“Okay, this is really good,” Det said to nobody but himself after taking a bite out of his fourth finger sandwich. It was some kind of fish—Something like salmon?—with, of all things, strawberry jam. It reminded him a lot of the slammin-jammin-salmon-sammich he’d had in Alaska, back before Nat was born. Closing his eyes and savoring the taste of it, he could almost smell the lake he and Yumi had just kayaked across. The sound of the water lapping on the dock came in rhythmically, while the smell of the woods—so far from a city—and the clean air let him relax.

  After the stress of the morning, it was exactly what he needed to center himself again. Getting to the lunch spread early had not only gotten him a plate piled high with food, but also a nice quiet corner where nobody would…

  “Why are you special?” a deep voice pulled Det out of his happy place, though he didn’t open his eyes. Maybe the person wasn’t talking to… “Hey, I’m talking to you.” Followed by a thick finger poking into Det’s shoulder.

  Det finished chewing and swallowing the sandwich before he opened his eyes with a sigh. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice dripping with his complete lack of patience. “Why are you bothering me?”

  “I asked you a question,” the cadet standing in front of him with a plate of his own food said. The very tall cadet. He wasn’t wide like General Vans was—or even Tena—but he had to be almost six-and-half-feet tall. He wasn’t quite lanky, but he was close. Kind of reminded Det of a pro basketball player, with the cheat-code that was a ReSouled physique.

  “So?” Det said, looking past the man to see how crowded the lunchroom had gotten. Not crowded at all, was the answer, with barely a dozen cadets in the space. Only one of them was wet, which could only mean the drowning experience was even less pleasant than the morning of getting hanged. It was taking them longer to reach the necessary threshold to pass.

  Hopefully getting hanged all morning would make it at least a little bit easier.

  “So,” the tall cadet said, word like a knife he was trying to shove between Det’s ribs. “Answer my question.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why should I answer your question.”

  “Because I asked.”

  “Entitled much?” Det said, unable to go anywhere, because he’d sat in the corner, and the man occupied the space directly in front of him so he could loom. Yup, definitely some purposeful looming going on there.

  “You and your friends aren’t living with the rest of us,” the cadet said. “Half of you skipped out on fighting the duels yesterday. What, are you too good to bother with us plebs?”

  “Just remember you said that, not me,” Det said, looking down at his plate to pick the next sandwich. That one looked like some kind of mini-BLT, which would…

  A big hand slapped the whole plate of food out of Det’s hands, shattering the dish against the wall, and sending the poor, defenseless sandwiches sprawling across the floor in pieces.

  “What did they ever do to you, man?” Det said. He took a deep breath, so he didn’t outright explode.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” the man said.

  Det stared at the murdered lunch instead. He was still hungry. Lifting his eyes, he saw the rest of the cadets in the room had paused at the shattering dish, and were all looking in their direction. An audience now? Wonderful.

  “Are you deaf?” the big man growled.

  “Asshole,” Det said to himself. “Now I understand why Beast is always swearing if she has to deal with people like you all the time.”

  Next thing he knew, another plate dropped to the floor, and a pair of hands grabbed him by the collar of his cadet’s jacket, lifting him clear of his seat. Det’s back thumped into the corner of the room, the man holding the smaller Det at arm’s length, and a solid two feet off the ground. ReSouled strength on full display.

  Finally, Det did look at the other man, though he left his body slack. If the guy wanted to hold him up, Det wasn’t going to help him. And, after a whole morning getting hanged over and over, the slight pressure of his collar on his neck was almost, perversely nostalgic. It also wasn’t enough to upset him.

  “If you’re doing everything you can to make me not answer your questions,” Det said. “You’re doing an excellent job. If you’re trying to intimidate me, well, that you’re failing miserably at. I should also remind you about what the headmaster said…”

  The other cadet pulled Det closer to him, then slammed him back into the wall. It wasn’t enough to really hurt, but it stopped the rest of Det’s words from coming out. Then the other man stepped in closer to Det, lifting him a few inches higher in the process.

  “I’m going to…” the cadet started.

  “That’s enough, Granite,” another cadet said. Only coming up to Granite’s shoulder, this man looked younger than the twenty-years he had to be. One of those faces that would always look thirteen, without the pimples, at least.

  “Granite,” Det said before he could control his mouth. “Let me guess, because of the rocks for brains?”

  The growl rumbled out of Granite’s chest at same time he spun, tearing his arm free from the other cadet trying to calm him, and hurled Det. With the ReSouled strength the man had, Det didn’t land a few feet away. No, he traveled a solid dozen feet to crash down on the table full of finger sandwiches. Thanks to the momentum of his flight, he didn’t stop there, either, sliding along the tabletop—sending sandwiches flying the whole time—before gliding off to hit the floor and roll once.

