Helga G Pataki: Hillwood's New Superhero

by KlutzyMaiden123

As if my life hadn't already been difficult. I already had to watch the love of my life, Arnold, make goo-goo eyes at little Miss Perfect, Lila Sawyer, while completely ignoring me. Now, I have to juggle school, keeping my feelings for him secret and battling evil dressed in a skimpy bathing suit, all the while keeping my lifestyle as a superhero from my nosey classmates.

17. I Was Never a Fan of Night School

Kay, so I don't actually have an excuse as to why this one took so long, other then the fact that over the past month I had some funky fresh ✨emotional breakdowns✨ I'm all good now, but yeah, I couldn't really bring myself to keep writing at the time. On the bright side, this is extra long (this is actually the second longest chapter now) and has a healthy douse of Shortaki that wasn't in the original draft.

So, let's get on fellas!

Also, a huuuge thank you to tiffany1567 for the beautiful fanart! It really made my day and I love recieving your gorgeous contributions!

And welcome to Fangirl0112, Kayla Tsukino and karimarin! Thanks for the follows and favs!

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The wall rammed hard into my back.

It cracked against my bones, shattering painfully in my shoulders, and knocked the wind from me. My insides heaved, I could feel my stomach violently tightening like it were about to crack, and I gasped, desperately trying to pull in as much air as I could.

But it was pointless. Nothing made it past my teeth. Hands were wrapped tight around my neck. They were squeezing, painfully, and the air around me seemed to sizzle with invisible flames. It was like tunnels of fire had wrapped around my face, exploding beneath my skin, and flashing my mind with white. The fingers were long, they splattered over my neck and pressed deep into my skin. They burned, I could feel them leaving behind dark, raw marks, and the further they pushed against me, the higher that my salvia moved up my throat. It lapped and pooled over my tongue. I clacked my teeth together, but it continued to move and glisten from the corners of my lips.

I tried sucking in more air, despite it all, but it felt much too smouldering. It was like someone was pressed up against my face, pushing their hot, hazy breath down my throat, so that as the air slipped down my throat, it set everything on fire.

The air around me spun, it pushed back and forth like a midnight sea, and swirled so rapidly that my stomach began to rock back and forth. I blinked, trying to push back the water that had ebbed over my vision, and watched as the darkness settled into Phoebe's hair. It fell over her face messily, covering her scrunched face like curled strokes of ink, but her smile managed to beam through.

It was bright, flashing like a knife in the sunlight, and pushed up high on her face. But her teeth seemed different. Phoebe's smile had always been a beaming vision, a soft curl of dazzling teeth which were soft and square like pale petals. But now, they were sharp and jagged, crooked nails that curved over one another.

The smile was wide and her eyes nothing more then dots. Obsidian dots that burned through the oily strands of hair, bright but in a dangerous way.

"Pheebs—" my voice sounded different, it was thick with a heaviness that I could barely even recognise. "Wha—what're yo—"

She then began laughing, a noise that was so theatrical that for a moment I had to stop. She sounded like a prim little girl, twirling around in her room, giggling at something soft and innocent. Yet somehow, the innocence to the sound made it all the more haunting.

But I couldn't stop staring, even as my vision began to swim beneath murky waters. Her eyes were like glowing suns, hooking onto me and freezing me in place. A numbness pushed through my limbs and I soon lost all feeling in my fingers, which had locked around hers, and the light around me began to shudder.

My head felt swollen with blood and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The darkness was closing in on me, twisting and folding like hot, dark embers. Phoebe stood out against it, oozing white like her skin was some type of raging light. Her eyes were so wide, cartoonish looking, like they were about to pop out from her skull.

Shapes meshed together in dark blurs but I couldn't look away from those eyes. There was nothing inside. Nothing. The whites of those eyes—the scleras—they'd completely disappeared, like the pupils had swallowed them whole. Now all that was left was a hypnotising and depthless black. It gave the appearance that she didn't have any eyes and instead, I was staring into a pair of empty sockets.

My vision was pulsing and I squinted, noticing only now how much her appearance had changed. Her skin wasn't just white, it almost seemed bleached, translucent. It was like it had been stretched far too thin over her bones, giving it a very papery appearance. Her sweater, at some point, had slipped down her shoulder, and I had to blink several times against the beating water to distinguish whether or not her bones had gotten thicker or if her skin were hallowing. She seemed gangly, more then usual. Her collarbone jutted out, as did her cheek and shoulder bones. It was like her skin had changed texture, it reminded me of an old, matted blanket that had been forgotten over the years.

But there wasn't a trace left of Phoebe in this person's face.

I gnashed my teeth together, feeling the salvia push through the gaps.

I knew exactly who—or what—this was.

I could barely feel them, but I dug my nails deep into it's hands and rammed my foot into its ankle. It was a clumsy knock, but ordinarily, it would've at least deterred someone's balance. But this thing barely even flinched, let alone release me. Instead, it's jagged teeth split apart, opening wide to reveal a long, black tongue that rolled down its chin like a wet carpet.

The putrid smell practically slapped me and I reeled back, accidentally smacking the back of my head against the wall. But I barely even registered the pain, I was too taken back.

There was a light that burned from the back of it's throat.

It was mystifying, an abnormal collection of stars that ignited from the darkest part of it's mouth. I felt the light wash over me, a hurling bloom that felt like a winter breeze, and burning away the remaining feeling I had nestled in my fingers.

Alarm curled in my stomach and flared red hot in my chest. I imagined a voice, rattling in my brain, telling me to move and do something, anything, but I couldn't. Wouldn't. I didn't want to. Something about this light was so hypnotising, it filled me with a breathlessness. It was like a fog had entered my brain, puffing up and filling the space between my ears, a haziness that penetrated through the voice and buzzed so loud that everything began to blur like an old painting. It locked my limbs into place, rusted the bolts so I couldn't lift them, but I no longer cared.

A smile stained my lips.

This feeling, it swam in my chest, twisting and curling, and sank low into my stomach. I couldn't describe it, but I just wanted to stay here and watch the light. This warmth, it was a swelling symphony that pushed into my heart, an echoing that rolled low down my spine.

But there was still a pounding that pumped between my temples—alarm bells. They rung now with a sense of urgency, blaring like voices in my ears. And blood—hot and thick—roared beneath my skin, rushing together in my arms like a scorching lake. I felt it shatter the numbness that coated my muscles, but the deadened sensation still prickled at my fingertips. I hadn't recognised until now that they had fallen to my sides, not until I felt them brush against something.

The collusion was light, a soft bang that rung against my skin, and it made me freeze. The light was still pouring into my eyes, hot and hazy, and I couldn't see anything except that blinding screen of white. But I recognised that it was metal that was now wrapped firmly between my fingers.

Immediately, I recognised it.

I blinked, strained, and tried to make out the creature's face through the light. It was blinding, a burst that overtook my vision, but squinting, I began to see over those woven edges. The twisted smile was still so demented, it reached so high that it touched the corners of its ear lobes. And the eyes, they were just so devoid of everything, two pools of open space, so dark that they melted right through the light.

I could still feel the pull of the glow. There was a tickling pressure between my eyes and an uncomfortable rush in my chest that beckoned me to glance back, like I was tied to one end of a string.

But I resisted and jammed my eyes shut. Black oozed and filled my vision, and immediately, I felt it shatter the chains that had wrapped around my joints.

I could feel it all, a rush of everything flooded my senses. The burning in my neck as the remaining air was crushed from my windpipe. The prickling and tingling that crackled uncomfortably in my skin. The hammering in my chest was so strong, beating against me like a drum, I could feel my body begin to shake with it.

Fighting against the rapid flushes of heat, I tightened my hold around the item in my hand.

The fire extinguisher.

I wrapped my fingers around the nuzzle, heartbeat coursing in my ears, and tugged down hard. The extinguisher was wrenched from the hook with a snap! and with all my remaining strength, I swung the object as hard as I could.

There was a loud clang! that rung deep in my bones, and immediately, the hands left my neck, followed by a thunk! as the creature's body hit the ground. A rush of air swarmed me and I dropped the extinguisher, wrapping my hands around my throat as I hacked ferociously. I coughed and coughed and coughed and coughed until I was left bent over, vision swimming with dark tears that soaked my burning cheeks.

Everything was spinning. The floor melted into a gooey liquid that rolled across my feet and wrapped shadowy tendrils around my ankles. The walls tilted, misty black beams that jerked side to side, and I leaned back against the wall, gulping down as much air as I could.

The crispiness soaked my face, stinging the watery trails the tears left behind, and I shuddered and scrapped back my hair, hoping that the air would rapidly cool down my skin. There was still a ringing in my ears—no, it was a pounding. My heart was racing, it dashed to quickly it became hard to even see the swirling patterns that moved around me.

I glanced back to the creature collapsed at my feet. It was screaming bloody murder, curled up in a ball and on all fours. Its palm was pressed against its face, where I assumed I'd hit it, and its face was draped across its skin in sweaty clumps.

The frazzled beating fell away, overtaken by the scream that poured from the creature's jagged mouth. I jumped, the sound smacking into me like a bat, and moved against the wall, unable to jerk myself into movement. I pressed my wet palms to the wall and watched as it tilted back its head.

Its hair moved from its face, revealing its eye, and I gasped.

Its eye—on the side I'd clipped it—had changed. The right was unharmed and remained black, but the left had transformed back into its human form, whites and all. But it wasn't where it should be. Instead, the eye had completely frozen, locked into place in the corner of its socket, so no longer could the eyeball move its direction of vision.

Its black eye moved and froze on me. I felt my heart explode. Its forehead crumbled and lips pulled back into a snarl that revealed the jagged teeth in its overcrowded, wide mouth. I felt myself jolt and scramble to pick up the extinguisher at my feet. It's eyebrows shot up and quickly, the creature jumped to its feet, moving in a blurred haze towards me as I gathered the extinguisher in my wet hands and pressed down hard on the button.

White foam exploded from the nozzle and crashed into the creature's face. It roared, a sound that rumbled deep like thunder, and reeled back. I jammed my teeth together and dug my heels into the ground. The kickback from the extinguisher had been unexpected and almost launched me back into the wall.

The extinguisher roared as it vomited more froth, which splattered everywhere. It splashed onto the ground, coated the Phoebe imposter, and even rebounded from its hand onto me. I felt it hit my hair and face, running down and leaving behind trails, but I kept my eyes glued onto the creature.

It held up its hands to block the foam, but it splattered between its long, gangly fingers and soaked the creature to the bone. The foam ran down its form like thick, cloudy rain, swimming over the tiles, and the creature lost its balance and slipped hard. It happened so quickly I barely even registered it; one minute, it'd been in front of me, then the next, it hit the ground with a sharp bang! But I didn't let myself move until the last of the foam was spluttering out, white burst that turned into jittery plops that splattered onto my shoes.

And when I looked up, the creature's hair was soaked and dripping in white. But before it could turn back, I swung the extinguisher at its face and spun on my heels as it cried out from the collusion.

The floor lurched beneath my feet, as did my stomach. I felt the nausea curl and push high into my chest, and my lunch threatened to follow. I was moving too quickly. A tiny voice whispered that I needed to rest, but I shut I down, more than aware that if I did that then whatever that was would catch up to me.

The world was blurring, it was a mess of shadows that pushed and shoved until everything had turned into a dark smudge that was so indistinguishable, I couldn't tell the floor from the walls. I forced up my hand and trailed my fingers against the wall as I continued to run.

My fingers were hot and numb, but the coldness from the plaster was a welcoming shock. It slipped down my bones and fractured the tautness from my joints. The air moved differently around me, I took it as a sign that I was moving faster.

I sucked in another breath and noticed how different this one felt. It was cold, crisp and sharp, like I'd swallowed a knife. But I could feel the blurring begin to settle, the dizziness that whirled in my head was beginning to swirl.

I blinked ad the images that filled my vision firmed. The shadows were dark, but I was beginning to make out some things. I hadn't crossed as much space as I'd thought, but I was at least nearing the end of the hallway. I could see the edge of the wall, getting closer and closer, and sucking in another breath, I stretched out my hand.

I hooked my fingers around the edge and prepared myself to round the corner when I noticed the creature's cries.

They were no longer human.

I halted and glanced over my shoulder.

The fuck?

A small window hung above on the wall beside it, so light poured through the glass and onto the creature like white wine. It was hunched, curled into a tight ball with a shadow that stretched out across the tiles, and had its forehead pressed against the ground.

A long growl churned from its throat and a clawed hand banged into the floor. Its nails scrapped across the tiles, making an ear grating noise that made me grimace, and the air hardened from both the sounds. The creature's shoulders made random jerking motions, moving up and down like it were being exorcized, and another growl howled down the walls. Then, there was a violent tearing noise as the clothes along its back were split apart at the seams.

The fabric was torn open, revealing pale, bubbling skin. The sight was horrifying. I wanted to move or cover my eyes, but it was like I was paralysed. Like my joints had locked into place and my eyes had rusted shut.

I was stuck and unable to look away.

Its moans melted into something heavier sounding, they became cavernous in a way that reminded me of grain horror movies from the 50s. Loud cracking noises echoed with sharp pops! as the bones beneath its skin moved like snakes and wiry black hairs sprouted outwards. And the hands—they bulged from tiny pale digits wrapped up in it's hair to large palms that covered the entirety of the sides of it's head. The fingers were stout, joints rounding beneath the skin, and reminded me of thick strands of rope.

The last I saw of it was the greying skin splitting apart like plastic before I turned.

I turned and ran.

That was no longer Phoebe.

It was the Wraith.

I rounded the corner and forced my feet to move as quick as I could manage. But the darkness clawed from the sides of my visions like branches and a throbbing rattled in my chest. Nausea whirled and danced in my stomach, climbing so high that I could taste bile bubbling from the back of my throat.

I blinked against my swimming vision and glanced around. Doors surrounded me, replacing the lockers, and stretched down the entirety of the hall.

I breathed with relief before yanking on the closest one to my right and flying inside.

I slammed it shut and pressed my back against the wood. There was a tightness in my throat, I tried to catch my breath. My lungs felt worn and elastic, sagging instead of contracting, and I gasped to suck in another gulp of oxygen. I hadn't realised until now how out of breath I'd been. I was gasping, I could feel my ribs heaving up and down, but no benefit was coming.

Dizziness.

I sighed and slumped back against the door, waiting for my body to settle down. But doing so made me notice the silence. It rushed around me and hurled into my ears until my head felt like it was swelling. The air in here was cold, but my skin was roasting, I could feel sweat dripping down the back of my neck. The tiny drops shook slightly, pulsating slightly from the beating that crawled up from my chest to the back of my neck.

I raised my hand to wipe away the sweat with my sleeve then lifted my eyes and looked around. Large, squared windows lined the wall across from me, revealing a clear night sky that was lit with dozens of tiny stars. I couldn't spot the moon, but there was enough light for me to recognise where it was that I stood.

Biology.

I was in my biology classroom.

Trapped.

Do something.

I swung around and flicked the lock on the door with a sharp snap! It was pointless, I knew that, but it at least gave me some sort of belief that I had a little control.

I let the air slide up my body and out my lips as I repeated that to myself. Trying to convince myself. That I had control, that I wasn't majorly and royally fucked right now. There was a major pounding shaking beneath my skin, banging so hard that I felt electrically charged, but I tuned that out to focus on the lies I was pretending were truths.

You have control, Helga.

My hand was shaking. I pressed it against the wood, so my palm was flat against the door, and lowered my head to ease another breath from my throat.

You're in control.

I felt my face tighten with resolve.

Right. So, the thing had snuck up and attacked me. And scared the living bejesus outta me. But that didn't deter from my plan. I didn't need Lila and I didn't need Nel. I was fine on my own. This night was still salvageable. I'd just been taken by surprise. I hadn't been expecting for it to take the form of my best friend (which was stupid, Helga, obviously it would). The resemblance had been uncanny. Seriously, everything about her had been a damn near match, even the huddled way that Phoebe walks down the hallway, like she just wants to fold in on herself and disappear. It really was like talking to the real thing.

But it was stupid to be so taken back. Nel had said it herself, Wraiths disguise themselves perfectly before they attack. And this thing had been loitering around the school for who knows how long. It didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out the relationship I had with Phoebe.

But it made me wonder, had Phoebe been the only form it had taken? For me, at least. The thing had known I was more then I seemed. It knew I was Blue Jay, how did it get that information? Eavesdropping? Had it disguised itself to do so?

Had I . . .

My throat tightened.

Had I been in contact with it before?

I suddenly thought back on everything, every interaction I'd had over the last few days. It wasn't a comforting thought, the idea that someone I'd been in contact with could've been just another face the Wraith had control over, but it made sense. The way that Wraith had talked with me tonight, it felt familial. It could've been because Wraith's could apparently do that, but somehow that didn't feel right. There was an annoying alarm going off in the back of my mind, flashing red with all the faces I'd spoken with. Had any of those conversations been real? Or had they been a hallucination?

I struggled to keep my composure, lifting my chin and shaking my head.

This wasn't the time.

I had to fight it, I reminded myself as I reached for the pin. I had to fight it and then—

Wait.

I froze.

Alarm roared in my ears and ice needled the back of my neck.

I had made it a habit to always keep my pin in my pocket. It was a routine that worked like clockwork and after a month, it barely even registered my head when I did it anymore. I always slid the pin into my right blazer pocket, easily accessibly in case I needed it.

But . . . I no longer had my blazer.

The Wraith did.

"Shit!"

I slammed my fist into the door and bit my lip as a spasm of pain gnawed my bones. I pressed my mouth into a straight line, trying to hold back the noises, and turned around. I cradled my throbbing fist to my chest and rested my head against the door.

Tears stung my eyes, I could feel them, and quickly I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. I tried sucking in more air to calm my frantic mind, but I could barely breathe. It was like someone was choking me—the wraith.

And suddenly, all I could see was that thing.

