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Tonya’s cramped dorm room didn’t have a full-length mirror, so she glanced at her shirt in the communal bathroom while she brushed her teeth. Weakened by magic use, Tonya had been semi-conscious for a month, surviving mostly on liquids. Once her health improved, Loon Lake Council had thrown her in a magic-proof holding cell while they investigated Waldock’s so-called murder. With little to do but exercise, and nothing to eat but terrible jail food, Tonya had lost twenty pounds and tossed out most of her clothes.
Her favorite green top was stretchy enough to fit, and wearing it used to give her confidence; it had suited her long red hair. Since death magic turned her locks necro white, a blue top would look better, but by the time she rushed back to her room, grabbed her backpack and found her phone, there was no time to change.
It was her own fault she was late. Tonya had hit snooze on her alarm twice to put off her first class. Then, she’d wasted time deciding between black jeans or blue, as if clothes could stop the gossip. No matter how she looked, the Old Family kids would hate her.
Walking down the Mackenzie residence hallway gave Tonya flashbacks, but summer had transformed the place. Bare walls echoed as students slept off last night’s party. In a few hours, they would rise and slip tanned muscles into shorts or sundresses to flirt and laugh their way to class.
But not Tonya.
She waited for the slowest elevator in the world, feeling trapped in this building and very, very late. The sense of desperation triggered a memory of last Halloween, when crowds of drooling food zombies surrounded these walls. Tonya had nearly died to defeat Jack Waldock, but City Council had spelled the non-magical Mundane population to forget what they’d seen, then thrown Tonya into a jail cell. Nice way to thank her.
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Her toe tapped the rug. Ten minutes. She might still make it.
Finally, she emerged on the ground floor of her residence and turned left toward the morning hum in the Mackenzie cafeteria. High ceilings and plate-glass windows gave an unobstructed view of Loon Lake, where a kayak glided by in the sunshine. Tonya’s stomach growled, but class began in minutes. Like the prison bracelet chafing her left ankle, timely attendance was a condition of parole.
Aromas of bacon and coffee tugged at her empty stomach. Tonya hurried past the tables, zigzagging between milling students. She almost collided with a broad-shouldered hunk with short blonde hair and topaz eyes. He was wearing a high-end camera and a Digital Ninjas t-shirt.
It was Drake!
“Babe!” She waved automatically, then snatched her hand back, ducking into the crowd. She sighed. How her fingers ached to trace those high cheekbones, but that would mean disaster. Drake was off-limits forever.
Had he seen her? Please, please, no. A lump caught in her throat. In the fleeting days between her recovery and the trial, he had become her first boyfriend. Sweet moments lost forever. In this case, literally.
If Drake remembered her, Ashton Security would wipe his memory a second time, and repeating the spell would damage his brain.