  “Well,” Det said as he rolled over onto his back, heavy footsteps coming in his direction. “You really don’t like these sandwiches. Traumatic childhood experience? Allergic to delicious? Maybe you… whoop…”

  Det trailed off as those same big hands grabbed the front of his jacket again, and once more lifted him into the air.

  “You talk too much,” Granite said.

  “Not usually,” Det said. “I blame getting hanged all morning. But, to be fair, you came over to talk to me, and now I just feel like pissing you off. Is it working?”

  By the way the man’s arms cocked to the side as if to throw Det at the other table, the answer was very much in the affirmative. Only this time, when a small hand landed on Granite’s arm, it didn’t move another inch.

  “What are you two dumb-asses doing?” Beast asked, her hand basically above her head as she held Granite’s arm in place.

  “What?” Granite asked, looking first at the tiny hand, then to the equally tiny woman holding his arm in a vice-like grip. From the expression on his face, he didn’t realize who Beast was. “Let go.”

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  “No,” Beast said, her eyes taking in Det’s uniform. Or, no, more specifically, the remnants of the lunch table smeared across his uniform. The dangerous expression on her face sent a shiver up—then right back down--Det’s spine, but she thankfully turned it back on Granite. “Are you the one who did this to my sandwiches?”

  “Your sandwiches?” Granite said, his brain barely keeping up with the rapidly evolving situation now that he wasn’t in control.

  “It’s been nothing but unmitigated—and I think premeditated—sandwich violence since he slapped the plate out of my hand,” Det said from where he hung in Granite’s hands. When Beast gave him her attention, he nodded toward the corner of the room where the broken plate lay in pieces on the floor.

  “You ass,” Beast said to Granite.

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” Granite started, only for any further words to die in his throat as Beast changed.

  Growing from a five-and-a-half-foot-tall woman, to six, seven, eight, nine, ten feet tall, the transformation didn’t end there. Her uniform transmuted into thick, bristly hair, while her arms bulged with tremendous muscle beneath. Three-inch claws extended from her fingers, and her face elongated into something exceedingly lupine. Beast was a werewolf?

  No, that wasn’t completely accurate, as she had six arms. Two from her shoulders, like normal, then two more on each side of her chest. She really was… a beast.

  Before Granite could even process what was now looming over him, the massive jaws—full of dagger-like teeth—spread around his head, then closed just enough he had to feel the tips of the canines against his skin.

  “We’re… not allowed to use our magic,” Granite said weakly.

  “You cadets aren’t,” Beast said, voice perfectly normal, without moving her mouth and accidently chomping Granite’s head off.

  “Us, instructors? At our discretion. Now, why did you ruin my lunch, asshole?”

  “I… didn’t,” Granite stammered out, sweat beading on his face immediately as he continued to hold Det by the collar, his feet off the ground.

  “Did your dumb ass throw cadet Det into my sandwiches or not?” Beast pressed.

  “I…” Granite said, swallowed, and started again. “It was his fault.”

  “Does his tiny ass fly?” Beast asked.

  “No,” Granite said. “He wouldn’t answer my question, so I…”

  The growl that came out of Beast’s chest turned Granite’s words into a whimper.

  “Put his ass down,” Beast commanded, and Granite promptly obeyed.

  As soon as Det’s feet touched the floor, he took a step back. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this. Actually, he took a second—big—step away.

  With that part of the conflict resolved, Det expected Beast to revert to her usual form, maybe give Granite a few harsh words, and then move on to the last table still in one piece. There were sandwiches to eat, after all. Det was wrong.

  Beast stood back up to her full height, making Graite look genuinely tiny in comparison.

  “What class did you get assigned?” she asked, the lack of her usual curse making Det freeze. That couldn’t be good.

  “Bulwark,” Granite said.

  “Should be a tough-ass, then,” Beast said, nodding in a way that made Det’s feet want to make a quick exit. “Is there a Medic in the room?” Her voice was louder with that statement, aimed at the other cadets watching in frozen horror and interest. Like a car-wreck, they couldn’t look away.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Weiss said, standing where it looked like he’d just entered the room after the fun had started.

  “Oh, good, it’s you,” Beast said, then lifted one of her arms and pointed at the far side of the room. “Go stand over there. Right between those two lights on the wall.”

  “Why?” Weiss asked, until she snarled in his direction. “Yes, Ma’am. Right away, Ma’am!” Weiss said, going as far as saluting before running over to stand in position. He even double checked the two lights, then took a step to his left, to make sure he was perfectly in the middle.

  “Now, as for your dumb ass,” Beast said, leaning in so close to Granite’s face, he’d be able to feel the breath coming from her nose. “I don’t care what goes on between you cadets. Argue. Play schoolyard games, if you want. But the headmaster just gave you a warning. And, as much as I hate doing extra work, I don’t think I’ll mind this too much.

  “Because…” Beast said the word with such gravitas, Granite whimpered again. “You screwed with my lunch. So, now I’ve got to teach you a lesson. Make an example of you. This is strike one.”

  Almost in slow motion, Beast lifted one of her clawed hands, and very gently put the tips of her fingers against Granite’s chest. Careful not to drive her claws through his sternum, she looked at him again when she had all five fingers in position. Then she pushed.

  Looking like nothing more than a gentle shove—the kind Det would use to gently open a door if he was carrying something—the motion sent Granite hurtling across the room. The tall cadet hit the wall beside Weiss with a resounding thud that echoed through the quiet and still lunchroom. He even seemed to hang there for a second—spread eagle with arms and legs splayed around him—before sliding down, eyes rolling up into the back of his head.

  Initially caught off-guard by the shock of the body slapping into the wall beside him, Weiss reacted impressively fast after gathering his wits, even catching Granite’s limp body before it fully slumped to the floor.

  “Can I…?” he asked, looking to Beast with the question.

  Already back in her usual, far-too-perfect-and-pretty-to-be-real form, Beast crossed her arms. “Why do you think I told you to stand there, dumb ass? Of course you should heal him.”

  “Of course, yes Ma’am,” Weiss said, the two lights on either side of him beginning to dim. Then continuing to dim as he pulled more and more energy out of them to heal the unconscious Bulwark. By the time Granite began to stir, it was practically pitch black against the wall.

  Just how hard did she push him?

  “And you,” Beast said, attention switching to Det. “You should’ve been able to de-escalate that.”

  “I could have tried,” Det admitted. “But, he wasn’t going to listen to it. He wanted an answer I wasn’t going to give. He would’ve kept pushing.”

  “So your ass provoked him?” Beast challenged.

  “I’d argue it was more an attempt at discussing anything other than what he was asking about,” Det said. “There was going to be a scene one way or another. And, after what the headmaster said this morning, I wasn’t going to be the one at fault.

  “He was trying to push me until I reacted. I just turned it around.”

  “And let me handle it for you,” Beast said, clearly not impressed with getting pulled in to do work.

  “Outside of sanctioned duels,” Det said. “We aren’t supposed to fight, and he’s not worth my time. He chose to react the way he did, and this is the result. If you’re upset with anybody, it should be him.”

  Though, if Det was being honest with himself, maybe he could have deescalated before things got to the point they did. He really did believe Granite would’ve tried to force the issue until he got an answer, and there were things he couldn’t share. He also couldn’t hide behind that, or wait until somebody threw him into a table to resolve the issue.

  Simmons hadn’t given them a cover story about why they were in the accelerated class, and Det was suddenly starting to suspect that was on purpose. Navigating the politics was just as much training as getting hanged for an entire morning.

  Equally unpleasant too.

  “I will,” he said to Beast before she could throw him into a wall. “Consider other options if there is a next time. Don’t want any more innocent sandwiches to suffer, if they don’t have to.”

  He would have to talk to his roommates after they finished getting drowned for the afternoon. If Granite—Or that other guy, where did he go, anyway?—were just the first of many, they’d need a good, consistent story to explain things.

  “Good enough,” Beast said. “Now, go eat. Your ass is going to need all the energy it can get for the afternoon. Beauty wasn’t selling how bad it can be very well. It’s not peaceful at all like the movies say.”

  “Great,” Det said. “Um, but I have a question.”

  “You’ve got until those new plates of sandwiches get to the table,” Beast said, and Det glanced over his shoulder to see half-a-dozen servers coming out with huge, piled dishes to replace what had been lost.

  “To be blunt, why aren’t we vomiting, pissing, or shitting ourselves in the panic?” Det asked. “I would’ve thought putting all this food in us was a bad idea, and I can’t guess anybody would want to clean that up.”

  “Your body doesn’t actually need to produce waste,” Beast said. “You only do on a schedule because you think you need to. In an emergency—like dying—your body puts all its energy to other things. Waste isn’t one of them.”

  “That’s convenient,” Det said.

  “Will be even more convenient when you can control it, then you never need to go to the toilet again,” Beast said. “Now, get your ass out of my way. I hunger.”

  Not wanting to deal with a ten-foot-tall, six-armed, hungry werewolf, Det very quickly excused himself, and headed to where he saw Sage entering the lunch hall. From the way the man had one hand on his throat, a shaken look on his face, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to his surroundings, he could use a good, old-fashioned debrief.

  Maybe I won’t mention Beast saying the afternoon would be worse…

  Instead, Det grabbed a plate, filled it with sandwiches, and walked over to have a quiet talk with his new friend. He didn’t get two steps before the plan was ruined, Calisco storming into the lunchroom, spotting the plate full of food in Det’s hands, and making a beeline for him.

  Discord