Everything else fell away. I could no longer hear my heartbeat, nor my breathing, it all just fell away like glass shards. Its face burned bright in my mind, smile stretching so high to reveal teeth that shimmered like broken glass, and its eyes flared so violently that their glare tore into my heart.

Darkness crawled into the edges of my vision. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and wait for someone to save me—anyone.

You're on your own.

But no one would.

You're alone.

No one was there.

. . . I was alone.

A choked noise forced itself from my throat.

Like clockwork.

I opened my eyes to shadows, sprawled and hanging from the roof like chains, and lightly touched my neck. The skin was warm and throbbed unpleasantly. I lowered my gaze. I could still feel those hands, wrapped tight and squeezing until I could see nothing but stars.

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

My thoughts were then drowned out when I heard something. A resounding bang.

Gasping, I jumped and looked around.

I squinted at the shadows, searching the room for any signs of movement. But I couldn't spot anything. Everything remained still, like time had come to a complete stop. I was the only thing moving. I held my breath and tried to remain still, just in case, but still, I spotted nothing.

That should've been calming. But instead, it disturbed me.

I was defenceless. I had no powers. No weapons. No abilities. If the Wraith wanted to, it could snap my neck and be done with it. I couldn't fight back. What had happened back there had been nothing more than a stroke of dumb luck. I wouldn't have made it out of there had there not been an extinguisher.

I was helpless.

The terror was like a cage, holding me in place. The pounding in my throat made me want to vomit, I wanted to curl up and hide in the shadows.

But I couldn't.

With or without the mask, I had to be Blue Jay.

So, I forced myself to speak, "Who's there?"

There wasn't a response.

Verbally, at least. The noise repeated itself, louder this time. But this time I'd been prepared, so I was able to identify what it sounded like—stamping. It was like someone had slammed their feet against a door.

My eyes immediately went to the closet door, squished in the right corner of the room. It was between the windows and the left side of the whiteboard, bolted shut and wedged in the shadows. I hadn't even noticed it before, but I was more then certain that whatever was making that sound, it was behind that door.

I'd have to check it out..

I gulped. Right, check it out—easy, right?

My hands trembled.

I pressed my lips together and curled my fingers into fists, forcing myself to move. I treaded lightly, trying to ignore how slicing the air felt against my body, or the way my stomach sunk lower and lower with each step I took.

You got this, Pataki.

My hands were still shaking when I reached the door, which seemed to move much too fast and slow at the same time. I hesitated, trying to reign in my urge to turn and run. With all the training I'd had over the past month, I figured I could make it to the school entrance before that Wraith caught me. Maybe there was hope. I didn't have Blue Jay's abilities, but I'd worked without her shields before. I'd fought Mutants as Helga. Maybe I could still take this one.

But, a voice whispered from the back of my mind, I had still had weapons. Nel had managed to grab that sword and those vambraces before sending me off to fight. And even with those, I had still transformed before finally defeating the Mutant. I hadn't even been the one to kill it, it had been Lila that day. Lila who had remained untransformed. Not me.

The door rattled.

My heart jumped so high in my throat I almost choked. There was definitely something in there. It may not have been the Wraith, but it was sentient. Almost definitely an enemy. For all I knew, it wasn't just one Wraith I had to fight tonight.

But then I frowned. I was Blue Jay for fuck's sake. Why was I acting like this?

Because, that voice whispered, you're scared.

And I knew it was right—I was fucking terrified. I'd been in other jams before, but none like this. I'd still been Blue Jay, I'd still had her speed, her agility, her weapons. But now I was Helga, just Helga. Sure, I still had some of Blue Jay's abilities, but not much. Definitely not enough to fight this thing, especially if whatever was behind this door was a whole other separate threat.

If I had any hope of getting out of here, I would have to be on my absolute A game.

I nodded to myself and reached for the wooden pointer leaning against the white board. It barely reached my nose, but it gave me a shell of confidence. It was at least something I could work with.

I wrapped a hand around the pointer and reached my other towards the door. At this point it had stopped rattling, so now there was an eery silence. It scared me more than settled me.

I wrapped my hand around the handle.

Just get this over with.

I took another breath.

You got this.

And twisted the handle and shoved the door open. It creaked loudly, I felt my heart swell and pound in my throat, and I swung the pointer over my shoulder like it was a bat. Sweat was oozing from my fingers, but I was ready to fight whatever the fuck was inside this—

I froze.

"Phoebe?!"

The girl glanced up and blinked rapidly against the sudden flood of light that rushed across her face. I felt my jaw drop. The tiny Asian was on the ground, bound with red cords that dug deep into her skin, with a white cloth that covered her mouth. Her legs were tied together, ankles crossed over one another, and her arms were strapped behind her back so her fists were pressed into her shoulder blades.

She blinked then squinted, growing more used to the light, but when she realised that it was me, her wide eyes suddenly bubbled over with unshed tears.

The cane cluttered to the floor and I dropped down to her side.

"Shit, Pheebs," I hissed and dug my fingers into the knots to untie her. But the bastard things were seriously tight. "You look awful."

I was tugging on a particularly tight knot when I said that but then I heard her muffled replies from behind her cloth. I glanced up and met her pointed, watery glare, before hissing a curse and untying the thing from her mouth.

Immediately, her lips burst open with a raspy gasp and a line of salvia lashed down her chin. She tried sucking in breaths of air, but everything turned to shallow sobs and I had to quickly hush her while checking over my shoulder. I'd locked the door to the classroom but I still had no idea where that Wraith currently was.

"H–Helga," I heard Phoebe stutter and when I turned back, I was immediately struck with her wet eyes. Those dark orbs were rimmed with red, dripping with tears that fell down her face in salty clumps. Her cheeks were patches of pink, like she'd been slapped, and her jaw trembled as she struggled to keep her composure.

She had her lips clamped shut, like she was trying desperately to hide the sobs, and my throat began to ache. I didn't want to see her like this, crying and scared, unable to reach a conclusion that could comfort her.

I opened my mouth. I don't know what it was I planned on saying, but I wanted to say something—anything—that could maybe settle her, when the moonlight suddenly shone over my shoulder and washed across her face.

My heart stopped.

The pale luminous revealed shadows, grey rings that were wrapped tight beneath her eyes, dark enough that they almost seemed like craters. I wanted to believe they were merely dark circles—lord knew how much time Phoebe dedicated to studying over sleeping—but I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were more then this.

I'd seen them before, on Arnold and Savannah and all those other victims in the library when that Wraith had attack. The exact same shadows that circles their eyes and ran down their cheeks as their skin began to become wrinkled and papery. This current Wraith, it hadn't just caught Phoebe and tied her up in a closet.

It was draining her.

Static filled my head.

Shit.

"I—I—"

"Shh, it's okay," I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a smile that I hoped was convincing. Her eyes went from my hand to my face, but I noticed a slight sluggishness in her movements, which made fear spike like a knife in my heart.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

This was bad. It was really fucking bad. I barely had a chance of making it out tonight on my own, now I had Phoebe, who could pass out at any moment. My stomach twisted into a tight knot. How was this supposed to go? How was I supposed to get the pair of us out of here, unharmed?

"These, err, these knots are really well done," I told her instead, but when she didn't smile back at me, I let my grin disappear. "Who the hell did this to you?"

"It—I—I don't know what but it was one—one of those things," she insisted and looked down to her lap. "I was just on m–my way to bio w–w–when, I–I–I—"

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered and held onto both her shoulders. Her eyes darted back to mine and I furrowed my brow. "Listen, these knots are super tight, yeah? I'm gonna have to get the scissors from the desk, okay?"

"B–But—"

"I promise I won't be gone long."

I fixed my stare onto hers, despite how hard my heart was rattling. I needed her to trust me. I needed her to think that I knew that I was doing, that I had a plan to fall back on. Tonight could only work if she followed me and for that to happen, Phoebe needed to trust me.

"Just—" I breathed and softened my gaze slightly. "Just to the desk, okay?"

The silence hung over us as she searched my eyes. Hers were still flooded with tears and red, but no longer were those salty beads falling. She had her lips pressed together as she slowly looked up and down my face. I made sure to school my features into an expression that I hoped mimicked Blue Jay's. I knew that I didn't have the maturity that naturally rolled over her face, but I hoped Phoebe could at least see the storm that roared in my eyes. I knew what I had to do, I knew what I had to do—I knew what a Wraith's weaknesses and strengths were. I knew roughly what I had to do to get through this night.

The silence dragged on for what felt like hours before she dropped her gaze and nodded with defeat. I sighed with relief and jumped to my feet, feeling my knees crack as I stood. Phoebe didn't say anything as I hobbled out of the closet and back to the desk.

The moonlight washed over me like rain, a dash of cold air that wrapped and sparkled around my arms, revealing the shakiness of my limbs. My palms pressed flat against the desk surface and as I rolled out the drawers, I cringed at they loud rattling noise every one of those metal objects made. But even so, I didn't find a pair of scissors, not until I reached the last set of drawers.

I bristled. Yeah, of course she kept them in the bottom ones.

I snatched them from the compartment and quickly glanced up at the front door, heart in my throat. I paused, listening, but thankfully couldn't hear anything.

We were safe. For the meantime, anyway.

Good.

Well, not good. I didn't fancy my best friend having a near panic attack over something like this (or anything, really), but at least there wasn't an all–powerful and terrifying motherfucker at the door right now.

I shook my head, shutting the drawer with my foot, and was about to spin around when I noticed the glass beaker on the desk. It was propped on the right side where it caught the right amount of starlight so its sides were gleaming.

I stopped, pondering. It was a risk, but I didn't know how long Phoebe had been in that closet. It could've been hours. She was probably famished and parched, especially if she had been drained. And I needed her to be as strong as possible. The minute we left this room, we were likely going to be doing a whole lotta running. I couldn't do much about the hunger but at least I could give her a glass of water.

So, putting down the scissors, I took the beaker, held it beneath the tap and began filling it with water. The entire time my chest was pounding and I kept looking over my shoulder to check for any signs that the Wraith was about to tear that door down. Thankfully, none of that happened and the water reached the top of the beaker without a hitch, so I quickly picked up the scissors and legged it back to the closet.

Phoebe, who had been struggling against her bonds, looked up when I entered. Her eyes widened when she saw the beaker in my hands but she remained quietly as I flopped down beside her. I snipped at the bonds, which snapped like whips from her body, and she released a breath of relief when she was cut free.

She was rubbing her wrists when I gently pressed the beaker into her hands.

"Here, take this."

She paused, glancing at it then back to me with confusion, and in turn, I rose my brows pointedly. She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the glass before throwing back her head and downing the water.

She gulped loudly, I could see the large rolls of water travelling down her throat. Some water managed to escape and leak down her chin in tiny droplets, which made me realise just how thirsty she must have been.

"Pheebs," I said once she had finished. "We have to get out of here. Do you have your phone?"

"No, it took away my stuff," she admitted, wiping her chin, and placing the empty beaker down by her side. She laced her fingers neatly in her lap but looking closely, I noticed that they were trembling.

Sighing, I dug my palm into my eye. "Shit."

"What about you?"

"Same here,' I murmured and slid my hand back so it ran across my hairline, scraping back the strands from my face. This situation was infinitely getting worse by the second; I had no pin, therefore no means of fighting, and without a phone, I couldn't contact Lila.

"Helga, what do we do?" I heard Phoebe whisper and when I looked back at her, my heart sank.

She was the picture perfect image of terrified. She had curled into herself, lowering her head so that her hair covered her face, and the fear rolled off her in thick waves. She moved her hands up so they were wrapped tight across her arms, fingers digging into her sleeves, and the fabric had moved up so her rope burns were on display.

Rings of clotted red were wrapped around her wrists, I felt my stomach sink at just that sight of them. Phoebe looked so soft and vulnerable, but seeing those injuries wrapped around her made the blood rush like molten in my veins.

I turned away and clamped my jaw shut.

I'd never learnt to perfect this urge when it concerned Phoebe—the urge to protect her. When her heart bled, so did mine, and when she cried, secretly I did too. She was so small and mousey, it was second nature to protect and shield her. I'd learnt to build walls around my heart and keep myself guarded from everyone else, but that all stopped when it came to her. She just brought out this side in me, this burning need to protect her that roared like fire in my muscles.

She brought Blue Jay out from me.

"We have to get out of here," I decided, in a voice that was set with resolution, and examined the shadowed walls. "Only how is anyone's guess."

"Maybe Blue Jay will save us."

Her words jabbed me in the stomach like fists. I felt the tips of my lips twitch into an exasperated smile.

"She won't," I said quietly.

And this fuckhead was a Wraith. It wouldn't give off the same signal or whatever Mutant's usually did that drew Guardians to it. Its entire power revolved around blending in. So, there wasn't any likelihood of Lila swooping in to get us out of this mess. And even if she did, I'd told her and Nel that I could handle this, that I didn't need any help.

"Are you sure you don't want—"

"Geeze, Lila, I dunno how many times I have to repeat this to ya—I'll be fine. It's just a simple job then I'll be on my way home. I don't need your help."

We were on our own.

"How do you know?" I heard Phoebe ask and when I glanced back at her, her brow was furrowed with confusion.

"Uhh," I realised that that had been the wrong way to respond and dropped my gaze. "Well, wouldn't she already be here? I mean, you've been tied up for a while and this thing must've bene here even longer. Lark and her, they would've gotten here if they knew, especially Lark."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Pheebs, we have to get out of here," I said and placed my hands back onto her arms. But she hissed and I quickly let go, remembering that those bonds might've done a real number on her. "Sorry, um—there should be a working phone in the office, yeah? We can call for someone to come get us."

"Are you saying we have to leave this closet?" her face dropped and quickly, she shook her head. "No—no way, Helga, it's too dangerous."

"Pheebs, we can't stay in here," I insisted. "We've already been in here for too long, I don't know how long we have until it shows up, and then we'll be completely fucked. We have to keep moving."

She stopped and looked up at me, eyes softening. I almost had her, I could tell. The rigidness was melting from her face as she considered my words, weighing the pros and cons to what I was suggesting. But her arms were still locked over her chest, she wasn't moving in the slightest.

I sighed, exasperated, and climbed back onto my feet.

The shadows followed, moving like water, and I placed my hands on my hips, glancing around. I could leave Phoebe here and go to the office myself. But that was a big risk. The Wraith could find her again and do something even worse, or she could pass out and not wake up. At least if she came with me, I could keep an eye on her. I didn't know how to treat whatever this was, but it seemed smarter to keep her in my sight.

"Pheebs," I said, turning around and offering her my hand. "Please, you have to trust me."

Her eyes fell down to the fingers inches from her face and she scrunched her lips to the side. Her forehead was puckering and I found myself smiling slightly, almost seeing the wheels that turned rhythmically in her head.

Then she lifted her eyes back to mine and I saw something spark in her gaze. I didn't know what it was, but it lit up in her eyes like a fire, and the pensive look melted. She locked her jaw in place and grabbed onto my hand. I tugged her up and she rose to her feet.

Something new had occurred to her, that was obvious. I didn't know what it was, but she was looking at me differently. Her eyes were hard, glaring into mine, but not from anger. It was a glare that reminded me of Nel. When her purple eyes, so full of anguish, scattered in different directions until they landed on either Lila or me. They would freeze then harden into frosted daggers as she realised that she no longer was alone. That she finally had someone she could place her trust in.

"Okay," Phoebe said, rolling back her shoulders, and I shook my head clear of those visions of Nel, forcing myself to smile encouragingly. Phoebe smiled back, letting go of my hand, and we both made to walk out the door when she suddenly cried out.

My heart jumped and I turned just in time to catch her when her knee gave out. I wrapped my arms around her waist just before she hit the ground and gripped hard onto her elbows. I pulled her weight against mine and felt her head knock against my shoulder, black hair scattering like feathers against my neck.

The light slipped over her face and I gently turned her chin so I could examine her state.

"Shit," I swore.

Her skin was pale, more than it should be, it almost seemed to glow with its translucent. It seemed so thin, it stretched over her cheeks like thin tarp, but beneath her cheekbones, her skin was marred with a greyish tint. Similar to the rings beneath her eyes, only this had a hint of purple, like they were developing bruises.

Sweat oozed from her pore and slipped down her temples, gluing strands to her face. Her eyes fluttered open, but they seemed so misty, like she had just woken up from a three day sleep.

"The thing's draining your energy," I muttered. "We're gonna have to take it easy."

She blinked, pushing her eyebrows together and shook her head as she tried to focus her attention back onto me.

"Helga, how do you—" she breathed, eyelids fluttering. "How do you know this?"

I quietly hushed her, gripping onto her elbows, and pulled the pair of us from the closet. I felt her eyes on me, searching for something that wasn't there, but I didn't look back. Instead, I kept my gaze frozen up ahead and narrowed on the locked door.

I had to stay steady and calm. Letting myself freak out over this would only put us in more danger. I could feel my heartbeat, cracking and crashing so fast that it spread a heat throughout my body, one that dulled and numbed my senses until there was nothing but a panicked set of flashes lighting up in my mind.

I sucked in a breath, willing myself to tune all of that out, and whispered to myself in a mental voice.

You've got this. You've got this, Helga.

I tightened my hold on Phoebe.

Control it, then obliterate it. You're fine.

When we reached the door, I gently leaned Phoebe against the wall, and met her confused stare. I put a finger to my lips and I watched her eyes widen with understanding before she nodded.

I turned back to the door, which loomed over me like a pale ghost, and forced myself to wrap my fingers around the handle. There was a rush of heat that spread in my hands, it burned for a second before turning cold, like icy metal. My heartbeat was pumping so strong that I could feel it in my fingertips. I swallowed and turned the handle, cracking the door open a few inches. I left enough room to peek between the gap and cut my gaze left to right to check for any signs.

The hallways were much darker than the classroom, I had to blink to adjust quickly to the lack of windows. Slowly, the darkness settled into recognisable shapes.

The hallway was consumed in numerous shades of black and grey that choked out the remaining light that managed to filter through. The shadows were like curtains, I barely could make out anything. There were some outlines of doors, random patches on the walls which I figured were posters, but not much else. The way the lamented floors reflected the silhouetted walls, it felt like darkness had swirled around to form one long tunnel.

