Page 12 of Misfit Monsters (Pack of Outcasts #1)

Periwinkle

S hanty sighs and leans back in her chair. She’s keeping her expression neutral, but frustration emanates from her like cheddar sharp enough to bite.

“We won’t get your powers under control if you can’t bring them out to practice,” she points out, reasonably enough.

I offer an apologetic smile and look around the small room the siren brought me to for our second one-on-one session. There’s nothing between the beige walls except a few chairs and a narrow desk.

Apparently the walls contain shielding against shadowkind power—if I have an outburst, it shouldn’t blast the rest of the school. I don’t need to be worried.

But even thinking about provoking the kinds of emotions that’ve made me blaze with light or darkness in the past makes my body tense up .

I have so many awful associations with those moments. So many echoes of the pain I’ve caused.

“I’ll keep trying my best,” I say. “I’ve never made one of those blazes on purpose before, or even purposefully made my hair glow. But I’m sure there’s a way!”

My optimistic remark only sets off another prickle of irritation, but Shanty doesn’t show it on her face.

She points me toward the mirror hanging on one of the side walls. “Let’s focus on the glow. Take yourself back to the classroom when you saw the hunter’s net. Watch yourself for any visible reaction, and if you start to see one, focus on whatever sparked it until you’ve got a steady glow going.”

I nod and push to my feet. My reflection stares back at me, uncertain but determined. My hair is its typical vibrant but not luminous turquoise.

Watching the blue-green strands for any trace of a glow, I picture the shiny net that Gnash displayed to our class. I dredge up the taunting comments my classmates made, the stings of pain that lingered in my feet.

Something deep inside me balks. I force myself to imagine the silver-and-iron strands smacking around me, burning my skin and pinning my limbs?—

A faint flicker travels over my head: a yellowish glimmer of fear. My pulse thumps with a jolt of triumph.

And my pleased response to my success squashes any terror I managed to tap into. The glow blinks away as if it was never there.

When I glance over at Shanty, I can’t tell if she even noticed it. She’s still studying me with a slight frown, twisting a strand of her dark blue hair around her finger.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I really am trying. It doesn’t seem to work well with only memories, but we’ll figure out something.”

The siren hums to herself. “Our time is almost up. We can try incorporating some stimuli for you to respond to in the moment next time. Maybe videos of frightening things, or I can find ways of startling you. Is there anything you find particularly disturbing that I could include?”

It seems like a bad sign that my tutor is setting out to particularly disturb me. I guess it’s easier to unsettle someone than delight them.

My mind trips back to the sitcom theme song that pushed me over the edge the other day, and my innards clench up.

No. That would be too much, too dangerous… and also too bizarre. How could I explain why it bothers me without getting into my whole horrible history?

If the school administrators knew what I did and how much harm I caused before, they’d banish me for sure.

I shrug. “Just the usual things? Scary creatures, people getting hurt…”

The one who caged me before used to hurt me to shock those emotions out of me… I don’t want to recreate that kind of scenario either.

Shanty nods. “I’ll give it some thought, and we’ll see if we can make more progress tomorrow.”

So much to look forward to. But if being distressed means I learn better control in the end, disturb me away!

I keep that hopeful thought in mind as I open the door, only for my heart to skip a beat. Jonah is standing in the hall outside.

My startled reaction must show on my face, because the sorcerer steps back with a bashful dip of his head. “Sorry. I just wondered how your sessions with Shanty have been going—I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“It’s all right,” the siren calls. “Periwinkle’s session is finished.”

I let the door drift closed behind me, resisting the urge to hug myself. Why is Jonah keeping an eye on me? He defended me during the meeting—is he worried he made the wrong decision?

Nervous words tumble out of me. “It’s only been a couple of sessions. I haven’t made much progress yet. But we’re going to try new approaches next time.”

Jonah offers a small, crooked smile. “You don’t need to justify anything to me. I know it can take a while to get a handle on supernatural powers.”

I cock my head. “Why were you worrying about how I’m doing, then?”

Jonah rakes his hand through his thick black hair, looking twice as awkward as before. I find myself wanting him to smile properly—wide and relaxed, so it shines through his whole face.

He would look awfully handsome like that.

Okay, I probably shouldn't be thinking of the teachers here—let alone the administrative staff, let alone a sorcerer— that way.

But it's true.

"I wasn't worried," he says. "Not that you were making trouble. It was more that I wanted to be sure you're okay."

I blink at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I got to stay here at the academy, to keep trying... What else could I have asked for?

Jonah appears to grapple with his words for a moment.

"You aren't like most of the students I compel here, Peri.

You'd obviously have come to the school of your own accord if you'd known about it.

You're always trying to help everyone...

It must have felt awful when I pushed my sorcery on you.

