4. Maven

After I knock,the door creaks open, and poor little Vivienne bursts into tears at the sight of me. She reaches out like she wants a shoulder to cry on, but panic shoots through me at the incoming touch.

Instead, I grasp her arms through her long sleeves and put on the softest smile I can muster.

"Can I come in?"

"K—Kenzie is m—missing," she hiccups, shaking her head hard. "We"ve l—looked everywhere, and I don"t know if she"s even still…"

She can"t finish the thought and begins sobbing again, the tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping freely.

Fuck.

I'm awful at comforting crying people.

I blame it on my upbringing since showing any significant amount of emotion around others was an invitation to get beaten to a pulp and fed to nightmarish creatures. Someone shedding tears out in the open is an entirely foreign concept to me.

It"s unbearably awkward for a moment as I let her go of her arms and glance behind her through the doorway. Morning sunlight shines through the windows in Kenzie"s apartment, lighting everything with a warm glow.

"Is…anyone else here?"

Preferably someone whose face isn"t leaking.

Dirk hears me with his shifter hearing and comes to the door. He's in just as bad shape as Vivienne, but he"s not crying hysterically. Thank the universe for that. He invites me in, and I enter their shared living and dining room area.

For a moment, I"m surprised that I don"t feel Crypt follow behind me—he"s been trailing me ever since I left their quintet apartment fifteen minutes ago. But then I notice the dreamcatcher dangling beside the front door of Kenzie"s apartment. There"s another one beside the large window in their dining room.

"Kenzie hung up a bunch of those right after she met your, uh…DeLune," Dirk says, scratching at his neck. Then his face crumbles. "Please—you"re her best friend. Do you have any idea where she is? We"ve looked everywhere. Everywhere. She just vanished without a trace and…"

His eyes grow moist, his cheeks ruddy. Oh, gods. If I don"t start talking, he"ll start crying, too.

It"s like a fucking pandemic that I am entirely unequipped to handle.

"I can find out what happened to her," I say quickly. "I just need some of her DNA."

Vivienne"s face lights up with hope, and she hurries into one of their other rooms, leaving Dirk and me alone. For a long moment, we"re both silent. Possibly because I"ve barely gotten to know Kenzie"s quintet since I didn"t want them to think of me as a friend.

I already care about Kenzie more than I"m comfortable with. I"m not about to start doing friends, plural.

My eyes stray to the many erotic paintings hanging up in their living room. Kenzie"s works. I"ve seen them before, but my attention lingers on an abstract water painting of a woman sandwiched between two masculine figures, her head thrown back in ecstasy and her hair swirling around them. It"s a beautifully sensual painting, but I have to jerk my attention away when I realize I"m envisioning myself in that painting.

Between any combination of four particular gorgeous legacies…

Who I should not be thinking about like this ever again.

My face feels too warm as I subtly examine several other paintings. There"s so much variety, so many positions I"ve never considered.

Because survival was my number one priority in the hellscape I called home, I kept any sexual urges under lock and key after I hit puberty. Except for the time five years ago when I let my curiosity get the best of me and decided to lose my virginity. But that experience hadn"t been beautiful or erotic like these paintings. Instead, it led to the worst memory of my entire life, which then led to me becoming…well, this.

After that, I"d forced myself to become more of a thing than a person. Any urges or emotions were kept deeply hidden. It was safer that way for everyone.

It"s still safer that way. You can"t have them, and they never actually wanted you anyway, I remind myself.

And yet, my eyes keep straying to those damn paintings. Especially the one with a woman sucking off an abstract array of cocks. I"ve never had a cock in my mouth. The basic concept behind it doesn"t sound enjoyable, but…is it?

Maybe I should find out. After all, I thoroughly enjoyed my first orgasms. I definitely want more of those. Who knows what other sexual experiences I might enjoy?

Bad Maven. Your purpose has nothing to do with enjoying things. Focus.

Finally, I shoot Dirk a sideways glance, needing to distract myself from my thoughts. He"s frowning after Vivienne, still roughly scratching at his neck. And his arm.

Does he have fleas or something? He"s a shifter, after all.

When he catches me looking, he stops and grimaces. "Uh...curses, am I right?"

Oh. Right.

