Chapter 1

One

I never would have entered the tunnels if I'd known what was going to happen. But that's the thing about making stupid decisions, they never seem that way at the time.

The faelight torches that illuminate the underground passageways crisscrossing beneath Nightlark Academy are only just bright enough to keep me from face-planting into the rough stone walls. I move as quickly as I can in the low light; the echoes of the rocks crunching beneath my shoes the only sound as I shuffle-run down the long corridors.

I can't be late to my next class. Last week Mr. Sullivan threatened to fail me if I show up late again, and if that happens I'll be forced to take summer classes to graduate. That's not an option. I've endured the torture that is Nightlark Academy for four excruciating years. I'm not spending a single day longer here than I have to.

Rounding a corner, I skid to a halt. The tunnel ahead is completely dark. Since faelight is eternal, it doesn't extinguish on its own. Someone had to have removed the torches or used magic to douse the flame.

My breathing sounds unnaturally loud in the stillness. I strain my ears, trying to pick up a hint of movement or the faintest whisper. The passageways are indisputably creepy, and the darkness makes them even more so, but normal Nightlark students wouldn't be as on guard as I am right now.

But normal students have magic. I do not.

The underground tunnels that connect the academy's outer buildings and the main castle might technically be a shortcut, but they aren't popular. They're dark, dank, and dusty, the three D's that usually keep students topside, but that's not what keeps me taking the long way between classes each day. No, I've done my best to avoid the tunnels since freshman year because I'd been jumped in them too many times to feel safe down here anymore.

A beat passes as I try to make up my mind: turn back or keep going? The only thing worse than racing through pitch-black corridors alone would be finding out too late that I'm not actually alone.

My classmates might not get physical out in the open academy hallways, but what happens in the tunnels stays in the tunnels. But even so, I chanced it today because I was running super late to Elemental Chemistry and was left with no choice. Since there are only a few precious minutes before the period starts, I assumed any other student traversing the tunnels would be long gone by now.

It seemed like an educated risk at the time, but as the hair begins to rise on my arms I start to regret my decision. I may not have the natural instincts of a shifter, but what instincts I do have are suddenly screaming at me.

"Run, little bunny," a taunting voice whispers from the yawning abyss in front of me.

Jules.

Fear hits me like a tidal wave, flooding my veins with equal parts fire and ice. I know that voice. I know what's coming.

I twist to flee, but before I take my first step it's already too late. My back foot sinks into the solid ground, trapping me in the confined space with a psychopath. I yank at my leg that's buried hallway up to my knee in a solid twelve inches of dirt and stone. The crazy wolf shifter must be using her magic to keep the ground sealed around my foot.

A chorus of eerie detached chuckles floats toward me as I continue to tug.

Oh no. She's not alone .

I double my efforts, struggling in vain because I know that even if I manage to free myself she'll just use her earth magic again to sink my other foot into the ground. But I don't give up. I'm many things, but a quitter isn't one of them. That's probably one of the reasons the wolf shifter won't leave me alone. As an alpha female in her pack, her natural instinct is to dominate. She wants to see me broken, in body and spirit. But that will never happen. I'll never give her the satisfaction of breaking my spirit.

The crunch of loose gravel reaches my ears and I look up to see Jules and two of her minions appear from the darkness, smiling maniacally. They're all dressed similarly in camo cargo pants, sneakers, and tight crop tops that just touch the waist of their pants. It looks like they're trying too hard to look both fashionable yet tough. I'm not impressed.

Jules has been a thorn in my side for years. All because I punched her in the nose for picking on a small fae girl in our first year of elementary school. She's had it out for me ever since, but it wasn't until she came into her powers roughly nine years ago—and I didn't—that the real trouble started. It was worth it though, because the small fae girl, Ensley, and her dragon shifter twin brother, Becks, have been my ride-or-die besties ever since.

Realizing I've run out of time, I straighten to my full height, which isn't much and even shorter with one leg sunk into the ground, and I face them head-on.

"What have we here?" Jules asks, flipping a chunk of her wavy brown and gray-streaked hair over her shoulder.

"Looks like a whole lotta nothing to me," Dina, her friend-slash-lackey answers, and Jules and the other redheaded wolf shifter, Freya, laugh.

I don't bother asking what they want, because I already know. To see me bleed.

Clenching my jaw, I size them up. If magic wasn't in the picture I'd have a chance, even against all three of them. Creatures like Jules who have strong magic tend to be poor fighters, relying on their magic to protect them. But Jules' earth magic, however untrained she is, is still powerful. Dina's and Freya's less so, but some magic still trumps no magic.

