Raven and the Dancing Tiger (16 page)

For an eternity Peter stood in that goodness, tasting and being tasted, his heart beating faster than he'd ever imagined, soaring higher than Cai could take them.

But he knew he had to step back. It would be easy, too easy, to distract Sally, to put some calming magic into his palms and persuade her to go further. Not that he would ever do such a thing, not to any woman and particularly not to Sally.

Never to Sally. He wasn't like his dad.

So Peter pulled back, going from open-mouthed kisses back to chaste ones, finally ending with a shaking sigh, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing hard, unable to go forward or back just yet. He dropped his hands along her waist and just squeezed.

Sally nodded, her head moving both of theirs. "Yes," she said softly. "Thank you." Then she drew back.

Peter found himself following suit, though he didn't let go, not yet.

"Call me tomorrow," Sally said as she took that last step, breaking out of his hands.

"I will," Peter said. "Maybe we can go hang out in the park or something."

"I'd like that. Maybe a picnic lunch?"

"Sounds great. I'll call you." Peter hesitated. He didn't want to leave.

Cai gave an unhappy caw.

"See you tomorrow," Sally said, reaching forward, past Peter, and opening the door again.

Peter nodded. "Good night. Sweet dreams."

"Very sweet tonight," Sally assured him.

Peter stepped backwards out into the hall.

"Bye," Sally said with a little wave, then closed the door.

Peter turned to go, then stopped himself. He pressed his hand against Sally's door. He couldn't leave a bit of his presence there; it wasn't his space, or his door. But he still tried to leave—something. Something that would warn him if she were ever in danger. He and Cai would break all speed records ever recorded to get there. Just enough of a presence that he could feel it.

Then he walked down the hall, though he wanted to skip. He continued walking down the street, his hands firmly in the pockets of his hoodie, though he wanted to fly.

He had found his mate. Everything was going to be fine.

Petie tumbled out of the school bus with the rest of the kids, eagerly looking around. He'd only ever visited Ravens' Hall during the summer before. While most of the trees close to the hall were evergreens, brilliant splotches of red, orange, and yellow fanned out along the horizon. The wind was about as cold as Petie had expected and planned for with his heavy jeans, boots, and sweater jacket. The blue sky was as eternal as ever.

Cai gave it a soft caw of greeting.

Petie was suddenly glad that he'd listened to his dad and come up on Friday, before classes started on Monday. He was going to get in some good flying before he had to start studying.

A heavy hand landed on Petie's shoulder. He jumped, squawking, and turned to see Jesse standing there.

Jesse raised his hands and took a step back. "Whoa, there, Petie-Peter. It's just me."

Petie shook himself, shoving Cai back.

Friend,
he insisted.

"Just Peter, now," he said out loud, reminding himself as he stepped forward and awkwardly held out his hand.

Jesse grabbed his hand and pulled him into a bro hug, one arm tight around his neck.

Peter absorbed the warmth of his friend, as well as the willing forgiveness, before stepping back.

"Just Peter, huh? When
didja
sprout up?" Jesse asked, looking Peter up and down.

"This spring," Peter said, liking how he and Jesse were now eye-to-eye.

Jesse was a bright patch against the white background of the school, in a flame-red flannel shirt-coat that was new. He still wore dirty khaki jeans and sneakers with no socks.

"When did you get here?" Peter said as they walked to the back of the bus to get Peter's suitcases.

"Never left."

"You love it here that much?" Peter asked, surprised. The year before last, the last summer Peter had been to Ravens' Hall, just before he started high school as a freshman, Jesse was always being punished for something. Nothing the prefects did curbed his mischief.

"
Naw
. My mom works, like three jobs, just to make ends meet. They don't charge her nothing for my room here, or my food. It's just cheaper for me to stay."

Peter couldn't help his shiver. He couldn't imagine always staying here, surrounded by cold rock wall and the empty valley below. He loved the mountains and the blue sky, but he loved the city as well, all the different people and smells, the food and the bands.

"How did you know I'd be on this bus?" Peter asked as Jesse grabbed two of his bags.

