Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,19

do before school starts on Monday. So of course, like productive adults, Mack and I spend the weekend binging Mack’s gift basket of goodies from her dads, painting each others’ nails, and gossiping. In her typical mysterious fashion, Eclipsa buzzes in and out all weekend, but when she’s here, she joins us.

It helps with my nerves, but by Sunday night, I can’t pretend this isn’t happening.

I’m entering the school as an Evermore student.

According to my schedule—and the hour-long meeting I had with Headmistress Lepidonis yesterday—I’m actually a hybrid student. Which is basically a fancy way of saying they don’t know where to put me.

I’m no longer simply mortal, but I’m not Fae either.

Apparently, the entire Fae council spent a weekend trying to decipher the laws to decide where to put me.

In the end, they decided I’m somehow a little bit of both. I deserve to learn with the other Evermore, but since I can handle iron I also get to train as a shadow.

Simply put, I’ll be attending shadow classes in the morning and Evermore classes in the afternoon. Only this time, I won’t be anyone’s bitch.

It’s ironic that my first year here, I would have given anything to not be Valerian’s shadow, and now, I’d give anything for the opposite.

“So,” Mack begins, twirling her bare foot above her. We’re lying in my bed with the balcony doors open, inhaling the honeysuckle and jasmine scented summer breeze. “Any thoughts on the Selection this year?”

A wire of anxiety constricts my breastbone. I’ve been so busy trying to catch up on my Evermore studies that I haven’t given much time to my duties as head student. “Here’s a thought. Make the Evermore parade in front of the shadows, naked, like prize pigs at a county fair.”

“Ooh. I know who I’m pinning my ribbon on.” Mack makes a crude gesture with her hands and hips, rocking the mattress.

“I’m fairly sure there isn’t a ribbon big enough for Dragon Boy.”

A loud rap booms from the door downstairs. Mack and I tumble from my bed in unison and rush down the hall.

“That has to be Richard and Jace!” Mack squeals as she uses her hip to knock me behind her. “They’re going to legit die when they see this place.”

We invited them over earlier but . . . “I thought they weren’t getting here until later tonight?”

“Obviously this lady’s pad made them change their mind.”

“Wait,” I call, rushing to catch up as a flicker of warning squeezes my chest.

But she’s already skidding across the tasseled rug and reaching for the door.

My Fae senses roar to life, and I know without an ounce of doubt that something bad is about to happen. Every bone aches with that knowing—a knowing so real, so insistent that I would stake my life on it.

Ignoring the rational part of my brain that says I’m about to do something highly illogical and embarrassing, I launch myself at Mack. My hands clamp down on her shoulders, and I use my momentum to catapult us both past the opening door. She tumbles into the far wall, and I can do nothing but brace myself as I follow.

My head collides with hers. Pain ricochets inside my skull before moving to my ribs where her elbow digs.

Groaning, I glare at the doorway, ready for anything.

Inara and the Six. Hellebore. A darkling invasion.

Instead, all I make out through my spinning vision is . . . a puff of hazy black? I blink, unsure if what I’m seeing is real or from my very probable concussion.

The dark cloud dissipates within seconds. Did I make that up?

“Why so violent?” Mack breathes.

I slide off my friend and lean against the wall. The feeling of foreboding is gone, replaced by total embarrassment.

“I don’t know—I felt something was wrong.”

Like a giant, disappearing cloud. Not.

Mack gingerly touches a growing red lump on her temple. “Your head is harder than Zinnia’s cornbread.”

“If she ever hears you say that you’ll have another lump to match that one.”

The soft flutter of wings draws my attention to Ruby. She’s zigzagging down the stairs, either half-asleep or drunk, her arms stretched wide around a bundle of Twizzlers from Mack’s care package. Her iridescent wings shimmer like sparkles around her.

She hovers in front of the air, sniffs, and then lets out the world’s most adorable sneeze. “Why are there cute little black death fungi on the porch?”

I massage my neck. “What’s black death?”

Mack’s gasp draws my attention. Her bronzed skin has blanched to match the eggshell color of