If only my father's shifter strength or my mother's fae magic would finally manifest in me. I'd even welcome some distant ancestor's creepy vampire powers if it meant I could face off with these girls on an equal footing, but here I am, almost eighteen and well past the age creature powers emerge and still not presenting even the smallest spark of magic.

Familiar resentment at my magical impotence rises in my gut like bile burning my esophagus, but like always I choke it down. It won't do me any good to rage against something I have no power to change. At least that's what my parents always tell me before reminding me how strong I am even without magic, but in times like this physical strength will only get me so far.

Jules steps closer but stays out of reach. I squeeze my fists in frustration. If she'd only come a few feet closer so I could nail her in the face with a left cross. A hit in the right spot could put her down, but they know what I can do with my fists, so all three shifters stay out of range.

Jules lifts her hand and a stone the size of my fist floats into the air in front of her. Dina and Freya follow suit, the rocks they chose only slightly smaller than Jules'.

Showy. If they want to throw rocks at me, they could just use their hands.

"So, Locklyn," Jules starts, a wicked gleam in her dark predatory eyes. "Looks like we have you at a disadvantage. If you'd like to beg me to let you go, I'll consider having mercy on you."

I glare at Jules. "I'll never beg you for anything."

Jules' grin widens, taking on a sinister twist. "I was hoping you'd say that."

With a flick of her wrist she shoots the stone at me. I try to dodge it but can only move so far because of my trapped foot. The projectile smashes into my shoulder, knocking me back against the rough stone wall. A burst of pain radiates down my arm as stone dust rains on me from above.

Dina's and Freya's stones fly at me next. They don't have the same heat Jules' did, but I can't dodge both at the same time and one nails me high on my forehead, right at the hairline. I feel the trickle of blood as it slides down the side of my face before I register the pain.

Jules high fives Freya and I glare at all three of them, baring my teeth in an empty threat. I hope now that they've seen me bleed, it will be the end of it, but it's not. They take turns pelting me with a half-dozen more rocks. I manage to protect my head, but I'm going to be a patchwork of bruises tomorrow.

When three stones come at me at once, I twist away as far as I'm able, hunching over to protect my head. As soon as my back is to them they start in on me with their fists and feet. I fight back, swinging wildly, even connecting a few times, but with my foot sunk into the ground I'm off kilter and can't land a solid blow. That doesn't stop me fighting like a hellcat though. The three of them only double their efforts because of it and I slip out of fight mode and into survival.

I take a hit to my mouth and then spit a glob of blood onto the ground right before a fist plows into my gut. The impact steals my breath and sends me crashing to my hands and knees. My foot finally loosens from its dirt prison, but at this point it doesn't even matter. I'm too beat down to move, let alone fight them off. I grit my teeth and brace myself for the next blow, but my tormentors switch from physical to verbal abuse.

"You should have been put down ages ago," Jules sneers.

"Yeah," Freya agrees. "You're just a magicless freak with hardly any friends."

Low blow on both accounts, but I don't so much as flinch. I'll never let anyone know how deeply their taunts cut.

They can watch me bleed, but they'll never see me cry.

I look up and get a little bit of satisfaction when I notice Freya's eye is swollen and Jules has a small cut on her cheekbone. Looks like I landed a few hits after all. Too bad wolf shifters heal quickly, and the evidence will probably be gone in an hour.

"She should be shipped off to Slinker Island with the rest of the defectives," Dina adds. I don't see any injuries, but there are dirt smudges all over her top and pants, and half her dark ponytail has fallen out.

Slinker Island is just a myth, the place where creatures with little or no magic are said to be sent. In reality, it's not much more than a gruesome fairy tale parents tell their children to scare them into taking their magic skills and abilities seriously. I know, because if it were real, I would have been sent there already. But even though the place may not be real, the insult is.

Most creatures come into their magic at around eight or nine, before puberty starts. There are rare instances where a kid reaches ten or eleven before presenting their magic, but creature powers always manifest well before their teen years.

Always. Without exception. Except me .

Freya is right. I'm a freak and no one knows why. The excuse the doctors gave us was that my magic was just too weak to detect, but that's not it. I'd be able to feel it if I had even a touch of magic. I know in my heart it's just not there.

I glare up at the trio as I catch my breath and then spit another blood loogie, making sure to aim for Jules' white sneakers, but the projectile falls short.

Jules sneers at me. "You're disgusting. And worse than that, you're a nobody. You should do everyone a favor and just stay where you are right now, down in the dirt by our feet."

She flicks a hand, and filth and small stones splatter me. Laughing, she turns and walks away, Dina and Freya following in her wake.

With shaky knees, I push to my feet, wiping at a trickle of blood running from my busted lip down my chin. My t-shirt and jeans are covered with grime and blood, and there's a tear in the fabric over my knee. I don't even bother to check my hair. I'm sure it looks just as bad as the rest of me.

I'm a mess. I can't walk back into class like this.

Sighing, I tip my head back against the stone wall, taking a moment to rest and slowly move all my limbs to make sure nothing is broken. My ankle tweaks a little when I put pressure on it, but I don't think it's serious.

I'm so tired of this. What I wouldn't give to go up against each one of them one-on-one without magic. I'd show them what it feels like to be me every single day of my life.

Vulnerable. Weak. Outmatched.

"Locklyn!" My name echoes off the tunnels and my body locks up before I register who's calling for me. When I do, the fear leaks out of me, but shame takes its place, and for a moment I consider hiding from him. But it wouldn't make a difference. Becks would find me, he always does.

It's a few heartbeats and then Becks is standing in front of me, his green eyes wild as he takes me in, checking me from head to toe. "What happened?"

"Nothing." It's obviously a lie.

His gaze fills with compassion, and I have to look away. That's not the emotion I want to see shining in his eyes when he looks at me.

He shrugs out of his dark overshirt and clutches it in his hand, leaving him in just a tight-fitting tee. Stepping closer, he uses the shirt to gently wipe the blood from my forehead and cheek. His body heat brushes up against me in the chilly tunnel, making me want to burrow into his chest, but I suppose being a dragon shifter he can't help how hot he runs.

"Where else are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I say in a small voice, and I am. I'll have bruises, but bruises heal.

He murmurs my name, and on instinct I tip my head back and gaze up at him. Like it has so many times before, my stomach drops to my toes as I gulp in his perfection.

Perfect jawline. Perfect high cheekbones. Perfect straight nose. Perfect green eyes. Perfect honey-gold hair that falls perfectly on his perfect brow.

My gaze dips down to his perfect mouth and I bite down on my bottom lip, wincing because the lip has already endured enough abuse today.

Don't stare at his lips, you idiot .

My body screams at me for it, but I gently push Becks' hands away and step around him, putting a safe distance between us. He stuffs the corner of his shirt, now stained with my blood, into the back of his pants, and like the good friend he is, he does me a solid and pretends not to notice how I was practically drooling over him. It's an unwritten rule that friend-zoned besties shouldn't ogle each other, but it's one that I can't seem to help breaking. Especially in the last year.

"Who was it?" he demands, a hard note in his voice, and I know without a doubt if I confess the truth he'll do something drastic.

That's the thing between Becks and me, we'd do anything for each other. The problem is that even though I was the one to protect his sister all those years ago, they have been fighting my battles practically ever since. Our friendship isn't balanced. It hasn't been since their powers came in and mine didn't. It didn't used to bug me, but it does now.

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."

Any remaining softness on his face disappears. He's probably imagining charring whoever did this to me, which admittedly makes me go a little mushy inside, but I push those feelings aside.

"Locklyn." He says my name like a warning and takes a step forward, crowding me, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

I gentle my next words, wanting him to know I appreciate his concern, but also that I'm firm on the point. "I have to start dealing with this type of stuff on my own."

He shoves the hair off his forehead as he studies me, the inner battle shining from his eyes. I know he wants to respect my desires, but it's in his nature to protect what he considers his. And as his friend, I fall into that category.

He releases a frustrated sigh. "We'll talk about this more later. We've got to find Ens. She's looking for you too."

I give him a questioning look and he shrugs. "When you didn't show up to class we got worried."

Closing my eyes, I let out a groan that has nothing to do with the aches and pains in my body. Forget being tardy to Elemental Chemistry, I'm going to miss a solid half of the period, or more. It's going to take some major begging and pleading to keep Mr. Sullivan from failing me. Or maybe I can convince him I was violently ill or something to get a pass this time?

Opening my eyes, I fix my gaze back on Becks. "How did you know I didn't show up to class? You're not in that one with me."

"Ens came and got me. She's checking the closets and bathrooms."

I nod. That makes sense. I've been known to hide in a bathroom a time or two before. I'm lucky to have friends like them.

Fortifying myself, I start making my way slowly down the passageway. Now that Becks is with me I'm no longer concerned about the dark sections of the tunnel. No one in their right mind would mess with Becks. He's the most powerful dragon shifter in our generation. I don't get four steps before he notices I'm favoring my right ankle and he scoops me up. I consider demanding that he put me down, I can still walk, but I know he won't listen to me anyway, so I sit stiffly in his arms, fighting against the urge to melt against him with every step.

