The teacher motions for me to take a seat without asking me to introduce myself or talk about my hobbies and shit. Thank God. I sit near the window.

  The ruffling of pages booms in my ears like a small helicopter is preparing to land in the middle of class. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes sockets and pray I'm not about to faint again.

  Mrs. Olsen smacks her lips together, and her heels clack loudly against the linoleum as she walks to the chalkboard. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Runic calligraphy. I know a few of you think you can just scribble in your notebooks, but runes are actually a vital art."

  Runic calligraphy? I'm both intrigued and skeptical, but I have to throw all my preconceptions out the window. What James and Marcus showed me is real magic, and I'm one of them. If there's a way to tame those voices inside me, I'll do it.

  My first day goes smoothly until I faint in the middle of the courtyard.

  When I come to, a voice thunders above the rest. "Guys, guys. Y'all should let him breathe. Jesus!" The newcomer has a thick southern accent. The crowd makes way for him as he steps closer. His short blond hair immediately makes me think of Thom. He motions for the rest of the students to keep their distance before offering me a hand. "You okay, man?"

  He helps me up, and I dust off my pants. "Yeah."

  "Those episode sucks. Come." He rushes me forward and away from the other boys to the edge of trees at the back of the baseball field. "Don't resent them. They mean well but they don't get it." He bounces from one foot to the other, and I get the sense that he can't stand to stay in one place for too long. "I'm Frank, by the way. I'm like you."

  I meet his fist bump in mid air. "Like me?"

  "A Shadow Walker."

  I cringe involuntarily.

  His eyes widen. "Right. I forgot you weren't raised into the life. Being a demon must have come as quite a shock."

  My knuckles clench, and I draw in a sharp breath. A demon? No wonder Mom freaked out. It baffles me how casual Frank sounds. You’d think we're discussing sports or homework. I scratch the nape of my neck, dread pooling in my stomach. “So, we’re… evil?”

  He scoffs. “Evil? You really believe in all that church stuff?”

  “Well…” Mom certainly does. I don’t know what I believe in anymore.

  “It’s nonsense, if you ask me.” He stretches his arms out. "I can't believe I skipped class on the day you arrived. I would have given anything to see their faces. They're jealous, of course."

  A dry laugh escapes me. "Jealous of the headaches?"

  "They're humans." He sneers the word. "They all want to be us, but it's too late for most of them. We need them, but not as much as they need us. And you, you're the flavor of the decade."

  My damaged brain is fighting hard to keep up. "So you're a..."

  "I'm a Hale." His shoulders sag a little as he says the name. "We're not as rare."

  "And the others, who are they?" My temples are still pulsing, and I rub the side of my face.

  "There are five families total.” He holds up his fingers and counts. “The Hales, the Walkers, the Olsens, the Nolans, and the Blacks. All male heirs are sent to high school here to learn our way of life."

  I frown. "If all the heirs are supposed to be sent here, why wasn't I?"

  "You’re the first new Walker demon in a century. They must have thought you had next to no chance to turn.”

  Jaw slack, I grab Frank's arm. "A century? James is a hundred years old?"

  He shrugs. "At least."

  A low whistle escapes me. "Does it mean we're... immortal?"

  Frank is almost blurry as he fidgets. "No, but we live for centuries."

  "Awesome!" That's actually pretty dope. The dizziness finally recedes as the other students rush in at the sound the bell. "Shouldn't we go back to class?"

  Frank slaps my shoulder. "Let's blow this off and go for a run in the woods. Don't you want to let out some steam?"

  I grin. "Totally."

  "Marcus is gone, and the teachers let us get away with anything." Mischief burns bright in his eyes as he heads to the woods.

  We start slow but quickly pick up speed, stealing glances at each other.

  Fear, shock, and daunting questions about what I am don't matter anymore. Running simplifies everything.

  Scents mingle in my nose, a thousand times more powerful than they were barely a few days ago. Wet earth. Peeled bark. Soft moss. Decay and the promise of new life.

