The Hidden Court Read online

  Gabriel waited on the sidewalk by the student parking garage. He had both hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “Hi, Gabriel.”

  “Hey. Looking a little stiff, kid,” he replied.

  Thanks to the blessing of good pain relievers from Liadan’s bag, I’d managed to drag ass down to my fencing lesson. Those weren’t so difficult since the vampire instructor treated me like a six-year-old with a plastic sword. “Yeah. This masochistic raven likes to run me ragged at night.”

  I smiled up at him. He grinned in return, but his amusement vanished the moment Monica trotted into view. When she breezed by without a hello, we both fell into step behind her, a silent entourage trailing her to a bumblebee yellow BMW. She clicked the key fob to let us in.

  Gabriel slipped into the front passenger seat, leaving me to slide into the back alone.

  “So what is the assignment?”

  Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. “Sharon needs a—”

  “Shh. She isn’t speaking to you, birdbrain.” Monica rolled her eyes and looked at me in the rearview mirror. “My assignment is to land Sharon a job that will further her path. Yours is to watch and learn.”

  “All right, but how? What fork is she supposed to meet tonight?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Monica said.

  “No, I am going to worry about it. How can I learn if I don’t understand what’s going on?”

  “Whatever. Fine. She has the chance to make an impression on the owner of some stupid seafood restaurant. He’s there to visit his son on the campus. Ollie or Oliver or something like that.”

  “I don’t get it. Restaurant owner?”

  “One of those fancy places with live music. You know, classical stuff and jazz. Anyway, the owner is named Charles Gordon, and he’s some kind of a big deal to the humans. He has someone who plays the piano each night, but she’s moving away at the end of the month. I have to get the job for Sharon.”

  “Okay, got it. What about you, Gabriel? What’s your part?”

  “He’s going—”

  “I was asking him.”

  Gabriel snorted, and to my surprise, Monica had no comebacks. Pouting as much as a petulant child, she sulked the remainder of the drive without offering a word of conversation to either of us. Our sentinel filled the gap with conversation about protocol, clarifying what I didn’t understand from the textbooks.

  After Monica parked in the student lot, we crossed the campus on foot and continued toward our destination. Gabriel fell back a few steps behind us, in a way that told me he was accustomed to walking behind Monica instead of traveling alongside her.

  I slowed down until we walked side by side, because I didn’t give a damn what Monica thought about it. She didn’t rule me. “So what determines whether you shadow Monica in your human form or shifter form?”

  “It depends on where we go really. Big place like a college campus with different buildings, I can go inside like this.”

  “Do you ever cloak yourself and hide with your illusion stuff?” I paused to consider what I’d read so far about the ravens in my textbook for Magical History. Only some inherited the gift of harnessing illusion magic.

  One of his brows raised. “How’d you know that? That doesn’t come up until next year in Magical History.”

  “I bought the textbook early so I could read ahead. My parents never really taught me a lot about the history of the magical world. Aside from the basics, you know?” They’d wanted me to have a normal childhood like any other kid. “Besides, the stuff about Countess Carmilla got really interesting, and then the next chapter was cool too. I figured if I was going to read about stuffy vampires, I should learn about you guys too.”

  Monica made a noise in her throat, like my voluntary studies had put a bad taste in her mouth. Or maybe she was cueing us to keep up with her stride.

  Gabriel hadn’t answered. Wondering if I’d broken some unspoken rule between races, I hesitated before asking again. “So… can you?”

  “Yeah. I can. I don’t have to rely on it often since ravens go unnoticed most of the time,” he explained. “Shouldn’t be necessary today, though. We’ll all blend in.”

  The sidewalk from the parking lot led to the student center, a multi-level building holding the bookstore, a lounge, and a small food court. Adjacent to the lounge, the campus bookstore displayed an advertisement for a newly released fantasy series popular among the college crowd.

  Gabriel craned his neck “She’s in the bookstore it looks like.”

  “I know that,” Monica muttered.