I'm sorry about that. I wish I never needed to use it at all. "

"Oh." Anything else I might have said snags in my throat. His guilt over the situation and his concern for me waft off him like an over-salted stew, not totally palatable but oddly hearty at the same time.

Who knew that sorcerers might regret using their powers—that any of them would care how they affect the shadowkind they manipulate?

But then, Jonah's not at all like the only other sorcerer I've known.

I recover my tongue. "Thank you—for speaking up for me. For saying I should stay. I'm sure everything will go much better once I’m totally used to this place."

Jonah's shoulders ease down. A relaxed smile almost like I imagined touches his lips.

He really is enjoyable to look at.

"I'm sure it will too,” he says. “I know some of the other students can be harsh, but— stick with the ones you can make friends with like Fen and don't let the others get under your skin."

I nod emphatically. "I'm not. They're just... scared, and angry, about a lot of things that mostly have nothing to do with me."

"I'd bet that's true about an awful lot of people. Peri—even whatever you experienced with the hunters?—"

My stance stiffens automatically.

Jonah cuts himself off and shakes his head. "I don't want to bring back bad memories. But if you need to talk to someone—I grew up with beings who'd been through a lot of trauma at the hands of humans. Sometimes they come by the school. I could arrange a visit sooner."

My mind has stuck on one of the first things he mentioned. "You grew up with shadowkind?"

A short laugh escapes him. "It's not obvious?

Yeah, I was basically raised by a few of them who had a little family together.

My birth parents—I get my knack for magic from them—I lost them when I was little.

The beings who adopted me wanted to make sure I didn't grow up seeing the shadowkind the way most sorcerers do. You could say it worked out."

It must have. My impressions of him rearrange themselves, and suddenly it's hard to find him frightening at all.

He only used his magic on me to bring me to a place where I could get help. He obviously doesn't want to hurt me.

A smile of my own curves my lips. "I think so. I guess... I could talk to you too, couldn’t I? If I thought I needed to. Since you know a lot about shadowkind who’ve been through… difficult situations. And you’re right here.”

Jonah pauses for long enough that I start to think I’ve said something wrong. Then he beams back at me with a wash of happiness that’s all plum-sweet. “I am. That would be totally okay. I’d always be happy to talk.”

A tingle sweeps through my body that has nothing to do with any emotions I’m picking up from him. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I’m abruptly self-conscious that my hair is going to start glowing in some embarrassing color.

A hint of deeper color touches Jonah’s brown cheeks. I catch a dash of something even sweeter and richer before he steps back. “Anyway, I should let you get to your other classes. I’ll see you later, Peri.”

I watch him stride off, the strange feeling still bubbling in my chest.

Is there something wrong with me that I wish I could see more of him right now? Just sit with him and ask all about his childhood, what his powers mean to him—everything?

Run my fingers through his hair… and over other parts of him too?

Maybe that would be okay to try. Another time. When I’m more sure of my emotional control .

With a new spring in my step, I head toward my dorm. A trio of beings chatting outside a classroom stop and look in my direction.

If we’ve had classes together, I don’t remember their names, but one of the women nudges her friends with her elbow. “Look, it’s that know-it-all newbie.”

The other two women giggle, one with a hiss of her overlong tongue. “Got any tips for us, sssmartie pantsss?”

I let their mocking tone slide off me. They don’t really know me. It’s not me they’re actually put off by.

“I’m not trying to bother anyone,” I tell them. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Even my apology sets off a flare of annoyance in the women. The first one sneers at me. “We’re not upset . We just think a nitwit like you should figure out your place before you spout off at the rest of us.”

The second woman giggles again. “In self-defence class, she was shaking like a dandelion in a breeze.”

The third chimes in. “Telling us not to be scared of the assholes out there when she’s terrified of all of us.”

I frown. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“No?” the first woman says.

Before the sound has finished leaving her lips, the second woman lunges forward. Her face transforms into a grotesque visage, all wrinkled purple-black skin, searing scarlet eyes, and vicious fangs she snaps inches from my face.

With a startled squeak, I stumble backward. The demon reverts to her human-esque form a moment later. She and her friends burst into laughter.

The third woman points at my head. “She’s freaked out now. Like a living mood ring.”

A prickle runs through my scalp. My hair is glowing.

All thought of my harassers flees my mind. I spin on my heel and dash back to the room where I had my one-on-one training session.

“Shanty!” I say breathlessly as I burst in, but the chair behind the desk is empty. She’s already gone.

My gaze latches on to the mirror. I hustle over just in time to see the yellowish sheen dwindling in my hair.

Can I make it brighter again?

I recall my jolt of panic when the demonic woman sprang at me, but the glow fades completely away.

I peer at my reflection for several more beats of my heart, resolve building inside me.

That woman helped me, even if she didn’t realize. Any time people hassle me or embarrass me, it’s a chance to practice.

I just have to keep turning my problems into gifts.