When Maven sits, with Crane and Decimus sitting between her and Frost, I drift over and take the aisle seat beside her. I'd like to stay unseen longer to continue terrorizing the legacies who are scanning the room in acute panic, but severe pain wracks my bones, and I quickly slip out of Limbo while hiding my grimace. The effects of moving back and forth between planes too often feel far worse in Limbo, and I'm out ofreveriumto take the familiar edge off. So, I suppose I'll be attending this class in the mortal realm.
Gently, I brush some of Maven's hair away so I can examine where she hit her head, feeling a wave of satisfaction when she doesn't push my hand away. She doesn't acknowledge me, either, as if choosing to pretend nothing happened as she watches the flummoxed professor below.
My keeper isn't bleeding, but I'd still like to resurrect that bitch and kill her again for good measure.
"DeLune," the caster says again at the front of the room.
I look at him. "Problem, Professor?"
"Killing is prohibited while classes are in session."
"Oh, dear me, whatever have I done?" I drawl.
He's exasperated. Of course, he is. After all, he may be able to punish these legacies, save perhaps Frost, but there is no controlling me. All manner of harsh forms of punishment were attempted when I was younger, but I made sure everyone knew that nothing and no one could discipline me. Whenever they applied pressure, I merely stopped caring or got even.
"Perhaps I should have your keeper clean up your mess alone as punishment," he suggests, raising a brow.
Although the threat doesn't seem to bother Maven, Decimus growls, and the sharp chill that fills the air tells me Frost is equally annoyed, even if he's feigning disinterest.
"She hurt our keeper before you explained the classroom rules," Silas points out. "He just responded to the threat. I highly suggest dropping this matter and moving on, Crowley."
Good gods. NowCraneis defending my actions?
This newfound camaraderie is too strange. I much prefer getting his eye to twitch and watching him descend further into madness.
Oh well.
I blow Crane a kiss to try to get a rise out of him, but he ignores me as the professor rubs his face, appearing eager for this class to be over.
"Fine. Just get the body out, someone."
The dead girl's quintet quickly gets to it, their faces ashen—except one of them, who glares viciously in our direction. They carry the body out, and I take the time to survey the rest of the room. I spot a few quintets side-eying me, but they look away if I look at them directly.
"There will be nomoreviolence, maiming, killing, or, gods forbid,cell phonesin this classroom," the professor snaps. "I don't care that communications are under a magic chokehold, just keep those damn contraptions out of my sight."
"Amen," Maven mutters under her breath, making me laugh quietly.
Crane and Decimus also look amused, and I note that even though he acts bored, Frost's gaze keeps flicking to our keeper as if her presence draws him as intensely as it calls to me.
Poor, pitiful tosser.
Still, if he ever hurts Maven again, unintentionally or not, I'll tear him to shreds.
The professor moves on quickly, announcing that for the first two weeks, he will cover all the monsters and creatures we will be fighting at the Divide if we survive until graduation. Typically, I would tune it out and observe Maven to my black heart's content.
But now, I share a small glance with Crane and Decimus as the professor starts his lecture on Nether creatures. Anything about the Nether is worth learning about twice over because now we know that Maven, against all odds, came from that cesspit.
"Now," the professor begins, looking over the class. "Let's see how many types of shadow fiends you can list off the tops of your heads."
Immediately, students offer their input. Wraiths, ghouls, the Undead, banshees, phantoms. A tall shifter sitting two rows in front of us raises his hand.
"There are still demons in the Nether, right? Do they get into the Divide?"
The professor nods. "Quite frequently, unfortunately. Many of them find ways to slip into the mortal realm and blend in amongst humans. Not many other full-blooded monsters or shadow fiends can do that—save changelings, perhaps."
Maven huffs so slightly that it's almost unnoticeable.
Another student raises their hand. "One of my moms died in the Divide, and they told me it was because of a shade. What the fuck is a shade, anyway?"
