11. Aurelia

Chapter 11

Aurelia

" T his is shit," I say to Beak as I sit down next to him the following day at breakfast. The rest of yesterday had gone much the same as any normal day at the academy. We had a lot of questions for Theresa in group counselling, but she really wouldn't answer any of them. I could see she was unhappy because she wasn't her usual chirpy self, and even snapped at Roland, the male counsellor. The cherry on top of it was that Scythe sent me a mental message informing me it is now my sole and critical responsibility to keep Lyle calm and not murderous. When I asked him who was going to keep me calm, I got an icy silence.

Typical.

"Gee thanks, Lia," Beak says, after swallowing a huge mouthful of a protein smoothie and letting his bicep flex. A vulture down the table giggles and whispers to her friend. Beak's a handsome guy, fit as an AFL player and handsome as a runway model. He doesn't lack for bed-friends but was always testing his luck with me.

"You know what I mean." I gesture with my fork around the hall.

It's a falcon across from me who blurts out, "So, how many animals can you shift into? You must be able to do a lioness, right? If Mr Pardalia is your mate."

I chew my croissant carefully, even as heat rushes my cheeks. Lyle had warned me to be ready for this as people got over the shock of things. My animas had already showered me with questions when they first found out months ago.

"So, crocodile makes it two," Beak counts on his fingers.

I try not to choke on that one. "I can do a few, and I don't like to talk about it."

"What?" the falcon exclaims. "Why the fuck not, Lia? If it were me, I'd?—"

"Well it's not you, is it, Jacob?" Beak snaps. "And she said she doesn't want to talk about it, so don't ask her again."

Jacob grumbles and returns to his plate. I give Beak a grateful look and he flashes his dimples at me.

We're all pleased to see Connor at the lions' table, returned from his detainment and loudly and enthusiastically chatting about his experience down in the ‘dungeons' overnight. I'm just glad he's okay, but the whole debacle left a sour taste in everyone's mouth. The other lions are furious and have their eye on Damien Agnis, who is imperiously looming over the buffet this morning.

Minnie, Yeti, and the others join me in exiting the dining hall for our first class after breakfast, but there's a slow queue to leave, which is unusual.

"The wolves are saying that Dolores is checking everyone's clothing as they exit the dining hall," Raquel explains. "Make sure your skirt isn't above your knee."

"Dolores?" I ask, shimmying my skirt down a little.

Minnie makes her eyes wide. "Yeah, it's code for the new asshole calling himself deputy."

Lyle, supervising the line just ahead of us, determinedly pretends not to hear our conversation.

"Minnie, I'm shocked by your dirty mouth!" I say with feigned horror.

She grins. "It's just a shame we don't have a pack of centaurs or a giant we can feed him to."

My eyes slide around the gathered students. Some of the males here could pass for giants at well over six and a half feet, but the tallest of them… I easily find Xander up in front, the back of his long locks shining black-blue under the halogen lights. He had to be almost seven feet. "Giants maybe not," I mutter to Minnie. "Maybe we could convince a dragon to gobble him up?"

Connor snorts from Minnie's other side. "You'd have to do a little gobbling of said dragon to convince him. What does dragon cum taste like anyway, Lia?"

Minnie chokes, forcing Yeti to thump her on the back before she loops her arm through mine in solidarity.

A completely unwanted image flashes through my mind. Me. On my knees before Xander, towering god-like above me. A look of pure, unadulterated pleasure transforming his harsh expression into something magical…

"Probably spicier than a jalapeno," I darkly mutter back. "But he'd definitely charcoal chicken my ass for trying."

"You think I can't fucking hear you?" comes a volcanic breath into my mind.

I slap a hand over my mouth in shock. We know Xander's hearing is better than anyone else's, but the fact that he can hear that far ahead, with a noisy crowd between us, is astonishing.

My animas stare at me while all I can do is stare at the back of Xander's big head. All my blood rushes to my face and I know I've turned bright pink.

Minnie seems to understand first. She clears her throat. " Anyway, make sure your phones are hidden in your bras," she mutters. "I wouldn't put it past Dolores to do a pat down."

When we get to the head of the queue, I get my first closeup of Damien Agnis. He looks almost exactly like an oversized bird that's had all of its feathers plucked. His bright red hair is perfectly styled and combed into waves falling onto his large forehead, the white spectacles framing his darting golden eyes like headlamps. He stands stiffly with that big stick up his ass, wearing a maroon shirt and business pants, in the middle of a row of our academy guards in their tactical gear. It's obvious this is all quite specifically done to intimidate us.

If I hadn't eaten a crushed man's head between my jaws a week ago, I might have been scared. Suddenly, I wonder what Savage would have to say about all of this. He probably would have gotten himself locked in the dungeons by now and I smile wistfully at the thought.

Damien's eyes dart down my body in a scientific manner, and I immediately feel like I'm some weird specimen on a petri dish being observed by a team of scientists.

Today, I'm wearing a lovely black blouse with poofy sleeves and a pink miniskirt, which I can't pull any lower without risking thong exposure, and that might give the geezer a cardiac arrest.

On second thought…

"Borderline," Damien Agnis announces. His voice sounds a little nasally, and I wonder if he has sinus issues. A phlegm over-producer, perhaps.

"Which part?" I ask innocently.

"The part where you're begging for every male in the room to look at your legs."

His response is so unexpected that I barely have time to gape at him before one of the guards throws a new lanyard around my neck and shoves me along and down the corridor.

Everyone complains about it all the way to etiquette class. Minnie got told off for her cleavage, Stacey got sneered at for her signature pigtails, Connor got attitude about his long acrylic nails, and Raquel wouldn't say what they were cautioned about. It made me miss Sabrina. She would've gotten detention for sure and still loved every second of it.

When I take a look at my new student lanyard, it's a unique black one. Where the previous one declared me a ‘Flight Risk', this one declares me a: ‘Convicted Felon: Grand Arson and Murder.'

I make a strangled sound and show my tag to Minnie, who goggles her eyes. To our great misfortune, our second class of the day, normally human studies with Theresa, is hijacked by the phoenix lord.

"I have been looking at your alternative therapy projects with great interest," he declares, commandeering Theresa's desk and shuffling our project booklets. "And have been extremely disappointed to find some rather disturbing proposals."

We glance at each other, wondering what the hell the old bird is on about.

"Swaddle therapy, colouring therapy and sound therapy were all acceptable, if not laughable, projects. However, the Twerking as Therapy struck me as particularly nonsense material."

"That's Sabrina's project!" I hiss to the animas. "It was her version of somatic release therapy!"

Raquel and Minnie shift in their seats.

"What was that?" Damien frowns at our table.

Minnie rescues me. "Sir, we were just saying that Sabrina, who is currently kidnapped, in case you didn't know, was?—"

He snaps, "What makes you think I do not know?"

"I was just trying to be helpful," Minnie mumbles.

He stares at her over the top of his white glasses. "Well, you are not. Inappropriate comments to a teacher will get you three nights in a cell, girl."

Stacey gapes in horror and dismay. Raquel lets out a slow, measured exhale.

I, in turn, stare at Theresa, observing a little way from the teacher's desk and slowly turning redder by the second. But he's her superior. She can't do anything as Damien returns to shuffling his papers.

"Lyle?" I project.

"What is it, sweetheart?" comes a quick reply.

Raquel, being a powerful broadcaster wolf and can sense telepathic waves, glances at me on instinct.

"Dolores is being a real asshole."

Instead of a reply, a rumbling growl vibrates the inside my skull.

A cold presence replies to me instead. "Aurelia, do not rile him up," Scythe says sternly. "He's two waves away from killing the beast. What did I tell you yesterday?"

"Right," I say, thoroughly chastened. "Sorry. It's alright, Lyle. He was just insulting Sabrina, and I want to punch him in the face."

"I wouldn't complain if you did, angel."

"Such a gentleman."

" Is there," comes a loud snide voice in the room, "something you would like to share with the class, Aurelia Boneweaver?"

I freeze like a wallaby caught in headlights. "Uh, nope, sir."

"Then you will refrain from telepathic communications in my classroom. You do not get special privileges for being what you are."

My brows shoot up. Being what I am has landed me the opposite of privileges.

"Is that clear, Aurelia Boneweaver?"

He seems to be obsessed with my name. "Yes, sir."

The sound he makes tells me he doesn't believe me. "Stand up immediately."

I shove my chair back and drag myself up to standing. Henry reassuringly bops on my shoulder.

"Why don't you tell everyone a bit about being a Boneweaver? I'm sure everyone here is rather pressed to know what you've been hiding from us all this entire time."

Okay, this is completely uncalled for. I try not to cross my arms, and resort to clenching my fists instead. "I would really prefer not to. Sir."

He narrows his eyes at me. How can they be so much like Celeste's and yet the opposite in every way? "I'm not giving you a choice."

Everyone stares at him in disbelief.

Theresa tries her best to rescue the situation. "Lord Agnis, I?—"

"Theresa, really, let the young lady clear the air with all her friends."

It's like he's taking this personally. That my hiding my Boneweaver order was a personal affront to him. I don't get why. I'd never even heard of the guy until yesterday.

I'm suddenly aware of the intense silence of the room, and the many eyes staring hard my way. Xander sits at a table with some wolves, but his eyes don't have their usual glow. He walked into class with obsidian shackles on, though no one knows why. It was clearly Damien's doing, but it meant that his empty eye sockets, with their old, slashing scars, were now visible again. Everyone is avoiding looking at him.

"So yeah, I can turn into other beasts," I start slowly. "But I don't really want to talk about it. Like I said."

I return Damien's stare, trying to match his confidence.

"Sit down," he commands. "I won't oblige your penchant for attention seeking."

"Fucker," Raquel mutters into my mind. "Don't let it get to you, Lia."

My ass isn't halfway into my seat before Damien snaps, "Who was that?" He points to our table. "It's coming from your table yet again!"

I blow out an exhale. Granted, you had to be pretty powerful to detect telepathic waves in your local vicinity, but none of the many teachers ever called the wolves out for their mind-conversations.

The wolves sitting by Xander bristle in their seats, casting their eyes around the room and back at Damien.

"It was m-me," Raquel says flatly.

Damien regards my friend with disdain, taking in the beautiful silver brow, lip and nose piercings gracing Raquel's face.

"What were you saying?" Damien sneers. "You will share it with the group."

Raquel tosses their head. "I-I was j-just telling L-Lia how m-much I hate bullies."

Damien shakes his head, making the fiery strands look like living flames. "Clearly you haven't been taking your speech pathology classes seriously. This will go onto your record."

We all make choked noises of disbelief while Yeti shakes his head. Raquel just stands there, though their body is stiff.

"A night in confinement will help you learn some manners."

Three tables—ours, and the two wolf tables—erupt into an outburst of loud protest.

"Unfair!" Connor shouts, pounding the table with his fist. "You don't even feed us down there!"

At the mention of no food, the rest of us start pounding our tables too.

Damien leaps to his feet and whips out a walkie-talkie, muttering something into it.

It's only when Eugene squawks loudly from where he's hiding under our table that us animas shut up in alarm.

Eugene, being poultry, gets flashes of the future five seconds ahead. He's a good alarm that way.

But in that five seconds it takes me to bend down to look at him through his be-goggled eyes, no less than ten academy guards sweep into the room with their rifles raised.

The class quietens their shouting enough for Damien to point to us and yell, "Take them all downstairs!"