I grinded my teeth together. This was so frustrating, Blue Jay would be able to see. If I were her, I could whip out my helmet in no time, which had built in night vision. So, this wouldn't have even been a problem if I were her.

Of course, another voice muttered. If you were Blue Jay, you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Oh, you son of a—

"Is it clear?"

Phoebe's voice felt louder then what it actually was and I jumped. I glanced back and felt myself flush at the dry look she had on her face.

"Yeah," I forced through my teeth and pushed the door open. "It's clear. Let's go."

I forced my face into that rigid mask as I wrapped an arm around Phoebe's waist and stepped us both out into the hallway. The darkness pounded around us, like a gust of wind blowing smoke into our faces, and I exhaled to lighten the tight burden in my chest. The sounds of our feet came out much louder than they should've been, like loud, pressing thumps that stamped and trembled the room. It made me realise just how quiet everything else was, how spooky all of this was. Everything was just so silent, so tense, it's like time had paused, leaving Phoebe and I the only moving beings left.

I could feel the tense shakiness in my limbs, the quiet trembling in my fingers against Phoebe. I hoped that she didn't feel it. I needed her to think I was calm, unaffected by this. I didn't want her to know just how much this situation scared me.

"Which way?" I asked when we reached the end of the hallway. It split into two different direction and, at this time of night, I wasn't sure which way we should be going. But Phoebe basically lived here so I figured she would know the answer.

She pursed her lips, sliding her gaze left to right, then gestured to the right. I nodded and pulled the pair of us in the direction, which led us to a corridor even more tightly compact. The walls felt much closer than before, the shadows much thicker, but I could still make out some outlines of the school lockers.

I glanced at Phoebe.

I couldn't see the details, but from the way the needles of light licked down her form, I could tell that she was staring up ahead. Her chin was raised, like she was trying to keep herself from sinking into unconsciousness, and I could feel a trembling in her hands. They were wrapped around the back of my shirt so I could feel her as she shook like she'd been caught into a snowstorm. And her knees were buckling. She still had to press most of her weight against me just to keep standing.

She was fighting. She was trying to keep it hidden, but I could see the battle behind her eyes. She was trying to repress the Wraith's hold it had on her. But with how long it had kept her hidden and tied up, she wouldn't have long.

I gritted my teeth.

We had to hurry.

The next hallway we turned led us to a section where the floors widened and the walls became glass. The moon shone bright through the windows and turned the floors into a patchwork of silver light. Our shadows were tossed from the starlight against the tiles and into one large, indistinguishable puddle.

I glanced back at Phoebe, swallowing against the tightness in my throat, and examined the shadows that seemed even darker beneath her eyes. But I felt my heart crash against my ribs when something else happened to catch my eyes. The air halted in my lungs and my feet stilled. Phoebe stumbled, glancing up at me, but when she saw I wasn't looking back, she turned to follow my line of sight.

Her jaw dropped.

Outside, burning against the night, was a pair of vicious eyes, fixed on us.

They were a sharp, a pair of bulging orbs clouded over in a pale shade of yellow. They were attached to a creature that lingered in the shadows, standing hunched over against a bricked structure along the roof. I stepped forward, squinting, and tried to make out more of its figure but it was much too far. All I could see was that it was crouched on the roof across from us and clouded over in thick strands of shadows.

There was a faint outline I could see. Long, triangular ears, hunched shoulders, and clawed fingers that tapped against the bricks. But that was it, it mostly resembled a black silhouette from here.

But even so, a chill travelled down my neck.

"Pheebs—" I swung back around to her, tightening my grip, and her fearful eyes flickered back to mine. "Pheebs, we have to—"

And then the Wraith screamed.

It was a thundering sound that crashed over us from all directions and when I looked back, the creature had jumped out from the shadows. My heart flew into my throat and I whirled around on the balls of my feet, yanking hard on Phoebe's wrist, and pulled her down the hallway.

"C'mon, Pheebs!" I shouted as the clapping noises of our footsteps filled the air, interrupted only by the pants that burst from our mouths. But I could hear the creature as it galloped across the roof, headed straight for us. A gut wrenching feeling lodged into my throat. Those noises were so loud, they drowned out the rest of my surroundings.

"Helga, we—"

"Hang on, Pheebs, we can just—"

A whistling overtook my hearing. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. And then, a force smashed into the windows and glass shattered around us. The noise was massive, crashing, as the windows broke apart into thousands of little glimmering pieces.

Instinctively, our hands unlatched as we tried shielding the back of heads from the glass. I could feel the shards as they hurtled over me, like we'd been caught in a hurricane. A scream rose up my throat but caught itself between my teeth.

I looked up.

Slice of silver hurtled around us, each one growing closer and closer. It was like I was stuck in a slow motion scene. The glass shot up, high over our heads, and a wave of iciness washed around us. The wind, from the windows. It licked down my spine and shot over my skin like electricity. It hurtled in the shells of my ears and for a moment, it was all I could hear.

Then, there was a deafening thud behind us and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw through the spinning glass fragments the Wraith. It had landed inside, rising from its elbows and knees and standing where we once had. The moonlight was rich, puffing around it like smoke, and revealed the needle–like teeth that curved past its lips.

And then it looked up.

Our eyes met.

My heart dropped.

And it roared. It roared so loud that white noise filled my ears, sounding like a grenade had just gone off. The noise was a fiery ball, filling my head and reverberating down my spine, broken up only by a systematic thudding. I thought it was the sound of my heartbeat but registered the way the ground shook beneath my feet, chaotically spaced and fast approaching.

The Wraith was chasing us.

I reached across, not caring about the shards, and latched onto Phoebe's hand. I vaguely recognised her tiny gasp, but I tuned her out and looked around. The glass stormed around us, spinning and twirling like an obstacle course that we had to brave against.

I ran.

I felt rather then heard my feet hit against the ground, the thundering in my chest rung like church bells in my ears. The shards seemed to float aimlessly around us, like we were trapped in a rainstorm. The knifelike silvers scattered around me, withering and flailing. I could feel tiny tears nicking into my clothes. The moonlight had broken through the clouds, so white light danced across the floor, reflecting against the shards like they were tiny mirrors. One shard in particular hurtled in front of me, zipping past my face like a bullet, and I saw myself reflected in its surface.

Time seemed to stop.

My face was a frozen state of terror. The eyes that stared back were wide and trembling. A deep shade of chocolate that had melted, swirling around until they reflected the horror that tightened in my chest. There were patches of red on my cheeks, tainting my skin like bloodstains, and the breeze made my hair dance.

I looked so different, so terrified, so scared.

It made my stomach curl with disgust, tight into a little ball that folded in on itself. I was suddenly overcome with this distaste, this repulsion, of that wide eyed look of fear shinning bright on my face. I looked exactly how I had a month ago, before all of this happened, as if all those hours and hours of training had suddenly ceased to exist.

Like I had never become Blue Jay. Like, I was just . . . Helga.

She's just a pretty fake.

My eyes widened. No—

And suddenly, a sharpness crossed the skin above my brow.

I reeled back, jerking my chin to the side with a pained hissed. It had been a shard. I reached up to pull the glass from my face but the bastard thing had already disappeared. It left behind a small stinging and a warm wetness that slithered down from the tail of my right eyebrow.

I felt it slither to my chin and the moment it splattered onto my shoe, everything slammed into me. The sounds, the exhaustion, the panic—everything. I could hear the growls following and the thuds of feet steadily advancing. I could feel the burning that marred my neck in the shape of handprints, and I could feel my insides violently twisting into burning little knots.

My brain was in survival mode, but my lungs were screaming at me to stop.

I bared my teeth. I was reaching my limit. Something that barely even existed for Blue Jay. If I were her, I could power on without so much of a bead of sweat, but now that I was stuck as Helga, I could feel myself rasping. My skin was roasting while my lungs threatened to burst.

I was exhausted.

". . . that'll never hide who you really are."

A heartbeat contorted in my palms.

"Weak."

His eyes were burning into mine. I choked. His voice came from nowhere, echoing red hot in my ears, and the image of him gleamed so bright I actually thought he was here. But he wasn't, I reminded myself, this was just a memory. Not of real life but of another nightmare. The image of him spilled ivory against the dark, edges twisting and swirling like smoke that glanced the sky.

I could still remember perfectly how he had looked that night, despite it having been weeks. His hands had been shoved deep into his pockets, curls falling over his brow, and his shoulders slumped. He hadn't even turned around, just looked over his shoulders with low hanging lids. His black orbs had been dull with boredom.

Maybe that was why he had been so dismissive of me. Not because I hadn't had my powers at the time, but because he recognised that beneath it all—the weapons, the uniform, the new face—I was still me. He knew that take away all my new additions and I was nothing underneath, no more special than any of the civilians that had stood there watching us.

That at the end of the day, I would always be Helga.

The realisation slammed into me with a heart stopping force and I felt my teeth snap down. The feeling that washed over me was cold, it burnt straight through to my bones, like someone had crushed glass beneath my skin. All I could feel, hear and see were his words, those dulls eyes turning away from me and that scoff echoing from his mouth.

My vision was getting watery, I couldn't breathe.

I watched him turn his back on me again. But this time, the hollowness turned into lividness and I struck out my arm. I wanted to sweep away his image and tear it to shreds, but instead felt the stinging bite of many glass shards. I bit down on my tongue, holding back the grimace, and Phoebe frowned.

"Helga, what're you—"

I squeezed her hand, shooting her a quick glance, then rushed forward. The movement startled her, cutting her off into silence as she tried to desperately keep up with me. My lungs were burning and my knees shaking, but I tuned it all out and rounded the corner. It was a sharp turn so when the Wraith tried it, I heard it slip across the tiles then crash against the wall in a crumbled heap.

Phoebe giggled, glancing over her shoulder with surprise, but I kept my eyes locked up ahead. That only gave us a couple of seconds to quickly escape. I took another right, which led us to a hallway where there were no longer any windows. The darkness grew thicker, it felt like we were racing through an endless abyss. I couldn't barely make anything out and I hoped that it was the same for the Wraith.

Then, abruptly, the floor disappeared from beneath my feet.

I gasped, feeling myself began to fall, when something tugged my hand back.

The air crashed back into my lungs as I rocked back onto my heels. I pressed a clammy hand to my chest and eased in another breath. That was close.

I then turned back to Phoebe, aware that she probably couldn't actually see me but at least could sense my stare. She seemed to get what it was I was silently asking and simply said, "Stairs."

Her voice echoed and I realised that not only was she right but that wherever the stairs were headed, that it was deep below.

Then I heard them again—footsteps, rumbling and hurtling for us. Phoebe made a noise at the back of her throat before rushing past me. Her fingers were locked around mine and I found myself getting pulled along with her. Surprisingly, she didn't trip once and seemed to know exactly how many steps were needed before moving down another level.

I couldn't stop myself from asking, "How do you know where we're going?"

"I know this place," I could feel her shrug her reply. "I don't need to see to know where we're going. I have it perfectly pictured in my mind."

A grin curled my lips. Atta girl.

I don't know how many flights of stairs we ended up taking, but I noticed that the Wraith's footsteps had grown fainter. Almost like we were outrunning it. I tried not to let that deter me but I could still feel the weight lighten in my chest. Maybe we had an actual chance at ditching this thing if we just played our cards right.

Our feet hit the bottom with a thud! I imagined that dust had spiked up and curled over our toes from the collusion. But we didn't allow ourselves the time to look around and quickly raced off again.

The light was faint down here, a muted set of grey hues that filled the space like water. There were such little pockets of sight that running down here felt like we weren't moving at all. Nothing was changing. A sea of endless grey walls slipped past us in a blur. It was like we were trapped in a dream, running as hard as we could but not ending up anywhere.

Phoebe suddenly stopped and turned, swinging me around so forcefully that my back slammed against something. I let out a startled noise and tried to rub the gnawing pain away when Phoebe shushed me.

I stared at her. Excuse me?

Now that we had stopped, the small bits of light were beginning to settle and my sight was growing a little more used to things down here. I could actually make out sections of Phoebe's face now. She had risen an eyebrow with an extremely unimpressed look before turning and peering around the wall.

I wanted to scoff. Who died and made her leader all of a sudden?

But then I noticed the iciness pressed against my shoulders, a feeling that didn't come from plaster, but metal. We weren't pressed up against walls, they were lockers. I looked up and around, beginning to see more and more around me. The lockers came in two sets, the ones behind us and the ones in front of us, which were a mirrored image. But they weren't like the ones upstairs in the hallways where they were widely set apart so multiple students could rush their way to class. These ones were stood very close together, an extremely cramped space.

I glanced around and realised we were in another hallway, although this one was startingly confined. The walls were tightly packed, they only stood a few feet apart from one another. Phoebe's shoulder was against mine now but if we were to stand and continue down this hallway, I'd doubt we'd be able to fit next to one another.

But now that we had stopped, I suddenly became aware of the tightness in my lungs. It was like someone was sitting on my chest.

I turned back, looking at the lockers across from me, and pressed the back of my head against the metal. It was like something was crushing me, I could barely breathe, but my heart was hammering so hard. It felt like it was taking swings repeatedly at my ribs.

I pressed my palms against the lockers, making sure to avoid Phoebe's as I spread out my fingers. I sucked in another breath, but the air down here felt like needles travelling down my spine. I frowned, unsure of what was happening. We had stopped, I could finally rest. Why was my body reacting like this?

I could feel the metal vibrating beneath my palms and tried shaking the haze from my brain. It couldn't be from the exhaustion. Everything felt too fast and blotchy. This felt like someone had thrown water onto me so hot that it left my skin steaming and the room spinning.

My stomach turned and I shut my eyes, waiting for everything to settle. Red shapes moved under my eyelids like kaleidoscopes—or warnings—and sizzled through the black screen of tranquillity I'd built for myself. The air became trapped in my chest, getting uncomfortably hot, and I swallowed, working to find a reason for all of this. Why? Why was this still happening? What was making me feel like this? What even was this?

And then, his words came back.

". . . that'll never hide who you really are—weak."

I opened my eyes, feeling the world crash around me.

The realisation twisted knots in my stomach. It sent my heart punching through to my ribs. The muscles in my shoulders tightened so much that they reminded me of piano wire. The blood poured and gushed in my ears so I couldn't hear anything else, save for the short breaths that made my lungs creak.

But I understood.

I looked to my right. Phoebe's hair had slipped down her shoulders as she trained her eyes on the darkness that spiralled around the alcove. It should've made me proud that she was like this, stepping up for the pair of us when I couldn't, but it didn't.

It made me feel . . .

"You're pathetic."

I glanced down to my feet, noticing there were still blood along the toes. Although the dark was still intense, so they barely looked any different then the leather, two small pools of dark copper had splattered against the black. Looking at them, I remembered the nick in my eyebrow. I gnashed my teeth and curled mt hand into a fist, reaching up to wipe the blood from my face.

It wasn't hot anymore and thankfully had stopped gushing down my skin. The cut hadn't been big to begin with so I managed to collect most of the blood in one swoop, but I could feel the dark smear my hand left behind. I tried again, digging my knuckles into my cheek and rubbing, but it only spread the smear down my chin.

Something sank in my chest. I dropped my hand to the side and studied the patchwork of grey and black around my feet. I felt my heart begin to pound in my throat and my vision swam.

"Nothing more than a scared little girl."

Was he right?

I didn't get the chance to ponder any longer on it because Phoebe suddenly stiffened with a small gasp. I looked up and blinked rapidly against the water that clogged my sight. She covered her mouth before she accidentally said something and moved back against the locker, staring straight ahead with wide trembling eyes.

A chill swept over me. The sounds of heavy footsteps suddenly sunk into my notice. They thudded when they reached the bottom of the stairs. There was a small pause then they continued down the hall. My heart dropped and I clamped my mouth shut, holding my breath so I could hear better.

The footsteps echoed as they approached, going from a louder hammering to an even paced walking. They were widely spaced, growing closer and closer. The Wraith, it probably could sense us and had slowed to search even more probingly for us.

The footsteps suddenly stopped right at the turning point. Its large shadow splashed against the wall, large and bulky, and its head turned in both directions.

I pressed myself against the lockers, trying to hide as much as I could behind this alcove, and prayed it wouldn't see me. I didn't know how good its eyesight was in the dark, it seemed to move perfectly okay outside, but it was much darker down here.

Would it be able to see me? Phoebe was squished in the corner of the alcove, blending in with the shadows and tucked away from its sight. I was next to her, not quite in the line of sight but if it wanted to, the Wraith could definitely spot me. I stuck out like a sore thumb; tall and blonde, my hair made me feel like a lighthouse. Not for the first time, I wished I had my hoodie to hide under.

The seconds ticked by, each one more agonising then the last, and with it the silence grew. I had my head pressed against the lockers and my eyes on the roof, but my chest had frozen still. There was a burning in the side of my face and I couldn't tell if it was from the Wraith looking at me, or if I was imagining it.

Keeping my face still, I glanced around and tried to come up with a plan. I could distract it, maybe jump out and dash off. It wouldn't harm Phoebe that way, I could lead it away. But where? It was blocking my way out. If it headed in my direction, down the hallway Pheebs and I both were in, then it would definitely see her pressed against the alcove. And besides, what could I do? I couldn't fight it and even if I could, what was the guarantee that it wouldn't use more of Phoebe's energy? I could be putting her in more danger.

I hadn't realised that I'd begun trembling again until a hand suddenly wrapped around mine. The air caught in my throat and I looked over my shoulder at Phoebe, but she was staring up ahead. Her chin was raised and her eyes matte, bizarrely regal looking, and she didn't glance back. It almost made me feel like I was imagining it. But I looked down and sure enough, her hand was holding onto mine, palm against my knuckles.

She was warm, a comforting heat came from her skin pressing against mine, but I noticed that she was shaking too. It was subtle, I didn't think I'd have noticed had I not completely stilled, but it was there.

