Page 56

Once the construction of the Healing Center was completed, we applauded.

Uncle Keithen came over and pulled us to our feet before hugging us both; Uncle's personality was as big as he was physically. "There's my favorite wee Lad and Lass!" he bellowed, alternating kisses from one of our heads to the other. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Of course!" we said, smiling wide.

"Can I get a fire pole installed in our suite?" Zane blurted out. "Or a stripper pole."

I shook my head.

Keithen stroked his bread. "Stripper pole I might be able to manage without your grandmother bitin' me head off over if she finds out," he said.

I smacked them both. "No stripper poles!" I scolded. "I have to check in with Azrael, Uncle," I said. "Can we have dinner once you and the Architects have completed your amazing and inspiring displays of thaumaturgy and skill?"

"Of course," Keithen said, kissing the top of my head again. "We'll be here for the week."

Embarrassed, the rest of the Architects followed Keithen and Zane to the dining hall to get something to eat so they could recharge before moving on to their next project.

"Is that wise?" Harper asked, watching Zane bounce up and down with excitement at Keithen's side.

Slevin kissed me on the cheek. "I'll keep an eye on Zane before taking him to the mailroom to see if his personal effects from the Stockholm Academy have been sent over yet," he said. "And I think a stripper pole would be fun," he said with a wink, disappearing in a pink shimmer before I could smack him.

"Damn it," I groaned. "We are so getting a stupid stripper pole now."

Harper chuckled. "The adults will reel your brother and Slevin in," he promised.

"No, they won't," I said, heading towards the Administration building, and Harper walked with me. "We've known most of the Architects since we were little, and Zane has always been able to use his golden tongue to get whatever he wants from them. Grandpa was their Captain, when he passed away his brother took over that role; it was a demotion and boring work in Uncle's opinion, but he's no spring chicken and Synergists are too rare to risk riding into battle with their thaumaturgy blazing like they used to."

Harper snorted. "We don't ride into battle like that anymore... They don't. That's old-world stuff," he reminded me.

"According to the stories Grandpa and Uncle told us when we were kids, that's how the 1960s were and they were terrifying... At least what they remember of it was," I teased the latter, causing him to chuckle.

Harper went with me to the Administration building because I wanted to take care of something that was bugging me. "You don't need to do this," he reminded me.

"It's my first incident report, so I need to fill it out," I argued. "That's Sentinel Training 101. The incident from the hospital stairwell I need to file an incident report on and I need to check on that Riven problem."

He pulled the door open for me. "Riven problem?"

"Yeah, he's going to try to kill me, I just know it," I said. "Riven is harboring hardcore wounded pride over me taking a chair to his head back at Majandra's place. Father and Uncle Azrael always warned me about the dangers of pride in a Sentinel's heart. That is how the Stregone lost their hold on the Sentinel at the hospital. While I fill out my incident report, will you check on Jolyn? Zannie said she was hitting on him."

Harper stopped in mid-step. "What?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," I agreed. "He was just as grossed out over it as we are. Can you check on her? She's dodging me hardcore since we got back from Seattle. I don't know if it's because of what happened out there, because of Viggo, or because we went to a Blood Brothel and had the audacity to invite her to come along."

Harper pushed his hand through his hair, the way he does when he's stressed. "Stay here until I get you or stay within Commander Azrael's protection. I'll find Fangula and have words with her and see what's got her knicker in a twist." He kissed me on the cheek then headed back down the stairs and out the door.

"Something to be concerned with?" Azrael asked from behind me.

I shook my head. "I hope not," I said. "I can't handle losing one of my best friends right now because of all of the things I have no control over."

He offered a smile. "What can I help you with? Your brother is terrorizing the Architects over pancakes and coffee," he said, making a face.

"That sounds like Zannie, and Uncle Keithen most likely spiked their coffees and will keep an eye on him," I said with a chuckle. "We haven't seen the Architects since Grandpa died. Uncle Keithen we saw, Grandma tried to kill him a few times over a differing of opinions, but they always argued like pissed-off siblings. I think the Architects were too scared to come around us in case we blamed them for Grandpa's death for some reason. Grief in that capacity isn't something we have much experience with, so I don't know if that's normal or not for someone to do. Anyway, I came by to fill out my incident report from the hospital."

Azrael motioned for me to join him in the Headmaster's office since he had been sharing it with Headmaster Bakshi and he closed the door behind us. "There is no need to fill out an official incident report because one was already filled out," he said, stepping around the desk.

"By who?" I asked, taking the folder he offered me.

Inside was an incident report neatly filled out with perfect penmanship, but it wasn't filled out by me.

Even my penmanship wasn't that nice.

"Viggo isn't a Sentinel-in-training," I complained; he was the only person who could have filled it out the way it was with the information that it had. "Just because he's of the first Five Houses doesn't mean he always gets what he wants."

Azrael smiled. "Have you ever known Prince de Babineaux to wield his crown to get anything?" he retorted.

I hadn't.

"I'm scared to ask why he filled it out now," I whispered, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat.