Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Nati

The clashing chatter of hundreds of students fills the dining hall and the snakes that make up my hair hiss in response, the sound almost deafening within my head.

“Shh,” I say in what I hope is a soothing tone. I reach out and pat a particularly restless snake. “This is normal.”

The hissing sounds continue, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. They can be so restless sometimes, and nothing I can say will convince them that everything is fine, and they can settle down like they need to. I wish my Familiar Training classes were going better so I could actually properly communicate with my snakes and make them see that something as simple as entering the dining room isn’t something to get so upset about.

Another loud hiss enters my mind in protest to my thoughts. Or maybe I’m just projecting, and they’re still upset over the amount of noise in the room. Well, they aren’t the only ones, I’d much rather have peace and quiet too, but living in an academy with hundreds of other students doesn’t leave much room for quiet .

I scan the tables, relief filling me as I spot Anja sitting on her own. Her long silver-white hair is braided down her back, the colour shimmering and shining with the light. I wish I had hair like that.

Hisssssss.

“Oh, shut it,” I mutter to my snakes. “As if you wouldn’t prefer not to be attached to me either.”

That seems to settle them. In a way, the truth always does.

I weave through the tables, being careful not to get my eye poked out by a stray wing, or brush against anything else. Not only is it better for me to be able to avoid getting injured, but it’s only fair when I don’t want people to touch me either.

I manage to make it across the dining hall without incident and flop onto the bench beside my roommate.

“Hey, Nati,” she says with a bright smile.

“Hi.”

“Not having a good day?” She picks up the plate of gluten-free sandwiches and holds it out to me.

I smile gratefully at her and load up my plate. None of them are going to be as good as the proper gluten counterparts but considering I can’t eat them without giving myself a stomach ache, I know this is the better option.

“It’s the snakes,” I admit. “They’re getting restless.”

“Do they need to shed or something?” she asks. “Maybe that would help?”

I shrug. “No idea.” But it might be a good idea to try that. A tug on the side of my head lets me know that Frank is making himself known. He’s much more restless than the others.

“Hey, Frank,” Anja says.

He lets out a hiss that I think is supposed to be a friendly greeting.

“I think he wants your beef sandwich,” I say.

“He can have it if he wants.” She holds it out.

“He doesn’t need to eat at all,” I say, but I still take the sandwich from her and pull a little bit of beef to feed to Frank, being careful not to give him any of the bread. I’m not sure if the gluten will affect me if he eats it, but it’s best not to find out.

“Where does the food go?”

“No idea,” I admit. “It’s one of the many mysteries of being a gorgon.” I wish I understood gorgon physiology, but it seems as if no one really does. Magic is an annoying answer, but it seems to be the true one.

“Like how you turn people into stone.”

I snort. “That’s not a mystery, I know exactly how to do that, I just don’t tell people.”

“How can I avoid it if you don’t tell me?”

I shrug. “It’s better if you don’t know.” Mostly because I know finding out runs the risk of her becoming afraid of me, and I don’t think I’d be able to cope with that, even if her newfound banshee powers are a lot more ominous than mine.

Someone approaches the bench beside us, and I look up to find Anja’s boyfriend taking his seat. “Afternoon,” Cethin says, wiggling his bat-like ears in Anja’s direction to make her giggle. She seems to find them cute.

“It’s twelve-fifteen,” I point out.

Cethin chuckles and puts an arm around Anja. “That’s afternoon.”

“Where’s your partner in crime?” I ask.

“Afan?” The look on the dark warlock’s face reveals that he knows exactly who I’m asking about, and it’s not Afan.

“Meic,” I correct. “I want to know if I need to prepare myself for the awkward fumbling or the onslaught of jokes about how I don’t even need to look at him in order to turn him rock hard.” The awkward fumbling for words is kind of charming, especially from someone who looks like Meic with his broad shoulders, ink-black skin, and the twin horns that jut proudly out of his forehead. The terrible dirty puns, not so much. I don’t mind the occasional well-timed one, but that’s not what he ever manages.

Anja chokes on her sandwich, but it might be to cover up her amusement.

To Cethin’s credit, he doesn’t laugh. “Meic got himself into trouble for saying something dumb during Monsters Throughout History.”

I snort. “What a surprise.”

“I hope he’s not in too much trouble,” Anja responds.

“I already took him a smoothie,” Cethin responds. “That way he won’t get too grumpy this afternoon.”

“Because Meic’s problem is clearly that he needs to get more of his five-a-day,” I mutter.

Cethin chuckles. “Yeah, the fruit is just what he needs, not the stuff that will stop him from turning into a mindless ghoul who would go on a rampage through the whole academy in search of human flesh.” He picks up a grilled sandwich and bites into it as if he hasn’t just said what he has.

“Meic’s a ghoul?” I ask, not able to keep the surprise out of my voice. I suppose that makes sense considering the impressive horns he sports, but I’ve always been taught that it’s rude to ask what someone is.

“You didn’t tell her?” Cethin asks Anja.

The banshee shrugs. “It’s not my place to. Though I figured most people knew, it’s not like he does much to hide it.”

I suppose she has a point there. Most people at the academy are fairly obvious about what they are, and I can’t say I’m any different with my nest of snakes for hair. I suppose I could take some kind of potion to cover them up, but I don’t really see the point. It’s not like doing that would change anything about who or what I am. Or the fact that I still wouldn’t be able to ignore the snakes, and I’d look a lot crazier talking to them if no one else can see them.

“I didn’t know,” I say. “But I won’t say anything.”

Cethin shrugs. “I don’t think it’s meant to be kept a secret.”

“Nothing stays secret here for long anyway,” Anja points out. “There’s always something coming out.”

“True,” I say. And if it isn’t about who is what, it’s about who is doing what with who. There’s never a dull moment at Blackthorn Academy.

I pick up one of my sandwiches and take a bite. The bread is a little dry and crumbly, but other than that, it’s fairly decent. Certainly better than suffering for the rest of the day from eating gluten. As if having snakes for hair wasn’t bad enough, I can’t eat a pretty standard food group either.

“What have you got after lunch?” Anja asks me.

“ Charms and Potions ,” I respond. “You had that this morning, right?”

She nods. “It was a good one, though I’m still not good at potions. Apparently, that’s normal for banshees.”

“Why don’t you drop it?” I ask.

She glances at Cethin. Right, it’s their only class together, no wonder she doesn’t want to stop taking it. “Everyone keeps telling me how useful it is,” she says instead of the real reason.

“Mmhmm.” I give her a look that says I don’t believe her.

“I’m serious,” she says.

“Keep telling yourself that, and at some point, it might even sound true,” I respond.

Cethin chuckles. “I don’t think I could drop Charms and Potions either.”

“All right, I don’t need to know anything else,” I say, cutting them off before they talk about whatever they’ve been getting up to in the Charms and Potions classroom on the nights Anja disappears from the dorm room. I haven’t asked any questions, mostly because it’s better to stay in denial about these things in case any of the academy staff start asking the wrong questions.

Or the right ones as the case may be.

I glance at the big clock on the wall and turn my attention back to my food when I realise that I only have another fifteen minutes or so to eat before I need to leave to go get to class. And being late isn’t an option.