Chapter 40: Maybe She Wasn’t a Victim?

Blair dragged her feet, every step toward the armory feeling like she was walking to her own execution.

She really, really didn’t want to go to detention tonight. Not after this morning. The memory of boldly throwing a "tit for tat" comment right in Professor Feron’s face, made her want to hurl herself out a window.

Maybe he forgot, Blair tried to convince herself, chewing nervously on her thumbnail. Don’t crows have terrible memories? Wait, no, crows are incredibly smart and hold grudges forever. I’m doomed.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the doors open.

Blair braced herself for the sweltering heat, the towering piles of broadswords, and the piercing red eyes of her tyrant professor. Instead, she blinked in confusion.

Jack wasn’t there.

Sitting behind the desk in the center of the room was the tall, elegant avian beastwoman who had interrupted them this morning. She was hunched over the desk, furiously scribbling in a small, leather-bound diary, a downcast expression pulling at her striking features.

Blair stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Um... good evening, Professor?"

The beastwoman didn’t look up. Her pen just scratched harder against the paper.

Blair shuffled a few steps closer, unsure if she was supposed to just start polishing swords without being told. "I’m here for my detention?"

The scratching stopped. The avian beastwoman slowly lifted her head. Her dark eyes were red-rimmed and glossy.

"Can you believe he did that to me?" the woman asked, her voice cracking.

Blair froze. Her eyes widened, her brain frantically trying to figure out if this was a rhetorical question or a trap. "I... excuse me?"

"I have been trying to get his attention for months!" the beastwoman burst out, dropping her pen and throwing her hands up in the air. "Months! And this morning, I finally thought I had a breakthrough. He looked right at me and asked if I had any plans for tonight. I told him no! I cleared my entire schedule! I was so sure he was asking me out on a date!"

She let out a tragic, watery hiccup.

"But he didn’t want a date," she sobbed, dropping her face into her hands. "He just wanted me to cover his stupid detention shift!"

Blair stood there, frozen in awkwardness as the beautiful beastwoman cried into the desk. Her survival instincts told her to back away slowly, but her human empathy kicked in.

Blair took a hesitant step forward and awkwardly patted the air somewhere near the woman’s shoulder. "There, there. It’s... it’s okay."

The beastwoman’s head snapped up. She glared at Blair, her sadness instantly morphing into offended pride.

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "A loveless lesser couldn’t possibly understand what I am going through. I am in love with Jack. And I know, deep, deep, deep down, he likes me too. Why else would he ask me to cover his shift out of all the faculty?"

She sat up a little straighter, fluffing her hair, the delusion clearly perking her up for a fraction of a second. But just as quickly, her shoulders slumped again.

"Though... there is a rumor going around," the beastwoman groaned, burying her face in her arms again. "They say he went home early this morning. His suit was a mess and he looked exhausted. He obviously spent the night with a very powerful beastwoman. Why?! I could rock his world too!"

Blair let out a slow, silent breath.

Her heart, which had leaped into her throat at the mention of the rumor, settled back into her chest. A wave of relief washed over her. Thank goodness, Blair thought.

Blair quietly stood there while the woman sulked, eager to change the subject. "So... what should I do for detention tonight?"

The beastwoman didn’t even lift her head. She just waved her hand dismissively toward the corner. "Do whatever you want. I don’t care."

Trying very hard to hide her smile, Blair scurried over to the corner. Instead of reaching for the polish and the heavy broadswords, she pulled the library books from her canvas bag. She curled up on the stool, relishing the unexpected free time.

She flipped through the pages of the books, scanning the texts for anything resembling the creatures she had seen. Ashen gray skin. Disjointed limbs. No eyes. Needle teeth.

She found nothing.

Frustrated, she opened a book on ancient beast dialects, trying to sound out the guttural word the monster had hissed at her. Vra’kash. But the pages offered no translations, no phonetic matches. The word didn’t exist in any recorded beast language.

The two hours of detention flew by, leaving Blair exactly as lost as she had been when she started.

When the clock struck ten, Blair packed up her books, practically ran all the way back to her dorm, took a quick shower, and crashed into her bed.

She woke up with a jolt when her small alarm clock buzzed on her nightstand.

Blair slammed her hand down on the button, plunging the room back into silence. She threw off the covers. She felt pumped. The adrenaline of her reckless plan was already thrumming in her veins.

She dressed quickly in dark clothes and slipped out of the dormitory.

It was the very break of dawn. The morning air was biting and chilly, leaving a thin layer of damp moisture on her skin. The campus was eerily quiet, swathed in a heavy, rolling mist. She spotted a few beastmen in the distance, jogging along the paths and utilizing the early hours for their morning exercises, but Blair kept her head low, melting into the shadows of the stone walls.

If anything were to happen to her, this would be the perfect time for a beast to strike.

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her hoodie, her fingers wrapping tightly around a small can. It was a batch of homemade pepper spray she had secretly brewed during her chemistry lab. It wouldn’t stop a beastman permanently, but if she aimed right for their sensitive noses, it would dull their senses and blind them long enough for her to run.

Blair navigated the winding paths until she reached the sprawling Senior Faction mansion where the party had been held.

She gave the main house a wide berth, circling the perimeter cautiously to avoid drawing any attention from early risers. It had been a few days since the party; any evidence of Heather might already be gone, swept away by the groundskeepers or the wind. But she wasn’t going to give up.

She stepped past the tree line and entered the woods behind the estate.

The forest looked only slightly less ominous in the gray light of dawn than it had in the pitch black. The mist clung to the damp earth, muffling the sound of her footsteps as she carefully scanned the underbrush.

Ten minutes into her search, a flash of color caught her eye.

Blair hurried over to a thick patch of thorny bushes. Snagged on a low branch was a piece of shimmering pink fabric.

Blair reached out, carefully untangling it. It was Heather’s top.

She turned the fabric over in her hands, holding her breath as she inspected it. There were a few dirt smudges, but to her relief, there was no blood. It was possible Heather was still alive. Or, at the very least, she had been alive when she was taken into these woods.

"How do you know she didn’t go of her own free will?"

Blair’s entire body went numb.

The voice cut through the quiet morning mist from directly behind her, smooth and freezing cold.

Blair slowly turned around, clutching the pink fabric to her chest.

Professor Feron was standing a few feet away, the mist swirling around the polished leather of his shoes. He was dressed in a black trench coat, looking completely out of place in the damp woods.

"Good morning, Professor," Blair managed to squeak out, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Jack didn’t even look at her. He didn’t stop walking. He glided past her without another word, his dark gaze sweeping the tree line ahead.

Blair bit her bottom lip, her grip tightening on the pink top.

Jack’s question echoed loudly in her mind. Her own free will.

She had been so focused on the monsters that she hadn’t even considered the alternative. Heather was wildly ambitious. She had come to this academy specifically to secure a breeding contract. It was possible, even probable, that a wealthy beastman had simply made her a good offer, and she had walked into the woods with him willingly, leaving her clothes behind in a passionate rush.

Blair shook her head, trying to clear the creeping doubt. Either way, she had to confirm it.

The deeper she ventured into the woods, the thicker the fog became. It clung to her clothes like a damp, freezing blanket. She lost sight of Jack almost immediately, left with only the faint, snapping sounds of twigs in the distance to guide her.

She slowed her pace, stepping carefully to avoid the slick, moss-covered roots twisting across the forest floor. The back of her neck began to prickle. The sensation of being watched made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She quickly checked over her shoulder, but saw nothing but gray mist and shadows.

Thump. Thump. Rrrrgh.