The Plague Doctor (The Paranormal University Files: Skylar Book 4) Read online

  For once, I didn’t argue or offer to do it instead. Once I settled down beside Gabe and leaned against his shoulder, my eyes grew heavy. The last thing I saw before I drifted off was Ama staring at me from her hut.

  Now that Gabe was an official sentinel, he had actual work hours, which meant I didn’t see much of him over the next few days. On the flipside, I had ample time to settle in and catch up with my closest pals before school started and classes kept us busy.

  “Who watered these while you were gone?”

  Ben, a mage in our year, had his nose practically inside one of the flowers growing in a pot by the window. The blush-colored blossom rivaled his head in size.

  “How do you think the campus stays so clean?” Pilar asked from the couch, where she flipped through one of her fashion magazines. Ben pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and blinked at her, so she continued in a bored tone, “Brownies.”

  “I’ve never seen one.”

  “They’re shy,” Lia added. “And they only clean the common areas during the school year.”

  “Huh. I guess I figured we had janitors for all that,” he murmured.

  “Oh, we do,” I said. “But the brownies help out. Thanks to Lia and her kindness to the little critters, they kept the plants alive over the summer for us.”

  It was easy to see the gears turning in Ben’s head. If he wondered how to get a brownie helper of his own, he cleverly kept it to himself. His smartwatch beeped and he swore under his breath.

  “Crap, gotta get to the campus store for work. Catch you ladies tonight for pizza?”

  “Could you bring my book order with you?” Pilar called out before he reached the door. When Ben glanced at her, she tacked on a quick, “Please.”

  His sigh was resigned. “Sure thing.”

  “Didn’t you order, like, ten books?” Lia chided after the door shut behind Ben.

  “What? He could use the exercise. It is not my imagination that he returned from the summer break a little…doughier than before.”

  I rolled my eyes but said nothing. We all knew Pilar could be a bit of a snob at the best of times and arguing wouldn’t do any good.

  A quiet thud from beyond the living room let me know that Holly was awake. Weird. It wasn’t dusk yet, too early for her to be up.

  Leaving the other two to their own devices, I abandoned my book and made my way to her room. Holly’s windows faced away from the morning sun, but the bedroom placed her right beside the kitchen. After lingering a moment outside her bedroom door, making sure I still heard her moving around, I knocked. “Hey girl, everything okay?”

  The pacing stopped, then the footsteps came closer and the door opened. Dark shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. Despite how Hollywood portrayed vampires, they looked nothing like corpses. Unless they turned dark, then it was Bram Stoker’s Dracula all up in there.

  “Sorry,” Holly apologized, “was I being loud?”

  “Um, no.” I squinted at her. “You’re just up early is all. Everything okay?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Holly grumbled as she stepped back from the door and gestured me inside. “Haven’t actually been asleep.”

  She hadn’t opened her curtains yet, so the only light in the room came from a small desk lamp that shifted between multiple colors.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “The usual relationship bullshit. Hey, one less mouth to feed around here, right?”

  Rather than press further, I took a page out of Lia’s book and wrapped Holly in a hug. “Boys can be jerks.”

  “Says the girl who won the boyfriend lottery.”

  I squeezed her tighter. “What happened anyway? You two seemed fine before summer break. I mean…”

  Holly’s dry, self-deprecating laugh told me everything I needed to know before she even replied. “We were. And then I messed it up. Nothing surprising. Anyway, I think I’m going to try to sleep for an hour or two.”

  “Okay. See you at dinner.”

  4

  Don’t Be Salty

  By the weekend, I was actually ready for classes to start. Why? Because I figured I’d actually see more of Gabe, thanks to the fact that he was a TA in one of them. I knew I shouldn’t complain—it was great that they let him stick with me—but I missed him.