  We passed a dozen students occupying the plush beanbags, sofas, and armchairs in the lounge. A cool breeze passed over us from the air conditioning current. Then we stepped inside the bustling shop where students purchased everything from educational aids to Tylenol and Red Bull.

  Gabriel glanced over the store, then nudged Monica. She jerked back, scandalized, and wrinkled her nose like she’d smelled a skunk. “Over by the textbooks. The Gordons are there too.”

  Nothing about Sharon stood out among the other shoppers. From her mousy, dull-brown hair to her formless T-shirt and jeans, she appeared ordinary. I almost overlooked her until Gabriel pointed her out. I had to look into the Twilight to see it—her aura gleamed in a dazzling array of colors. It was almost as if I could see music swirling around her, a melody always weaving through her heart and mind. Special humans glowed like beacons in the night.

  “Oh wow,” I whispered. “She must be really talented.”

  “Duh. That’s why I’m here.” Monica flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You keep an eye on the girl and text me if she leaves to go anywhere else, while I nudge Mr. Gordon into going to find her. She’s cute, I guess. Good enough for his business.”

  While I was pretty sure looks had nothing to do with talent, I kept my mouth shut. This was Monica’s charge. Poor thing.

  “Okay.”

  Gabriel started to follow Monica, but she shooed him off with one hand and another eyeroll. “Stay and watch the baby fae, okay? Thanks.”

  Monica pushed her way into the next aisle where a blond jock and his father stacked up a collection of science books.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You should have told me you didn’t have enough to cover the optional texts, Ollie. You could have had these weeks ago.”

  The boy blushed. “Sorry. I just wanted to show you and Mom I could do it alone.”

  A thin, fragile line of thread ran between Sharon and Oliver. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it.

  Red meant a possible love match, a fated union.

  “Should I help her?” I asked. Monica didn’t seem to be having any luck with attempting to influence Mr. Gordon with Persuasion glamours, and if she saw the probable attraction between Oliver and Sharon, she didn’t show it.

  Did she expect the dude to just walk over and offer a job to a stranger?

  “Your grade isn’t dependent on hers.” Gabriel shrugged.

  “That’s not what I asked. Should I help her.” I nodded toward Sharon.

  Gabriel glanced toward Sharon. “I can’t give you an answer to that.”

  “But you aren’t telling me no…” I glanced up. Mr. Gordon had stepped away to take a phone call, leaving his son with all the books. Monica trailed behind him, desperately hitting him with every charm she had.

  “I’m not.”

  Good enough for me. Searching for a way to make Oliver take notice of the girl right in front of him, I scanned Sharon over until I noticed the thin white cord trailing from her left ear to her purse.

  Bingo.

  A little glamour nudged the shuffle button and guaranteed the next song would be her favorite. Sharon sang along in silence, her lips barely moving.

  I eased down the narrow shopping aisle to get closer. Sharon swayed in time with the beat, her eyes closed, and I caught Oliver glancing over. She was lost to the music, completely in her own little world. So I used that an
d released a little surge of encouragement.

  Music had an infectious quality when it came to influencing humans, and I touched Sharon’s subconscious until the remaining lyrics of Adele’s latest hit swelled from her. Not in a hum, but every note and syllable.

  Oliver stared. A student clerk behind the counter glanced up from the register to eyeball her. An envious girl beside Sharon sighed.

  Monica’s charge had a beautiful voice, and now every single student in the student bookstore knew it too.

  Never mind that I’d inspired the girl to break out into full song in the middle of a crowded university bookstore like we were on the set of Glee or High School Musical. What mattered was that she’d gained the attention she needed. Oliver slipped away and returned with his father. Monica lingered a few steps behind them.

  “Dad, didn’t you say you need someone to replace Heather over the weekends?”

  “I did, but I need a pianist.” Charles Gordon stared in wonder at Sharon. Then his gaze dropped to the sheet music booklet in her hands and his expression brightened. He moved in. “Excuse me, miss.”

  Success. The rest would play out on its own without further intervention.

  “Nice work,” Gabriel muttered in a low voice.

  Feeling proud of myself, I beamed back at him. “Thanks.”

  Helping Sharon hadn’t been so bad after all. Although godparenting still didn’t feel like my calling, a sense of fulfillment welled inside my chest. I soaked in the positive energy radiating from the trio and casually eavesdropped while Monica preened.

  “And that is how I do it,” Monica said.

  Gabriel snorted and wandered away to the store counter with a Red Bull in his hand.

  We hadn’t even reached the middle of the semester, and I was already completing my mentor’s assignments for her.

  A cool breeze blew through the school courtyard, raising goose bumps over my bare arms. A golden-orange sunset shone the final rays of daylight over the quad where we’d settled at the tables with dinner from the university food court. Holly had assured us the temperature would be too cold in a few weeks to enjoy doing anything outside for long.

  “And then she told us to get out of her car, and her jerkwad mage boyfriend got in,” I concluded between bites of my lasagna, relaying the story of my eventful first outing without embellishment. Monica’s behavior was so awful I didn’t have to exaggerate to make her look bad.

  Liadan frowned. “That’s terrible, Skylar. I enjoyed my day out with Danica and Martin.”

  “No problems with mine,” Holly said. “After we concluded our assignment last night, we went out for pizza with our sentinel. Rodrigo ate like two double meats on his own. What about you, Pilar?”

  Pilar buffed her nails against her sleeve. “Mine does not want to be seen in public with her sentinel if she can help it, and I hardly blame her. He smells like mange and fleas. She’s polite to him, but she released him from service the moment we returned to the campus.”

  Only Liadan reacted to Pilar’s comment about her mentor’s sentinel. Holly and Ben remained indifferent, but Lia frowned harder than me. “But does she insult him to his face?”

  Pilar shook her head. “No. That would be foolish. They may be obligated to protect us, but they don’t have to like us. She has a professional relationship with her sentinel, and they both seem to prefer it that way.”

  “Well,” Ben said, “I can see they paired you with the right person.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  Ben shrugged. “We’re cool with our sentinel. This girl has muscles like you wouldn’t believe though, so that probably plays into it. She transformed when I asked if I could see her shift into a bear. Dude, she could probably crush Jim under her knuckles and swallow him whole before he got off a single spell.”

  “Then floss with you,” I added.

  We all laughed.

  “Hey, Monica aside, how do you like working with a raven?” Holly asked.

  “Gabriel’s great, and he can get around way easier in his animal form than a wolf or a bear can. I mean, I haven’t gotten to see him in action really, which is a good thing I guess.” I shrugged and popped the last bit of garlic bread in my mouth.

  “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you. I have to study all sorts of extra spells for camouflage and learn Misdirection jinxes in the event Rodrigo has to shift in a crowd. How the hell do you hide a bear in the middle of the city?”

  While keeping a straight face, I sipped my orange soda and shrugged. “Very carefully. Maybe put a tie and a hat on him. Call him Yogi.”

  Holly tossed a balled-up napkin at me.

  After we all dumped our trays in the trash and the gang split to enjoy our individual afternoon activities, I kicked back on the couch in our dormitory to study while my favorite fictional vampire movie played in the background.

  Pilar had plans to hog the bathroom to perfect her makeup for a date, Ben and Holly had a meeting with the Student Alchemist Association, and Lia wanted to read a new book she’d picked up at the campus bookstore.

  Once absolute silence fell over the dormitory and darkness arrived outside, I changed clothes and crept out, clothed in black and pink workout shorts and a matching sports bra beneath a zipped hoodie.

  A surly bird shifter awaited, dark hair brushed down over his forehead, arms crossed.

  “I’m not even late.”

  “You aren’t early either.”

  Grunting, I tossed my bag on the ground. Water bottles jostled around inside it.

