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Iswept and scrubbed the dojo for a good half-hour, wiping clean every trace of my failures and the dread that my session with Victoria had left in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to start fresh the next time I walked into this room and hers. Maybe that was why Marcel got the biggest loser to clean house after the session. It looked, to the unknowing eye, like a penalty. But it was actually an opportunity to reflect on where I’d mis-stepped and where I could do better, going over the very ground where I’d made my mistakes. I supposed it made a poignant parallel to my work with Victoria, too. My mom would have laughed herself into a burst blood vessel if I’d admitted this to her, after the arguments we used to have about the state of my bedroom—paints and pencils and papers and canvases everywhere—but there was a serenity and a meditative quality to be found in sweeping and scrubbing.

“You realize I could’ve skimmed a bit of Water over the floor and nobody would’ve known the difference, right?” Genie leaned on a mop, having just finished up the last corner. She didn’t have to help me out, but she always did, and she always whined about it. Secretly, I think she got something meditative out of it, too. The lady doth protest too much, as Shakespeare would’ve said.

I chucked the big yellow sponge that I used for thoroughness into a clean bucket. “That would be missing the point of the punishment, and Marcel would definitely know the difference. I think he’s addicted to the smell of this lemon stuff.” I was pretty sure the scent of citrus detergent would bring my mind back into this room for the rest of my life.

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” She gathered up the mop and broom, tiptoeing like a cartoon spy across the damp floor toward the storage cupboard. I joined her, locking away the supplies until I’d have to haul them back out again on Monday. She flashed me a wicked grin as she snapped the cupboard shut. “Does this mean we’re ready to get our weekend on?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a hot date with my bathtub and Mr. Epsom,” I said as we hopped from dry spot to dry spot on our way out of the training room. Obviously, Mr. Epsom was a hefty bag of bath salts; as far as romantic interests went, I’d only received one offer… and that came with a hell-crown that I definitely didn’t want, despite him being in my good books for the time being. I hadn’t mentioned much about my session to Genie, in case it freaked her out, but she seemed to sense something had gone on and had amped up her cheer to make up for it.

She gave a low whistle. “Saucy minx.” A visible hint of excitement bristled through her, like she’d licked a battery to test if it worked. “But first, pixie time!”

“I was thinking about skipping tonight,” I lied. I had a theory that I wanted to kick the tires on.

Her mouth dropped in surprise, but then her eyes narrowed. “Ooh, you almost got me there.”

“What?” I acted coy, glad to be distracted from what had happened with Victoria. “I thought you’d jump at the idea of a night off from my pesky Purges. Unless… there’s another, taller, lion-ish, handsome reason you want to spend your Friday evening at the Repository?”

In terms of Genie’s romantic interests, she’d received a slew of love confessions, proposed dates, and secret cards left outside her bedroom door from a bevy of hunters who’d watched her meteoric rise through the first-year ranks, her talents giving older students a run for their money. But she only had eyes for one man. Frankly, I was sick of waiting for them to get their act together, waiting for that slow-motion, strings-coming-in-on-the-soundtrack moment that still hadn’t happened. It had been six months since Fergus and Lorelei, and even that heart-wrenching tale of star-crossed love hadn’t been enough to light a fire under either of them.

“Tobe? He’s a peach, and I’m sure there are plenty of folks with a Beauty-and-the-Beast-fantasy, but he’s just not my type.” She grinned wolfishly, looping her arm through mine as we headed for our rock-and-roll Repository Friday. “Now, tell me you’re not going to bury your nose in books all day tomorrow. I was thinking we could have a little jaunt into town, or a walk on the beach.”

“I know Nathan hasn’t asked you out yet, but I’m not much of a substitute,” I teased, refusing to drop the subject until they shouted from the rooftops that they were crazy about each other. I’d probably be ribbing her about it until graduation.