  We kicked off our Saturday with French toast casserole, which we reheated for lunch because we were all too lazy to make a second meal from scratch. Afterward, Pilar started a Supernatural bingefest on Netflix. I didn’t mind, since the show got a lot of things right, which made me wonder if they had a mage or shifter on the writing staff somewhere. But since I sort of lived the life of those fictional hunters, the show didn’t draw me in the way it did for the others, and I found my eyes drooping shut more often than not.

  Liadan nudged me. “Are you dead?”

  “No.” I cracked an eye open to look at her, concerned by how pale she looked. “Maybe I should ask you instead. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Her brittle smile didn’t convince me, but Lia was like me, fae, and thus incapable of telling an outright lie without losing a tiny portion of light.

  “Technically, you’re fine, but—” My phone trilled sharply. I fumbled the device up from the coffee table and read over the incoming alert. “Holy shit. There are zombies at Woodfield Mall.”

  Zombie outbreaks were way old school, originating in the Dark Ages and stretching into the time when surgeons didn’t wash their hands before delivering a baby. A time when diseases of all kinds ran rampant across the world.

  Then some really smart alchemists put their heads together and cured it by creating an awesome vaccine. Like smallpox and the bubonic plague, zombie outbreaks just didn’t happen anymore.

  “Are they calling for junior sentinels?” Liadan asked.

  “Looks like it. ‘Attendance is voluntary, not compulsory,’” I recited in Simon’s distinct tone, “but we all have about twenty minutes to check in at the sentinel compound.”

  “Then you should get moving.”

  Pilar frowned. “But she’ll miss the best episode with the red cap and the fae—”

  “I’ve seen it before, Pilar.”

  Ten minutes later, I’d changed into the battle gear assigned to all junior sentinels, donning a holster, protective leathers, and my combat boots. Fighting zombies and vampires called for similar defensive techniques, leaving as little exposed flesh as possible.

  Too bad Holly couldn’t join us. A bright and glorious summer sun shone outside, golden light laying over every inch of the courtyard. Even though they were still technically among the living, zombies had an aversion to vampire flesh.

  I yanked open the door, rushed onto the stoop, and—

  Crashed into a fucking invisible wall before even touching the concrete porch. Bouncing off it, I stumbled back, windmilling my arms around dramatically before the inevitable landing on my ass.

  My friends stared, in varying states of confusion, brows raised.

  “What was that about?” Liadan asked.

  “I hit something.” An invisible something like a translucent brick wall. Getting up, I paused to rub my unfortunate tailbone before checking it out. Careful not to allow a repeat, I touched my hands against the shield and frowned. Lia moved beside me and crouched down, drawing my gaze to a thick line of small pinkish crystals laid across the stoop.

  “It’s salt. Someone laced a trail of salt over the doorstep,” Lia said.

  I rolled my eyes and moved to a window. Some smartass playing a prank must have decided to sprinkle a trail of Himalayan sea salt. Only the best, purest stuff could contain a fae. And since we were half-fae, we could usually overcome the effect and step right over it. Not this, however. Someone had reinforced the magical barrier with magic, which meant a mage was up to no good.

  While Ben could be playful on occasion, this was too much of an asshole move for his particular brand of mischief.

  The window slid up with ea
se. I’d just go out the window and—My hand wouldn’t pass through the empty space.

  Foiled again. I swore, punched the invisible barrier, and watched the shimmering colors warp. Down below, another line of pink salt glittered on the manicured grass growing against our townhouse.

  “Call campus security and tell them we need out right away.” I sent a text to Gabriel, informing him of my dilemma. Maybe he could fly over, or better yet, maybe one of his friends would make the trip.

  Two minutes passed before a nervous knot tightened in my stomach, and I realized he’d probably muted or powered down his phone. It made sense. He wasn’t going as a trainee. He was a teacher and assistant now, and had no time to text on his phone when Sebastian needed his help.

  Pilar set her cell phone on the table. “Someone’s coming, but he says it’ll be about fifteen minutes before he can get here.”

  Five minutes more than what I had if I wanted to catch the debriefing.

  “What about Holly?” Liadan suggested.

