RAZE

In the shadows in the back of the camper van, I barely notice the movements of the vehicle. From the way the rest of my “team” rocks where they’re sitting in physical form on the padded seats, the road must be bumpy, but my patch of darkness maintains a peaceful stillness.

Which is good, because I can’t say there’s anything peaceful inside me. How the fuck did I let myself get roped into this insane mission?

Because it was either that or banishment. Because as much as I hate the damage I’ve done in the mortal realm, I can’t subsist on shadows.

Some sadistic quirk of shadowkind nature makes some of us reliant on what only this side of the world can provide. My basilisk stomach craves raw meat.

Grocery store cuts serve well enough, as much as my instincts appreciate a hunt. I could survive perfectly well here without harming a single living creature.

Assuming I learn how to avoid letting my anger get the better of me. To stop it from seeping from my eyes and skin even when I have no intention of lashing out.

What excuse to the others have for being on the verge of banishment?

I peer at the figures on the seats. Hail’s expression is a picture of perfect cool. Ice crystals dance above his outstretched hand—he’s looking out the window rather than at the fragments as they consolidate into a sculpture of a miniature tree.

Show off.

I think the fae man likes hurting people. He never looks away when Gloss and the other female shadowkind who follow at his heels cut our fellow students down a peg. He didn’t hesitate to insult Periwinkle the second he saw her in the administration room.

If he dislikes so much about this place, why does it matter to him to stay? Does he really think he can manage to graduate if he’s treating mortal beings like even worse garbage than he does the shadowkind he doesn’t respect?

He agreed to the deal for some reason, even though it involves working with three of those shadowkind. I don’t get the impression he respects our sorcerer babysitter much either.

At the front where he’s driving, Jonah switches on the radio. Mirage was already swaying even when the van doesn’t, but he smiles now, adding a bounce of his slender leg and a click of claws that glint from his fingertips for brief instants before he retracts them again.

I’ve never known what to make of the fox shifter. Can he really not help behaving so erratically? Does he enjoy flouting the rules? He seems happy when people laugh at his bizarre behavior, but it’s obviously gotten him into a lot of trouble as well.

As I watch, he starts drumming his palms against the seat while tapping one foot. Hail cuts a glance across the van, his eyes narrowed. “Can’t you sit still?”

Mirage grins wider. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The fae man lets out a huff and turns farther toward the window as if he wants to pretend he’s not even on the same vehicle as us.

Periwinkle has kept quiet for most of the ride so far, I think through sheer force of will. She brightens a little at Mirage’s seated dance, in a way that twists me up for reasons I can’t explain.

“I like the music too,” she tells him. “Anything with a good beat makes it easier to keep your spirits up.”

Mirage hums vaguely, closing his eyes as his head veers back and forth with the rhythm. “Sounds like we’re going to need our spirits ever so high up when we get up north. A puzzle to puzzle out.”

She swipes her hand through the waves of her turquoise hair, still smiling but looking at bit awkward, as if she’s not sure how to reply. I wouldn’t know either.

Looking at her reminds me of the other aspects of the mortal realm I’d miss. I don’t need beautiful sights to survive, but there’s something kind of amazing about taking in stunning landscapes and artful creations that don’t exist in our home world. Seeing all the things that still exist undamaged, no matter what mistakes I’ve made.

And Periwinkle’s human-like form is definitely pretty. All those vibrant colors that match the warmth I’ve seen her try to offer our fellow shadowkind so many times.

I wonder what her actual shadowkind form looks like.

As if she senses my attention on her, her gaze veers toward the slanting shadow I’m lurking in. A hint of tension grips her posture.

Then she vanishes, leaping into the shadows herself.

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My heart sinks. She felt like I was staring—I must have made her uncomfortable.

But then a ripple of distinctive bright energy moves toward me through the darkness gathered along the edges of the van. Somehow even merged with the shadows, this being gives off the sensation of light.

