We’re immediately greeted by a shaft of bright sunlight, making me blink my eyes furiously. “You know, in most other situations, this kind of behavior would be considered weird, Landon,” I tease.
“Yeah, well, most ‘other situations’ don’t involve one girl sharing four guys,” Landon snarks back, his eyes twinkling. “Not that I’m complaining,” he adds, and winks at Silas, who is only just now sitting up in bed.
“What’s going on?” the dragon shifter asks, running a hand through his dark locks.
“Nothing,” Landon replies, “except it’s going up on eleven. If we’re going to stay in town, we’re going to have to at least move to another inn. We’ve already stayed in one place longer than we probably should have.”
“Fuck, seriously?” I glance at the clock on the bedside table, and sure enough, it reads quarter to ten. I groan, leaning down to fumble for my discarded clothes. Modesty is something we seem to have collectively left behind, at least as far as I’m concerned. Once I’m fully dressed, I drag myself out of bed and stretch… only to be surprised at what I feel.
Normally, the day after a fight—especially a particularly violent one, like yesterday’s—I’m stiff and sore, if not from outright injuries than from the exertion and adrenaline. Even with my shifter powers, that’s how it’s always been; the human body can only take so much punishment before it starts to complain and demand to recuperate. This much is made obvious just by glancing at Silas, who has donned his jeans but is still bare-chested: the dragon shifter’s entire torso is littered with bruises, remnants of an untold number of cuts, scrapes, and blows from both magic and sheer, brute force.
But when I glance down at my own body, I see nothing of the kind. No cuts, no scratches, no scrapes—not even the telltale pattern of blue and yellow bruises I would have expected after my tangle with the agents on the rooftop yesterday morning (was it really only yesterday? It already feels like it happened ages ago…). Curious, and a little put off, I stretch my muscles again, longer this time, and once again, there’s no pain, no stiffness, no exhaustion. In fact, I feel as if I’ve slept a whole day, already prepared to spring into action.
I feel like I could fight an army, and that scares me more than Hawthorne ever could.
“You okay, Boots?” I turn around to see Hunter poking his head in through the door. “You’ve gone pale.”
“Shoo, vamp,” Landon says teasingly. “You know what they say: three’s company. Four’s a crowd.”
“Har har har,” the vampire shifter mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m serious—is she okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, and then shake my head quickly. “I mean, no. I mean… Physically, yes. I’m better than okay, actually. That’s the problem.”
“How is that a bad thing?” Landon asks, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train.”
“Exactly,” I point out, hauling my shirt back up to expose my torso (and not missing the longing looks each of the guys cast in my direction). “Look: no bruises, no cuts, nothing. I got tossed around pretty good yesterday. Between the fight at Theo’s place and the attack during the ritual… I’ve never come out of a fight totally scot-free. Ever. And it’s more than just that,” I go on, dropping my shirt. “I feel better than okay. Like if you told me to run a marathon, I could do it, no questions asked. It’s almost…” But I trail off. As absurd as it is, the word “superhuman” catches in my throat. Positive or not, it’s abnormal.
And there’s no guarantee that it is positive.
Hunter frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “That is weird.”
Silas, holding his hand to his forehead like he has the world’s worst hangover, makes a face. “Could it have been a side effect of the potion?”
“Josie never mentioned this,” Hunter replies.
“None of us knew what to expect, though,” Silas points out, tugging his shirt over his head. “Maybe this is some kind of added benefit. Your human form is less susceptible to damage.”
“Could be a coincidence,” Landon says, although there’s doubt written on his face.
“Lucky coincidence,” says Hunter.
“Yeah,” I say. Damn lucky.
Shade is already outside by the time we check out and leave the inn, perched on one of the low stone walls bordering the slow-moving river that crosses through town. “You guys have fun last night?” he asks me and Silas, with a pointed quirk of his eyebrow. Silas rolls his eyes, which prompts a shit-eating grin from the wolf shifter. “Just saying, Aconyte, save some for the rest of us.”
Silas waves him off, moving to stand in the shade of a nearby oak tree. “So,” he says, jamming his hands in his pockets, “what are we doing?”
“I vote we check up on Josie,” Hunter responds. “She might have some insight for us on this whole brainwashing thing.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Silas asks, in a tone of thinly veiled frustration.
Shade turns to him with an expression of surprising earnestness. “Then we’ll keep looking until we find someone who does.”
The dragon shifter scuffs his boot in the dirt, really smiling for the first time since yesterday. “Thanks, Shade.”
The wolf shifter simply shrugs. “We’re family.”
The sound of a phone ringing nearly makes me jump, and I turn to see Hunter groping in his pocket. He frowns as he pulls his cell phone out and holds it up to his ear. “Hello?” There’s a pause, and then his expression softens. “Hazel! Thank fuck!” I find myself letting out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. My best friend survived another day. “What happened?” Hunter asks. “Did you make it out? What about the twins?” There’s a long pause, and then the vampire shifter nods and holds the phone out to me. “She wants to talk to you, Boots.”
Not needing to be told twice, I seize the phone and press it to my ear. “Hazel!”
“Millie!” the relief in her voice is palpable, even from miles away. “Where are you? We thought you guys had been taken - we couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“We made it out,” I reply. “We’re all safe, don’t worry. You?”
“Same here,” she replies, “although Ruby broke her arm. She’s recuperating now - it will take some time, but at least we’re safe.”
“Where are you guys?”
“Edinburgh,” she replies.
“What-” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“That fight hit us hard,” Hazel continues. “Theo nearly got killed. A lot of the others weren’t so lucky. There was no way of holding the base. There were just too many of them. He wanted to stay and look for you, Millie, but the rest of the group was in danger. We had to get out.”
“So you went to Scotland?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah,” the siren shifter replies. “There’s a whole district full of shifters here, and they hate the Academy as much as anyone. They’re putting us up, and Theo’s working on assembling an army.” There’s a pause as she takes a breath. “He’s taking the fight to the Academy, Millie. It’s our only choice; we’re out of time.”