Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,51

close he is to me. His shining eyes meet mine, and he takes a step closer, the distance between us narrowing…

Until we’re interrupted by a familiar voice. “What do we have here?”

I whirl around, heart hammering, to see President Hawthorne standing at the end of the hall. How long has he been there? Has he heard us talking?

He smiles, striding down the hall to where we are. “Ms. Brix,” he says, nodding to me before turning to Silas. “Mr. Aconite. What are you two doing in the West Wing? Shouldn’t you be at lunch with the others?”

Silas and I stare at each other for a minute, and then I blurt out the only thing I can think of: “I’m sorry, President Hawthorne. I, ah… I asked Silas to give me a few pointers on dragon shifting. It’s the form I’ve been having the most trouble with.” For an extra pinch of sympathy, I add, “It’s embarrassing seeing all the other kids able to do it when all I can do is breathe fire.”

“I see,” says Hawthorne, crossing his arms. “You do realize that unsupervised shifting is against the rules?”

“Yes,” Silas says, stepping forward. For a moment, his eyes flash as he stares at Hawthorne. “We weren’t actually shifting, though. I just wanted to give her some theoretical tips, you know?”

I nod eagerly, realizing how hollow the excuse sounds but unable to think of anything else that will get us out of this jam. God only knows what the Academy staff would do if they overheard a student conspiring to break into the registrar’s office…

Mr. Hawthorne looks between the two of us for a moment, his eyes eventually settling on me. “Ms. Brix,” he says slowly, “I’d like to have a word with you in my office.”

“But--”

“Now, if you please.” Hawthorne glances at Silas for another moment, expression darkening, but all he says is, “Mr. Aconite, I suggest you go to the cafeteria. Lunch will be over soon and we can’t have anyone going hungry.” He beckons to me and I reluctantly begin to follow.

Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Silas staring after us. Our eyes meet for a moment before he turns and retreats away down the hall.

Chapter 22

The sound of our footsteps echoing down the hall is deafening. I cast a nervous glance toward Hawthorne, whose expression is stoic. He doesn’t say anything as he leads me back towards the main faculty wing, where a large wooden door with frosted glass paneling leads into an enormous office. If he was going for intimidation when he decorated the place, he succeeded. Against the far wall is a tall oak desk that could easily be a hundred years old. The window shows a view of the area beyond the immediate campus where the dark, quiet forest lurks on the horizon.

“Please have a seat,” Hawthorne says, indicating the chair facing the desk. He takes a seat on the other side and folds his hands on the table, a placid smile on his face.

Slowly I do as I’m told, my heart in my throat and my body suddenly feeling stiff. How much did he hear of my conversation with Silas? I’ve already had detention once, and I haven’t even been here a full term; could this kind of thing be grounds for expulsion? Then what will I do?

As a whirlwind of dreadful possibilities swirls through my mind, I manage to clear my throat and ask in a small voice, “So, what did you want to talk to me about, President Hawthorne?”

He laughs. “Relax. You look like you’re going to faint. You’re not in trouble.” I feel the knot in my stomach relax, if only a little. “To be honest, Millie--can I call you that?” Swallowing, I nod, and he continues. “To be honest, Millie, I’ve wanted to sit down with you for a while, just to get a sense of how you’re settling in.”

“Oh.” I blink, the tension leaving my shoulders. He really didn’t overhear us… did he? I want to believe he didn’t, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that gives me pause.

“Yes,” Hawthorne says. “I think it’s fair to say that you’re a special case, wouldn’t you?”

Clearing my throat again, I nod. “I guess so, yeah.”

“I mentioned when we first met that hybrid shifters are exceedingly rare--so much so that nowadays, people tend to believe they don’t exist… or fear them.” His dark eyes meet mine, and I shrink under his gaze. “I heard about the fight you