Wings and Shadowthief by May Sage

"Ms. Kanye, are we keeping you awake?" Gwen winced at the threatening sharpness of the over-smooth, otherworldly voice of her favorite teacher.

She adored everything about this class. They learned the history of all paranormal creatures—of this world and the others—from someone who'd been alive since the dawn of time, back before humans had been grunting and drawing on cave walls. It didn't hurt that their teacher was the most beautiful thing on Earth. The tall, ethereal Aos Si wasn't Gwen's type, but objectively, there wasn't a creature alive who could compare to Fin Varra. His body had inspired the great master sculptors of old, but none had managed to capture its perfection. He was lean muscle, sharp angles, and deliciously rounded curves. His skin was pearly white, with an unnatural gleam in the winter, but when the sun conquered the almost constant cloud cover in Scotland, Varra tanned to a golden brown. It wasn’t even fair.

Beauty was only one of the teacher’s weapons. Like all fae, he wielded his tongue like a deadly blade, sowing curses when the mood struck him. Not paying attention in his class was close to suicidal. Fin Varra didn't possess a moral compass. His kind didn't care about right or wrong, especially when they felt they had been disrespected.

Yawning while he was addressing them? Not exactly respectful.

Gwen couldn't help it, though. She'd been awake in the middle of the night to charge the moon amulets she was crafting for her enchantment class. Unlike many of her classmates, she needed a solid eight hours of sleep per night, or her weight in strong coffee to make up for it.

Being an elemental witch, Gwen could have stuck to classes that focused on her strength—water magic—but following the example of Greer Vespian, the most talented witch at the Institute of Paranormal Studies, she'd diversified, picking several different specialties. Who knew what could prove of use later?

And choosing several paths had been a good thing, too, given the fact that her water magic class was kicking her ass.

"My apologies, sir. Late night." She'd considered skipping the class, but decided that attending while exhausted was better than missing two hours with Fin Varra. "I'm listening, I promise." Promises weren’t given lightly in their world, especially to a fae.

"Are you, now? Well, then you won't mind giving us your interpretation of the differentiations I just highlighted." The teacher's smile showed his white, sharp teeth, and Gwen didn't doubt he wouldn't hesitate to make use of them if she didn't provide a satisfactory answer.

Gwen wet her dry lips and nodded. "Immortals are creatures who cannot die of natural causes, such as age. Once they reach maturity, their genes don't degenerate. They can, however, be killed or die of sickness. Some are hard to kill, others not so much. This encompasses creatures such as vampires, some fae, and the gods—well, the Enlightened, as they like to be called." The teacher nodded encouragingly. "Eternal creatures, however, can never die, or be killed. This is an abstract concept; there's no actual proof of any eternal being existing in this world. In human religions, their various gods tend to be considered eternal."

“It appears you were paying attention after all.” Fin’s eyes were bright and his smile, a little kinder—though no less devastating. “Good girl.”

She could feel her cheeks heat. Sure, she preferred her men a little less effeminate—and terrifying—but she doubted anyone could be indifferent to praise from Fin Varra. Compliments were rare, precious, and like everything else about the professor, sexy as hell.

The fae walked away, his long moss green cape flowing behind him. He wore it over a pair of silky pants that looked delightfully soft, and nothing else, unbothered by the chilly March air. The Aos Si was so good as to often let the world bask in the perfection of his hard abs.

Next to her, Gwen's friend breathed out loud in relief. "I thought he was going to rip your throat out."

Gwen chuckled nervously. She wished Chloe was joking. "You would have stopped him."

Chloe was one of the most powerful things in Oldcrest, and in the world, despite having been turned into a vampire just one year ago. She was the last descendant of the Eirikrson line—vampires who fed on their peers, rather than on mortal blood, and had long ruled over all other vampire families.

When the family was betrayed and destroyed by the six other royal lines about five hundred years ago, one child survived. Chloe’s ancestors then lived as mortals, becoming insane and murderous when they couldn’t give in to their true nature and be turned into vampires in their twenties.

Gwen couldn’t imagine bearing the burden of such a portentous name, but Chloe didn’t seem to mind.

"I would have tried," Chloe whispered back with a fatalistic laugh.