I glanced back and noticed the rings around her eyes seemed darker, like she'd smudged charcoal along the rims of her eyes and slowly throughout the day, it had begun leaking down her face.

My heart sank. I didn't know what I could do. I had no idea what my next move was going to be. But I knew that, whatever it was, it had to be quick.

The Wraith suddenly moved and we both stilled, waiting for it to discover us, but to our surprise, it turned around and slumped back down the hall. I could hear it's footsteps fade as it settled back to the bottom of the stairs then take a random turn, disappearing into nothing.

Immediately, Phoebe and I both sunk back with loud, deep breaths. I let go of her hand and bent over my knees to ease the air back into my chest.

"Where—" I managed to get out through my panting. "Where are we?"

Phoebe had placed a hand to her chest, releasing a small breath, and turned back to me. Her eyes hooked onto mine in a way I couldn't recognise and then she swiped some of her hair back behind her ear.

"Basement," she answered then put her hands onto her hips. "We have to do something—about that thing."

"Like what?"

She deflated with uncertainty, which was a strange look on her. "I, uh, I don't know. Hurt it, or—kill it?"

"Pretty sure only superheroes can do that."

I made to say it jokingly, but it came out bitter instead. A dark mutter beneath my breath as I crossed my arm and glanced ahead. I could feel Phoebe staring and hoped that she assumed the bitterness had come from the situation, and not because I was actually very, very frustrated.

Her forehead had wrinkled into another frown, and a sense of hopelessness made her face crumble, which made me sigh. That probably had been a little too far. This wasn't the time to whine and sulk, I had to get my best friend out of here. Said best friend had no idea if any help was even coming and had to rely on her smarts and dumbass friend.

I opened my mouth to apologise when she suddenly gasped.

I jumped, looking up with alarm, but stopped when I noticed that her eyes had lit up. She no longer was looking at me, instead she was staring at something over my shoulder.

Frowning, I opened my mouth ask what was going on when she suddenly flew past me. I blinked, keeping my arms locked around me, and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Slowly, I turned and followed her movements with narrowed eyes.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to announce that what had captured my best friend's attention—of whom had some of the greatest smarts I'd seen from someone my age—was a door. Really. A fucking door. She had stopped outside the thing and swung it open, studying its contents with an upturned smile.

I wanted to face palm. Great, while we're trapped with a werewolf looking motherfucker, she was enamoured with a door.

I stared at her for a moment then sighed, schooled my face into a blank expression and slowly approached her. She didn't look up when I appeared by her side so I quickly scanned the inside to see what it was that excited her so.

Oh, well, looks like I was mistaken. It wasn't just a door in the middle of a school basement. It was a door to a closet in the middle of a school basement. Oh, thank the lord, we're saved.

I glanced back at her but Phoebe moved, practically bouncing so she could grip onto the door and peer around the edge. She scanned the space behind the door then let out a small triumphant noise and actually wiggled on her toes. I felt my jaw drop, unsure of why she was acting like this. Maybe it was the Wraith. Maybe this happened if someone was drained too long—they stared acting like a fucking lunatic.

Phoebe then turned back to me, beaming.

"How strong are you?"

I blinked, not registering her question for a minute, then clapped my mouth shut and moved forward. I gently shoved her out of the way, leaned around the door, and searched for whatever it was that had her in a tiff.

But all I saw was an empty, shadowed hallway—hardly a fascinating sight at this point. Oh, and a metal desk pressed against the wall.

I raised an eyebrow and turned back to Phoebe. "Um, Pheebs—"

"Answer the question," she insisted.

I sighed, standing straight and putting my hands onto my hips. I pursed my lips, curling them to the side, before deciding to answer her.

"Adequately so."

"Good," she nodded and stepped backwards, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. "I have an idea. Follow my lead, okay?"

Normally, I would've rolled my eyes and brushed her off. She wasn't a part of this world, after all, and really had no idea what it was that she was messing with (hell, that still applied to me as well). But considering I had no plans and rapidly was running out of time, I figured there couldn't be any harm in trying this plan of hers.

If things went south, I could just distract the Wraith so Phoebe at least could get away.

No biggie.

So, I nodded. "Okay."

"Good," she repeated with a grin, then held out her hand. "Now, do you have your keys on you?"

After a small clash of creative differences—and by creative differences, I mean a very hushed argument because why the fuck did she want my keys—we were left folded and waiting in the shadows. The darkness fell over Phoebe, blurring her hair with her sweater, and my keys twinkled like glitter in her hand.

She knew this area and had predicted how long it would take for the Wraith to find its way back to us. She had also predicted that eventually it would realise we hadn't moved from before (seriously, she managed to calculate all of this down to the exact amount of steps it would take, which still managed to shock me, even though at this point I knew how naturally talented Phoebe was with numbers). We were only a few steps away from our hiding spot in the alcove, so likely, when the Wraith figured all this out, it would come tearing through the shadows in search of us.

And sure enough, just as her makeshift countdown hit the '1', a pair of thundering footsteps were suddenly racing in our direction. Only now, we were peering around the door, hidden by the thick rolls of shadows. Phoebe had her hand pressed against my shoulder, easing me back, while she tossed my keys up and down in her hand.

I frowned. "Hey, quit i—"

She shushed me, eyes not moving away from the beginning to the hallway, and sure enough, the footsteps had grown louder. I could feel the thuds rippling beneath my feet, sounding like tree trunks crashing against the ground.

I peered over Phoebe's shoulder just as the Wraith turned the corner. I covered my mouth, seconds before I could gasp, and almost pulled back had it not been for Phoebe's hand on me, steadying me.

The Wraith was a mass of shadows, a darkness that melted against the grey air. It's fists tightened as its yellow eyes flickered in our direction. I felt my heart stop as, for a moment, I thought it had spotted us. But the orbs skated quickly by us, moving from its left to the right before narrowing.

I blinked, realising that it could see about as much as we could down here.

Phoebe sucked in a quiet breath before tossing the keys into the closet. They clattered against the ground and the Wraith looked up, ears erect and eyes burning, before it dashed down the hall in our direction. I felt my heart jump and cram against the scream in my throat when Phoebe spun on her heels and latched her arm around my stomach, throwing us both back and out of the way. The sounds of our movements were covered by the heavy pattering of the Wraith's feet and quickly we disappeared behind the door just as it dashed inside the closet.

It flew inside in a whirlwind and a rush of warm air snapped against our bodies, blowing our hair into our faces. I hacked, spitting the strands from my mouth, but Phoebe was quick and dashed to the door in a blur of black and white. I yanked the hair from my face then spun on my heels and rushed to the other end of the desk.

I gripped the two edges between my fingers, knuckles locking into place, and slid back my foot, waiting. Phoebe heaved the door shut with an echoing thud! then flashed her ready eyes to mine. I jumped into action, pushing and heaving against the desk so that it slid nosily across the floor. Its weight was massive, it would've been impossible to have moved this had I been ordinary (especially so quickly), but thankfully, I could feel Blue Jay's strength pulsing through my muscles.

I pushed as hard as I could, the soles of my feet hit and slid across the ground, and eventually felt the desk neatly press against the shut door. Phoebe jumped out of the way, eyes wide with impressment, and I slid my hands down to the middle of the desk and pushed until I had swung around the other end.

It swung against the wall opposite of the closet and I let go to avoid having my fingers caught. The Wraith barked and slammed itself against the shut closet door, a noise that was so loud I felt it collide with my bones. I whirled around with a scream but as predicted, the door didn't open. Instead, it merely slammed against the table, which blocked it from opening, as the other end of the table was pressed flushed against the wall.

I stared for a moment, allowing my brain to frantically catch up. Thanks to Phoebe's plan, that door wouldn't be opening any time soon.

A laugh eased from my throat.

We were safe.

"Pheebs," I panted, pressing a hand to my chest and shooting her a stunned grin. "You're a genius!"

Her smile melted the tightness from her face, despite the Mutant's continuing to let out loud, hollow howls.

"Agreed," she quipped.

I laughed, placing my hands onto my hips and throwing back my head, both from the absurdity and relief. We had actually made it—we might actually be okay. But the sound was buried again by the Wraith, who howled even louder this time. It should've made me jump or scream, but instead I just rolled my eyes at Phoebe then leapt over the desk to get back to her side where we shared a high five.

"Okay, c'mon, smartypants," I said and slung an arm over her shoulders. "Let's head out before this thing gets loose."

Grinning, she nodded.

But the minute she took a step, there was a violent rattling against the door with a deep hungry growl. This growl was different, it sounded almost demonic sounding, and another burst of noise boomed from behind the door.

I slipped, almost losing my balance, and Phoebe's shoulder left my arm as her knees hit the ground. Her hands spread wide against the dirt and her chin tipped forward, hair slipping around her face. Beneath the noises, I heard a small gasp slip from her parted lips, and for a moment, I thought she was reacting to the Wraith's sudden cry. But then I noticed how much louder her breathing had gotten, how deep her breaths seemed to get yet no air was filling her lungs.

I lowered myself to her side, gripping her shoulder.

"Pheebs, what's wrong?" I demanded with a frown, slightly shaking her, but when she turned back to me immediately I knew.

Her face was a ghastly shade of white, smeared in a sparkling sheet of cold sweat, almost like someone had taken a paintbrush unevenly to her skin. The black around her eyes resembled tires, smearing down to the tops of her cheeks, and her lids were hanging low. There was a new frailness to her bones, a shakiness, and her lips began to twitch.

"It's draining you," I murmured to myself, cold with realisation. Her eyes settled onto mine, sinking with defeat, but before she could say anything there was a crashing noise from behind the closet door. It barrelled in like thunder and the ground shook with it, rattling like something had just gone off. Immediately, I jumped to my feet and raced back to the door, peering into the small, squared window. But what I saw made my stomach sink into the pit of my soul.

Nothing.

As in, the Wraith was no longer in there.

Instead, there was a large hole in the roof, where remaining slices of wood decorated the jagged edges like chipped teeth. And then I heard the sounds—the loud footsteps that ran over the space above me. They were scrambling, echoing with a force, and a rush of prickling zipped up my spine.

I glanced up, trying to discern the shadows sprawled across the roof, then spun around and swept Phoebe into my arms. She kept her chin dipped as I dragged her slumping form as quick as I could down the hallway and around the corner.

Thankfully, racing up the stairs was much quicker than running down, even with Phoebe in tow. We made it back to the regular level of the school in a matter of minutes without, thankfully, any signs of the Wraith.

"Shit, Pheebs," I hissed, slamming the doors open. They swung back to reveal a moonlit corridor, patches of light falling over the tiles and lockers in shades of grey and white. My hands were locked around her shoulders as I marched the both of us down the hallway. "It's fucking draining you—that's how it got out of there."

She managed a nod but didn't lift her eyes any higher than her hands, which were twisted around her elbows.

"I know," she murmured, face barely changing. "It sucks."

I scoffed. "Yeah, it does."

She didn't respond so I took that as an end to our conversation, which I was fine with. My heart was rattling so firm in my stomach, I couldn't have tried to converse with her even if I wanted too. I turned my attention to our surrounding, scrutinising every detail I could make, biting down on my lip as I strained to hear any sudden sounds. But I didn't detect any signs of movements or sounds coming from the roof, so I figured that maybe we were a little safe. For the time being, anyway.

"Helga?"

"Mm?"

"Why are you here?" The question surprised me and I glanced at her. Her eyes were drooping but they were definitely on me and her lips had twisted to the side. "I mean, it's after school. You've been busy. Why did you stay back?"

Immediately, I could sense where this was going.

"I fell asleep in a closet," I told her honestly, looking away and crossing my arms. But I could still feel her staring at me, so I added, "I was, erm, skipping out on P.E. and decided to catch some sleep."

"You were skipping?" she repeated, this time her voice was laced with disappointment. "Why, Helga? I thought you were going to try this time."

I shrugged. "Dunno. Was just tired, I guess."

"Why didn't you just leave then?"

I glanced at her. "Huh?"

"P.E. was your last class, correct?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Why was it you decided to stay behind, instead of just leaving?"

I rolled my eyes. "Calm down, genius, I didn't have a ride back home."

She paused, some of the tightness freezing in her eyes, before glancing down with flushed cheeks. "O–Oh."

"And in case you forgot, there's been a lot of attacks," I gestured dryly at the shadowed hallway. "I didn't wanna risk it."

Fat load of good that woulda done me.

". . . Right."

She folded her arms across her chest and turned her chin so she was looking in the opposite direction. I frowned, unsure what about that had upset her, then shoved my hands into my pockets and looked up ahead. It didn't matter, I had to keep my attention trained on our surroundings, I couldn't afford anymore mistakes.

This left us knee deep in an awkward silence. The sounds of our shoes against the door echoed, reverberating around the room like a cymbal, and the ticking seconds began to resemble bombs. There was a buzzing in my ears, it sounded like flies when they found rotten fruit, and I realised it was the pulse rushing like rabbit's feet in my temples. I let out a slowed controlled breath and attempted to loosen my muscles. I was walking like a clockwork soldier.

"How do you do it?"

I paused for a moment then glanced back. "Huh?"

She lowered her gaze, seemingly trying to build the courage to continue, then swallowed and hooked her stare onto mine.

"How do you . . . this—how do you keep so calm and in control during something like this?" she asked, eyebrows knitting together, and a rush of something flooded my chest. It shifted and turned my stomach and I had to look away, gripping the back of my neck. "We're getting chased by a . . . by a fucking demon and you're . . . still remaining so calm? You haven't frozen up like me, you haven't even screamed. How?"

I didn't answer at first, unsure of how I could even respond to that. Not just because I didn't want to seem suspicious, but . . . because I knew she was wrong. For once. That thought almost made me crack a bitter smirk. Phoebe's observations had finally failed her, observations that were about me no less. She seemed to think that I was fearless, that the reason why I hadn't allowed myself to scream or blabber about this was because this didn't scare me, when it was the exact opposite. I didn't scream or blabber because I couldn't. I couldn't allow myself, not anymore. The time for crying and screaming had passed long ago, the minute I had picked up that pin, the day that Nel had first set her sights on me.

I was a leader now, a soldier. And soldiers didn't scream, they didn't cry, they didn't let their emotions get the best of them. They were always calm, in control, cool. They were tall and humble, always offering answers when there were none, lending others their strength when they had none.

". . . that'll never hide who you really are—weak."

Leaders were the glue that held everyone together.

"We're going to come with greater numbers then you've seen!"

They lead with example, so their team could push themselves to keep fighting too.

"The end is near!"

So, they could always win and everyone remained safe.

"And you all have your precious hero to thank."

My throat suddenly felt tight, like it wouldn't let any words ease up and escape.

I turned back to Phoebe, soaking in the warm and curious depths of her eyes before allowing myself to speak.

"I . . . I try not to let myself think about it," I said, slow and clear, like I'd rehearse this conversation thousands of times. There was a burning in my eyes, I wanted to glance away, but I kept my stare nailed onto hers. "I don't let myself slow down, I keep on moving. If I don't, my fears will reach me and I'll be stuck, unable to move. I have to keep pushing myself forward."

The words buzzed in my veins. I no longer was talking about tonight and I think Phoebe knew that. She watched me carefully, her eyes wide and swimming with concern, but she didn't say anything. She remained quiet and allowed me to speak, to fill the silence between us.

"I have to keep pushing myself forward," I repeated, this time slightly louder, and like a breeze, I felt voice suddenly sweep past my ears.

"There isn't another way?"

"No—all we can do is fight."

"I have to keep fighting," I said, voice chiming with a steeliness, and with another breath, I spoke in time with Nel. "It's all I can do. Fight my way out."

"If we don't fight, how can we win?"

My words rung between us, like a cold metal sending shivers up my already quivering spine. I glanced away, unable to meet Phoebe's eyes, worried that I'd let way too much slip. I prayed that she somehow managed to misread me again, maybe thought that I was dramatic or something, and not confessing to something I've kept to myself for what felt like years now. Deep breaths, I had to remind myself. I didn't know what possessed me to spill so much to her, but I had, and there wasn't anything I could do to take it back.

I then felt Phoebe's grin, the sliding between her teeth slightly differently, and glanced back to an uneven smile lifting her lips.

"You always were the wild one," she simply said, shrugging slightly. I stared at her, not understanding what she meant by that, and thankfully, she seemed to understand my confusion. "Out of the two of us, you were always the one with more spine. You always ran towards the fight instead of away from it. You're a fighter, nothing can hurt you, not enough to stop you, at least. Nothing can make you stop, especially if it concerns someone you care about." She smiled sadly, lowering her eyes. "You're my antithesis, Helga."

I frowned. "Pheebs—"

"Why haven't we seen each other?"

The question was sharp and came out of nowhere. I had to process it for a moment before saying anything, and Phoebe took that as a sign to continue on.

"It's . . . it feels like it's been a while since we were last together," she swept a strand from her face, nibbling on the left side of her mouth. "Like, together together. What happened, Helga?"

She turned back, eyes burning straight into mine, and I looked away. The shadows were thick, there was nothing to distract myself with aside from the crisscrossing moonlight that scaled across the walls. There was no escape. I felt like I was bolted in a gilded cage, the dark strikes against the walls suddenly reminding me of iron bars. A burning crept up my throat and I swallowed to force it down, but it did nothing.

We'd already had this conversation—hours ago—but her tone was different. It wasn't shy or defeated, it was earnest sounding, like she really had no idea. Like she had run multiple tests to find the answer and just . . . couldn't. I realised that she wasn't just referring to the last couple of months, but . . . well, everything.

"Life . . . it just got in the way," I admitted and tangled my fingers in my hair. My chest had cramped, I could feel Phoebe's stare burning holes into the back of my skull. I eased a quiet breath then turned back, forcing a smile that made my cheeks hurt. "I mean, look at you, going to all those nerd clubs, keeping at the top of all your classes. So much was on your plate, I . . . I didn't mind being put on the back burner."

Her eyes softened.