She comes to a stop near enough for me to have a concrete sense of where she is but not so close that our energies brush up against each other. Her soft voice sounds clearer when we’re on the same plane. “Hi. Um. Is it okay if I talk to you? If you wanted to be left alone, I won’t bother you.”

The fact that she’s being so careful about my feelings twists me up even more, and this time the sensation is definitely guilt. “You’re not bothering me.”

“Oh, good.” I get the impression of her smiling, even though she’s totally ephemeral at the moment. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for how this all turned out. I promise you I didn’t vandalize our room—I never would have messed up anything that didn’t belong to me… or anything that did belong to me, really—”

“I know,” I break in, unable to keep the gruffness from my voice in my shame. “I heard the beings who did it laughing about the ‘prank’ a few minutes after I left. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

When has my unexpected roommate done anything out of malice? How could I really have thought she’d try to get me kicked out?

Periwinkle’s voice softens even more. “No one’s been very nice to you at the school, have they? You haven’t had an easy time.”

My shame burns deeper with a flare of guilt and horror. “I haven’t always given everyone else an easy time. I don’t blame them for keeping their distance.”

I’m not sure I’d really blame her if she had wanted to provoke me so I’d break the rules and have to leave. Even if it would have felt like a betrayal.

But even now, when she could have taken my statement as an excuse to draw back, she eases closer to me in the shadow. A gentler warmth spreads through my essence like it might have if she’d taken my hand. “You don’t like it, though. Keeping that distance. It feels awful when you don’t want to hurt anyone but sometimes you end up doing it without even meaning to, doesn’t it?”

How can she sound as if she knows how it feels firsthand? I’m not even sure what she’s doing here with the bunch of us delinquents. Is it just because some of the other students have taken offense to things she’s said?

Maybe Gloss complained, and most of the administration decided to side with her.

The truth tumbles out of me before I can think better of it. “I don’t want to hurt you too.”

Periwinkle simply remains next to me, emanating her natural warmth. “I don’t think you will. Maybe we can even help each other figure things out.”

I’m not prepared for the rush of hope that hits me with those words. For how much I want them to be true.

For how much it matters to me that she’d even suggest it.

I shouldn’t be surprised, though, should I? Not after she stayed in our dorm room even after I tried to intimidate her out. Not when she ran to me to check for injuries when I got smacked by that burst of electrical power during the morphball game.

She’s making this offer to me, not to Hail or Mirage. She came into the shadows to clear the air between us and confirm I didn’t see her as an enemy.

Is it possible she’s actually right that we could help each other?

A week ago, I’d have grunted and said something about how we were better off looking after ourselves. But her warmth has melted enough of my defenses that I find myself saying, “I’d like that.”

“Good!” Periwinkle whirls around as if in delight and then pops back into the physical plane, standing in the middle of the van.

She looks down at her typical flowered dress and track jacket and cocks her head. “If we’re secret agents setting off to track down villainous shadowkind, we’re going to need to be tough. I don’t think this outfit totally fits.”

In a blink, she flits in and out of the shadows, reappearing in a new set of clothing she’s imagined onto her short, curvy figure. Tight jeans with a couple of rips cling to her rounded hips. She’s swapped the blue jacket with its rainbow stripe for a black leather one.

She hasn’t completely abandoned her usual color scheme, though. A single neon-pink flower beams from the chest of her otherwise black tee.

Periwinkle strikes a pose like a TV police officer cornering a bad guy. Hail rolls his eyes in apparent disdain. Mirage lets out a bark of a laugh.

I simply peer up at her, fond amusement tingling through my being like the warmth of her presence did moments ago.

A chillier jab follows it, piercing through my center as if I’ve been run through by one of Hail’s ice sculptures.

This woman might be the sweetest being I’ve ever known. She’s the farthest thing from tough I can imagine.

All the rebellious clothes in the world won’t be enough to protect her from whatever dangers we’re hurtling off to face.

I can only hope I will be.