I have no idea what Kenzie"s matches are cursed with, but I"m surprised Dirk had the guts to mention it. Most legacies are extremely hush-hush about how the Legacy Curse affects them. But if his curse is itching all the time, that seems kind of mild.

I change the topic for his sake. "Did Luka leave you two to fend for yourselves? His jackassery must be chronic."

Dirk shakes his head, scratching one of his palms. "No, he just went to get food from the dining hall since we didn"t have anything here during the lockdown yesterday. Actually, he"s been the one holding us together ever since we realized Kenzie was…"

His voice breaks, and he clears his throat, looking away. "Look, I was pissed when I found out Luka was such a dick to her before, and I was all for it when Kenzie told me about you hexing him. But then I realized Luka is just like…really, really bad at expressing himself. He"s not a bad guy. Definitely not nearly as bad as the rest of his family—I mean, his brother Levi was probably the most disgusting asshole in the world."

"Was?" I note. I"m only tolerating this small talk because chatter is infinitely preferable to him getting weepy again. "Is he deceased?"

"Yeah, he was found burned to a crisp less than a month ago. Even though they weren"t close, it"s been pretty brutal on Luka. He"s still in mourning."

Well. This is awkward.

Now that I think about it, that vampire I killed when I first came to Everbound did have some striking similarities to Luka. Maybe I should come clean to Kenzie about that incident after I find her.

Please let me find her.

Vivienne returns and triumphantly holds up a plastic bag that contains one pale strand of long, curly hair.

"Will this work? I found it on our bed."

"Yes." I accept the bag from her, careful not to touch her fingers. I can"t wait to get another pair of gloves from my room. Slipping the bag into Baelfire"s sweatshirt pocket, I turn to leave.

But just as I do, Luka opens the front door and blinks at me in surprise. He"s holding several bags of warm food in both arms. I don"t miss that he glances over Vivienne and Dirk protectively as if he"s worried I somehow hurt them in the brief time I"ve been here.

The fact that he"s wary is good. Maybe Dirk is right, and he"s not an unmitigated douchebag after all.

He sets the food on the nearby dining room table and glares at me. "You got a reason for being here? If it"s to lift that damn hex you put on my dick, don"t bother. The healers finally got rid of it, so fuck you very much."

I take it back. Douchebag is a mild term for him.

"Luka," Vivienne sighs. "Don"t be rude."

He folds his arms. "Whatever. What are you here for, Minerva?"

"I just said don"t be rude!" the petite air elemental chides.

"I wasn"t," Luka huffs. "I was just asking a fucking question."

Dirk snorts, leaning down to scratch one of his calves. "Calling people by the wrong name on purpose is rude, man."

Luka looks so confused that I could almost laugh. But the longer I stay, the longer I go without knowing whether Kenzie is alive, so I hold up the bag to show him the single strand of pale, curly hair.

"I"ll do a spell to look for her."

"We already asked another caster to try that shit," Luka gripes. "It did nothing."

Probably because they were using common magic, which I can barely use in general. Fortunately for Kenzie"s quintet, I"m far more skilled at other types of magic.

Specifically, the forbidden kind.

"No harm in trying," I muse, turning.

But Vivienne grabs my arm to stop me from leaving. Even through Baelfire"s sleeve, the familiar discomfort skitters over my body, prickling the back of my neck as I go stock still. She doesn"t notice that I"m immediately desperate to escape her touch. This is Kenzie"s most gentle match, who was just bawling her eyes out, so breaking her hand for touching me is probably not the best course of action.

"Wait! I just remembered that Kenzie and I got something for you. A dress. We went on a shopping spree a couple of days ago, right b—before she…"

Her eyes water again, and now I"m really uncomfortable. Trying to ignore the cold sweat breaking out over the back of my neck, I slip away from her grasp and retreat closer to the door.

"Thanks, but I"m good."

"But she said it was perfect for you for the Matched Ball, and that"s tonight! I"ll go get it. She was going to leave it in your dorm room as a surprise when you got back from Pennsylvania, so she wrote a note for you and everything," Vivienne adds before rushing out of the room again.

A note from Kenzie? I hesitate.

My skin is crawling from all the unintentionally nauseating touching I"ve been subjected to, but if I find out that Kenzie is gone for good…

I"ve never been sentimental, but suddenly, I want to read anything she left for me. After all, these may be her last words to me.