None of them knew how powerful Fin Varra truly was. He'd never fought in front of them. He didn’t train with them, or even join them when Oldcrest was attacked—which had happened several times over the last year.

But their teacher was still an ancient fair folk; there was no saying what he was capable of.

They listened to the rest of the lecture in silence, dutifully taking notes. Advanced Paranormal History was one of the heaviest courses they were enrolled in. Their final exams were coming up in a few months, and they needed to ace it. There was a rumor that Varra cursed the students who failed his class, and Gwen absolutely believed every word of it.

The moment the bell rang, Chloe jumped to her feet, stuffing her notes back inside her pretty, ancient leather satchel.

Almost everything Chloe owned these days was pretty and ancient. Gwen wasn't jealous by nature, but she would have killed for the vampire's accessories.

Chloe had opened up every single room inside her home, at the summit of Night Hill. The other houses on the hill had been burned to a crisp last Halloween—except for Mikar's modest cabin, so Chloe was housing a dozen of their friends in her ancestral estate. Skyhall contained countless treasures in every room, and they'd been spelled to remain in optimal condition through the ages. The satchel was the least of it.

What truly made Gwen drool were the cursed, blessed, and spelled objects littered through the house. They contained old magic she’d never even heard of, the kind that might have been lost through the ages, or jealously kept secret by the various covens of witches around the world. Chloe let Gwen analyze her heritage, and she’d even told Gwen to take whatever she liked, but Gwen wasn't one to overstep.

"You're in a hurry?" Gwen wondered. They both had a free period after this class.

Thanks to her vampire speed and agility, Chloe moved too smoothly and a little too fast these days, but when she was here, in the school building, she purposely slowed down enough so that Gwen and the rest of the students could actually see her movements. Vampires did their best to blend in in the mortal world. Just because the world was aware of their existence now didn’t mean that they could do whatever they pleased. Regular humans were freaked out by what they didn’t understand, and they certainly didn’t understand vampires. In an effort to avoid another war against supernatural creatures, vampires tried not to show how different they really were.

Things were different here in Oldcrest, a territory entirely hidden from mortal eyes and protected by many spells, but Chloe, like any new vampire, needed to practice acting human. She made no such effort today.

"Yeah, Jack's organizing a lunch race today. The meeting was about half an hour ago. I told him I’d be late, but I want to get there as soon as I can. Didn't he message you?"

Gwen's face went blank, as it had every time that name had come up in conversation over the last five months.

Jack fucking Hunter.

"Maybe," Gwen replied, noncommittal as a fairy. In truth, she'd blocked his number sometimes last spring.

"Are you coming?" Chloe pushed.

Fair question. Gwen attended the races Jack had set up around Oldcrest in order to network with the huntsmen. Their organization was always useful to witches. Plus, like every witch, Gwen needed to stay fit. Their magic was only as strong as their minds and bodies—cardio was essential to being able to maintain spells for an extended period of time. Running was her sport of choice.

There weren't many sports to practice in Oldcrest, except for actual combat training, and Gwen wasn't fond of it. She'd learned the basics, and she trained with Chloe and some of her friends pretty often. She'd even let Tris give her a few private lessons. But taking a regular course where she was graded based on her performance? No way. Gwen wasn't into physical violence. She only fought hand to hand to protect herself—and in situations where her life was in danger, her magic served her better than her fists.

Some students swam in the lake, but that was quite out of the question. Shifters and vampires may be fine in the freezing-cold Scottish lake, but Gwen only dipped her toes in heated pools or Mediterranean water.

"Pass." Her response was automatic.

She wasn't going to hang out with Jack Hunter like nothing had happened between them.

Maybe it was petty of her. Maybe she was pissed for no good reason. But never one to ignore her feelings, Gwen fully intended to avoid the asshole as long as she felt like it. It should only take a decade or two until she was fine standing in the same room as him.

Gwen had never felt so humiliated, so small, as she had the day Jack Hunter had ignored her last November.

Fuck him.

Fuck him to hell and back.

"You're sure? He's throwing five hundred bucks to the one who comes in first."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Isn't that cheating? You have vampire speed. You're clearly going to win."

Chloe's grin uncovered her pointed fangs. "Oh, I'm not racing with them. I'm hunting them."