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Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

Roc and Ingram hurled themselves forward, propelled by a pulse of their wings, and met in midair with two kicks swinging, only for their legs to collide like dueling swords. They dropped down to the ground and again went at it, hurling attacks at each other with rapid speed and ferocious power. Their long legs swung wide, their talons capable of gutting each other like fish. Ingram used a similar fighting style to Roc, relying on kicks imbued with slashing talons, but just as Roc was skilled in the technique, so too was he accustomed to defeating it, having fought countless eagle warriors back home like himself.

“How can I help?”Sophia could not meet his gaze. “It’s about what happened to Bella. There is something you need to know. She wasn’t bitten, she was—”“She got her hands on a bottle of Profane venom that Cyrilo was holding, I know.”Sophia was shocked. “You know? But how?”