Хлоя Нейл - Hexbound

and the other held a Greek wrap with hummus. Being the resident vegetarian, I assumed the wrap was for me.

“Nothing for the boys?” I wondered, pulling two bottles of water from an ice-filled tub.

“The boys are bringing their own lunch. I told you it wasn’t a date.”

“Well, not a fancy date anyway.” Unless, of course, you counted Scout’s rainbow-esque ensemble. She’d paired her blue-and-gold plaid with red wool clogs,

a lime green cardigan, and thin orange-and-purple head-bands to hold back her hair. Whatever you might say about Scout, her wardrobe was definitely not boring.

With my blue cardigan and yellow Chuck Taylors, I felt practically preppy.

Lunch in hand, we passed the brat pack and their snarky comments and thousand-dollar messenger bags and went through the school to the front door of the main building. The fresh air was a relief, especially after spending most of my days moving between the classroom building and the suite, and most of my evenings in damp tunnels.

It was a gorgeous fall day. The weather was crisp, and the sky was infinitely blue,

the color reflected across the glass buildings that surrounded our gothic campus in downtown Chicago.

We walked up the street and past St. Sophia’s next-door neighbor, Burnham National Bank. The bank was housed in a fancy glass skyscraper. It was a pretty building, but still a strange sight—it looked like a giant kid had stacked glass boxes on top of one another . . . but not very well.

My heart sped up as we reached the next building. It was a pretty, short brick thing—like the slightly mousier older sister of the bank building. It was also the home of the Sterling Research Foundation, the other link in the chain that connected my parents to Foley and St. Sophia’s. While I’d basically promised Foley not to ask any questions that would hurt my parents, I didn’t think checking into the SRF was going to hurt anyone. I just had to figure out how to do it on the sly.

For a moment, I thought about walking to the front door and peeking inside,

maybe offering up some excuse about it being the wrong building. I chewed the edge of my lip, considering the possibilities.

“Lils?”

I glanced back, saw that Scout was waiting at the corner, and nodded my head.

“I’m right behind you.”

We slipped into the alley that separated the two buildings, and then to the left when the alley dead-ended. No—we weren’t meeting Jason and Michael in a dirty alley among Dumpsters and scattered bits of trash.

The alley held a secret.

Well, actually, it was the grass just beyond the alley that held the secret—a secret garden of lush grass and concrete thorns. It was a hidden refuge that was technically just beyond the wall of St. Sophia’s, but it carried the same sense of mystery as the convent itself.

We slithered in between the concrete columns and found Jason and Michael in the middle, sitting on a fleece blanket they’d stretched over the grass. Both of them wore their Montclare Academy uniforms. The plaid skirts were bad enough, but at least our school didn’t make us dress like accountants.

They’d already spread their lunch—or what passed for lunch for sixteen-year-old boys—on the blanket: fast food burgers, fries, and foam cups of pop.

“Welcome to paradise!” Michael said, lifting a cup. It was a high school toast, I guess.

“Shepherd. Garcia,” Scout said, kneeling down on the blanket. I joined her. Jason leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“Hello there,” he whispered.

I got a full and complete set of goose bumps. “Hello back.”

Michael munched on some fries. “How’s life at St. Sophia’s today?”

Scout unwrapped her sandwich. Little fringes of turkey peeked from between the layers of bread. “Pretty much the same as every day. Brat pack. Teachers. Lily getting her learnin’ on.”

Jason smiled and his dimple perked up. “Her learnin’?”

“Thomas Jefferson,” I said, nibbling a black olive that had fallen out of my wrap. “I do a lot of thinking about federalism.”

“It’s true,” Scout said. “She is all up in the federalist period.”

“Mad props for checks and balances,” I said, offering her knuckles. She knuckled back.

Jason snorted. “How did you two survive before knowing each other?”

“That is one of the great mysteries of the universe, amigo,” Michael said. “But since we’re all here together, maybe we should talk about the other mystery.”

“Not a bad idea,” Jason said. He half unwrapped his burger and arranged the paper so it made a sleeve, then took a bite. “At least Daniel believed us about the —what are we calling them? Rat things?”

“That’s close enough,” Scout said. “And Daniel is definitely an improvement. So far, I approve of him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear it,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on him, too?” Jason asked, mouth full and eyebrow arched. Scout’s cheeks flushed.

She popped a corner of her sandwich in her mouth. “I don’t crush. I appreciate.”

“You should appreciate someone your own age,” Michael muttered.

Scout humphed.

Our phones chose that moment to simultaneously start ringing. If we were all getting a call, it must have been a message about Adept business.

Michael made it to his phone first. “Daniel’s called off tonight’s meeting. He’s still figuring out what to do about the vampires.”

“So we don’t end up in the middle of a turf war?” Scout asked.

“That would be my guess.”

Scout sighed, then pulled another chunk from her sandwich. “Sometimes I dream of lying in bed and spending my nights—and hold on to your hats, ’cause this is pretty crazy—sleeping.”

“At least it’s not every night,” Michael said.

“Yeah, but it’s more on the nights we do go out. More monsters, more Reapers,

more ‘operations,’ ” she added with air quotes.

Michael patted her shoulder. “Someday I’ll take you on a trip, and we’ll spend our days relaxing in luxury.”

“Hawaii?”

“I’m on scholarship. How about Kenosha?”

Scout shrugged. “That works, too.” She looked down and began plucking through the paper bag and empty sandwich wrapper. “What happened to the other half of my sandwich?”

“You just ate it,” Michael said.

“Nah, I couldn’t have. Not that fast.” She put a hand to her stomach, then pressed a little. “I do feel full. But I seriously don’t even remember eating it.”

“Maybe you’re also distracted.” Michael winged up his eyebrows for effect.

“You ate it, didn’t you? You ate my sandwich?”

Jason leaned toward me. “Whatever you might say about Scout, the girl’s tenacious.”

“That she is. Did you eat her sandwich?”

He made a huff. “A gentleman does not take a lady’s sandwich.”

“Are you a gentleman?”

“I am a gentlewolf. I did rescue a beautiful damsel in distress, after all.”

“You did do that. And I appreciate it very, very much. Being alive rocks.”

He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair from my face. His eyes were the same color as the wickedly blue sky. “Of course I did. I think you’re pretty cool, you know.”

My toes practically curled from the heat in his eyes.

Scout cleared her throat. Loudly. “Hey,” she said, bumping Michael with her elbow. “Could I talk to you for a sec?”

“I didn’t eat your sandwich.”

Scout made a sound of frustration, then grabbed Michael by the hand and helped him to his feet. “I know you didn’t eat my sandwich, but we need to talk,” she said,

then pulled him between the thorns until they disappeared from view.