Witch Born - LJ Swallow Page 0,72
loud chatter and laughter, but as I approach I hear yelling. Two mids shove past me when I stop to listen, and when I reach the room I stand in the doorway staring in shock.
Zeke stands on a table, foot on another kid’s chest and claws extended. The guy below him cries out for help but nobody approaches. I watch in horror as a second kid—Jared from gardening class—launches himself across the room and jumps onto Zeke’s back.
Zeke roars with a sound somewhere between animal and human before bucking Jared from his back. He spins around and lashes out, his claws slashing the other shifter’s chest. Instead of backing off, a glazed-eyed Jared lunges at him again, blood seeping through his shirt.
Nobody moves or helps—even the mids stand and watch.
“Stop them!” I shout at the one closest to me. He’s half a metres taller than Zeke, his build and the brown fur spreading from his neck and halfway across his face always reminded me of a bear.
He smiles at me. “Nah.”
Omigod. “Zeke!” I scream out and charge across the hall.
Zeke is covered in slash marks too, and with each blow from him, his skin becomes a burnt orange and the stripes stand out further on Zeke’s body. My mouth parches. Is Zeke shifting?
“Zeke!” His eyes turn to mine and I take a sharp breath. His unusual coloured eyes are a deeper amber and there’s no recognition in them.
Jared staggers before throwing himself at Zeke again. Zeke turns and pounces, landing on his chest with an arm raised above his unmoving, silent opponent.
“Stop!” Marcus’s voice booms into the room and he and Francesca stand side by side. Marching over, he shoves at Zeke, who falls to the floor. Marcus snatches the other kid by the shirt and turns to glare at Francesca. She holds a hand over her mouth, face pale.
I catch Marcus’s words as clearly as if he’d spoken, the heated emotions projecting them loud enough for my weakened magic to hear.
This is your fault.
Francesca pushes past the guards and disappears through the door.
“Take him!” snarls Marcus at the guards. “Get the kid into the infirmary before we have another death on our hands.”
Zeke now stands in the corner, snarling, crouched, ready to spring again. The bear-like mid stomps over, and before Zeke can move, has him in a headlock.
“Is Jared dead?” whispers a witch to the girl she’s with.
“Maybe,” she says non-committally.
A pale Jared staggers to his feet. He slips to his knees leaving a streaked, bloody handprint on the shining white table.
As the mid guard drags a blood-covered Zeke by, Zeke meets my eyes again.
They’ve dropped back to their usual colour and his claws are gone, but this isn’t a guy I know. There’s no recognition. No life.
No Zeke.
Chapter Forty-One
The mids command the students to disperse and I stumble from the room, looking back at the scene. Already, another mid has arrived with a mop and bucket, grumbling about his task as he shoves through the crowd.
The murmurs over how Zeke has his powers back grow and others begin to question whether theirs will come back too.
Suddenly, something hits as hard as Zeke hit Jared.
This place is killing people.
I don’t care that Marcus never summoned me to his office; I’m going to him. Fury propelling me onwards, I storm through the academy to his room. Screw that I’m missing class. I have to confront him.
Angry voices echo down the hall and I pause before turning the corner towards the offices.
“How is this happening?” snaps Marcus’s voice. “I’ve lost someone valuable.”
A woman’s voice replies too softly for me to hear.
“They don't matter—we don't need the weak ones. But we bloody needed Zeke. I was working on him and now he’s out of control. That other kid almost died.”
My mouth dries. Zeke, who’d agreed to work with Confederacy.
Samuel and Jared. The ones who had extra time with Marcus and Francesca.
Gone.
My heart hammers as I debate whether to turn and run before I’m discovered or try to hear more.
“Do you think I want him disposed of? No. He was part of the plan to take down the fucking Blackwood hybrid.”
That I do know. I take a shuddery breath. Disposed of?
Again, Francesca speaks quietly.
“I’m talking to Simeon. He needs to tell Oskar Petrescu that his little scheme isn't working. Too many kids are badly affected; pull back on the magic.”
I don’t want to be seen, but I also don't want to head to class. I edge back down the hallway and wait,