the long curve of the mansion’s driveway. Cissy and Zeke stand outside the front door, their bodies stiff with rage. Both their mouths are set into thin lines. I wave through the closed window. They glare in reply.
Ick. The thrax must have whined to Zeke’s parents. Not good.
I park Betsy and step up to the mansion, all innocence and smiles. “Hey, guys! What’s going on?”
Zeke taps his foot. “What in blazes did you do at the thrax compound the other day?”
I unzip my hoodie and try to look casual. “Oh, they mentioned me?”
Zeke’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “Mentioned you? They howled about you. It’s a diplomatic nightmare.”
I roll my eyes. “It is not.”
Cissy frowns. “Is too. You flattened three of their Lords.”
I did, didn’t I? Sweet Satan, that was fun.
Cissy points at my mouth. “I see that self-satisfied smirk. You’re getting in deeper by the second.”
I force my face into neutral-mode.
Zeke rubs his temples. “When you were said you knew the thrax Prince, we thought you were kidding.”
“Hmmm. Let’s take a step into the way-back machine here. I told you both that the Prince and I fought; you refused to believe me because you thought…what was it you thought again?” I give my chin a dramatic tap. “Oh, yeah. You thought that I had a huge crush on Zeke. Well, for the record, I don’t give a crap about Zeke.”
“Fine, we believe you now.” Cissy half-frowns. “But that’s not the point, Myla. The point is that you fought back against the Prince in a mean and sneaky way.”
I keep my face carefully neutral. Mostly. “I fought back? How’s everyone so sure it was me?”
“Hmm.” Now it’s Zeke’s turn to tap his chin. “How many Arena-quality fighters are there out there who got honorary swords from Prince Lincoln? It’s a short list. You.”