When we reach the door that leads to the first floor of the castle and he finally sets me on my feet, I try to ignore the way my heart rate spikes when I slide down the front of his body, or how his heat lingers on my skin when he turns away from me to peek through a crack in the door, but it's hard. Taking a steadying breath while his back is to me, I tell my body to cut it out and focus on all my aches and pains rather than the warm fuzzies.

Becks looks over his shoulder at me. "The coast is clear. Everyone's in class."

"I've got to clean myself up," I tell Becks, and he nods, opening the door so I can go in front of him.

We walk down the hallway in silence, footsteps echoing off the dark-stained wood floors and locker-lined stone walls of the gothic revival interior. Nightlark Academy is a strange mix of old and new. The main building we're walking through is a castle-like structure built in the mid-1800s that used to be the home of a wealthy landowner back in the day. But the school also includes several auxiliary buildings spread out around the perimeter of a three-acre quad. Even though none of the additional structures are as old as the main building, they were all built at different times throughout the last hundred years and their exteriors mirror the intricately carved stone castle. Even the gym and sports center next to the castle has a steep gabled roof and external buttresses. The interiors of most of the outbuildings have been modernized, but not much of the main castle structure has been changed except for the addition of lockers and bathrooms and contemporary furniture.

When we reach the girls' bathroom, Becks tells me he's going to wait outside for me before I shove through the door. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the bathroom is also empty.

Thank the Creator .

When I look in the mirror a moment later the feeling of relief vanishes. Calling myself a mess is an understatement. My hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in a month and is covered in so much stone dust it's now whitish gray instead of auburn. My lower lip is cracked and swollen; dried blood is smeared over my chin from when Becks tried to clean me up in the tunnel. A bruise is already starting to form on my cheekbone and there's some blood caked along my hairline where I was struck with a stone. My clothes are in as rough of shape as the rest of me.

No wonder Becks had shot me so many half-panicked glances. I look like I've been run over. I can't go to classes like this.

The door bangs open, and I bolt into a stall, slamming and locking the door behind me. I hold my breath as the clicks of heels on the stone floor gets closer.

Please don't be Jules again , I silently plead. I've had enough of that hag today .

"Locklyn? Where are you?"

The air rushes from my lungs in relief. Ensley. Of course. Becks wouldn't have let anyone in the bathroom with me other than his fae twin sister.

"Over here," I say, but don't leave the stall. Now that I know what I look like, I don't really want anyone else to see me like this.

She walks over, stopping on the other side of the metal door. "Are you going to come out?" she asks when I don't immediately emerge.

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" I can hear her tapping her foot and imagine she's standing impatiently on the other side of the door with her arms crossed.

"Let's just say I'm not that pretty right now," I say, thinking of the bruises and blood.

She chuckles. "I beg to differ. You're adorable."

I scrunch my nose. No seventeen-year-old girl wants to be referred to as adorable. Adorable is what you call stuffed animals or kittens, not a datable female.

"I didn't mean it that way," I say grumpily.

"I know," she says with another chuckle. "But will you please just come on out so I can get a look at the damage?"

Oh great, Becks already told her.

Unlocking the stall door, I let it swing open. Ensley's large green eyes bulge when she sees me. She stops tapping her studded high heeled boot and just stares. Unlike me, she's perfectly put together. Her waist-length blonde hair hangs loose and long down her back, streaked with glamoured purple highlights today. The off-the-shoulder graphic tee she's wearing under her cropped black leather jacket is as white as it was this morning, and her rocker chic jeans are only purposefully ripped in all the right spots. I, on the other hand, look like I need to be taken outside and hosed off.

"What happened?" she asks as I stride past her toward the sink.

I cup my hands under a stream of cool water and splash my face rather than answer her. A paper towel appears next to me, and I mumble thanks as I blot my face dry, wiping the smear of blood off my chin then dabbing my busted lip. When I'm done, I toss the soiled towel in the trash and look at myself in the mirror again. It's better, but not much.

"Okay, spill. Who was it this time?" Ensley asks as she watches me. "Leo and his cronies?"

When I don't answer her, she goes back to guessing.

"Lilith and her wannabe flower power group?" she says, naming one of the fae cliques I've had a run-in with a time or two before. I still don't react.

"Jules and her brainwashed followers?"

My gaze shifts to hers in the mirror and she sighs.

"Just please don't tell Becks who it was," I whisper so that he won't be able to hear me if he's still outside.