When Vivienne returns with a large pink shopping bag and a note, I accept the note first, trying my absolute hardest not to visibly flinch when her bare fingers brush against mine this time. I read quickly over the bubbly scrawl of words.

SURPRISE!

Okay, so I know I just bought you a dress a couple weeks ago, and you totally haven"t even worn it, but this one is so freaking gorgeous, and you are going to SLAY at the Matched Ball in this. It"s so your style, and it"s going to show off how hot you are (yes, I said it, you hot little monk), so please, please, please wear it even if it"s just to watch your guys" jaws drop (yes, I said it again, they"re totally your guys even if you keep denying it).

Love, your favorite pale-assed bestie

P. S. I call dibs on doing your hair and makeup! Let"s get ready together while we watch that sexy human-legacy forbidden love drama I told you about.

P. P. S. Just wait til you see my dress... ;) It makes my tits look WOWZA.

I crack a smile. It makes my tits look wowza. Of course, these would be Kenzie"s final words to me. Screw sentiment—this is much better.

When he sees my grin, Luka blanches. "You"re smiling? That"s fucking creepy. What did she even write to you?"

He reaches for the card, but I quickly slide it into the bag and take it from Vivienne, grabbing it from the bottom so as not to touch her again.

"Thank you," I tell the elemental sincerely. "I needed that."

Then I excuse myself and leave because it"s time to track down some ingredients for forbidden magic.

It takes breaking into twenty-three locked storage chests in a forgotten archive of the eastern library before I find what I need.

Flinging open the top of the chest, I wave away the dust and thank the universe when I see a bundle of vibrant orange phoenix feathers. They"re an annoyingly rare ingredient.

I grab the bundle and slip it into the bag thrown over my shoulder, which I grabbed from my dorm earlier.I also took the time to change into my own clothes, including a pair of soft leather gloves, so now I feel more like myself. Once again, it"s just me on a mission.

Well. Me and the incubus who I can feel watching my every move from Limbo.

I can"t see him, but Crypt hasn"t left my side even once since I left my dorm. At least he"s giving me the illusion of space, but something about his presence feels darker right now—as if he"s on edge as much as the others, liable to snap any moment.

The threat of that is oddly thrilling.

Best not to linger on that.

Quietly shutting the wooden storage chest, I double-check that I left no trace, aside from disturbing the dust in this barely visited room. Satisfied, I ascend a long flight of winding steps to the main level of the eastern library. It"s empty right now, with not even a faculty member in sight. No one cares about the library when the entire school is in an uproar over the lockdown and the Matched Ball tonight.

Fifteen minutes later, after avoiding all high-traffic hallways, I"m back in my dorm room, sitting on the floor with the lights off and a candle lit on my desk. I stare at the ingredients in front of me. Phoenix feather, Kenzie"s hair, hag"s root, onyx dust, a dagger, a bowl for collecting my blood…and all my thriving potted plants.

Which I"ll have to sacrifice for this spell.

I sigh as I slip off my gloves and brush my fingers over their leaves. I don"t like killing the plants I worked so hard to cultivate. Lillian is the one who got me into botany—at the time, she"d fussed over what she"d called the "barbaric, inhumane" way I was being raised, with no respect for the sacredness of life. She helped me build an indoor garden so that I would learn to appreciate the effort it takes to simply live, even for a plant.

But it didn"t take me long to figure out that plants can fuel my magic, too. I don"t get the same buzz of power as I do when I take the life of a monster or legacy, but it"s enough to get by when I have limited options.

Like right now.

Raising my hands, I whisper a common magic spell that sets fire to the potted plants. They steam and shrivel, dead within seconds as the room fills with the scent of burnt herbs. Grabbing the dagger, I make a long, diagonal slice through the palm of my left hand. I keep my voice to a barely audible whisper since Crypt is probably still lurking outside my dorm room, and he"s already overheard me through the door once.

"Obsecro te pro anima huius sanguinis."

As I speak, the room darkens, chilling around me as the bitter tang that always accompanies necromancy fills my mouth. Of the three kinds of magic I can tap into, this is the most taxing—because only necromancers are supposed to be able to wield it.

I"m not a necromancer.