  He made me stretch first, a routine I’d become accustomed to performing over and over to loosen my already stiff muscles. My body ached from the last workout, uncooperative hamstrings protesting whenever I bent to touch the ground.

  We began with a jog through the obstacle course, and the best part about working alongside Gabriel was that he paced himself beside me and performed the same exercises instead of observing like some grim-faced fitness overseer.

  “Pivot when you make the turns,” he advised me. “Your feet aren’t in line with your hips either as you run. And your stride is too long. Keep an eye on that.”

  Needing an excuse to catch my breath, I broke off from the trail and tossed off my sweatshirt. Gabriel caught up to me wile I wrapped my hands with sparring bandages. “Is changing that going to make me run as fast as you do?”

  “Maybe. Your running form is awful, and you have way more bad habits I gotta break.” He glanced at my slow hands then took over, brusquely. “Like not doing this at the start of our workout. Exercise now, breathe later.”

  Way to make me feel like an out-of-shape loser. I held it against him for like five seconds until he finished wrapping and placed both hands on my hips, guiding me one limb at a time into proper running form.

  Heart attack. I prayed he didn’t hear the palpitations thumping in my chest.

  “Don’t tilt your hips forward like this. Loosen your shoulders.”

  Gabriel led me through the tires in the obstacle course, appearing weightless and graceful when he maneuvered through each rubber ring. He even accelerated and decelerated with effortless precision, never breaking a damn sweat.

  I envied him and all the sentinels in training.

  “Come on, Corazzi. Push yourself.”

  “I am pushing myself.”

  If collapsing from fatigue counted as pushing myself, he owed me a gold star sticker. Three of them, because he picked me up off the ground three times. Before I could mop the sweat from my brow, he rushed me to the boxing station. Stinging tears blurred my vision and perspiration leaked into every uncomfortable place a person could feel trickles sliding down their skin.

  “Gabriel, I can’t see.”

  “You think an angry—nah, nix that—you think a thirsty nosferatu gives a damn if you can’t see?”

  He had a point. To drive it home, he cuffed me in the ear with the cushioned red pad on his left hand. I squinted through the discomfort and blocked the next strike with an open palm
.

  “Good.”

  Of the different training methods Gabriel used for teaching me to fight, I loved the focus mitts most of all. He taught me one move after the next, forcing me to alternate between left jabs and right crosses until my arms screamed. Then he moved on to kicks and spent almost half an hour instructing me on how to land a decent one before he turned that into a drill too.

  “You’re faster than this, Skylar. Come on. Sixty seconds, kicks only.”

  How the hell would he know how fast I could be? But he pushed me, taunting me until I threw myself into improving my aim at the mitts and gaining speed.

  Sixty seconds later, he whistled loud and shrill. My eardrums loathed him. Shit. My body loathed him now.

  “Bobbing and weaving drills. Go.”

  The shifters used a length of yarn stretching between two trees. For me, Gabriel had lowered it about a foot to reach my shoulders. Holding both hands at defensive level, I ducked beneath it left and right. Up and down, alternating the shoulder the string landed against.

  “Faster!” he challenged me. “Mitts up! Don’t ever lower your guard.”

  My triceps wept for mercy. Burning thighs pleaded for me to sprawl in the grass facedown and die, already aching from the roundhouse drills. Maybe I would. “Are you torturing me because you can’t do the same to Monica? ’Cause this is just sadistic and I’m not a total bitch.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Are you here to train your mouth or learn how to fight?”

  “Smart-ass. Sorry, I just wanted to know.”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t punish you for her bad attitude. That’s just how Monica is, you know. She doesn’t even get along with your own kind half the time. Her dad’s one of those guys you don’t want to cross.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, like Scarface. Goodfellas. One of those types.”

  “Mafia? Does that even still exist?”

  “Obviously so.” He made another face at me then beckoned me with his mitt to continue our routine. Left jab, jab, jab, right cross. “You’re unusually talkative. If it bugs you that she treats me like shit, it’s cool and I’m used to it. Just ignore her.”