  Birds chirp overhead, and I can tell without hesitation in which trees they are perched. The air vibrates around them as they ruffle their feathers. Insects crawl beneath the fallen leaves, and I hear them, too.

  In these woods, I'm not a freak. I'm free.

  I increase the pace, Frank hot on my heels until we're running fast enough for the trunks to blur together. A country road appears through an opening in the vegetation, and I fork towards it. My soles heat up over the pavement, and as we come around a sharp turn, I spot the back of a car.

  The 40-mph speed limit sign towers in the distance, and I turn to Frank. "Think we can catch up?"

  "First one to touch the bumper wins."

  My muscles burn as I push myself to the limit. Surprise registers on Frank's face as I edge him out at the last second. I grin but decelerate too fast and trip, my body shooting through the air. I crash hard on the side of the road.

  Howling in pain, I roll to my back. The asphalt burned the front of my arms down to the dermis, and my jaw hurts like a bitch. Blood pours out my mouth.

  Hands braced on his knees, Frank catches his breath. "That was insane!"

  The sharp pain starts to recede, as my skin begins to tingle and the bottom part of my face tickles like crazy. I spit up another red wave, and my entire body is set ablaze as millions of tiny black flames lick my wounds. Before I can fully grasp what's happening, I'm good as new. The blood splatters on the ground are the only clues to my previously serious injuries.

  I stretch in awe. "Wow. This healing thing is fast."

  Frank nods. "It's a great trick."

  "What about the rest? Marcus said he could teach me more than I ever imagined possible."

  "You mean you haven't tried invisibility, yet?"

  My ears perk up. "Invisibility?"

  "Yeah. It's hard to stay hidden for more than a few seconds, but once fully-trained we'll be able to go wherever we want, unseen."

  The implications are just... "Are you shitting me? That's more than cool."

  Frank is jumping up and down. "Come on, let's go back to school and practice on the students. They haven't learned how to thwart our powers yet." He breaks into a run, and I follow him, my mind reeling.

  Invisibility. Wow. I'm curious and kind of excited to learn now.

  As we hustle back to school, we catch a glimpse of Marcus with a tall, slender woman with dark black hair. The vulture is caressing her round belly.

  "Is Marcus the father?" My nose wrinkles with unwanted mental images.

  "Is Marcus—" Frank clicks his tongue. "God, I keep forgetting how clueless you are."

  I snicker inwardly. Listening to him talk, you’d think that we’ve known each other forever, but I'm not comfortable enough to call him up on it. Not yet. I need him to like me. "Why? Who's she?"

  "She's his sister. Heather Black. She teaches rituals."

  "How would I know?" Marcus' perverse smile brings goosebumps to my neck. "He’s rubbing her belly like she's his wife."

  "Shadow Walkers can't have kids, dummy."

  That gives me pause. "Not ever?"

  "That's the surest thing of all."

  "Oh." My chest tightens for a second before I shrug. I don't want kids, anyway. "He's that excited to be an uncle?"

  Frank rolls his eyes like he doesn't want to spell it out for me, but I know better. "She's the last Black, and it's her first baby—though I'm sure she'll have at least a dozen."

  My eyes widen. "Who wants a dozen kids?"

  "Haven't you been listening? She's the LAST Black. Their cousin disappeared years ago—he was probably murdered—and now she's the sole hope for the Black line. Without heirs, Marcus will be the last demon in his family and when he dies—boom. No more Blacks."

  The words possess both an ominous and strangely joyful sound.

  "You have a brother, right?" Frank asks.

  I nod. "Yes."

  "Well, he's going to be encouraged to have a lot of babies, too."

  My nose scrunches at the thought of a ten-year-old Thom surrounded with a litter of hungry wailing babies.

  "Come on, I'll show you to our rooms."

  I follow him into the building next to the school, and my lips quirk up. College life, here I come.

  Living across the hall from Frank isn't half bad.

  We go to class most mornings or when it rains too hard to run. He teaches me how to prank the others with illusions, though I'm not skilled enough yet for it to work for more than a few seconds at a time.

