Page 39 of Malcroix Bones Academy (Bones and Shadow #1)

Night Out

“Fang of Sekmet, I’d have paid good money to see that…

” Draken snorted a laugh, thumping his pint mug on the wooden bar.

He turned to smile at me gleefully, his dark eyes glassy.

“I thought it was a rumor until I saw him in the dining hall tonight. There was no mistaking the bruise. It was bright red, and already swelling. He’ll look like shit tomorrow, unless he has a few healing spells in his back pocket. ”

“He probably does,” Miranda said. “He likes to fight, remember? But who cares? She got the lick in, that’s what matters.”

“Couldn’t care less what he looks like tomorrow,” I muttered in agreement.

“Do I even want to know what he said to you, to get you to hit him?” Draken asked, that glee still tingeing his words.

I took a long drink of lager, then exhaled. “He asked for it. In more ways than one.”

“I’m sure he did,” Miranda agreed sourly. “I can’t believe you even agreed to partner with him. It really does seem like he spends hours thinking up vile things to say to you, just so he’ll be ready with the nastiest ones possible when the occasion arises.”

“He probably does,” I agreed. “But I doubt I’m the only beneficiary.”

I was only on my first pint, but already feeling a little buzzed.

Draken, Miranda, Jolie, Darragh, and Luc were all ahead of me in the drinks department, and definitely seemed to be tipping into drunk, Draken especially.

I’d met them an hour after they got to the pub, sometime after nine.

I’d stayed in the bathtub longer than necessary to finish reading another two chapters of my praecurology textbook.

I’d been warned the teacher in there would likely give us a quiz next week.

“You look smashing, by the way,” Draken said, still grinning and now looking me over. “And you’re not buying a single drink tonight. Not a one. No one pays for drinks after getting a solid punch in on that wanker.”

Miranda shoved at Draken’s shoulder.

“Speaking of smashing, don’t give our new school heroine alcohol poisoning.

” She grinned at me, leaning on Draken’s shoulder.

“He’ll get into the hard stuff soon. Don’t let him take you down into that knuckerhole with him.

Trust me, you’ll regret it, if you do. I’ve seen him drink Warlocks under the table. ”

I snorted a laugh.

Draken, seeming to hear Miranda’s words as a challenge, motioned the bartender over and leaned up to order something I couldn’t hear over the sounds of the crowded bar.

I watched, amused, as the bartender lined up six shot glasses and filled them with amber liquid. He dropped something small that flashed like gold into each one.

“Just one,” Draken said, a faint apology in his eyes as he met my gaze. “I won’t corrupt you further. Pinky swear.”

“What did they put in it?” I asked, curious.

“Magic,” Luc murmured, lifting an eyebrow at Draken before tossing his back.

“What kind of magic?” I pressed.

I clamped my hands over my ears when a speaker blared loudly behind me. I glanced over to see a live band setting up on the small stage across the room. I turned back to Draken and spoke louder still. “Is it a spell?”

“Just a little enhancer,” he said, raising his own voice as he handed over my shot. “It might make us all a little giggly, but nothing too crazy.”

I eyed the glass skeptically and glanced at Miranda, just in time to see her hold up her own shot in a toast. She gave me an eye-roll that seemed aimed at Draken, then tipped her head back and downed it in one go, just like Luc.

“I have a hangover cure,” Miranda said, as she wiped her lip with a finger, careful not to smudge her lipstick. “I wouldn’t do more than one of these, though. I can feel the magic from mine already.”

I stared at the gold nugget in my own glass, but curiosity won out.

I tossed back the shot, and plunked the glass down on the bar next to theirs.

Like Miranda warned, I felt a ripple through my magic that went from my toes all the way up my head.

I swore I saw the white-gold sun flare out with shimmering arcs and sparkles, but didn’t dare look up to check it out.

Bones had me thoroughly paranoid about anyone seeing it apart from him, and I couldn’t even tell if his paranoia was warranted.

Draken laughed. “So you have drunk before.”

“Not Hollywood-style,” I said loftily. “But yes, on the occasional occasion.”

That had sounded cleverer in my head.

In reality, it made me sound tipsy, and a little ridiculous.

Draken grinned at me, and looked down at the monocerus at my feet.

“Are you ever going to tell us how you conjured this adorable creature, Shadow? You know it’s pretty weird to suddenly have a fully-formed primal overnight.”

“He chose me, and don’t call him adorable,” I said warningly.

“He is adorable though, in all his fierce adorableness.” Draken grinned down at the black beast. “Look, he’s stomping his little foot at me and sharpening his horn. Is he going to ram my leg? Gore my lion, maybe?”