"Well, I did, Helga," she insisted. "I hated forgetting you. You're my—you're my best friend and besides Gerald and maybe Arnold . . . you understand me. Really understand me. And I enjoy being with my friends in those clubs but . . . you're my family."

I stopped, the words dying in my chest.

It . . . she had never said something like that. Not that I could remember anyway. Phoebe and I, we were close—we were best friend—but we never had verbally acknowledged that. She was too shy and I never could bring myself to admit things like that. I had always been too afraid, assuming that if I ever grew too comfortable with someone, that it wouldn't be long until they left me.

That was just how it worked, like clockwork. Someone would settle down besides me, then turn their back and never look my way again. It had happened with Arnold, with every one of my classmates, and honestly, I'd assumed it had with Phoebe as well. She had been so wrapped up in her world of science, of other students who actually got whatever it was that she was always prattling on about, that I just assumed she found a better comfort in them then she ever could with me.

She had lasted the longest, stuck by my side throughout high school, but it was undeniable that our relationship had grown distant over the past few months. So, the fact that she was choosing now to say it without taking it back . . .

A part of me was waiting for it. For Phoebe to turn red and take it all back, scolding herself for being so dramatic and humiliating herself, but she didn't. She held my gaze, the usual shyness washed away with a rush of boldness. It swirled deep in her eyes, a burning that came from her soul, and the more I stared, the more I became aware of the burning in my own eyes.

I cleared my throat, battling the water that crept from the corners of my eyes, and turned away.

"I—" I froze, unsure of how to respond. I knew what I had to do—keep doing all that I'd been before—but I just couldn't. Not right now. An exhaustion lay deep in my bones and I suddenly realised how tired I was of it all. Of having to remain so cold and distant from everyone as I hid behind those walls I'd built around my heart.

"I've missed you too, Pheebs."

Her eyes shimmered and a smile slowly stretched across her face. It passed through me like sunshine, moving smooth into my veins, and my mind fell black. There was a rush of warmth beating in my chest and I suddenly became aware that we had completely stopped moving. I jumped and spun on my heels, moving away to swipe that drop of wetness that hit my cheek. I could feel Phoebe's confusion as I moved away from her but was unable to look back, not when a shakiness was rattling deep in my bones.

I forced myself to take several deep breaths, easing my face into that blank mask I only wore on nights as Blue Jay, then turned back to her. With a roll of my shoulders and a rise of my chin, I had suddenly turned back into a Guardian with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

"C'mon," I said, voice heavy, and kept my gaze focused on the space above Phoebe's head. "Before that thing finds us."

I caught a split second of surprise that flashed across her face before I turned on my heel and continued down the hallway. The air around my neck and shoulders was chilling, goosebumps sprung from my skin like a shivering blanket, and I gripped my elbows. I had taken three steps exactly before Phoebe caught up with me and settled into a similar pattern of walking beside me. She threw a quick glance at me, eyebrows pulled together in bemusement, before glancing up ahead of us.

We didn't speak this time, which quickly made everything awkward and tense. My stomach tightened. I couldn't blame Pheebs, I'd pretty much brushed past that entire interaction, but I felt like I had too. I couldn't keep falling victim to my thoughts and feelings. I needed to get Phoebe out of here so I could handle this matter on my own. Maybe I could talk to her about this tomorrow but right now, I needed to be Blue Jay.

So, I braved the tautness, face frozen in a controlled state, and moved a little ahead of her. I felt her eyes move over my shoulders before she turned away with a soft sigh. I copied her, quietly sighing and folding my arms over my chest.

This was going to be a long night.

Eventually, we reached a pair of oak doors, standing tall and dark in front of us. I slapped my hands against them and pushed, allowing Phoebe to pass me as they swung open, then quickly following her inside.

We'd reached the trophy room, an observation that made me sigh with relief. Only a few more rooms until we would reach the office, where we could phone her parents—or anyone—then leave this place. Well, Phoebe would be leaving, I, obviously, would be staying. But I figured I could make a quick call to Lila, pretend she was someone in my family, and get her to get here within a few minutes.

The trophy room was wider than the hallways. It opened up with marbled floors and bricked walls that were dressed in school tapestries. There were several cabinets against the left wall, each standing tall with several shelves full of gleaming trophies. Lights were lined along the backs of the cabinets, which made yellow fluorescence wash across the floor, coating us in a honey toned brightness that I had to blink against for a moment.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and gestured with my shoulder for Phoebe to follow. I caught her rolling her eyes but shrugged it off. Hopefully, everything would run smoothly from here on out, then we wouldn't be stuck together for much longer.

And, of course, as soon as that thought passed my mind, we heard the sounds of loud, echoing footsteps. They came from behind the doors we'd been heading for and rattled noisily as they headed down the hallway in what felt like our direction.

Immediately, we froze, and Phoebe reeled back so hard that the back of her head smacked against my shoulder. She whirled around, an apology on the tip of her tongue, when she caught the look on my face.

"Shit," I hissed, frantically looking around the silhouetted room. I needed a makeshift weapon, something to defend us, but there was nothing here . . . except—

I found myself staring at the cabinet across from us. The trophies gleamed like they were made from gold rather than cheap plastic. They weren't exactly my style, but they would have to do. Besides, the rush of footsteps was quickly approaching, I didn't have much of a choice.

I crossed the room with Phoebe on my heels and rolled my hand into a tight fist as I approached the glass. The lights behind the planes were on, lighting up my reflection, and the raw intensity in my eyes burned like hot copper.

There was a dry crackling on my eyebrow, the blood was little more than a splotch of darkness entwined with the hairs. But the smudges were still around my chin, curving at my jaw like splattered fingers.

I ignored that and reeled back my fist—

"Whoawhoawhoawhoa—what are you doing?!" Phoebe suddenly wrapped her small hands around my wrist. She forced me to look down at her, mouth curved into a disapproving frown, and I scoffed.

"What does it look like?" I demanded and yanked my arm from her grasp. "I'm getting us a weapon."

"But that's school property!" she burst. "And the school will kill you for breaking that glass."

I gaped at her. ". . . not before the fucking monster thing does!"

That made her pause in consideration. She rolled her mouth to the side as she pondered on it, then when she realised I had a point, she reluctantly gave a nod.

"Fine," she renounced with a sigh. I nodded, turning back to the glass, and pulled back my fist when she quickly added, "Wait!"

"What?!"

"Use this," and abruptly, she bent down to clumsily untie her shoe. I balked at her, blinking a few times, when she came back up to hand me her shoe. Let me repeat that—her shoe. Her fucking shoe.

I took it but stared at her. "Thanks. Uh, why?"

"Punching it will cut you," she said with a patronising frown. "It might be a little harder, but at least you won't be injured."

". . . right."

Truthfully, I didn't care about getting cut. I'd heal quickly, I knew that. But I didn't have the time to keep arguing with her, the footsteps were quickly approaching the doors behind us.

So, I wrapped my fingers tight around the toes then slammed the heel against the glass. It took a few hits (and a couple of curses) but eventually the glass was smashed in, which left behind a jagged hole. Glistening shards landed on the shelf inside, some chunks larger than others, and the warm lights rushed and rebounded from the jagged edges.

I hesitated to reach inside, the blood beneath my skin suddenly feeling a lot warmer. But then I heard it again—footsteps. Quickening their pace so they could reach the door.

"Shit," I hissed.

They—whoever the footsteps belonged to—must've heard the glass smashing. I shoved Phoebe's shoe back into her hands, who's eyes widened as she clumsily caught it. She slightly yelped, having not expected that as she'd been watching the door over her shoulder, and looked from the shoe in her hand to my face.

I sucked in a breath then reached into the gap.

The jagged teeth were like teeth, sticking out from random directions, which left only a very a small amount of space for movement. And though my arm was naturally slim, it was difficult to reach inside without striking myself.

The trophy I had my eye on—last year's girl's football team—was at the back of the shelf. It was shapely, a dark shade of gold that almost appeared bronze, and by far the largest out of them all. The others were no bigger than my hand. And you know, I figured the bigger one was the better route to go.

So, gritting my teeth, I reached in so far that my elbow was glazing the sharp edges of the hole. The footsteps were trampling outside, but I focused my energy on the trophy that gleamed in the warmly filtered light.

Just a little more . . . my fingers were shaking from the strain. I stepped forward to close that millimetre distance. Just have to . . . Got it!

"Finally," I breathed with victory. I glanced over my shoulder with a small grin but Phoebe was staring at the door behind us. The footsteps had grown louder. Their echoes bounced from the walls as they skidded down the hallways to reach this room.

I quickly pulled my arm out from the broken cabinet, trophy in tow, when—

"Shit—fuck."

I yanked my arm to my chest when a sharp pain struck my wrist. I hissed, feeling a warmth flow from the cut and between my fingers. I'd been too hasty. I hadn't been paying enough attention and one of the larger shards had torn through my sleeve and nicked the inside of my arm.

Phoebe spun back around and covered her mouth with a horrified gasp when she saw the blood. A line of scarlet was oozing from the cut, dripping down my skin and pooling at my elbow. She stepped closer, shoe clutched between her hands, and pressed me with her worried eyes.

"Helga," she said softly. "Are you—"

"I'm fine," I forced out and wrapped my fingers around the neck of the trophy before lowering my arm so that it was by my side. I ignored the flash of pain and gently shoved Phoebe away with my other hand. "Get going—"

"But Helga, you're—"

"Go."

I didn't give her the chance for rebuttal. Instead, I turned on my heels and raced across the room. I could hear her as she descended in the opposite direction for a hiding spot. I sighed with relief and went to the wall beside the large set of doors. Clutching the trophy, I slammed my back against the bricks and waited.

The footsteps stopped abruptly just outside the door. I could hear a hushed set of murmuring voices and quickly determined that whoever they were, they were male. Disappointment sank in my chest. That meant they weren't actually Lila and Nel, like I'd been hoping.

I pressed my heels against the wall and strained my hearing, trying to understand what was being said. But the door was thick, the voices were far too muffled. I could barely even make out their tones. The hair on the back of my neck was prickling and my heart pumped hard and fast.

I glanced up at Phoebe, who was pressed up against the doors across from me. The shadows folded thick around her, zipping up and down her body like a dark puddle. Somehow, I managed to make out her stance. She had swiftly placed her shoe back on and had her hands tucked beneath her chest, wide eyes latched onto the door beside me.

I released a breath, turning back to the voices, and held up the trophy like it were a bat. It was heavier then what I'd been expecting, which was surprising since it was obviously cheaply made. But I figured that was good, it meant I could land a solid hit on the thing—whatever was making those voices on the other side of me. The bottom of the trophy was marble, so I made sure that that would be the end I'd be hitting with.

The voices suddenly halted and my heart dropped. I could hear someone reaching for the door then the handle clicking as it unlatched. My heart threatened to stop. I could feel the blood rushing in my palms, sloshing beneath the skin and pumping hard against the trophy.

I swallowed.

The door opened.

A shadowed figure walked in.

And I swung.

THWANG!

"OW!"

The figure collapsed in a heap at my feet. It happened so fast, it was nothing more then a dark blur for my eyes, but I quickly raised the trophy again to swing harder. But then the hairs on my neck sprang back up and I remembered that there was another figure standing behind me. They'd stopped when I'd rushed forward to attack their accomplice. So, jamming my eyes shut, I spun and swung as hard as I could—

"Helga!" A familiar voice cried out as they leapt out of the way to avoid being struck. My heart jammed against my ribs and I opened my eyes to a pair of emerald green orbs.

I almost dropped the trophy.

"A–Arnold?!"

The warm light suddenly washed over him from the cabinets, as if they'd been called. Surprise had rippled across his face, creasing in his forehead and locking his jaw wide open. He had stepped back from the earlier encounter but now that he recognised that it was me, he took a miniscule step forward, lowering his hands slightly.

I glanced down at the other figure and stumbled backwards when I recognised their face.

"Gerald!"

"Pleasure, Pataki," he snapped, looking up with a sharp glare. He ran a hand over the side of his head, shadows sprawling across his face as he did so, to rub the throbbing away from the nasty bump beginning to form.

I grimaced.

Oops.

"Gerald!" Phoebe exclaimed, voice ringing out like silver bells as she kicked off from the door and dashed from the shadows.

He glanced up and instantly the frown melted from his face when he saw her. His lips stretched into a relieved smile and his gaze warmed as she moved quick to get to him. Phoebe threw herself onto her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers diving into his curls. He wrapped both his hands around her shoulders and dove his nose into the crock of her shoulder, shutting his eyes.

My chest warmed slightly at the sight of them. Gosh darn, even I had to admit that they were kinda cute together . . . but then I remembered where we were and suddenly the anger rushed back into me.

"What the hell are you two doing here?!" I demanded, looking between the pair of them. I noticed Arnold slightly frown with confusion at that. "You could've been hurt!"

Gerald glanced up with a scowl, Phoebe's hair slightly caught between his teeth. "Could've?!"

"Oh, grow up," I snapped and placed my hands on my hips. "It was barely even a bump."

"A bump?!" he repeated, voice so shrill that even Phoebe reeled back to watch him with surprise. Gerald jumped to his feet, stumbling slightly as he crossed the space between us. Phoebe followed him, keeping her arms out to catch him in case. The dark skinned boy stopped an arm's length away and glared down his nose at me. "Look, we're only here because you sent Arnold that text, but if this was just some elaborate, bizarro scheme to get me—"

"Whoa—hang on, what?" I turned back to Arnold. "Who sent a text?"

Arnold blinked, confused.

"You . . . sent me a . . ." he trailed off when the expression on my face didn't change. He glanced at Gerald, who shrugged, then quickly pulled out his phone which flashed with a text.

Please, meet me at school.

URGENT.

I stared at the screen, my stomach sinking lower and lower every time I reread it. My brain buzzed. I must've read it ten times, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I even checked the number it had been sent from, just to make sure, but sure enough, I did recognise that number as my own. Which meant . . .

I felt a lump rise in my throat.

Phoebe moved beside me, creeping closer so she too could see the message that had me so captivated. Blue light smeared across her face as she did so, lighting up her surprise when she saw the sentence, and softly she released a small gasp.

I glanced at her, feeling numb.

From the look on her face, her thoughts were similar to my own.

Arnold looked between us. ". . . Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this?"

"Because I didn't—neither of us did!" I exclaimed. "That fucker stole our phones!"

"It wants all of us here," Phoebe murmured and when I looked back to her, a pale face horror haunted her eyes. The grim realisation plastered itself across her face and she lowered her stare down to her shoes, expression blank.

"What?" Gerald's eyebrows knitted together as he turned to me. "Who—who wants us here?"

I opened my mouth when the doors behind us suddenly banged open. The four of us spun around in time to catch them slamming hard against the walls and rattling the trophies on the cabinet.

My heart dropped and Gerald shrieked. "Shit!"

The Wraith barrelled through and came to a stop at the doorway. It's bulky arms pushed out from slamming the doors open and a loud and devouring growl emitted from it's bare teeth. Only now, it stood in the bulk of the golden light and for the first time tonight . . . I could see it.

It was tall, way more then I'd originally though. It had to lower itself just to get through the doorway, but once it had entered, it rolled back it's shoulders and raised it's chin. It easily towered over me—hell, Gerald was the tallest out of the four of us and even on his toes, he barely would've glanced it's shoulders.

The Wraith had long dark fur, matted from all of the running, that stretched over its bulging muscles like a coarse blanket. Its muscles were bunched together so thick across its arms and legs that it almost seemed swollen. A band of muscle wrapped around its neck, so plump that it made it's head look tiny in comparison.

It's face was scrunched up. Wet, rubbery lips pulled back to reveal spiked teeth so long that they resembled steak knives more than anything.

Arnold's eyes almost popped out from his skull at the sight of it. "What the fu—"

The Wraith opened it's mouth and out came one of the loudest noises I'd heard in my life. The roar swept through and shuddered straight through me, hitting me hard in my chest and clapping sharply in my ears. Everyone jumped backwards with sharp gasps, holding their hands onto their ears, but then the Wraith stopped and crouched onto all fours.

I felt my eyes widen.

Its golden gaze fixed itself onto me.

My trophy cluttered to the floor.

"C'mon!" I wrapped my fingers around Phoebe's wrist. There was a split, heart racing second where her eyes snapped to mine before I spun on my heels and pulled her into a clumsy run. Her gasp was lost between the booming stomps as the Wraith hurtled after us and a string of curses unravelled from Gerald's mouth as he and Arnold swung around to follow us.

And we took off, stumbling. The tiles beneath our feet made slapping noises and the walls seemed to lap and swim in melting shades of black. The light from the cabinets washed across the floors up ahead and struck sharp against the doors we were headed for. I kept my vision glued on them, formulating a plan as to where we could go once we made it out of here, but the sounds of the Wraith became hard to ignore.

Every time one of its paws colluded with the ground, it sent ripples of trembles across the tiles. It rattled the trophies and the glass and sent waves that thundered in my knees.

I swallowed, tightening my hold around Phoebe, and practically slammed myself against the door. A burst of pain exploded in my bones but the door was thrown wide open and the four of us rushed into the hallway.

Moonlight swam in dazzling white streams that shattered the darkness. It washed over us and slammed our shadows against the walls, turning them into one singular blob. I could hear Arnold panting besides me and when I looked at him, a hazy glow from the night surrounded the side of his head. It casted his eyes in shadows but his mouth was beaming, I could see the way he clenched his teeth together to suppress the scream.

A sinking feeling churned in my chest. He wasn't supposed to be here—none of them were. If I had just been less naïve when talking with—

The Wraith suddenly roared as it burst through the doors we had just come through. I didn't look back, I didn't need to, I could hear the smacking noises it made as it raced after us. It let out rasping pants as it moved closer and closer.

I tried widening my strides but Phoebe was beginning to slip from my grasp. I looked over my shoulder and noticed that her eyes were drooping lower again. The darkness around her eyes almost seemed to pulse as her chin crawled lower and lower toward her collarbone.

Fuck.

We needed to find a place to hide—now.