She presses her lips together in a firm line but nods her agreement. We both know how Becks can get. It's not that we're protecting Jules. It's that we're looking out for Becks. Ever since he was named dragon heir last year he's been under a microscope by not only their parents, but the whole dragon council as well.

He doesn't open up about it much but living up to their expectations as the future House of Dragon heir weighs heavily on him. He's not allowed to be a teenager like the rest of us because he's destined for so much more.

Turning me toward her, Ensley pinches my chin between her fingers and turns my face back and forth, checking out my fat lip and bruised cheekbone. She lets out a low whistle and then releases me. "They sure did do a number on you this time."

A fresh wave of anger against Jules and her friends rolls through me. I snatch a paper towel from the dispenser, wet it, and start scrubbing the dried blood from my hairline that I missed before. When I'm done, my face is blood-free, but the bruising and swelling is all the more obvious.

"Come here," she says, wiggling her fingers. "I can at least help you get through the rest of the day." White fae magic glows from her hands as she prepares to glamour some of my face so my injuries aren't as obvious.

"Yes, please," I say with a clap, smiling broadly, but then wince when the movement makes the cut on my lip split open and start oozing again.

Ensley waits for me to dab the drops away, then places her hands on either side of my face, an inch away from my skin. The light emanating from them brightens and I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth coming from her palms as she weaves her magic.

Ensley's glamour is top notch, probably because she takes after her father, a fae known worldwide for pioneering beauty products imbued with traces of fae glamour. Even though Ensley and Becks are twins, they're different creature species. Just as Ensley takes after her father, Becks takes after his powerful dragon shifter mother. Together, both parents help run B&A Beauty, a lucrative beauty company that they founded together when the twins were babies.

Ensley's done in less than a minute, and when she drops her hands I swivel toward the mirror to take in her handiwork. Fae magic is amazing. The bruise on my cheekbone is hardly noticeable, and despite the way my busted lip throbs, my mouth looks full and lush and totally kissable—not that there's anyone who'd kiss me. Almost eighteen and never been kissed is just super depressing.

I turn my face one way and then the other, marveling at how smooth and radiant my skin is. For once the freckles smattering over the bridge of my nose and high on my cheekbones add interest to my face rather than make me look like a child. My hair is still a mess, but just as I think it Ens slaps a hairbrush in my hand, and I get to work shaking out the stone dust and brushing the strands straight. When I'm done I turn my head this way and that, checking for any bits hiding in my auburn mane that I might have missed.

"You're the best, you know that?" I say as I hand her brush back, giving her a quick hug.

When I let her go, Ensley rolls her eyes. "Of course I do."

Leaning forward, I squint at my reflection. "Did you make my eyes bigger?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. But the glamour will wear off before tomorrow, so who really cares." She gives me a once over. "We're going to have to do something about this too," she says, gesturing to the rest of my body. She shrugs out of her leather jacket and hands it to me. "Your shirt is dark so it's hiding the bloodstains, but those jeans won't do."

I glance down at the rip in the knee and the blood splatters. "I have a pair of leggings in my gym locker."

"Good. If we go now we can get you cleaned up enough to make next period."

She hefts her bag on her shoulder and starts for the exit.

"Wait. You don't have to come with me. Just because I'm missing class doesn't mean you have to."

"It's okay," she says with a shrug. "Mr. Sullivan loves me."

That may be true, but that won't stop him from marking her down for skipping most of his class. But Ensley doesn't really care about school. Besides being a natural genius, she knows that after high school she'll start working at her family's beauty business without having to further her education. That is assuming her band doesn't suddenly get discovered. So as long as she doesn't flunk out completely, she's golden either way. That's the only reason I'm not itching with too much guilt over her ditching class to help me.

"I wish I could say the same. He said he was going to fail me if I was tardy to his class again."

Ensley waves her hand in the air like she's brushing the problem away. "Don't worry about that. I'll tell him later I found you heaving your guts out into a toilet. He can't fail you for being sick."

I shoot her a thankful smile, knowing that if I tried to feed him that story he'd never believe me, but that he won't even question Ensley. Some of the tension leaves my shoulders knowing that issue is going to be taken care of. I'd rather not graduate than be forced into summer school.

When we leave the bathroom, Becks isn't there anymore and Ensley explains she forced him to go back to his class already. She comes with me to the gym and helps me look semi-put together in time to make my next class. I make it through the rest of the day with minimal stares thanks to Ensley's glamour. But as the day drags on I can't let go of what happened to me. I grow more and more agitated the longer I think about it, and like boiling water trapped in a kettle, I need to let off some steam. And there's only one way I know how to do that.