Page 19

“He’s in there.” Dimara, the only other in the house about my age, exits the upstairs bath. She wrinkles her nose. “That smell, girl.” Mirth plays on her lips. “You’ve got to work on that smell.”

I shift awkwardly as we pass each other. Being out for weeks of training doesn’t really allow for daily showers. She points to the study at the end of the hall, which is more like a very large, doorless closet with a bunch of bookshelves and a chair.

Octos is reading a book by lamplight.

“Quell, I think I found—”

My hand is at his throat, magic rolling through me in an icy wave. Black coils of mist bleed from my fingers, twisting around his neck. I dangle Mom’s key chain in front of him, and his eyes widen.

“I can explain,” he chokes out. “Quell, please…”

How could he possibly explain this in any way other than outright betrayal? At best he’s a liar. I press harder, and he groans. Then, as my magic grazes his chin, something odd happens. His jaw shifts, jutting out. His cheeks sink in, defining his cheekbones. The trickle of black at my fingers rises, blowing across his entire face, and Octos’s beady dark eyes and deep-set brows morph into someone else. My stomach drops. It feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed off.

Show me, I tell my magic, fanning my toushana across all of him in one smooth motion. His whole body shortens. His stringy hair darkens to jet black. It rises above his shoulders while long bangs sprout across his forehead. My heart knocks in my chest, but I can’t look away. The brown in his eyes lightens ever so slightly as the rest of his disguise dissolves.

“Who are you?” I stare. Then my gut twists as I recognize that familiar, determined stare. I stumble backward and he frees himself from my grip. “You’re…him.”

The guy from the gas station in New Orleans. His face had changed into the person standing in front of me. The same guy I saw at the Tidwell Ball in a disagreement with those other Draguns.

“You’re—the Dragun who has been hunting me.” Black dents the edges of my vision. I can’t breathe.

“I can explain everything.” His mouth moves, but I don’t hear the words. Cold tangles in my chest, then cinches in a knot. I force out a tight breath. Then another. And another. Remembering I’m not the scared girl on the run from him anymore. My magic unleashes like a whip. My bones ache at the rush of toushana, but I thrust it against him even harder. Magic slams into his body, knocking him backward. He hits the shelves, sending books tumbling everywhere. He drops to the floor, cowering.

“Quell, please.” A fear like I’ve never seen glazes his eyes.

“Who. Are. You?”

“My name—my name is Yagrin. Dragun, twelfth of my blood, House of Perl.” His chin falls.

Everyone I trust betrays me.

“Quell, please, we can’t do this here.” His eyes dart to the stairs just past me. The safe house. Knox. As I do the same, my eyes cut past a mirror; the girl in its reflection is seething, swallowed in a black fog of rage. A girl I don’t recognize. I step back. My throbbing hand blackens, deepening the bruises that were already there. I draw in a long breath, my toushana retreats, and the fog in the tiny office space clears.

Inside, my toushana bites at my bones.

Strike, it says.

I hook my hands together. “Talk. Fast.”

“I did not hurt Rhea, I promise you.”

“Don’t say her name like you knew her.”

His throat bobs. “When I cornered you—early summer, before you ran to your grandmother’s—at that motel, remember?”

“The first time I learned you were a liar. Yes.”

“I took your mother from the motel. She was kept for questioning, that’s protocol. My order from Mother was to bring you in, not her. So I knew she’d be questioned and let go.”

“You took her to Beaulah Perl’s House?”

“I did. Mother calls in favors from time to time, under the Dragunhead’s nose. And this was one of them.”

“Go on.”

“When I found you at the Tavern, you were different than what I expected.”

I raise my chin.