We rounded a corner to a hallway even more puddled with shadows. There weren't any windows, so darkness smothered every corner like ash, blending and melting so I could barely make anything out.

I squinted, trying to make out some of our surroundings. I could recognise the whiteness of the tiles, the outlines of lockers and the—

Wait. Holy shit—that's it!

I suddenly noticed a very familiar set of double – sided doors. They were wide, two panels of beige stretched between a set of similar looking lockers.

I had to fight back a big dumb grin as I quickly skidded to a stop. I felt everyone around me almost slip over from the abruptness, including Gerald, who exclaimed with surprise as he almost smacked into me. I'd stopped holding onto Phoebe, so she almost fell over had it not been for Arnold acting quick. He gently grabbed onto her shoulders to steady her, face gentle and warm, and was about to ask her if she was alright. But then he froze when he caught a glimpse of her face.

Gerald, on the other hand, turned to me. "What the—"

"This way!" I shouted and smacked my hand against the door. Everyone was silent as the door swung open and revealed a shadowed, empty cafeteria. I could see them blinking as they strained to adjust their vision and I rolled my eyes with a huff, about to tell them to move it when the Wraith suddenly howled.

The sound curled and spurred down the hallway. Everyone jumped and whirled around, letting out sharp gasps when they saw the Wraith rounding the corner and dashing down the hall.

It was running on all fours, like a dog, and it's footsteps boomed against the floor. It's jaw had opened wide, revealing those jagged teeth, and it's black ears stuck up like horns. Even against the shadows, this thing burned with a darkness that almost appeared demonic. Its edges seemed to curl and fold like ribbons of smoke, trailing and dancing behind its figure as it moved.

And it's eyes were like two piercing beams, burning over a crooked set of smiling teeth. They resembled yellow headlights and though it had no pupil, I was certain that it's gaze was on me.

I swerved around and held open the door, grabbing everyone's attention. They turned back to me in similar states of surprise.

"Come on!" I barked with a violent jerk of my head. And thankfully this time they saw the benefit in my logic and quickly clobbered inside. I held the door open for them then quickly followed them inside the cafeteria.

My heart pumped hard in my throat as I spun around, slamming my hands against the door. It slammed shut with a shattering sound that swept through my arms and rattled down my spine. It stunned me for a moment and Gerald had to rush to my side to snap the lock over both the doors.

The air suddenly slammed back into my chest and I stepped backwards, sweeping my hands behind me as my mind began swimming. Gerald panted, resting his shoulder against the door and placing a hand to his chest, face slightly damp.

Shakily, I touched my forehead, sweeping my fingers back so they raked through my hair, and tried formulating some type of plan.

But my mind was racing—buzzing. Any rational thought had dashed off in a passing white blur. I couldn't think of anything. We had essentially trapped ourselves in here. It wouldn't be long until the Wraith came barrelling in here, lock or no lock.

I pressed my palms against my temples, gritting my teeth together as I worked to suppress the exasperated sob that weighed down in my chest.

There had to be a way. There was always a way—

And then I heard shuffling behind me.

I paused, letting the breath roll up my chest and pass my lips, then looked over my shoulder. Arnold had gently propped Phoebe onto one of the tables then sat down beside her. He had one hand on her shoulder and another on her arm, steading her in case she passed out.

His voice was low and hushed, I think he was asking her if she was alright, but she barely was even responding. Her eyes were pointed down at their dangling feet and her lids fluttered up and down, fighting against the waves of heaviness.

My chest ached with worry. I didn't know how long we had before Phoebe would pass out. The moment she did that, there wasn't a hope of recovering her until that Wraith was dead. And I couldn't exactly do that while I had everyone around me like this. I might've had a fighting chance on my own, but not when my attention was split between taking care of all of them.

I could feel Gerald watching me, as if expecting some great plan to come from my mouth, and a rush of blood surged and burned from the back of my neck.

Fuck—I needed a plan. I needed some type of defence to hold that thing off, at least for a little while, but what was there? The only things in here beside us were a whole bunch of chairs and—

I froze.

Hang on.

"Quick—get the tables," I practically muttered to Gerald. But thankfully he seemed to have heard me because he nodded and rushed to help me move the closest ones towards the door.

I wrapped my fingers around the legs of a nearby table and began to pull, clacking my teeth together as the legs screeched against the floor. It was loud and grating, but I couldn't spare another second. I could hear the Wraith getting closer.

Gerald and I met at the doors, and immediately, our eyes snapped together as we slammed the tables against the wood. In sync, we nodded, lips pursed and forehead furrowed, before dashing off to collect more. I didn't know how many we ended up dragging across the room, but we moved quickly and by the time we had finished, we were exhausted and slumped against the wall of stacked tables that had been propped against the shut doors.

My heart pounded hard in my temples, I could feel sweat soaking my skin. But now that the room was clear of those grating noises, I finally noticed that Arnold had been calling to me.

"Wh–what was that?!" he demanded, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at him.

"Will this hold it?" Gerald asked, standing across from me. He was bent down over his knees, slurping in as much air as he could, but he'd raised his head to examine our small wall of tables. I let loose a breath, wrapping my hands around my knees, and leaned forward slightly from my spot on one of the table surfaces.

"Probably," I sighed, wiping away sweat from the back of my neck. "Not for long though. It—that thing is fucking strong."

I moved my hand down to the base of my throat, remembering how it felt when that thing had been squeezing the life from me. Its handprint still scorched my skin, burning with that throbbing memory, as I suddenly remembered how tight it had squeezed.

I grimaced and didn't bother to look up when Gerald plopped down beside me. He took a spot a few inches from me, shoulder slightly grazing mine, and rested his hands on his lap. He sucked in several more breaths as he lowered his stare down to the floor.

"Was that—" he swallowed. "Was that the fucker you meant before?"

I surprised myself by laughing. "Yeah."

"Helga!" Arnold suddenly exclaimed and when we both looked up, his face was hard with concern. "What was that?"

His eyes burned deep into mine and I awkwardly shuffled my weight.

"It . . ." my throat suddenly felt swollen and I glanced back at Gerald. He had a similar look on his face, not quite frowning, but his eyebrows were bunched up as he awaited the answer too. I suddenly felt suffocated and turned away, glancing at my shoes. "It was a—"

"One of those things," Phoebe suddenly answered, and everyone looked up in surprise. Her face was blank, devoid of it's usual liveliness, and her eyelids were drooping. But I could see that her sight was a million miles away. Her head was slightly lolling to the side, but I could see something flashing beneath the surface. Her mind was alight as it struggled to process everything. "Tha—that Blue Jay fights."

There was a pause as everyone took in what she had just said, before Gerald shoved his fingers through his hair and muttered, "Fuck."

He tilted back his head to stare at the roof. I peered at him from my peripherals, recognising that his usual cocky mask was coming undone. His eyes were trembling, burning with fear, and he pressed together his lips as if not to release any noise that was signal his distress.

"Was that what texted me?" I heard Arnold ask, and when I turned back, he was looking at me again. Not frowning though. His face had fallen, lips slightly parted. His eyes were wide, shimmering with fear, but they were on me, searching for some type of hopeful answer.

It made me sick, that I couldn't give him what he wanted.

"Must've," I jerked my head into what I hoped resembled a nod and rocked back. "It took my phone a while ago."

I didn't realise it until Arnold's eyes trailed down, but I had begun rubbing my throat again. The skin felt so raw, I wanted to soothe it so the aches would go away. But the minute I saw his eyes follow his movements, I stiffened and stopped. I didn't want him to see any of the bruising there. The shadows were thick enough to conceal it from his sight, but I didn't want to risk it.

Arnold would no doubt worry, which would distract him and detract the rest of us. And I needed everyone to be alert and on their A game so I could get them out as quick as possible.

"Why?" Gerald lowered his chin so he was looking back at me. "What does it want?"

But I couldn't look back at him. I was used to seeing that irritatingly cocky attitude from Gerald; the relaxed lift of his mouth, the poor posture that slumped like weights in his shoulders, and even that dumb waggle of his brows as he said something he thought made him sound smart.

He was annoying beyond all hell but seeing him so shaken lodged something hard into my throat.

So, I lowered my gaze and edged the words out from between my teeth.

"What it always wants," I said and wrapped a hand around one of the table legs. "Us."

The minute the words were out, it was like someone had dropped a major bomb. The reaction was immediate. A shocked and shaky breath left Arnold as he slumped back onto his hands, staring at nothing with wide eyes, while Gerald hopped onto his feet.

"Fuck," he murmured as he began to pace, trying to relieve whatever it was that he felt. He covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing the skin beneath his fingers as he walked in a directionless shape, repeating curse words beneath his breath. "Shit, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, this can't be happening, no, fucking hell—holy shit."

Every word made the burden in my chest grow heavier and heavier. I bit my lip and slowly slid my hands onto my elbows and grasp tightly.

This was bad. I mean, really bad. So much worse than it should've been. The plan was that I was supposed to stay behind so I could do my job—defeat the bad guy then be on my merry way. But because I couldn't reign in my emotions, because I had let myself be fooled by something that had worn Phoebe's face, now everyone was stuck here.

The back of my neck burned.

Everyone had to pay for my actions.

I shook my head and tried to mentally replicate Lila's voice—it's not your fault, Helga, how were you supposed to know? You were drawn into a false sense of security, a skill which Wraith's are specifically designed for. It's not your fault—but I couldn't trick myself into believing it.

Would Lila have done any of that? If she had been in my position, would she still have ended up here, surrounded by everyone and trying to put together a plan? She'd only been a Guardian for a little over a week, but Lila was smart—she was quick. Not just physically, but mentally as well. She read people like books, scanning them over and finding little quirks and habits that she used to distinguish them. You could tell her one thing, but by analysing how your body moved or how you reacted to things—right down to the micro expression—she could learn more about you in a few seconds then you could reveal in hours.

Nausea curled in my chest. She wouldn't have let this happen. I was certain of that. Her eyes were too well trained, her mind much too fast.

And she definitely wouldn't have just handed over her pin to the enemy.

A burning began to lap and pool on my chest, drowning out my heart and crashing against my ribs. Fuck, my pin—I'd completely forgotten. That thing had it, which not only meant I couldn't transform, but . . . it could give it away.

An image lit up in my mind.

Shit . . .

Of a white man with a sharp smirk full of snarling white teeth.

Shit!

The blood roared in my ears. We really were screwed. It hadn't even occurred to me what it could actually do with my pin. I had thought that maybe it was too big and dumb to realise what I had just given it, but this was a Wraith. They were craftier and smart than their Mutant counterparts. How was I to know that Serec didn't have it in the palm of his hand right now?

Arnold suddenly bang his fist against the table. I jumped, feeling my heart thud in my chest, and shakily jerked my face in his direction. His face was scrunched with anger, expression pulling his lips over his teeth as he leapt from his spot beside Phoebe.

Everyone had stopped to stare at him, but his eyes hooked onto mine. They sent waves of hurt sweeping through me. They were so burdened with pain.

"Where's Blue Jay?" he demanded, voice like a hiss this time. "A–And Lark?"

My thoughts went up in flames when he said that.

The shadows were dark and splattered over his face, but they couldn't cover the desperation that burned deep in his eyes. They were like piercing green beams, strikes that hurtled straight through me. His teeth grinded together and he stepped forward, frantically searching for some sign of hope, but I couldn't give it to him.

Again, I didn't have an answer that could make him happy. The awareness left me feeling cold. I wanted to make him happy—I wanted to make them all happy—but I was powerless to do so. Without my pin, I was just as powerless as they were.

And Serec . . .

I swallowed.

He could come at any moment. I had to get them out of here. They couldn't be here if he came. He wouldn't just kill them, he would make a show about it.

No matter what, I needed to get them—all of them—out of here.

"Not here," was all I said stiffly.

Silence rose up and cradled us like flames. I could feel it roar hot in my ears, eating me alive. Gerald and Phoebe glanced between us, but I only watched Arnold.

It broke my heart, how the defeat slowly slipped down his body and sagged heavy in his shoulders. He lowered his chin, face crumbling like a sheet of paper, and though I couldn't see them, I knew his eyes were swimming like green kaleidoscopes.

His hands were shaking. I could see them tremble by his sides before he curled them into fists. His blonde strands hung around his face, but I could see his teeth clack together before he swung around. And suddenly I was moving, jumping from the tables and desperately trying to reach him, unsure of what I was even going to say.

"Where's Blue Jay?"

My throat ached to tell him.

Arnold, I'm right here.

But before I could take more than a few steps, the doors began rattling. They pushed up and slammed against the tables which skidded. Gerald and I screamed as we spun around to watch the frantically banging doors. They were pushing back and forth against the tables, a loud clanging from behind them forcing them to clatter, and the tables began sliding further and further across the tiles from their stacked formation.

My heart fell at the sound of another low and guttural growl.

It was the Wraith.

I felt Phoebe and Arnold jump and quickly sweep to our sides so that four of us stood side by side, watching in horror as the walls seemed to scream. Another horrifying howl rippled from the Wraith's throat, this one far more haunting and blood thirsty then the last, and a hand wrapped tight around mine.

I looked up, expecting it to be Phoebe, but met a pair of scared green eyes instead.

My breath froze.

Then the Wraith gave a final slam which sent the tables flying across the floor. The doors smashed open and crashed against the walls with a loud boom! that startled a cry from Phoebe, who was quickly wrapped up in Gerald's arms, and the Wraith burst through.

It's nails clacked against the tiles as it came to a stop on all fours. It slowly raised it's chin as a churning growl echoed from it's chest and vibrated from between it's rubbery lips.

It's eyes found me and I felt my resolve shatter like glass around me. It's flaring stare felt like a bullet that had been fired straight through my chest, leaving me stunned and unable to move.

All I could do was stare back.

A shiver rolled down my spine, so violent that it felt rattling, and a hammering in my chest began to burn. It began to blister, unable to fill up with air, and a rush of hot and cold ate away at me. It poured up and down my arms and ran up my neck, making the hair on my skin stand tall, buzzing and hissing as it coursed up to my head.

My sight was filled with those burning eyes, but as that rush weaved into my brain, a redness began to crawl into my vision. It burned away at every ounce of feeling, leaving me completely numb and choking, and I watched as shadows began to pool.

Nausea whirled through me. I could feel my heart punch holes in my chest, over and over and over again, but was unable to stop it. There was a burning in my ears, but the rest of my skin was cold. I couldn't understand why I was feeling like this. I tried to look around and make sense of the vision, but I couldn't move, it was like my burning limbs were too heavy for me.

The world had become a blurred mess, but there were bright, hot flashes that burst over my vision, each one striking me with a violent pulse in my abdomen. The thoughts were racing in my head. I wanted to slow them so I could breath, but they wouldn't. They were coming out in gasps, none slow enough to reach into my lungs, and the room began spinning so violently that all I wanted to do was black out.

But there were voices—frantic whispers—I tried focusing on them, using them as guides to grapple myself out from this mess, but they felt so far away. It was like I was stuck at the bottom of a pool, watching blurry scenes and unable to distinguish what they meant.

No—no . . . I could distinguish them, I just . . .

I clamped down on everything—blocking out the racing in my chest, the burning in my ears, the swelling in my brain—so I could focus on those voices.

". . . wrong . . . her?!"

". . . don't . . . man . . . she just . . ."

". . . fuck's sa . . . just carry . . . et's go!"

And then something slammed into my ear. No, not just my ear, it was the entire side of my face. Something hard but warm, it slammed against me, wrapping around me until there was no floor pressed against my feet. I used that to combat the cloudiness, visualising it as a cord that weighed me down further and further until I felt reattached to my body, looking through my eyes again.

There was a rush of air. It knocked against one side of my face while the other was wrapped up in warmth. I tried mentally feeling around, getting a grip of everything until I found the strength to lift my eyelids again.

The warmth . . . it didn't feel hard, it felt soft . . . soft but scratchy. I pressed the side of my face against it, recognising the tiny little loops as knitted fabric, and when I breathed in, I was overwhelmed with a familiar scent.

Cherry blossom.

The breath in me froze.

The smell was so sweet, a heavenly aroma that quilted my senses, cradling me like warm blankets. The world around me, merging colours and swimming images, began to harden. It became firmer until my stomach went from a rocking mess to a somewhat settled heap.

And slowly, I looked up.

The darkness behind him had melted into a gooey mess, but through it I could still make out those piercing green eyes. They weren't pointed down at me but still, they sparkled so beautifully that I felt a warmth creep back into my chest. Not the kind that had seared and burned away every ounce of feeling until I was left in a numbed daze, but the kind that brought me back to life. The kind that reminded me that no matter how cold everything got, something warm and safe was just around the corner.

Slowly, I began focusing on more and more areas around his face. Those narrowed lips that only existed on the faces of dashing princes in fairy tales. The freckles that dappled his cheeks in many different hues of brown. The sharp cut of his jaw, the deep wrinkles burrowing in his brow, the quick movements as his eyes swept right and left. And those blonde strands that always hung over his eyes, the ones that I always wanted to sweep back.

The warmth flooded my senses, bursting down my arms and legs and snapping away the frigidness from my joints.

Arnold.

"I think we're losing it!"

I looked up and across Arnold's shoulder, where Gerald and Phoebe were running by his side. The darkness still pulsated, fighting to overtake their faces, but I could make out their features. They were running alongside him, eyes frozen up ahead, and the pair of them wore very similar expressions of panic.

I felt air flood my lungs with relief.

Thank God . . . Pheebs was safe.

"Where should we—"

"Here!"

Phoebe suddenly pointed in another direction, eyes frozen wide, and everyone quickly turned. It was sharp and made my head snap back and bounce against Arnold's chest. The scratchiness invaded my skin again and I blinked, trying to fight against the darkness that returned to my vision.

Random spots were circling me and the skin on my neck tingled. I sucked in another breath, feeling the air fill up my lungs, and focused on the pounding against my ear. It rattled the side of my face, like gentle punches, and I realised that it was the racing of Arnold's heart.

