Not that I ever need any help feeling rumpled or ugly. Jeez. At least the plague of zits had passed

me by lately.

Go figure. As soon as things most people don’t even know exist start trying to kill me, I get to stop

worrying about pimples. Normally I’d say, okay, sure, as long as I don’t go pizza-faced.

But this wasn’t a joke. This was my life. And I was kind of wanting the zits back.

“He’s leaning up against me and trying to change.” It was out of my mouth before I thought about

it. My free hand was up, touching my mother’s silver locket. The sharp edges of its etching scraped

under my fingertips.

“He can’t change,” someone else said. “He’s Broken, right? That’s what that means.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Graves interjected sardonically. “I don’t think he believes it.”

“Keep being funny, loup-garou.” Benjamin was unimpressed. “Dru, you’re going to have to come

out of there. It’s not safe.”

Well, it’s funny, but this is the place I feel safest. In a cell with a Broken werwulf. I swallowed

twice. Let go of the locket and ran my free hand back through my hair. Winced as I hit tangles.

“He’s not going to hurt me. He only throws himself at the walls when I’m not around.”

“Milady. Please.” And he had that tone in his voice again, the pleading. Dylan used to sound like

that, back at the other Schola.

Nobody had seen Dylan since the fighting broke out. And now that I thought about it, I didn’t think

we’d ever see him again.

That’s what happens when nosferatu attack. Final things, things you can’t take back. There was a

whole mess of things I couldn’t take back, starting with the morning I woke up and didn’t tell Dad

I’d seen my grandmother’s owl.

My heart hurt, a sharp piercing pain. If I could just ignore it and deal with what I had in front of me

right now, maybe it would go away.

Yeah, good plan, Dru. Stick with it. Maybe it’ll get you somewhere.

“I’m not moving.” The stubbornness caught me by surprise, set my jaw and made both hands curl

into fists. Fur rasped against my fingers, and if I was pulling his hair, Ash didn’t make a sign that he

noticed. “Dawn’s coming. Once the sun’s up he’ll be better.”

“You should—” Benjamin stopped dead. Maybe because Graves had drawn himself up, taking another drag off the cigarette. Maybe because Ash growled again, and I surprised myself by tapping

him on the top of his narrow head with my free hand. But gently, as if I was mock-hitting a boy I

liked or something.