Mindee Arnett: The Nightmare Dilemma

I headed down to the cafeteria still trying to figure it out. I approached the table I usually sat at with Selene and Eli, but he wasn’t there. I scanned the room for him, but the chaos of people and activity made it difficult to see much.

Mealtimes at Arkwell had become even more interesting since The Will broke. Paper airplanes flew complicated loop-de-loops in between the tables, obeying the magical commands of their makers as they delivered notes or dive-bombed unsuspecting victims. A girl across the way was manipulating the water in her goblet to make it flow upward in an inverted waterfall. The boy sitting behind her juggled a half-dozen glowing magical orbs that changed color every time he touched them.

Two tables over, a crystal goblet half full of some white liquid drew my attention as it hovered above the heads of several unsuspecting students. I watched it tip sideways right over Nick Jacobi. Milk—at least I hoped it was milk and not some dangerous potion—splashed downward. Nick raised his hand a split second before the liquid hit him, freezing it with a spell. Everyone at the table applauded his quick thinking. Nick started laughing at the boy across from him who had been controlling the goblet.

No sooner had Nick vanished the milk with a second spell than a saltshaker appeared above him and dumped its contents into his hair. This time several other people laughed as Nick leaped to his feet and tossed his head, flinging salt.

Stifling a smile, I glanced at the next table over, fully expecting to see Lance Rathbone behind the saltshaker. Lance was a wizard and Arkwell’s resident trickster. Only he wasn’t at his usual table either. What, is this Sophomore Skip Day and nobody told me? The real culprit, I saw, was a dryad by the name of Oliver Cork.

I glanced past Oliver, continuing my search for Eli. No luck.

He couldn’t have done it without magic , I reminded myself.

I went through the breakfast line and sat down at our table alone. Still no Eli. Where was he?

As if the thought had been an incantation, I spotted Eli coming through the massive wooden double doors of the cafeteria. He looked the same as any other day in his faded jeans and a dark, long-sleeved tee with a band logo on the front. But going by the huge yawn he tried to hide behind a raised fist, I guessed he hadn’t slept well. All my speculation ceased as Eli’s eyes alighted on me and a wide, cocksure grin slid across his handsome face. My stomach did a little flip at the sight of it, and a funny, achy feeling went through my knees. Good thing I was sitting down. If any ordinary had a diluted strain of siren blood, it had to be Eli Booker. Forget Bob Dylan.

As he walked toward me, I tried to recall all the openings I’d considered for asking him what he’d been doing last night around 11:45. But I abandoned the endeavor by the time he reached me. The whole thing was absurd. Even if Eli could do magic, he wouldn’t hurt Britney. That sort of thing just wasn’t in his nature. He would more likely beat the crap out of whoever had attacked her.

“Hey,” Eli said, sliding into the bench opposite me.

“Hey.”

He reached across the table and snagged a piece of bacon off my plate and popped it into his mouth. “Where’s Selene?” he asked a couple of chews later.

“She’s … sleeping in.”

A single dark eyebrow rose on Eli’s face. “Yeah? That doesn’t sound like her.”

I dropped my gaze from his face. “She, um, didn’t sleep well, I don’t think.”

“That makes two of us.” Eli yawned again.

It was the perfect opening, so I started to ask him why, when a loud bang stopped me. I jumped, my heart rate going from resting to overdrive in a split second. My eyes searched for the source of the noise.

Nick Jacobi had knocked over the bench he’d been sitting on. He and Oliver Cook stood across from each other, both shouting and with hands raised in a defensive position. Magic hummed in the air between them like a live wire. The two looked fit to kill. It seemed their little magical roughhousing had gotten out of hand. Neither was playing games now.

Nick’s glamour had slid off him, revealing his true form beneath—black, scaly skin, a single stubby horn on his forehead, and eyes that glowed red. He was an Ira demon, a rage demon, the kind that fed off the anger of others. Consequently, Iras had hot, dangerous tempers themselves.

Oliver, too, was looking more his natural self, his body thinner and taller, oddly treelike, and far less intimidating than Nick.

“This is bad,” I said.

Across from me, Eli had already stood and was heading for the demon and dryad.

I moved to stop him. “Don’t!” Without magic he would get crushed.

Too late, Eli had grasped Nick’s arm and pulled him around before he could attack Oliver. A howl of rage exploded outward from Nick. He shoved Eli in the chest with both hands and Eli flew back, crashing into the upturned bench.

Nick’s rage remained focused on Eli. He charged toward him, ready to strike again. I jumped up, my mind racing for the right spell to stop the demon, but panic made it hard to think.

I raised my hand. “Alexo.” The shield spell burst out from my fingertips in a streak of purple light. But before it could form over Eli, it vanished . But that was impossible. Stuff like that only happened when The Will was in place.

I opened my mouth to cast the spell again, but before I could, Nick froze mid-attack. His body was jerked into the air as if hoisted by an invisible pulley.

I gaped up at him as he struggled against whatever unseen bonds held him.

Eli got to his feet and stepped over to me. “You all right?” He touched my arm, sending tingles over my skin.

I huffed. “Oh, right. Worry about me, because I’m the one that just got tossed like a football by a pissed off—”

I broke off when I saw four strange men entering the cafeteria. They looked as if they’d gotten lost on their way to a Renaissance festival. They wore waist-length red robes like some kind of tunic over black pants. Sweat broke out on my skin, and all my muscles contracted from a sudden spurt of terror at their appearance—bloodred on black, just like Marrow had worn.

“Who the hell are they?” Eli moved closer to me as if he intended to shield me with his body.

The men marched farther into the cafeteria, silence spreading out before them. I looked around for a teacher or staff member, someone who could tell me whether or not it was time to make a run for it, but I didn’t see anybody.

The nearest man headed right for us. He carried a wizard’s staff that he held before him, pointed directly at Nick’s floating body.

A few feet from Nick, the man came to a stop. He looked like a retired prizefighter with his massive square jaw and squashed nose. His shoulders seemed wider than his arms were long. The scowl he leveled first at Nick then at Eli, and finally at me, made the hairs on my arms and neck stand up.

“That’s enough rule breaking for one morning.” The man made a downward slash with his staff, and Nick crashed to the ground with a loud thud. He let out a groan then scrambled to his feet. His black, scaly skin and horn vanished as his glamour slipped back into place.

“Who are you?” Eli demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

A low murmur echoed around us. I wanted to disappear into the cracks in the stone floor. I didn’t know who this guy was, but one thing was for sure—he wasn’t somebody you should challenge unless you could back it up. In the ordinary world, Eli was badass enough to take on anybody, but this was the magical world.

A wide, toothy grin stretched across the man’s face. “Me? Why, I’m the Captain of the Will Guard.”