I opened my eyes—only now realising that they had shut—just in time to catch everyone rushing through another door.

Blinking, I looked around and recognised right away that we were in another biology classroom, although this one was far more advanced. It was probably one for the seniors. There were several black desks that were neatly stacked into rows that stretched to the other end of the room, where a larger and imposing desk faced them.

I shook my head and wiggled my legs, trying to get back the feeling in them, when I realised that I was in Arnold's arms.

. . . as in, cradled against his chest.

"Put me down!" I exploded, jerking my face up to glare at Arnold's, who only now I was realising just how close he was to mine.

He looked down and I watched his eyes widen with astonishment, mouth slightly dropping. I could feel a burning in my cheeks but scrunched my face into what I hoped resembled a scowl. You know, my signature look. I could feel everyone turning to look at me, their gaze pouring like molten lead into the back of my head, but I kept my eyes trained on Arnold.

One embarrassing encounter at a time.

He hadn't let me go, by the way.

"Oi, did you not hear me, buzo?"

He blinked a couple of times. "Helg—"

"Helga!" Phoebe suddenly rushed to my side, placing her hands on my arms, and when I glanced at her, she had a look of relief on her face. "Are you alright?"

I frowned. "Of course I'm alright, I was just—"

"Shh!" Gerald suddenly interrupted and when I looked at him, he had a finger to his lips, shoulder pressed against the door. His face was hard and he had an ear pressed to the wood, straining to hear something from the other side of this classroom. But I noticed that his eyes swept over me a couple of times, as if checking on me, before turning back to the ground.

Phoebe moved back to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and watching him with worried eyes.

I rolled my eyes and began to wiggle until Arnold was forced to put me down. He pressed his lips together, eyes apologetic, as he bent down to gently prop me onto my feet. But he kept his hands up like he thought I was about to fall and yeah, alright, I did feel slightly unsteady standing up so quickly. But I wasn't about to up and collapse like some silly Nancy so I batted away his hand and propped my fists onto my hips, turning away.

My mind was still spinning from . . . whatever that had been, but still I couldn't help replaying all of that. The way his hands had felt against my skin, curled tight around my limbs to keep me from falling, or the heat that made my body tingle. There was still a shakiness that trembled in my bones, but it was lost beneath the pounding that threatened to break out from my throat.

Idiot.

I raised my eyes, more than away that my face was flushed red, but stopped when I noticed Phoebe. She had suddenly stopped, eyelids lowering like they were weighed down by invisible hands, and she had slumped against Gerald like she couldn't hold herself up anymore.

The Wraith flashed hot in my mind—all of it's abilities, the power it still had over her—and I found myself moving to her side when a hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist. I looked over my shoulder but before I knew it, the hand tugged and I was gently pulled back and pressed against the wall.

Staring up at a pair of green eyes.

Arnold stood sinuously, shoulders hunched and chin slightly dipped, and our faces were mere inches apart. I felt my heart stop in my chest, and the shivers that rolled down my spine stilled me.

Surprise flashed over his face, as if he himself hadn't been expecting that, and then he lowered his gaze. His eyes moved smoothly, going from mine to his hand, and I felt a small gasp ripple from my chest. His hand was pasted beside my head against the wall, I could feel the heel of his palm graze my ear. My breath halted, twisting into a little knot in my lungs, and I could feel my heart pound from the back of my throat.

I raised my eyes again, looking up at Arnold, and watched as he turned back to me, lips slightly opening. And whatever it was I was about to say, I felt the words burn and die on my tongue. His face was just so beautiful, his eyes had me completely and utterly mesmerised.

His warm breath washed over me. It should've disgusted me, but it had the opposite effect, and I had to hold myself back from leaning in. It was just so savory, it reminded me of the autumn air, I felt my stomach clench at the swell of it. And the sweet, savoury aroma of cherry blossoms still wafted from his skin, floating up and folding around me, it made my nose tingle. Both the scents blended together, a warm haze that made my chest shudder and filled my head with an addictive bliss.

But I was brought back down to earth when I heard two thuds moving across the ground. I froze, heartbeat coming to a sharp stop, and saw Arnold's eyes widen. Those sounds had come from outside. The Wraith, it was moving down the hallways, no doubt looking for us.

Its footsteps reminded me of when tree trunks hit the ground, those rustling thuds that evenly paced as the creature no doubt scanned up and down the corridors.

I covered my mouth, trying to stay as quiet as possible, and looked to my left.

Gerald had one arm wrapped around Phoebe's waist and the other over her shoulders, cradling her close to his chest. His back was against the door, cheek resting on top of her head, but his scrunched gaze was glued on the handle. It was so sharp that it filled my head with red.

Phoebe, on the other hand, was covered with her hair, I couldn't see her face. But I could see that, like me, she had covered her mouth with both hands, which slightly trembled.

I swallowed, trying to wet my parched throat, and rested my head against the wall. Arnold's eyes were on his friends, sharp like Gerald's, until he felt me staring. Then, his gaze darted back to me. I felt my cheeks heat up and quickly ducked my head, pressing my hands against the wall.

I pressed my lips together, keeping quiet so I could hear the Wraith better. It's footsteps had grown louder. I gulped, feeling my heart thrash against my rib cage, when there was a sudden creak outside the door. I practically felt everyone stiffen from that, all four of our heart freezing, and for a moment, the air became unbearably tight.

I shut my eyes, counting down the seconds, and tried formulating another plan. Something—anything—that could throw this thing off our scent if it barged down the door. Maybe that would buy us some time before it outright attacked us.

But then, the floorboards creaked again and the footsteps continued down the hallway, descending into the distance until they turned a corner.

In sync, we released our breaths.

I patted my chest and gulped down several large mouthfuls of air as Arnold sighed and pushed up from the wall. The scent of cherry blossom disappeared and I tried not to let that bother me.

I looked up and opened my mouth, ready to make a sly comment, when I caught the look on Arnold's face. His eyes were no longer on mine but instead on his left hand, which I now realised was still wrapped around my wrist. Heat stained my cheeks and I made to tug myself free when he spoke.

"Helga," he said and unlatched his fingers to step backwards. My stomach dropped and I could feel Phoebe and Gerald looking our way, lowering their arms as they watched Arnold, who stared down at his hand in horror.

He then slowly trailed his gaze back up to mine, eyes wide.

I frowned, about to ask what he was on, when I noticed the smudged blood along his skin. My heart skipped a beat as, for a second, I thought it belonged to him and he'd gotten injured along the way. But then I noticed the way he glanced down at my wrist, and when I followed his gaze, realised that the blood was mine.

From the cabinet, when I'd cut myself on the glass. The blood was still there, dripping down my wrist in dark, stick streaks.

Crap. There'd been so much going on that I'd completely forgotten about that.

"You're bleeding," he stated, hooking his eyes onto mine.

"Jesus, Pataki," Gerald muttered and moved with Phoebe closer to our sides.

"It's nothing," I quickly told them and pulled down my sleeve, hiding it behind my hip. I stepped backwards so I wasn't so close to Arnold, but the heat of his gaze nullified the effort. "I just got it from getting that stupid trophy."

"Nothing?" Arnold repeating, raising his eyebrows like I'd just told him a joke. "Helga, that's a cut to the wrist. A–And you just fainted out there."

He was trying to keep his voice low, but the more he talked, the more his volume began to grow.

"I—I didn't faint," I refuted with a scowl.

"Oh yeah?" Gerald asked, crossing his arms. "Then what was it?"

"A . . . a . . ." I struggled, heat collecting in my chest. I looked to Phoebe for help, but the girl seemed so dazed, there was a clouded look that twisted in her eyes. "A lapse in judgement!"

"Oh, lapse in judgement?" Gerald repeated patronisingly. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"I'm older than you!"

"Only by a month!"

"Does it matter?" Arnold interrupted exasperatedly, looking between us like a disappointed father. Gerald rolled his eyes with a half shrug, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and Arnold clucked his tongue before turning back to me. "Helga, it's a cut to the wrist and you just fainted. Those are both serious."

"Well, so is a blood thirsty monster," I snapped, propping my hands onto my hips, and watched as he pressed his lips together with disagreement. "Listen, we have to focus on the bigger picture. Gerald, you drove here, yeah?"

"Uh," he looked at Arnold, as if asking for his permission, and Arnold shrugged and turned away. "Yeah, dude."

"Good," I nodded and pulled down my sleeve again to discretely mop up some of the blood. More was leaking this time and a raw stinging was burning my skin. "We'll just have to get out to your car then."

"How?"

I paused, having not thought of that. Gerald's car would be outside in the carpark, but currently getting outside was an obstacle. Hell, we now had more distance to cover since we'd raced back down all those hallways again. It would be next to impossible. At this rate, anyway.

I glanced at Phoebe. She was beginning to resemble a pale slip, crumbled against Gerald's shoulder. The rings around her eyes were like pockets, growing deeper and deeper until her skin looked like it was caving in, and her lids kept slipping shut.

We couldn't outrun the Wraith, not with Phoebe like this. The only way we were getting out of here was if we had something to divert the Wraith's attention. Something that could bring it to the other end of the school while everyone else made a run for it. Something so tempting that it would willingly ignore everyone else to catch this one thing. Something like—

"Me"

It was a pale thought, something I hadn't even realised I'd said out loud until—

"What?" I heard Gerald say, and when I looked up, both boys were staring at me.

"I can buy you all some time," I found myself rushing to say, my mind racing a million paces an hour. "T–To get to your car, I mean."

"Helga," Arnold stepped forward, shadows spilling across his face. But his eyes remained bright and fixed with concern. His hands were twitching at his sides, like he wanted to move them before thinking better of it. "What are you talking about?"

I scrutinised his expression. Those pale lips twisted into a lopsided frown and the deep V that burrowed into his brow. His eyes had hooked back onto mine, sending a blazing warmth that cracked and roared in my chest.

I hesitated, my voice nothing more than a dull throb.

"I–I can go out there," I heard myself saying as I stepped forward, "and cause some type of distraction. And you guys can—"

"No," he shook his head. "No way."

"Yeah, we're not leaving you, dude," Gerald agreed with a frown as he slipped an arm around Phoebe's hips. Her eyes had shut again and slowly, her head was lowering against his shoulder.

"Careful, Tall Hair Boy," I forced a smirk. "Almost sounds like you care about me."

"Knock it off, Pataki, this is serious," he snapped. "Look, we can just call the police and—"

"No. No police."

"Why the hell not?"

"They'll get hurt," I snapped. "The only ones who can kill it are Blue Jay and Lark, but they're not here right now, so . . . we're on our own."

Saying it out loud made my stomach twist. It still hurt to admit it. I had the power to get us out of here, but without my pin, I was useless. I'd trained for weeks straight to avoid situations like this from happening, to prevent history from repeating itself.

To prevent that night from happening again.

"You don't have your powers."

I swallowed, feeling myself begin to tremble. I didn't want to go back to that night, where I'd been powerless and stupid. The only reason I'd gotten out of that was because Serec had let me—because I'd amused him. It was something I'd known all along, although I'd tried convincing myself otherwise. I'd tried comforting myself with excuses, reminding myself that I'd been training that day and had just defeated an extremely powerful Mutant. But there wasn't any sense in denying the knowledge that had always lurked from the back of my head—that I was only here because Serec wanted me here.

And I didn't want to keep feeling that way, that I was here merely because of luck, not skill. So, I'd thrown myself into training to prove to others—to prove to myself—that I was worthy of wearing that pin. That I was worthy of baring a mask, that there was a reason I was chosen. But it was becoming apparent that if you took away the pin, I was no different than anyone else. That there was no real reason Nel, or the pin, had picked me, that it was all just dumb luck. That everything magical or different or potential about me came from a device that saw me as no different from anyone.

And now Serec could have that device.

I lowered my chin.

Why was I chosen?

Arnold suddenly let out a frustrated noise and when I looked up, he turned on his heel and stormed across the room towards the teacher's desk. His back was towards me, so I couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were tight and his fists were squeezed tight. The shadows threw themselves across his back as he moved, eventually yanking open the drawer beneath the desk and shuffling around for something inside.

I watched him for a moment before turning back to Gerald.

"Listen, Gerald, I'll be fine. I'll just head to the—"

"Yeah, no," he interrupted, then took a half step away from Phoebe, hand still pressed against her back, as he pulled out his phone. He tapped across the screen and blinked as a beam of light splattered across his face. "Look, I don't see the big deal, the cops are trained to deal with break ins—"

"I said no, you idiot!" I growled and launched myself at him. He spluttered, not expecting that, and I was able to snatch away his phone just as he hit the first number. "I told you, they could get hurt."

"So could you—so could all of us!"

"They—they have no training, not with this! They're as well off as we are."

"They have guns!" he exclaimed, and I grimaced, knowing he had a point there. "Look, fine, if you don't want us to call the police, fine, we won't—as of yet. But we're not letting you go all martyr on us, we're not having that on our conscience. We'll just come up with another plan, together."

I huffed and opened my mouth to point out we really didn't have time for that, when—

"Helga?"

Arnold's voice rung out like a bell.

I stopped, the breath colliding in my throat, and turned before I could stop myself. He stood tall behind the desk, a pair of red scissors in one hand and an uneven strip of fabric in his other.

I stepped forward with a frown, trying to distinguish what that was when I realised that the strip had come from his shirt. There was a jagged section of fabric missing from his left side, revealing the black belt wrapped around his hips.

He put down the scissors and held out his hand.

"Can you come with me?"

He spoke gentle, but it made my insides turn to liquid. His voice was like velvet, it was music to my ears. Without even trying, Arnold still had so much power over me, which frustrated me. I bared my teeth, ready to defy him when I noticed the look in his eyes. A gentle patience folded the expression of his face, reminding me of a golden glow that melted across the sky, but his eyes had a sense of urgency. A sweeping emerald staring deep into my soul, deep and warm. I found myself moving without another though, crossing the room as my pulse bounced against my skin. I stopped a few inches away from him and rested against the sink as he lowered his chin.

He held out his hand and I nodded, holding out my own. My pulse rushed when his skin made contact with mine, fingers gently grasping around my palm, and I struggled to keep the effect he had from showing on my face.

Arnold oblivious flicked the tap on beside him. Water gushed out and slapped against the sinking, hurtling nosily down the drain. Again, he glanced back at me and I nodded my consent.

Silently, he moved his eyes up and down my face, in a way that reminded me of Lila. He was studying me. I knew I was blushing, it was searing my face like a red hot poker, and I quickly turned my attention elsewhere.

I glanced at a random corner, hoping that the darkness and my hair would cover my face, and tried distracting myself. But there wasn't much to distract myself with in this room, it was mostly shadowed. I could hear Gerald's shuffling as he turned his attention to Phoebe, but it was pretty hushed.

"You don't have to prove yourself, y'know."

I turned back to Arnold, incredulous.

"I'm not trying to prove myself to you, Arnold," I snapped. "I'm trying to save you."

"Well, don't," he bit out and suddenly, even through the dark, his stare managed to burn through. "We . . . Blue Jay—she'll be here. She will. She'll get here and then everything will be alright so you don't have to—"

"What if she's not?" I demanded and felt him freeze, like that honestly hadn't even occurred to him until now. "What if . . . Lark and her, they would've already been here if they could. I don't know if something happened but, until they can make it, we have to find for ourselves and—ouch."

"Shit—sorry," Arnold's face fell when he realised that he'd been pressing down too hard. He quickly shut off the water, tore up some squares from a roll of paper towels, and wrapped them around my wrist. He gently pressed down, which stung, and I had to bit down on my tongue to keep myself from exclaiming my hurt.

Silence rushed over us and I felt my neck begin to crawl. The seconds ticked by as the paper soaked the water from my skin, but soon the beige turned to a red.

"I'm sorry."

I glanced up as Arnold turned away.

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal, football head," I forced a smile, although he didn't turn back to see it. "It didn't hurt that much."

"No, I meant . . . about our fight," he admitted it so quietly. But it made the shyness he felt flare up like a balloon in my chest. I turned to the side, curling my free hand into a fist, and remained quiet as he wrapped his fabric around my wrist. "We . . . I shouldn't have blown up at you about Lila—that was between the both of you and had nothing to do with me. And . . . about that fight with Rhonda, I—"

"Hey," I surprised myself by wrapping my fingers around his wrist and smiling gently when his eyes turned back to mine. "It's—listen, I'm not good at this sentimental shit, but I—it's okay. I know you were just overprotective about her and, let's face it, I was being a bit of a bitch."

"A bit?"

"Okay, a lot," I admitted with a small laugh, giving him a slight shove that brought a smile to his face. "But seriously, it's okay."

His eyes raised back to mine, but they appeared slightly different. It was like sunshine was blooming in his gaze. His face smoothed free of its creases and the corners of his lips raised into that lopsided grin, like he'd just rid himself of a burden.

He opened his mouth—

THUMP!

We swung around and what I saw made my stomach hit the floor. Phoebe had completely crumbled, her knees had given in and she'd collapsed, eyes completely shutting. Gerald had his arms wrapped tight around her, crouched down on his knees to hold her, and his face was pulled tight as he frantically searched hers.

"Phoebe!" he exclaimed.

The world turned into a blur. The walls ran past me in a darkened mess and my hair whipped past my shoulders before I found myself crouched down beside him. He looked up, eyes wide with distress, and began blubbering as I pressed a hand to her cheek.

"I—she—we—we were just t–t–talking and she c–c–c–collapsed!"

Her skin was ice cold and I immediately drew back. It was like I'd been struck or burnt. I felt Arnold coming up from beside me, releasing a small gasp when he saw her, but I didn't turn.

Instead, I furrowed my brow and peered deeper at Phoebe. Her hair covered her face, the black tresses fell over her eyes in thick shades. I could make out her chin and peaks of her cheekbones, but the rest was hidden.

So, slowly I raised a hand and swept back her hair.

I heard both the boy's gasp, and for good reason. Phoebe no longer resembled herself. Her skin was so papery, there was an ashiness that washed her over in shades of almost purple. The black around her eyes had become so folded with wrinkles that she almost seemed battered.