But apparently, all the rituals I had to go through to become this changed me in ways they never expected.

I chant the words again as I hold my stinging hand over the bowl, feeling a macabre thrill as I watch my blood splatter over the tendrils of the bright orange feather. Adding the onyx dust, hair, and hag"s root, I whisper the forbidden words again to complete the illegal life-force-searching spell.

Malicious, lifeless power pulses through my body and swirls around the bowl in the form of black smoke. All color leeches away from everything in the bowl before the phoenix feather bursts into green fire.

I exhale a harsh breath and squeeze my eyes shut, ready to collapse from how taxing that spell was…but also from pure relief.

Alive.

The feather catching fire means Kenzie is still alive. Now I just have to find her.

And to do that, I"m going to find that godsdamned changeling and show it just how much it should not have fucked with someone I happen to care about.

The green fire fizzles out, and I glance down at my fingertips, which are now blackened and numbed from the necromancy. The cut on my hand is still bleeding, but I make no move to wrap it because the weight of that ritual presses on my chest like a frozen anvil. I overextended myself, and now my eyes can barely stay open.

But it was worth it. Now I know Kenzie is still alive somewhere.

Pulling myself onto my bed, I instantly pass into a fatigued sleep so deep that it"s almost dreamless. Almost. The nightmares still catch up to me, and in the end, I"m trapped in their grasp, reliving old fears and past traumas that claw me to tatters.

When I finally startle awake, trying to catch my breath, my muscles are wired, and cold sweat is beaded on my forehead. I sit up, needing to work off this tension but grimacing at my burnt, scabbed hands. I don"t have enough magic to try healing myself right now—not to mention the spell I"ll need to use to track down the changeling.

I need to refuel my magic soon.

Dragging myself from the bed to peek out one curtain, I realize I"ve slept for hours, and it"s only a short time until the Matched Ball. From everything Kenzie told me about the Matched Ball, it"s an excuse for quintets to dress up and show off their gods-given groups for the first time. The dance will no doubt involve posturing, preening, alcohol, small talk, and copious amounts of PDA.

I would rather peel off my own eyelids than attend.

But I hesitate, glancing at the pink bag sitting on my desk. Kenzie was beyond excited about this frivolous activity. She likely would have dragged me along and made me try the punch or whatever shit they"ll serve. She would"ve tried to make me dance, too. It would have been pure fucking torture.

What a shame to miss out on that.

Plus, the Immortal Quintet will be there, so I'll have my first chance to analyze my targets and decide which to take out next. If the changeling is still on Everbound"s premises, trapped here like the rest of us—which I hope is the case—then it might attend the mandatory dance to blend in. I can hunt it down to get answers and revenge.

Maybe I should go.

Except my matches will also be there.

The idea of facing them again has me kicking myself for flashing them before I left earlier. I only did it to stop Silas from saying anything else that would affect me. I"ve been unable to keep my emotions in check ever since I revived. Either nightshade root powder has emotion-enhancing properties I"ve never heard of, or all the years I"ve spent shoving down how I feel is coming back to bite me in the ass at the most inopportune time.

In an ideal world, I would have been long gone by now, which theoretically would have made getting over them easier. But if I"m stuck here, where the Immortal Quintet might sniff me out, then my top priority is blending in with the other legacies for now.

Which means…playing along with my so-called quintet.

Fine. But that doesn"t mean I"m going to play nicely.

With a sigh, I reach into the pink bag and pull out the dress Kenzie believed would be perfect for me.

Oh, damn.

She was right. This is very me.

The dress is a gossamer black masterpiece, lightweight with a halter top that ties behind the neck and looks like a lace choker. The skirt is layers of shredded tulle ending in fluttering tendrils beneath a corset-like midsection. It"s backless, but I"m relieved that the halter top means it will cover the center of my chest where my scar is.

I run my hands over the fabric, enchanted by its dark beauty. Rechecking the bag, I also find two black lace opera gloves, long enough to reach past my elbows. They'll hide my blackened fingertips and scab until I get the chance to heal myself later.

"So annoyingly thoughtful," I murmur, shaking my head.

Once I find Kenzie, I"ll find a way to repay her for such a melancholically perfect gift.

But for now…

My so-called quintet has fucked with my head enough. It"s time to settle the score.