  “Oh! Holly’s here!” I’d forgotten about her. From the hours of seven in the morning to six or seven in the afternoon, our vampiric friend usually dropped off the radar. The sun didn’t send her up into a glorious plume of flames like a roman candle, but prolonged exposure tended to cause mild sun burns. Sensitivity was worse for vampires turned by bites and bloodborne transmission than those born within pureblood families. For that reason, vampires roaming during daylight hours wore heavy-duty hooded robes or carried parasols. The former wasn’t ideal during the peak of summer.

  If it was any other vampire’s bedroom, I’d hesitate before entering.

  Okay, I hesitated anyway and lingered over the threshold, half-expecting her to bolt at me in a hangry frenzy and plant her teeth in my throat. I never entered her room while she slept.

  Darkness shrouded the room, blackout curtains drawn over the few windows that faced neither the setting nor rising sun. Trees outside blocked what little direct sunlight she would have received, though the best protection against burning her delicate vampire skin had to be the luxury-sized coffin in one corner of her room.

  Like most vampires, Holly slept in a coffin. Hers had been a special gift from the rulers of the Sanguine Court. For the crimes committed against Holly by Countess Carmilla, King Konstantin and Queen Nadezka had paid enormous reparations to Holly and her family. Sun-proofed windows at home, a brand-new coffin for both places of residence, and a monetary sum that would guarantee she never had to work another day in her life if she didn’t want to.

  But she did want to, and I respected that about my friend. Holly had never once used what happened to her for sympathy or pity.

  After finding my courage, I pried open the lid of her coffin and raised it.

  Holly was pale and motionless against the peach satin lining. If not for her wild pose—one arm beneath her head, body twisted on her side, nightie tangled around her thighs—she might have resembled a corpse for a viewing. There was no color in her cheeks, no blush to suggest life.

  I felt like Jonathan Harker standing above Dracula’s coffin, only instead of preparing to deal an unlife-ending blow, I planned to awaken her in the middle of the fucking day when she’d be her most vulnerable, sleepiest, and prone to following vampiric instinct. I sucked in a breath, hyped myself up, and remembered the damn clock was ticking.

  Nine minutes to get out of this place and to the sentinel training compound.

  Nine minutes before they shut the doors on me.

  “Holly,” I whispered.

  She didn’t move. Her eyes were closed, and I had to stare at her unblinking for a long time to even see her chest move at all. Was one breath per thirty seconds normal?

  I rubbed my perspiring hands against the thighs of my fitted cargo pants.

  “Holly,” I called again.

  When she didn’t stir, I hesitated to reach inside to shake her, afraid that fight or flight would activate and result in a pair of fangs in my neck.

  Holly wouldn’t bite me. I told myself this over and over again; that no matter how appetizing my fae blood smelled to her, she’d have the control to master her hunger.

  With that in mind, I reached in and touched her shoulder, shaking her lightly. She mumbled a sleepy sound, batted at me—with a hand that may as well have been made from steel—and rolled onto her other side, putting her back to me.

  “Holly, please. I need you to wake up.”

  “Too sleepy,” Holly mumbled, words ending in a drowsy slur. Whatever else she said drowned into her fluffy pillow. It sounded like, “too early.”

  The inside of Holly’s coffin was all luxe satin, or silk maybe, with plush memory foam cushions. I’d laid inside it once on a dare from her and almost fallen asleep within five minutes.

  Pilar, on the other hand, had freaked and nearly clawed her way out within ten seconds of Holly closing the lid. She hadn’t liked being contained at all.

  I shook her again. “Holly, we need your help. I know you’re tired, girl, and I hate waking you up in the middle of the day, but I need you. We’re trapped inside. Someone laid a line of salt around the whole townhouse, and I need to leave now if I’m going to join the sentinel team for a live mission.”

  “Nngh…” She wasn’t bolting from the coffin to eat me, at least. I watched her struggle to open her eyes. Her lashes fluttered. Then her eyes rolled back in her head again.