“I’m warning you, don’t call him adorable,” I huffed. It struck me that my words seemed to be sticking strangely in my throat. “He doesn’t like that. He’s a fierce, wild beast, and he does what he wants…”

Draken burst out in a louder laugh, and a few people looked over.

“Is he, now?” he grinned. “Wonder what you two have in common?”

“Now, now, Drakey, be nice,” Miranda remarked, winking at me.

Draken scoffed at her.

“Are you saying I can’t even try to make friends with him?” he asked, leaning an arm on the bar and looking back at me. “What if I pet him a little? Feed him chocolate and expensive liquors? Bring him flowers and polish his lovely little horn…?”

In the back of my mind, I heard the suggestive lilt in his voice, the testing of the waters threaded into his question.

But something else had distracted me halfway through his words.

I stared at a different dark head across the room now, one covered in tight, black curls, unlike Draken’s iron-straight hair, which reminded me of a raven’s wing.

When the new person turned his head slightly, I saw his profile and was certain.

“A moment,” I murmured, my tongue becoming increasingly difficult. “I need to see a man about a thing… very important…”

“Hey.” Draken caught my hand gently in his. “Where’re you going? I thought we were going to dance?”

I disentangled my hand, and pointed at Draken’s face.

“You’re drunk,” I pronounced. “You’re very, very slurry right now. Positively pickled. Soused. Boozled. A horrid influence on the children…”

“You’re slurry,” Draken said back. “And I think you’re boozled. Whatever in the gods that means. And who are these children I’m being horrid to?”

I started to walk away, and Draken stopped me a second time. He laid a careful hand on my shoulder.

“Hey. Where are you going, Leda? For real?”

“Need to ask someone a question.” I waved vaguely in the direction of the person I’d seen. “Very important. Need to see a man…”

“…about a dragon?” Miranda supplied helpfully, putting her head between ours and smiling.

She pushed on Draken’s chest, and he took his hand off me.

“Let her go see her man about that dragon, Drakey. You’re being such a guy right now.

Such a predictable, boring guy. Plying us all with drinks so you can be handsy and slurry and horny… ”

Draken looked offended. “I am not.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “You so are though.”

“Am not!”

They were still arguing back and forth when I walked away, determinedly aiming my eyes and feet at the person I’d seen in that corner of the bar.

He wasn’t going to slither away from me this time.

No, he absolutely would not.

I didn’t say anything to warn him, or even fall into his visual range until the last possible second. I just plunked my bum down in the leather booth across from him, and quirked an eyebrow at his startled face.

“Well, hello there, Alaric,” I said sweetly.

Alaric Greythorne blinked at me, then paled.

He glanced around at the rest of the dimly-lit bar with obvious unease, especially the couch-filled area beside the large fireplace. He looked at a few faces watching us, then leaned closer to me over the table.

“As much as I adore seeing you, Leda dear… it’s really not wise to let anyone see us together in public like this.”

I scoffed at him, and picked up his drink, an ornate, silver goblet filled nearly to the brim with a bright blue liquid that bubbled. Even brighter smoke curls wafted off the lip and into the already murky air, sparking and forming delicate rings.

I took a sip, grimaced, and handed it back to him.

“Blech,” I commented.

It grew fruitier-tasting as it went down my throat, and less bitter. Surprisingly, the drink was ice-cold, not hot, like I’d expected.

In the end, I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not.

“There,” I said, annoyed, plunking my arms down on the wood.

“They can all see I got my mongrel germs all over your lovely highborn drink and goblet. If you need to salvage your Magical pride, I assume you can now make a scene, stomp off in a huff over to the bartender, and demand a new drink that doesn’t have my disgusting, half-blood slobber all over it. ”

Alaric’s half-panicked stare turned into a confused frown.

Then, rolling his eyes at me dramatically, he lifted the goblet and sucked down a long series of swallows. He plunked it down and leveled his stare on mine.

“That’s not the problem, sweetie,” he said, smiling, eyes flat.

I frowned back, genuinely confused. “Then what is the problem, Alaric? Why’ve you acted like you don’t know me for weeks, as if we didn’t spend the entire summer together? I assumed it was to save face with your bigoted, arsehole friends.”

Alaric winced. Then, fingers toying with the sides of the silver goblet, he leaned back in the green leather of the booth.

“Someone tried to kill you,” he said, his voice worried.

“Yes? And?” I continued to frown at him. “That was a month ago. Anyway, I’m working on that.”