"I didn't. I'm supposed to be helping the new kids get settled in."

Jesse rolled his eyes and Peter shook his head. The prefects must be getting desperate if they thought sending Jesse out to greet the newbies was a good idea.

"You here all year?" Jesse asked as Peter picked up his two other bags.

"Yeah. Three years, actually," Peter admitted with a sigh. His last three years of high school.

"This is my last year, thank you, Wynne," Jesse told Peter. Then he cocked his head to the side. "That why you weren't here this summer? 'Cause you'd be coming now?"

They turned and started dragging Peter's bags back toward Ravens' Hall.

Peter nodded. "It got…bad, for while. Kept losing control," he added softly.

"I noticed," Jesse said, bumping Peter's shoulder. "You really came at me when I startled y'all back there."

Peter nodded, still ashamed.

"But, you know, when your hormones settle, it might get easier."

"Really?" Peter asked. His dad hadn't said anything about that. Maybe he wouldn't have to be here so long, so far away from his friends and his family.

"That's what they keep telling me," Jesse said. "Though I
ain't
seen it yet."

"Sucks to be us," Peter said. He shook his head, resigned to his fate.

Being a teenager and a raven warrior at the same time truly did suck.

* * *

Peter made himself put the copy of his class schedule down on the desk in his room, though his hands trembled with the effort to let it go and not shred it into ten thousand pieces. It had shown up while he'd been at breakfast that Saturday morning, lying on the cold tile floor when he'd walked back in, like a white slug on the clean gray tile.

Warrior training. Every day. First thing at stupid o'clock in the morning.

And history. And English. And other idiotic classes.

No charms.

Magic was Peter's first love. Just thinking about it made his palms itch, made him want to rub them together, to let the magic flow out of his skin and his soul and into everything around him.

Why were the prefects punishing him? Why was magical training being denied him? Was it because he was so unstable?

Peter paced around his room, his cell, where he'd be for the next three years.

Without magic.

Cai cawed brashly, ready to fight for his territory, his rights, his anything—everything.

Peter let Cai's anger flood into him, welcoming it. He knew he should calm Cai down, but he couldn't care just then.

He stripped off his T-shirt and kicked off his jeans, underwear, and socks. He barely got the balcony door open before launching himself at the sky.

Peter's own scream of rage mingled with the harsh caw Cai gave; then he fell back, cushioned by strong wings and blue skies.

* * *

Peter came back to himself as he stumbled back into his darkened room. He shook with cold, exhausted. The sun had set behind him, though it wasn't full night yet.

How long had he been out, flying off his rage? It felt longer than just the one day. But his desk stood undisturbed, no notes. He ran trembling fingers along the doorframe. No one had come in while he'd been gone. Then why was he so tired?

Peter poked at Cai, but he sat like a stone, head tucked under his wing.

After taking a steaming hot shower, Peter dressed in a T-shirt, a thermal shirt, and a loose flannel shirt over that, plus thick socks and his warmest sweats. He finally felt like his skin was his own.

Soft chimes sounded in the hall, announcing the last dinner shift. Peter hurried down to the cafeteria.

"Hey," Jesse called to him, leaning against the doorway, obviously waiting for him.

"Hey," Peter said, getting into line. He picked up the red plastic tray and nearly started gnawing a corner of it.

What had Cai gotten into?

"You okay?" Jesse asked quietly as they sat at a table by themselves, far away from the other students.

Peter shook his head as he started to shovel
french
fries into his mouth. "Went for a spin this morning," Peter started, unsure what else to say.

"Yeah, I saw."

Peter blinked and looked at him. "What?"

Jesse grimaced. "Part of seeing to the newbies. Sometimes they just up and decide to fly home."

"Back to Seattle?" Peter squawked. He wouldn't do that.

"
Shh
," Jesse said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "That's what it looked like. Straight west."

"You turned me back?" Peter guessed, shivering. Were he and Cai not aligned anymore?

"Hell no. Couldn't keep up. You're a fast little shit."