  Seven minutes left.

  “Holly, if you can help us, I’ll be forever in your debt—okay not forever, but I’ll owe you something as long as it isn’t harmful to someone else or me—and I’ll appreciate it so much, because this is the first big event of the year, and I want these hours.”

  In addition to the hours, I also thirsted for the opportunity to show my peers in the program that I was worthy. I needed to be there for our first mission of the semester.

  Holly slapped blindly at the side of the coffin. I didn’t know what she was doing at first until I realized she was trying to find the switch to the side door. I pushed it for her, and the panel swung open like a car door, from her elbow to her knees.

  “Oh my God, yes, yes! Thank you!”

  She made an unhappy kind of sound and didn’t move.

  Six minutes. Time never passed this quickly when we were in the classroom listening to one of Professor Perry’s lectures. Then, the second hand may as well have been ticking through molasses.

  Holly may as well have been swimming through molasses, too. Her head lolled and she groaned into one palm once she stood. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, the bags beneath them dark as bruises.

  I felt awful for waking her.

  I should have let her be.

  I was an awful, awful friend.

  “Just a sec, Sky. Just need a second.”

  Staying up late wasn’t as bad as stirring in the middle of the day. I’d seen her and Victor put on a movie marathon before and stay up until noon while hyped up on caffeinated blood, but this was different. She’d already been asleep, and she needed that sleep.

  “I’m so sorry, I should have just—”

  “No,” she said hoarsely, straightening. “It’s fine. Eyes just bleary. Salt line is dangerous as fuck. Anything could happen.”

  Point.

  “Thank you, Holly.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Around the entire house.”

  “I got you, girl.” Holly pushed forward into the open doorway, though she leaned against it for a moment, tilted her head to the frame, and gathered herself. I didn’t rush her.

  Three minutes.

  It’d be a miracle if I made it, but right now, I’d settle on us not being trapped inside our house.

  “Got an idea,” I said, moving in front of her. “Piggyback ride.”

  “I’m not three.”

  “You are for right now.”

  Holly didn’t weigh much, thankfully. And thanks to those hours in the gym and my ever-increasing squat record, I lifted her with ease. I crossed
the room at a damned near-sprint and placed her beside the open door. Holly broke the salt line with her foot, and an audible pop told us the spell was over.

  “Yay! Thank you, Holly. I love you!”

  “Any time.”

  “We’ll take care of the report to campus security,” Pilar said. “Go!”

  I zipped away at the speed of light, praying my watch wasn’t wrong.

  5

  Outbreak

  Running like a wendigo snapped at my heels, I dashed across campus toward the sentinel training compound and charged inside the debriefing room. The door banged against the wall and heads snapped my direction. The place was already jam-packed with students eager to earn their first field hours. I already had several accrued from our pit stop over the summer in New Orleans.

  As I made my way inside, fellow sentinels met me with uncertain smiles, and Gabriel made eye contact from where he stood at the forefront with Simon, Sebastian, and a battlemage. I didn’t know her name, only that she and Gabriel were Simon and Sebastian’s respective interns for the year.

  All the seats had been filled. We had a lot of sentinels, so I found standing room to shimmy into while someone shut the doors behind me.

  I’d made it with thirty-four seconds to spare. Whew boy.

  “We were worried you wouldn’t make it, short stuff,” a friendly voice said in a thick Brooklyn accent. “About time you got here.”

  “I’m not short,” I mumbled to Stark, wiggling away from his sharp elbow. Fae ran the gamut of heights, from little spritely people to big and intimidating cu sith who looked feral even in their two-legged state. But the shifters were different; all of them, regardless of their animal form, towered above the rest of us in varying degrees of muscle.

  “You almost missed it,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d make it either.”

  I’d have to save my salt story for later, since we needed to focus on the problem at hand.

  “Anyway, glad you made it. You’re like our official lucky charm, girl. We can’t go into battle without you.”