She feigned shock. “You’re not a substitute! You’re the MVP. No one I’d rather spend a Saturday afternoon strolling with.” Her expression softened. “I mean that. Even if Nathan were to ask me out—which I’m not saying I want—it’ll always be sisters before misters.”

“Can I get that in writing?” I asked, smiling, before the memory of a stack of textbooks diverted my attention from her love woes. “I’ve got a paper to finish for Monster History, and a couple of anatomy sketches for Monster Biology. I also thought I might… uh… hit the gym, so I’ll have to see how much I get done before I agree to anything.”

Genie skidded to a halt and whirled me around. “Did you say ‘gym?’”

“I might have.” My cheeks flushed a little. “I thought I’d string a load of weights around my neck to thicken it up so Marcel can’t choke me out anymore.”

She chuckled. “You were awesome today, Pers. Everyone’s improving, and you’re no exception. I saw you land that sneaky kidney punch, and you hit him with a knee kick. I bet McCarthy is feeling it now. If he didn’t have those headlocks and legs like flipping steel girders, you’d have floored him ages ago.”

“I appreciate the pep talk, but I need to push harder in the physical classes. The rate I’m going, I might as well get my name inscribed on that broom. I’m way behind in Hunting Technique and Martial Arts, and I swear Johannes is actually going to use his bullwhip on me if I mess up the chimera simulation again.” I got us walking again, our footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. By now, everyone would be in the Banquet Hall or the rec room, relaxing after another killer week of training. A few would be getting bruises and cuts seen to in the Infirmary, or begging for a revitalization tonic from the medics, while those lucky few who’d struck up a romance would be meandering in the orchard, making the most of these last warm(ish) days of Irish summer. Honestly, I’d been surprised that Ireland even had a proper summer, and even one with enough sunshine to coax out the inkling of a tan.

Ah… bring back August. I’d had some incredible weekends down at the Institute’s private cove during the summer’s best days, along with the rest of our classmates. We’d dared each other to be the first to dive into the freezing sea and cooked up a storm on disposable barbecues, the coals lit by those with Fire abilities. Naturally, with a bunch of magicals, there’d been some Chaos displays, too. Genie, after a bit of coercion, had put on a stunning Water show as the sun went down, manipulating liquid formations of gamboling sea creatures, dancing mermaids, stampeding Kelpies, and a few sneaky scenes of the Atlantis cityscape.

Genie crinkled up her nose. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself. McCarthy said you were getting better, and he’s not one to blow smoke up anyone’s ass.”

“I have to be tougher on myself,” I replied firmly. “Sure, I’ve progressed by leaps and bounds when it comes to capturing my monsters, but there’s more to hunting than that. I need to be able to defend myself on missions, against anything—monster or otherwise—or I’ll always be the weakest link. And that starts with overhauling my fitness. That’s the foundation of my weakness.”

“You could come running with me to increase your stamina?” She grinned.

I groaned involuntarily at the mere thought. “Chaos, no. I’d rather bench press a rock golem.”

“Do both. I could set up a circuit for you.” She cackled. “Sprint 400 meters, twenty reps with a rock golem, jog a mile, thirty reps with a gargoyle trying to smooch you, then finish off with a bit of electric muscle toning by lying down on a raiju.”

“Have you been reading Johannes’s playbook of pain?” I envied that she could look forward to arena time, while I dreaded it with every fiber of my being. It was like a never-ending video game where I kept getting stuck on the same level. Fortunately for my ego, I wasn’t the only one who floundered during those sessions, and Johannes didn’t dole out penalties for the lowest scorer, but I knew I could do better. No, I had to do better, even if that meant… ugh, I could hardly bring myself to think it. Running.

Genie snorted. “Where do you think he gets his ideas from? I’m the mastermind.”

“One day, when you’re done hunting in the outside world, I bet you’ll be teaching here, cracking the whip and terrifying the living daylights out of first years. You and Nathan, securing tenure here for the rest of your working lives.” I genuinely could picture it vividly, and thought she’d find it funny—but her face told a different story. Her eyes turned downward, her expression pinched. I guessed she didn’t know what the future might hold for her. Her father had made a few comments over the last several months about her finding a “suitable” husband—AKA an Atlantean—once she’d put in a couple years of hunting. It was a life she didn’t want, and the topic never failed to put her in a grim mood.

I decided to change the subject and ramble a little to distract her back to her grinning self. “I haven’t seen the pixies in a week, can you believe it? Poor things must be climbing the walls for a bit of fresh air. And mischief. You know, I really owe Nathan a huge favor for letting me take them out from time to time.”

They weren’t supposed to leave the Repository, but I liked to view those particular rules as guidelines. True, I’d promised Victoria that there would be a bond of absolute trust between us, after the Door debacle. But if she insisted on keeping my pixies locked up like criminals, then what choice did I have? They deserved more than that. All of my Purges deserved more than that, but the rest had all gone on to the Bestiary already: a few gargoyles, a minotaur, a couple of goblins, a satyr that had gotten me a bit flustered thanks to my childhood obsession with Mr. Tumnus, and another banshee that had taken me out of training for three days. There’d been a quartet of al-mi’raj, large hare-like critters with twisted horns, and an orthrus, a two-headed wolf that had padded over and licked my face after I’d Purged him. He’d whined like an abandoned puppy when I’d dropped treats into his orb before he was taken to the Bestiary, and it broke my heart every single time. That was only scratching the surface of what I’d created in the last six months, but Victoria had only allowed the pixies to remain.

And she only let the pixies stay because they’re small. Victoria had figured the Bestiary wouldn’t miss them, since they didn’t provide much in the way of fuel. It didn’t sit well with me, that living things could be categorized like that—valued for their size and power and what they could provide for the magical world. There was no consideration of their worth as sentient beings. When hunters brought back smaller captures, or I Purged something on the smaller scale, she always got this “oh well, I guess they’ll do” look on her face. But some battles were too big for a newbie to fight. Maybe, one day, I’d be able to make more of a difference, but I lacked the clout right now. As long as she didn’t find out I was taking the pixies out now and then, I’d be fine.

“Nathan’s smitten with them.” A ghost of a smile returned to Genie’s face. “And Boudicca has major love-heart eyes for him.”

I shook my head. “Poor Spartacus. He’s head over heels for her.” I thought of the pixie trio—Boudicca, Spartacus, Cynane—and my eagerness to see them ramped up a notch. They’d lost so many of their friends, but they were a surprisingly resilient species. Even through their grief, they could fill a room with babbling chatter and make a mess of strawberry punnets. With the destruction they left in their wake, you’d think there were still forty of them.

“I think everyone is a little bit in love with Boudie.” Genie brightened a little more. “Personally, I think Cynane has the je ne sais quoi of the bunch, but maybe I’m biased.” She was named after another badass historical female warrior, to match Boudicca, and both of them lived up to their namesakes.

I chuckled. “Because she’s not after your boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend. Not even close.” The electric bristle came back into her demeanor, and I knew her mind was already in the Repository. “And no, it’s because she always comes to sit on my shoulder and helps me make Nathan turn beet red.”

“You only have to walk into the room to make that happen,” I reminded her.

Genie beamed, her own cheeks flushing with a pretty bloom of pink. “Last time, she told me that he still whips around when he’s alone and asks if I’m there. I don’t think he’ll ever get over me using that invisibility spell.” I tried to imagine Cynane pantomiming to get the story across, and a bubble of laughter rose in my throat. Poor Nathan. Suddenly, Genie broke into a sprint, glancing over her shoulder with a pixie-esque look of mischief. “Come on, Pers! Training starts now! Pick up the pace!”

I took off after her, and immediately regretted the decision. My limbs ached like someone had replaced them with creaking logs and my arms pumped way faster than my legs could keep pace, which only made my awkward crab impression ten times worse. I was glad the halls were empty, because nobody needed to see this. Not unless they needed a lesson on how not to run.