“It’s just tutoring, Kaylee.”
“The last girl he tutored nearly bled out on the classroom floor,” I said, and Emma blinked, like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite put it into words. “Sabine’s going to figure out what he is and I’m going to find out whether or not he knocked up Danica Sussman.” And Emma was going to stay away from him, whether she liked it or not.
“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, Kay, but how is it any of your business who Danica sleeps with?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you now, the monogamy police?”
“Emma, he’s a teacher!”
“I know, and normally that’d be really creepy. But he’s twenty-two, and she’s eighteen. They’re only four years apart, and she’s a legal adult. If this were June and she was out of high school, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“But it’s barely March, and she’s still in school. And he’s an authority figure,” I pointed out, frustrated and beyond bewildered by her argument. Was it really so hard to understand that a teacher sleeping with a student was bad, no matter how old either of them was? “At the very least, this could get him fired.”
“Assuming it’s true. And at this point, it’s just a theory, right?” she asked, and I nodded reluctantly. “So how ’bout this…” Emma turned from the mirror to face me directly. “I promise not to sleep with the hottest teacher on the face of the planet—math facts and harmless fantasies only—and you promise to tell me if he turns out to have horns or a forked penis. Deal?”
“No! No deal!” I snapped, gaping at her now. “You’ve seen the Netherworld. How can you not be freaked out by even the possibility that he could be some kind of monster? That forked penis thing could be true, you know.”
“Just because he’s not human doesn’t mean he’s a monster, Kaylee. You, of all people, should know that.” She shrugged and continued before I could argue. “Besides, Avari and Invidia were scary as hell, but hellions can’t cross into the human world. And Mr. Beck isn’t scary. He’s just…hot.”
I knew that look. That was the look Emma got every time her mom told her to be home by midnight. Every time her sister forbade her from borrowing her clothes. Hell, every time our fifth grade teacher told her to stop charging the boys in our class a dollar apiece for a peek at her training bra.
I exhaled, long and slow. “You’re gonna do whatever you wanna do anyway…”
“How well you know me…” She smiled and slid her purse strap over one arm, then picked up her books. “Hey, have you noticed you’re ten minutes late to chemistry?”
“Yeah. I don’t care,” I said, pushing the door open.
Emma frowned and studied me closer. “Since when do you not care about being late to class?”
“My priorities have recently undergone realignment.”
Her frown deepened. “What does that mean?”
“I’m tired of playing by the rules.”
“So?” I said, as Sabine slid onto the bench seat across the table from me and next to Emma. School had been out for half an hour, so the food court across the street from our campus was packed. I would have been happier in the quad or the parking lot, but Sabine was hungry. And thirsty. And in possession of information I wanted.
“Is that mine?” She reached for the paper bowl of frozen yogurt in the middle of the table and scooped a spoonful of nuts and berries off the top.
“Extra large, double raspberries.” I scowled into my own kid-size helping. “I make minimum wage, you know. You’re gonna break the bank.”
“Can’t take it with you,” she pointed out, and my frown deepened at the reminder of my own impending death.
“Where’s Nash?” The mara glanced around like he’d simply materialize in front of her.
“Baseball.” Nash was the starting pitcher. He’d offered to skip practice, determined to spend all of what time I had left with me, but I’d told him to go on. Sabine and I—and now Emma—had work to do anyway. “What’cha got?”
“Well…no luck scoring private time with Beck.” Sabine shrugged. “Evidently I’m not believable as a remedial math student.”
“That can’t be right,” I said, and the mara scowled while Em laughed, a spoonful of chocolate yogurt halfway to her mouth. “What’s your average?”
“Eighty-nine. I’m not stupid,” Sabine snapped, and Emma bristled, no doubt thinking about her own seventy-eight average. “My only problem with math is that the very concept of homework violates one of my most strongly held beliefs.”
“What belief?” Emma said. “That you’re too special to work like the rest of us?” Like she did homework.
“The belief that homework should be optional for those of us who already understand the concepts.”
“I like it,” Emma said. “You should run for student council.”
“No,” Sabine muttered, around another bite of yogurt. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Okay, so he won’t tutor you…” I said, redirecting the conversation. “We can work around that. You can still flirt with him, and try to read—”
“No way!” Emma slapped her palms flat on the tile-top table, and I flinched, hoping she hadn’t drawn attention from the crowd all around us. “You’ll let her hit on Mr. Beck, but you don’t even want me to be tutored by him?”
“I’m not letting her do anything,” I insisted, but Sabine spoke over me.
“Kaylee’s not the boss of me. Hell, she’s not even her own boss most of the time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for yet another unsolicited amateur psychoanalysis.” Then I turned to my best friend. “I’m sorry, Em, but Sabine can hold her own against…well, pretty much whatever’s out there. And if I can’t stop her from throwing herself at Nash, how am I supposed to stop her from hitting on Mr. Beck?”
“You can’t, on either count,” Sabine said, and Emma shrugged in concession, still pouting. We both knew there was no taming this particular shrew. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I already tried and failed to flirt my way in. I don’t think he knows what I am, but he was definitely creeped out when I read his fears.” The dissimulatus bracelets we wore would disguise our psychic signatures, but if we used our abilities and they were recognized…we were screwed. And we couldn’t chance letting Beck stumble over our secrets before we’d uncovered his.
“You read him? In class?” I snapped. Was she trying to get caught?
“Yeah, and I probably won’t get another chance.” She shrugged, and a sly grin blossomed. “So I guess it’s a good thing I got what I needed on the first try, huh?”
Em stuck her spoon into her yogurt, where it stood straight up. “You know what he is?”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.
Sabine huffed. “Because this is a favor, not a charity. Nothing’s ever really free, Kaylee.”
“You’re a credit to capitalism. Now spill it.”
Sabine leaned over the table, and I scooted closer to hear her when she lowered her voice. “Okay, I’m about eighty-percent sure—”
“Eighty percent?” I bit back a groan.
“Reading fear isn’t an exact science, Kay,” Sabine snapped. Then she frowned and seemed to reconsider. “Okay, it kinda is, but it’s fear reading, not mind reading. The only things I know for sure are what he’s afraid of.”
Em waved her hand in a “get on with it” gesture. “And that would be…”
“Failing to procreate.”
“What?” Emma and I said in unison.
“He wants a baby. Specifically, a son.”
“Okay, I think he’s a little young to be so desperate for kids, but reproduction isn’t exactly the most dastardly of deeds,” Emma said.
But my stomach had started to pitch and a chill was crawling up my spine. Mr. Beck wasn’t human and he wanted a baby, but he was afraid he wouldn’t get one. Danica Sussman had just suffered the gruesome miscarriage of a baby that wasn’t her boyfriend’s, leaving her insides permanently damaged.