Zachary Rawlins - The Academy

“I heard that you and Eerie went on a date.”

“I’m not sure that it was a date. Exactly.”

“But you did go dancing with her.”

“Did Eerie tell you all this stuff? It was more like she went dancing, and I sat there and watched.”

“Huh. Very smooth. Quite the lady-killer.”

“Shut up, Margot. Why do we have to walk halfway across town to make a phone call, anyway?” Alex complained, hurrying after the vampire, who set a rapid pace. “There were phones back at the hotel. Cars, too, if we absolutely had to leave the room.”

“I need a pay phone, and it has to be far enough away from where we are staying that they won’t find us if they trace it. Besides, these days, it’s pretty hard to find one in the first place.” Margot threaded through the crowded street, talking without looking back at Alex, sounding bored with the whole thing. “I figured you could use the walk, to clear your head.”

“Really? Pardon me for doubting your concern for my well-being, but…”

Margot stopped at closed-down strip mall, glanced around for cameras, and then strolled over to a bank of phones so deep in the shadow cast by the flickering streetlight that Alex hadn’t even seen them. She inspected the phones from a distance with obvious distaste, and then pulled a set of latex gloves from her pocket and began sliding them on.

“Okay, okay,” Margot said, looking at the phones reluctantly. “Renton had an errand to run, and procedure demands that none of us be alone, until we are out of the field. Edward went with him, and Anastasia hates to walk, so I got you. Lucky me, right?”

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Alex complained. “I mean, Eerie already killed those Weir,” he said, immediately regretting having brought it up. “We are good, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” Margot stared at him in disbelief, and Alex felt very small indeed. “There have to be more. And anyway, I doubt that the silver one was dead.”

Margot shook her head, as if he had saddened her.

“I knew that was him,” Alex said with conviction. “I knew I had seen that bastard somewhere before. But, he sure looked dead…”

“Bet he did after Mitsuru was done with him, too,” Margot said, “and look how that worked out. I’ve never actually seen a silver one before, Alex, but they are supposedly very hard to kill.”

“Do we need, like, silver bullets, or something?”

Margot shook her head dismissively.

“More like a train to hit him with,” she said grimly, “or a cruise missile. Or,” she added, reaching for the handset, “Mitsuru, assuming you plan on letting me make this phone call.”

“Where did Renton go? And the cute one who never talks?”

“Edward?”

“Right. Him. Where did they go?”

Anastasia continued to stare at the television, the evening news turned on, with the volume turned off. The information was so dated already, she could hardly believe anyone watched the news channels.

“I sent them on an errand,” Anastasia said, glancing over at the changeling lying on the plush, queen-sized bed opposite her own, and then flipping the TV off. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway.”

Anastasia sat up and turned to face Eerie, smoothing the wrinkles from her black silk dress. Eerie looked over at Anastasia, propping her head up on her elbow, appearing genuinely surprised.

“Really? Because if this is about the cartel thing, then it’s very nice of you to offer, but…”

Anastasia waved her off, looking a bit distracted.

“No, Eerie, nothing like that,” Anastasia said, “I am not trying to recruit you.” Anastasia paused, then smiled at her. “At least not at the moment.”

Eerie stared at her blankly. Anastasia sighed, and shook her head.

“I will be direct, then,” Anastasia said unhappily, her hands folded in her lap in front of her, her posture rigid, her eyes boring into Eerie. “What is there between you and Alex?”

Eerie turned an immediate bright red, and hurriedly looked away. Anastasia had to stifle a laugh. They were two easy, Alex and Eerie both. She almost couldn’t help herself.

“N-nothing,” Eerie sputtered, still looking conspicuously away from Anastasia with all the guile of a guilty child. “Well, just friends. I mean, we only met recently, and…”

“Why did you ask Svetlana to send the two of you to San Francisco, then?” Anastasia asked patiently. “That is out of the ordinary, even for you, Eerie.”

Anastasia waited, her eyes fixed on Eerie. The impasse was not long. Eerie hung her head in resignation.

“You’re scary, Anastasia,” Eerie hummed quietly. “I am helping Alex. I didn’t do anything bad.”

Anastasia sat up, and reached over to pat Eerie on the knee. She noticed that Eerie had found time to buy cute patterned pajamas. She wondered what kind of underwear she had bought, with an internal smirk.

“Why Alex, though? Why are you interested in helping him?”

Eerie got flustered again, but this time, she didn’t look away.

“Well, he helped me,” Eerie said reluctantly. “And he is… interesting. Don’t you think so, Anastasia?”

“Very.”

“And also,” Eerie continued, quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself, “he seems nice, don’t you think?”

Anastasia felt pity for Eerie, momentarily, and then squashed it. Now was not the time to be sentimental, she reminded herself. She decided to risk pushing a little harder.

“No, Eriu, I don’t think so,” Anastasia said casually. “But, if you do, then shouldn’t you consider what getting close to you could do to that ‘nice’ boy? It doesn’t end well for humans who get involved with changelings, you know. Or have you forgotten your family history?”

Anastasia waited for a response, and when she didn’t get one, looked over at Eerie. Later, she would applaud her own composure, masking the surprise she’d felt, keeping her face impassive. In the moment, however, she was too stunned for self-congratulation.

Eerie was staring at her, sitting up at the edge of the bed, her posture rigid and her expression stormy, her eyes as clear and cold as the stream near Anastasia’s childhood home. And also, Anastasia realized, Eerie was emitting a subtle, shifting radiance; as she watched, Eerie’s irises ran the gamut between bright blue and murky hazel, one shade blending into the next. Around her, tiny motes of light spun and danced, making periodic lazy half-revolutions about her, leaving behind brilliant, multi-colored trails, each particle part of a golden cloud, a shifting, fluid expanse of light that radiated out from where Eerie sat.

Anastasia thought that maybe her ploy had worked a little too well.

“Mistress of the Black Sun or no, be careful what you call me,” Eerie warned, her voice cool and subtly menacing. The musical quality her voice normally had was entirely absent, replaced with a composed iciness. “I cooperated with you because our interests in this matter aligned. That does not make us allies, Anastasia.”

Anastasia smiled, her suspicions confirmed.

“Finally, you come out to play, Eriu.” Anastasia looked impressed. “I had an inkling, of course, but it was too hard to be sure. Tell me, then, what do you have planned for little Eerie? And what about Alex? I never would have imagined you were the romantic type.”

Eerie’s eyes narrowed, her irises changing color like an oil slick in the sun, her skin translucent and permeated with an amber luminescence.

“I will not answer your questions. I am not one of your servants, and I do not care how long your shadow has grown.”

The changeling’s face contorted into an inhumanly rigid sneer, so different from Eerie’s normal expression that Anastasia could barely see the resemblance. Anastasia felt a little bit bad for Alex, despite himself.