  We have so much fun that I forget I'm homesick. I forget to call home every night, and Mom doesn't seem to mind so much. Thom's almost always unavailable. She's clearly afraid of what I might tell him.

  And the less I call, the less I want to call.

  Place for my head

  Liam

  School life normalizes as fall passes without much incident, my evenings are spent running around town with Frank, practicing invisibility, and studying one ritual after another. My new best friend was right about the other students being jealous of us. Some fangirl over our strength, speed and abilities, but they all treat us differently.

  Marcus hasn't been around much. Whenever I mention him, a dark cloud passes over Frank's face, and his agitation at the knowledge that he'll be back soon spells trouble.

  One hot November evening, the vulture is waiting for us in the hall as we return from class.

  "Boys, the time has come to start your real training. Pack your stuff, we're leaving," Marcus commands.

  "But I have a test tomorrow morning," I say in protest.

  Marcus smacks his lips impossibly slowly, his cold, slightly-bored stare inching towards my face. "Liam, you'll soon come to understand that the only opinion that matters is mine, and that while your other teachers might allow you to talk back to them, I will not." The flat, passionless tone somehow makes the warning scarier than if he'd screamed.

  I bow my head. "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see."

  It takes me an hour to realize we're flying to Vermont. To my hometown. Frank spends the whole trip making bad jokes, his restlessness pressing like an anchor in my stomach.

  Marcus guides us to a hotel, the only fancy one in this town I know, and passes his shirt over his shoulder. "I'm going for a swim. In the meantime, you'll find the human you most hated at your school and bring me back his head."

  Acid rises to my mouth. Frank warned me about an initiation. That my strength and character would be put to the test, but murder? "Are you serious?"

  My eyes dart to my partner in crime, but his gaze is glued to the floor.

  "Now, Liam. I hate to repeat myself." Marcus says.

  A boulder of disgust condenses in my throat, the uneven beats of my heart blurring my vision. My nails pierce through my palms until they draw blood, and my knuckles crack. "No."

  Marcus lets out a stiff sigh. His hand moves slowly as he unzips his leather suitcase and pries a rope from it. No. Not a rope. A whip.

  I shudder, blood rushing to my chest. Frank bites his cheeks, his body rigid. He avoids my gaze thoroughly.

  "Turn around," Marcus whispers.

  I take a step back. "Fuck you."

  The devil blinks. "Remove your shirt and turn around. Impertinence has a price."

  My toes get traction on the carpet as I prepare to run.

  In one swift movement, Marcus flattens me against the wall, his strength and speed way superior to mine. I thrash to break free, but I can't move an inch. His heavy hand pushes and pushes until my spine snaps, and I lose all feeling and control over my limbs.

  The stink of bourbon and cigars assaults my nose.

  "If you refuse to bring me the head of your enemy, I'll present you with the head of a friend. Your father, perhaps? Or your sweet, terrified mother… Now, do you want that?" The question is light and sweet as a loving murmur.

  This psychopath is serious, and I shake my head. "No." Tingles itch at my back, and my feet wiggle again. Thank God.

  "No..." he trails off.

  "Sir. No, sir."

  "Excellent." He lets me go, and I draw in a sharp breath. "Now, remove your shirt and turn around."

  My heart pulses in my throat, but I obey. What choice do I have? All those horrible things I see in my head… I knew the fun, lazy atmosphere of the last few months wouldn’t last.

  The lashes come and come until I lose all reason. Pride means nothing against pain. Pain wins out, and I beg for him to stop.

  I promise him the world.

  My shredded back heals itself before he starts all over again. The nauseating smell of my own blood pervades the lavish five-star atmosphere. The sound of Marcus crushing a Tic-Tac between his teeth acts as a metronome to my unbidden screams.

  In this room, during countless forsaken hours, I am broken.

  Spirit, mind and body.

  Finally, he shoots Frank a sneer and tosses the whip on the table. "Go with him."

  The high-school is much smaller than I remember, but the claustrophobic, venomous flare clawing its way up my chest has nothing to do with the size of the building. I'm here to kill Jeremy, and while my brain comprehends what that means, my soul is shaking.