"Then what—"

"I kept after you, calling. You turned yourself around sometime after I lost you."

Peter stopped eating, and just stared at his hands. "What does it mean?" he asked after a few moments.

"Nothing," Jesse scoffed. "It means you don't really
wanna
be here, and your raven soul knows that. Was trying to help."

Peter nodded, relieved. They'd both left. Peter could admit that. But Cai had come back, too, on his own.

They were aligned. They weren't a half-breed.

* * *

After dinner, Peter wanted to just drag himself into bed, but Jesse just wouldn't leave, so they ended up sprawled in the hallway outside Peter's room. Old-fashioned lamps that looked like candles lined the walls and cast bright blue light against the beige halls. Cai judged them too small to perch on comfortably, but they'd do in a pinch. The carpet was thin and hard, dark enough not to show the stains and footprints of all the kids who stomped on it. Peter hoped that next year he'd be able to get a room on a higher floor: he could still smell the cafeteria and the cooking grease from there.

"So what classes you got?" Jesse asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Warrior training. Every morning. And no charms. It was the only class I was looking forward to."

"No one has charms for a month or more," Jesse told him.

"What? Why? What happened?"

Jesse grinned and stood up. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweats, then jerked his head, indicating they should walk somewhere together.

Peter scrambled to his feet with a quiet grunt. He'd flown hard and his muscles were stiff. He still followed Jesse's lead, down to the end of the hallway.

Jesse stopped just before the fire door leading to the staircase. "Y'all seen these?" Jesse asked, looking up.

"No," Peter said. It looked like a small surveillance camera mounted to the wall: A squat, beige box with a black lens about the size of a nickel on the end. "I don't remember these from before," Peter said.

Cai cawed in agreement. He didn't recognize it, and he always identified good perches on smooth human walls.

"Yeah, that's right. They came in last fall. Now, I don't know if this'll work, but…"

Jesse pulled out his hands and started rubbing them together quickly, then he raised them until they were directly under the camera.

Peter stepped back as a spark arced from Jesse's hands to the machine.

"Cool, huh?" Jesse said with a grin, bringing his hands back down.

"What if they saw?" Peter asked, grabbing Jesse's arm and pulling him away.

"
Naw
. They're all dead. Any kind of magic fries '
em
out," Jesse said proudly.

"So what do they have to do with the charms class?" Peter asked, looking over his shoulder at the camera.

Its dead black eye stared back.

"So they thought they'd try to harden '
em
, right?" Jesse said, settling back down next to Peter's door. "They experimented with one and they thought they got it to work. So they took a bunch of '
em
to the Charms Room."

"What happened?"

"That many of those cameras all together, with the magic in there—" Jesse
tsked
and shook his head. "Sparks. Lots of sparks. And fire, like you
ain't
seen before. Blue shit they couldn't put out. So the Charms Room is closed 'til they fix it."

"Ah," Peter said, nodding. He felt better, now, knowing that it hadn't been him, that the prefect wasn't slighting him and his education. He looked back down the hall, his eyes narrowed.

Cai grumbled but helped.

More charms than usual hung between the lights, dark spots on the plain walls. "You know they don't need cameras to watch us, right?" Peter asked, turning his gaze back to Jesse, who shrugged.

"Spells have to be maintained. Cameras are easier. And cheaper."

Peter nodded. He knew what Jesse said was true.

He still wondered why so many charms now lined their halls, why the prefects felt they had to watch the students so closely.

* * *

Peter was surprised to see Chris and the other troublemaker in the Warrior Room when he arrived first thing Monday morning, still yawning. He hadn't seen them at any meals or in the hallways. The Warrior Room looked the same as it always had, with dark wood floor and walls and many shiny weapons. It also still smelled of too many sweating boys and torn feathers.

Chris sat with his head down, his friend standing guard, as if trying to shelter him from all who came.

As soon as Peter sat to toe off his sneakers, Chris' head snapped up. He stared darkly at Peter, his glare casting out beams of blackest hatred.

Cai ruffled up his feathers, read to defend them.