you call them on jackassery. That’s a big fact of human nature: Not a lot of people want to be called

on being assholes. They prefer to do their assholishness in the dark and cover it up with fancy

words. Because they don’t mind being evil—they just hate being evil where people might see. People who matter, that is, instead of “victims.”

A lot of them won’t take on anyone who might bite back. They just like to cull the weak out of the

herd. It’s Wild Kingdom all over.

Anna straightened. Air snapped and crackled with electricity. The cat’s yowl faded away, like it was

being carried on a train out of town. She stepped back mincingly, and I found out I was shaking.

The urge to go running after her, fists flying, had me in its teeth like a terrier with a toy.

“You’re going to regret this.” Now she was calm. Or at least, she sounded disdainful, cool as a cucumber. The mask of blood on her face said otherwise, along with the dead paleness and the

splotches of feverish ugly red high up, an unhealthy mix. Somehow her sweats had gotten torn and

there was a stripe of blood high up on her biceps along with flowering red marks that would certainly turn into bruises; I didn’t remember how that happened. I struggled to stay still, to keep my feet

in one place.

Because a good bit of me wanted to leap across the room and finish this fight.

“You started it,” I reminded her. “You had everyone clear the room twice now because you thought

I’d be easy. You came creeping by my door when you thought I was asleep. Coward.”

She actually flinched, like I’d thrown something at her. “You should have stayed with your stupid

human daddy.” The ugly red spots became a flush suffusing her entire face, spreading down her

neck. “You’ll never be good enough. They won’t love you. Not the way—”

“Nobody loves you.” I didn’t know it was true before it came out of my mouth. It stung like a bad

hex biting before you can unravel it. The owl banked, dove sharply across the space between us,

and veered off just at the last second before its talons hit. The wind of its passing ruffled Anna’s

hair, and she actually ducked, the rest of her not-so-carefully-coiffed-anymore curls falling down.

The aspect fled her, and she looked like a little girl before she broke and ran for the door with eerie,

stuttering speed. It opened, she piled through, and I heard boy voices.

I braced myself, waiting for whatever would happen next.

The owl cruised in another tight circle overhead. I wasn’t inside it anymore, just inside my own

scraped-raw, throbbing skin. The aspect retreated, and I sagged, my knees hitting the mats with a