  "I never went to a mixed school. The girls here are hot," Frank says.

  I mumble an unintelligible response.

  "As long as we're here. Anyone you've always wanted to bang?"

  I cringe and avert my gaze.

  "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

  A warmth spreads from my abdomen to the tip of my ears even though it’s pretty chilly, and I choke on a grunt of denial. The only girl that comes to mind is Cecilia. If I hadn't left home, if I wasn't a demon, we'd still be dating. She must have found someone else by now.

  Frank follows my train of thought. "It doesn't have to be your ex, dude. You can have anyone you want."

  I've spent the last few months practicing glamors, but the idea of having sex while passing as someone else creeps me out. Besides, I don't see the appeal. I want to have sex with a girl who wants me, not some other dude. "Isn't that... I don't know. Wrong?"

  "Who cares? You'll never get caught."

  "Right." At this hour, Jeremy will be getting out of football practice. I search for him on the nearly empty field, and hope swells in my chest. Maybe he skipped school today. Maybe he moved.

  But no. He's there.

  Serendipitously, Jeremy is holding a freshman by the collar, dependable in his bullying ways. My legs falter, and I wonder if my spine is healed after all, since my feet are not responding to my commands.

  Frank sneers. "He's a real tool. You'll be performing a public service." He knows that this is Jeremy because he saw him in my brain a few times. The link between our minds is only getting stronger. "Wait for him to be alone."

  We stay hidden in the shadows of the bleachers until the victim runs off. Witnesses are a bad idea, and I don't think I could answer a basic math question at the moment, let alone make myself invisible.

  "I'll cover for you if anyone comes close," Frank says, and I force myself to nod.

  Marcus was quite clear. It’s either Holbrook or my mother... I might as well not draw out the inevitable. A depraved, secret part of me justifies it as karma. The grass of the football field brushes against my sneakers, loud as a train.

  The large teenager turns to me, his eyes widen, and recollection gives a nasty shade to his face. "Walker. You look different."

  "I am different," I growl.

  He flashes his big ugly teeth. "You'll always be a freak to me."

  I close my hands around his throat. He wraps his arms around my head and claws at my neck, but he's nothing compared to me.

  It's frighteningly easy. Like sinking fingers into warm butter.

  With a strangled cry, I press and press and press until his body goes limp, and I drop him to the ground in horror. Tears explode across my lids, my entire body trembling with the weight of what I've done. My knees wobble.

  Frank's shoulder brushes against mine. "The first one is the worst."

  "How many have you killed?"

  "Five? Six? Counting isn't good for ya." He walks towards Jeremy and pries off his head in one, swift motion. Blood sprays on my white shirt, and bile rises to my mouth. When he fists the dead boy's hair and hands the head to me, dark spots dance over my vision.

  Frank presses his lips together. "Listen. Marcus is a psychopath, but he's predictable. He's waiting outside. Bring him the head. Look into his eyes and act like you enjoyed yourself. He owns us, Liam. Owns our friends, owns our family. The day you stop being a good dog is the day they die.”

  He sighs. "Your brother's safe because he can further the bloodline, but the rest... You think those lashes hurt, imagine your mother under them. Imagine the worst, and then some."

  A dry chortle rasps his throat. "This is what we are. Killers. We might hate it, but we're too weak to change how things work. When I'm older..." He chokes and stares off into space, imagining all the vicious things he'll do to Marcus when he's on equal footing. "When we're older, we'll make our own rules."

  I nod, feeling numb, because everything Frank said is the ugly truth. Marcus isn't our teacher. He's our master, and we're his slaves. It's as simple as that.

  The tall demon is waiting for us near the row of school buses, leering at the cheerleaders giggling nearby. Thankfully, Cecelia isn't among them. I force a spring in my step and toss the head at Marcus' feet.

  The bastard pushes me face first into the dirt. "Next time, behead the fucker yourself. Now, want to visit your Dad?" he asks as though those sentences fit perfectly together.

  "No." If I visit them, they'll know I was the one who... My jaw tightens, and shame sears my face.

 

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