A Different Kind of Fight

DELLA

Ignoring everyone, I return to the equipment, and Sorin and Micha come up to sit with me.

“Hey, guys,” I greet them, smiling.

“You look better,” Sorin says, sounding cheerful.

“Thanks?” I laugh.

“You okay?” Micha asks, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” I assure him.

He looks like he’s about to argue, but I leave them and head over to a yoga mat, lying in a plank pose. Usually, I read while I do this. Maybe I’ll bring a book next class. Or maybe I’ll just start doing them in my room.

“All right! If you’re not staying here for power training, go change!” the instructor announces. I stay where I am, watching as Kade walks over. He lies in a plank right beside me without a word. I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips.

Soon, we’re interrupted by a shrill whistle, and the instructor is yelling to a group about power training. I jog over with Kade to listen.

“Today, we’re going to practice finding the center of our power again. So, everyone sit down and start your deep, relaxing breaths,” Professor Coach bellows. Yes, he’s shouting at us to relax. This man deserves a medal.

I find a spot and sit cross-legged, feeling like I’m back in kindergarten. Demon kindergarten, that is.

I start taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out. It’s so boring! I need something to do! Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

“You seem pretty angry for someone who’s meditating,” Micha whispers.

“I hate meditating. I need to ~do~ something,” I mutter.

“Then think about what we’re looking for in the library,” he suggests.

“All right.” I sigh, focusing on the black wisps and sludge, the way they feel, taste, and move. And then I feel it. The pit. My center. It’s not awake or hungry. It’s just there.

It’s not as scary as I thought. It feels nice. Warm, dark, heavy, yet fragile. It’s just like the orb from The Doctor’s office.

I open my eyes in surprise, a smile spreading across my face.

Professor Coach approaches. “You figure it out?” he asks.

“That’s tricky,” I admit.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it is. Now, your goal is to access it without feeding,” he says casually, as if I haven’t killed people before.

“That makes me nervous,” I confess, my heart pounding at the thought.

“Let’s go to my office. We’ll figure out what’s best,” he suggests, leading me to his office. I take a seat, and he sits behind his desk. “What’s making you so nervous?”

“I’m not a Sevens demon. I don’t know what I am, but I’ve killed people with my hunger before,” I explain. “I don’t think I can access it safely.”

“I’m a fear demon. I’m not a Sevens demon, either. My powers have killed before, too. You just have to take your time. That’s what I had to do,” he explains.

I nod, trying to muster the courage to face it. “Thank you,” I say, standing up.

I’m heading back to the class when someone steps in front of me. It’s The Doctor!

“Miss Hearst. May I speak with you?” he asks, his voice hard. His aura is tinged with red.

“Um, sure.” I follow him out into the hallway and down to his office in strained silence. “What’s going on?” I ask as the door closes.

“You were living in an abandoned asylum?” he asks.

“Uh…”

“Why? What were you thinking? You’re a young woman! It’s not safe! That’s not a home!” he rants. He’s angry, but I’m getting pretty damn livid myself. Does he think I don’t know any of this?

“You need to calm down,” I warn.

“How can I? Oz says you asked him to go to your place to pick up the rest of your stuff, and we end up in a fucking mental hospital, Della!” he shouts.

“I never asked him to do that. I have all my things in my backpack,” I explain, trying to keep my temper. “I killed someone when I was fourteen with my demon stuff. My mom tried to put me in a mental ward. I ran,” I explain simply. It was nowhere near simple.

“And in those seven years, you never found a tolerable place to live?” he asks incredulously.

“No. It’s hard to get a job without an address, and you can’t get an address without a job. So I made do. Besides, it’s easier when I can’t stay in one spot for long,” I say, keeping my eyes on the floor.

“I apologize. I saw how you were living…,” he says stiffly, but doesn’t even bother to finish his sentence.

“I get it. But you don’t have the right to yell at me for what I’ve had to do to survive. I’m not some kid you have to protect or feel guilty about. I grew up a long time ago.” I take a step toward the door.

“It’s still no place for a person like you,” he states. A person like me? What the hell does that mean?

“Don’t do things without consulting me first. Oz is going to get an earful, too,” I fume. Dammit, Oz.

He lets out an audible sigh, then says, “I won’t. We were just trying to help.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“So you can yell at me some more? No. I’m good,” I snap. “I’m going back to class.”

“Yes, I think that’s best.” He nods. “Also, you have a meeting with the headmaster at eight tonight.”

“Great.” I roll my eyes.

For someone so good-looking, it’s a shame he’s an asshole.

I walk out of the office and straight into a wall of muscle—Kade.