"Wha—" Arnold stepped closer. "What ha—"

"It's the Mutant."

They both turned to me.

"The what?" Gerald demanded, eyebrows folding together in both confusion and exasperation. The hand around her shoulder tightened and unconsciously he buried her face deeper into his neck, not caring about the cold.

"The . . ." I felt the words spin and roll and choke in my throat. I glanced down at my hands, curled them in my lap, and released a breath before glancing back up with fire in my eyes. "The Mutant, it's been draining her energy."

"How the hell would you know this?"

"It's—" I paused, sliding my gaze over to Arnold. He had bent to one knee beside me, glancing between Phoebe and I with a furrowed brow. "It told me . . . when it attacked. That's it's powers, it sucks you dry of your energy."

There was a pause as everyone silently glanced back to Phoebe. Her hair had slipped from her face, revealing the weathered and battered state of her face. Her lips were so pale, but her chest was still moving up and down.

"Like it did to me," I heard Arnold murmur and when I looked back at him, there was a new darkness that plagued his eyes.

I nodded. "Yes."

Gerald turned back to me. "Well, what do we do then?!"

"Um," I hesitated and looked between them.

Their stares were like spotlights burning holes into me. It felt like everyone was turning to me for answers, which, I guess, was to be expected considering I was the only one with answers. Kind of. But still, I didn't know enough. I didn't know how to combat any of this. Not without doing something to that Wraith. Not without—

Wait.

An idea lit up in my head.

Distraction.

"We—she needs water," I stuttered. "We have to set her down—by the sink."

I could feel Arnold watching me but kept myself focused on Gerald, who nodded and shuffled her into his chest. He hooked an arm around her neck and the other behind her knees before rising to his feet. Phoebe head cradled against his shoulders, eyelashes fluttering, and Gerald stumbled down the room in search of the desk.

Arnold trailed behind him and snatched a nearby beaker. He switched on the water and filled up the glass as Gerald laid Phoebe down onto the bench. Gerald pressed his hand to her forearm and curled the other against her cheek. And the look he gave her was one of pure adoration, of worry, and just . . . love. For a moment, it left me completely stunned. Not because he resided feelings for her—anyone with eyes knew that those two carried a torch for each other for years now—but just . . . how much he seemed to feel.

Gerald wasn't the most open guy when it came to his feelings. He hid his vulnerabilities and weakness behind witty quips or cold bursts of anger. But this . . . it was startling to just see how much he cared for Phoebe. It was so bold, I felt like I could read every one of his emotions just from the look on his face.

Beaker now full, Arnold turned off the tap and moved to the other side of Phoebe. His back was to me, but I could see that he had pressed the beaker to her lips, about to tip the water into her mouth.

"Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa—dude," Gerald quickly blocked Arnold from going any further, which prompted a confused frown from the blonde.

"What?"

"You can't make her drink from that," Gerald pointed at the beaker like it was an amphibian. "It's had science–y shit in it."

"Well, it was the only thing I could find, Gerald," Arnold hissed. "Plus, I'm sure it's been washed."

"Bullshit!"

The two continued to argue, trading hushed insults as they moved the beaker back and forth over Phoebe's face. Quietly, I sank back and let the shadows stretch over me, lowering my face.

Please be alright, Phoebe.

---

Phoebe knew that she was dreaming.

The minute her eyes opened, she knew that what she was seeing was not really occurring. It logically wouldn't make sense. The last she could remember before falling was Gerald's shadowed face, his hand pressed to the back of her neck, and his shoulder pressed against hers. He had captured her eyes like a net catches butterflies, and it had set her chest on fire.

But now, she was surrounded by mist. It was everywhere, seeping into her shoes, and curling between her fingers like ice. It sent shivers down her spine, goosebumps up her arms. It loomed over her in a whitened haze, milky and soft. It reminded her of wide fields in the silver mornings, where tall trees were swallowed by the haze until there was nothing left but tall silhouettes. It was the type that was so wet, it soaked to your bone, and pressed stale to your tongue.

Phoebe didn't know why she was seeing this. She supposed there wasn't much too worry, however. Dreams rarely made much sense to her. She knew that eventually, she would wake up and be surrounded by her friends again. But still, she was surprised by how real everything felt. She could feel the air sliding down her skin, could taste the sour swirl on her tongue, and despite how suffocating it was, Phoebe's vision felt much too clear. Everything was crisp, almost too detailed to be a dream.

She wondered if this was a side effect of being attacked by whatever those things were—Helga called them Mutants? She made sure to file that term away. She didn't know where Helga had come up with it, whether she had made it up or perhaps overheard someone else using it, but it seemed appropriate to call those things. Regardless, she wondered if this was all because of the earlier attack. She hadn't had a dream like this before. Hell, she could still hear their voices—Arnold and Gerald. Fighting, it appeared.

The sounds swept over her like a river. She could feel their voices muffling, pulling in and out, and washing over her. They felt so close, she half expected to look up and find their distorted figures standing over her.

But when she did, she froze.

The mist thinned, coiling together than spreading out, and as it did, out walked a figure.

It was one that commanded her attention. Which, Phoebe supposed shouldn't be surprising, they were the only living being here beside from herself. But it felt deeper than that. Something more commanding, yet tranquil. The figure burned against the mist, which seemed paper-thin now, and she could swear it moved back to make it clearer for them.

The first thing that Phoebe noted about the figure was it shone. No, it glowed, burned. It was a turbulent throb against her eyes. She squinted and realised where it was coming from. The figure—a woman—she wore armour. It was gold, but somehow, felt like nothing that she had ever seen before. It was ambrosial, a shade so hot that it reminded Phoebe of the skies. She thought of horizons blushing pink as that last bit of sunlight slid across the city and bruised the sky.

Light flied and stung the air. Phoebe supposed she should be scared. The woman stood a while away, but she was powerful. Everything around her pulsated and shifted. She could feel magic flying through her, skittering across the ground, and drumming like another heartbeat. The woman reminded Phoebe of Blue Jay, although she was certain this wasn't the same person. She had the same blonde hair, but that was where the similarities ended. This woman, she wore golden armour, rather than black, and didn't cover her face with a mask. She was beautiful, her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that trailed down her back. And looking closer, Phoebe spotted a sword strapped to her back.

She couldn't be sure who this was, but Phoebe felt strangely settled. This creature was clearly powerful, but she knew she wasn't here to harm her. Instead, she felt protected, like she could rely on her strength to keep her safe. But the longer she looked, the more she realised that she couldn't make out her face. It was strange, she knew she was looking at her face and that her features were beautiful, but nothing was sticking. Phoebe knew that if she were to look away, she wouldn't remember what the woman looked like.

But then, the woman looked at her, and Phoebe felt something in her snap. Something surged, something warm, and the air around Phoebe turned into rippling heat. She couldn't describe it, but it was like looking at this woman sent electricity ricocheted through her body. Nothing flickered across the woman's face, but she did lower her chin, almost in recognition.

The woman raised her hand.

It felt like time had stopped. Her fingers cackled with energy that made a light dance across her face and her arm bands singe the air. A cold, hard power rose up inside Phoebe and in response, she raised her own hand. She didn't know why she did it, all that she knew was that the air had softened, oozing, and curling until she could feel the space closing between them.

Their hand found hers.

---

Phoebe's eyes snapped open and she wrenched upright.

Her movement was so sudden that it startled the voices around her into a startled exclamation that settled into a shocked silence. But Phoebe didn't linger on that nor the darkness that surrounded her because the moment she took a breath, a tightness coursed in her chest and she began coughing. Hacking, actually. There was a burning uncomfortableness seated in her throat and she thumped against her chest, desperate to get it out.

Then, she felt a hand. It was warm and gentle, swirling reassuring circles between her shoulder blades. And then she felt another, from the same person, cupping the back of her head. Warm breath brushed over the side of her face and curled in the shell of her ear.

She breathed in the scent.

Cinnamon.

Gerald.

"Pheebs, are you okay?" she felt him move in closer, and though she didn't look, she imagined that he was looking at her with those big brown eyes again. The ones that left her utterly helpless, swept up and captured between his palms. They were so warm, a sunlit shade of amber, that whenever they were pressed with concern for her, she could feel her knees begin to tremble.

But she didn't respond. She couldn't. She was too busy hacking her lungs out.

"Here," and then suddenly, Arnold was pressing a beaker into her hand. She was slightly stunned by how cold the glass felt and couldn't help wondering how warm her body was at that current moment. "Have some water."

Her vision was swimming, but she caught the irritated look Gerald was giving him. "Dude, what did I just—"

She downed it, immediately. She dipped her head back to gather every last drop of the cold water. And as she did so, she couldn't help relishing the coolness that soaked her tongue and ran down her parched tongue. From over the glass, she could spot the smirk Arnold sent his glowering friend.

She finished quickly, clapping the glass down by her side and wiping her mouth with her wrist. Arnold moved the beaker away as she looked around, trying to piece where they were.

The shadows were greedy, pouring and clogging the entirety of the room, until there was nothing more then a few shapely outlines that surrounded them. But even so, she recognised those shapes, particularly the format they were laid out in. It was dark, but she could see the desks that were lined from the front of the class to the back. They were widely spaced, moreso then most of the science classes, and despite there being eight of them, there were only seven chairs.

Immediately, she knew where they were.

They were in her biology classroom.

Something that Phoebe felt lame for knowing. Just how much time did she spend in here? Actually, scratch that, there were more pressing issues here. Like, why they were here.

"What happened?" she asked, voice refreshed, and glanced between the boys. They were stood on either side of her, Gerald to her right and Arnold on her left. The pair looked at each other, Arnold pressing his hands down against the table as he slightly gulped, gesturing for Gerald to answer.

"The thin—um, Mutant," Gerald hastily corrected himself and let go of her to make wild gestures. "It's—it's been draining your energy!"

She frowned and tried to recall the last few minutes. The edges were blurry but she could faintly remember something like that. But she mostly felt dizzy, her mind was still spinning with that dream, so it was hard to remember any more then a couple of minutes ago.

"How do you feel now?" Arnold, ever the saint, asked her.

"I—" she paused to wiggle her toes and try to gain back some feeling in her limbs. "Um, fine, I think."

Clearly, this hadn't been the answer either had been expecting.

"Fine?" Gerald's eyebrows bunched up and he leaned in, as if unsure that he'd heard her correctly.

"Yes," she nodded. "Actually, I feel better than before."

It was true, strange enough. Somehow, Phoebe felt more energised, like she'd woken up from a long nap. The fog was still spiralling little tornadoes between her brows, but it was quickly dissipating, leaving behind a pulsating strength that pushed through her limbs.

Was it adrenaline?

Gerald turned to Arnold, deadpanned.

"So much for that theory," he said with a cluck of his tongue then turned towards the door. "Oi, Pataki, what did you say about . . ." he trailed off, blinking. "Um, Pataki?"

Arnold and Phoebe both looked up in the same direction, but instead of finding a lone shadowed figure, Phoebe found herself staring at an empty area. She noticed that the door was now slightly ajar.

"Did she leave?" Arnold asked, voice spiked, and when Phoebe turned to him, his face had paled with horror. He desperately scanned the classroom, back and forth, as if waiting for someone to jump from the shadows. "Without us noticing?"

Silence was all that answered him.

"Shit," Gerald cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Phoebe glanced between them.

"Wh–Where did she go?" She asked as a cold, heavy feeling lodged tightly into her stomach.

The boys flanked at each other, expressions twisted with panic, and in unison, they both uttered a single word.

"Distraction."

---

The hallways seemed longer somehow. And darker. They stretched on further then I could remember, cloaked in shadows that seemed to press up against me. They were sleek and moved around my fingers in a way that reminded me of a river. They dipped and swooped, swelling around my feet and clamping down along the icy fibres of my neck.

I sucked in a breath but didn't feel it enter my chest. The sounds of my feet were echoing sharply. They drowned out the rattling beat of my heart, booming like it were a prisoner.

You know what you have to do.

But then I jumped as a violent shaking vibrated between my fingers. I looked down and narrowed my eyes against the bright beam that burst from the phone.

Guilt swarm in my chest.

Gerald's phone.

My fingers shook as I rose the screen and scanned the message. It was from Arnold, which didn't surprise me. I knew that once I'd left with Gerald's phone, that he'd either call or text.

I wasn't shocked that it was a text he'd sent. Arnold wasn't stupid, he probably knew that calling me was risky.

Helga, please don't.

I didn't respond.

He knew what he had to do. They all did.

I typed in the passcode—the one I'd memorised minutes ago—and opened the screen to Gerald's contacts. Guilt gnawed at me again but I shoved that aside, scrawling until I recognised Lila's number and double tapped her name.

I pressed the dialling screen to my ear and chewed on my lip as I waited for her to pick up.

"Hello—"

"Lila!" I smiled with relief. "Thank God you're not—"

"You've reached my voicemail."

My stomach dropped.

"I'm not present right now, but if you just leave a message, I'll try ever so quickly to get back to you!"

I sighed, shutting my eyes. Of course she wasn't available. Training was unpredictable; generally, it went for hours and as of late, we'd been stopping when the time got to eight. And I was more then certain it wasn't eight yet.

I was on my own.

"Lila," I said after the tone sounded. "We, um, there's a situation . . . a–at the school. I found the Wraith, but, um . . ." I looked over my shoulder, feeling something crawl in my neck again. But the shadows were still thick and I couldn't make much of anything. Cautiously, I wet my lips and looked back up ahead, speeding up. "Please just—g–get here as quick as you can, alright? Gerald, Arnold and Phoebe . . . they're all here."

Blood was thundering in my ears by the time I'd reached the dance studio. The doors stretched long and imposingly before me, seeming so much larger than before. I hit the end call button on the phone, stuffed it into my pocket and pushed open the door, grimacing at the loud groan.

Inside, the dance hall seemed different.

It was so cold and dark and empty, it rung deep with an unsettling stillness. Shadows gushed down the walls, rippling and twisting across the floorboards. But there was a swell of moonlight from the windows, it washed across the boards like a lake rippling in the middle of the room.

The quietness unnerved me and I cleared my throat and crossed the room for the desk. I placed down Gerald's phone and picked up the first CD I saw before jamming it into the player. I hit a random number then swung around, air whooshing cold from my chest.

The music poured from the speakers as I crossed the room, stopping in the dead centre. My back was to the mirrors, I kept my eyes focused on the doors, tying my hands together in my lap.

And waited.

Can we just be honest?
These are the requirements
If you think you can be my one and only true love
You must promise to love me

Beneath the ominous vocals and eerie music, I could hear them. The footsteps. They echoed sharply, like someone were crunching over gravel, and clip clopped from behind the shut door. My heart began to race erratically, and a wash of heat twisted in my limbs, shackling me in place. The footsteps rung deep in my brain, I couldn't hear my rapid breathing, but I felt the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs. My hands were trembling, I gripped and twisted them, trying to find something to do as I waited.

You've got this, Helga.

I sucked in a breath, deep enough that I felt my lungs cramp, and released it through my nose.

Nothing you haven't faced before.

And damn it, if you fuck me over
I will rip your fucking face apart

The door opened.

---

Annnd that's a wrap! This chapter took so long to get right and I'm so happy to get this off my back! The next chapter isn't as intense so I shouldn't be as long with an update, but I make no promises cause I'm trying to just take my time with this now. That being said, let's get to the reviews!

Guest: My friend, when I say that this is a slow burn, I mean it, I love developing the relationship naturally and they're not at a point where anything romantically can outwardly develop as of yet.

acosta perez jose ramiro: Yis, you've got the nail on the head! I love all your reads, you always know where to look! I especially love your read on Arnold and Helga's relationship because you're completely right! They both care for each other but refuse to let the other one know, which in turn creates misunderstandings and hurt feelings for the pair XD Thanks for reviewing!

Abby: Aww, I'm super glad that it's done that for you! Yes, I want to make it super clear that being hard on yourself may help in the short term but may have wreckage effects in the long term! Always make sure you have some outwardly way of dealing with emotional burdens, especially in friends and family! And yes, that's one of my favourite things about writing this-I like to take people's outwardly masks that they present to everyone around them and compare it to the thoughts and feelings inside. This is a major part about Helga's characterisation but also Arnold, who, as you said, is very conflicted and actually has some baggage he himself needs to work on. The fued between them should be over now and though I'm going to continue examining them as invidiual characters first, there will be more scenes of them together from here on out! Take care! 💙

miladyswords: Heyyy! Lucky for you, your guessses were both right! Phoebe and Arnold were here for this one (and Gerald, my baby). Yes, it's so nice to put Helga and Phoebe together again, those two love each other so much! (Although they probably have some communication issues they gotta deal with XD) And I can give you a hint in that by the next chapter, who the Guardian is will be pretty much all but stated, you'll definitely know who they are! Oh, and thanks for the constructive criticism, I actually went back in my rewrite (cause I hated that chapter so much) to add in a line that kinda explains it. In my head, she decided to step back and let the two of them handle this (since she had been up in Helga's business and understood she needed to give her some space to handle her own battles), but when she heard of that she was like "aw hell nah!" And that line about Arnold seeing her as a project was more her being protective over Arnold then Helga. Cause the kid likes to help everyone but if it doesn't work out, then yeah, he gets majorly depressed about it and blames himself and she just doesn't want him to do that. Especially since Helga's problems aren't a quick fix, they would take so long for her to work through, and obviously Helga can't open up to him about much since she's not allowed to tell anyone about her being a Guardian.

Hope that clears it up-that last point will actually be a pretty big factor in Arnold's arc so I'm glad you caught it. But thanks for reviewing doll!

Anywhoozies, guess I'm done with this chapter! Again, I'm not sure when y'all can expect the next one, I don't want to promise anything, so just know that it'll be a lot more happier then this one XD Again, if you have any enquiries that you'd like answered quickly, the name of my tumblr is the same as my ff name! Anyway, have a lovely day

Song(s) mentioned: Highschool Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez