Page 44 of Strange Familiars
Our straps ping, and all five of us check our wrists simultaneously. And as the class rankings notification flashes onto the screen, all I can do is clench my teeth to stop myself from screaming.
The dean has allocatedmymarks to Harrisford. Which means his diagnosis has helped him to slip ahead of me…
By one measly bloody point.
It’s not even enough that Harrisford won the wealth, privilege,andgenetic lotteries. He also won the “can diagnose complex diseases with nothing but his nose” lottery.
What a joke. Anger rips its way through me, beating at my chest, and everything in my vision goes fuzzy. I’m barely thinking as I reach out, grab Harrisford’s arm, and haul him out the door.
The drug cupboard is annoyingly cramped, and it occurs to me that this is the second time in just a few days that I’ve been shut in a cupboard with Harrisford—though whether one can call his palatial wardrobe a cupboard is still up for debate.
It’s dark, so Harrisford flicks on the magelights, throwing his features into sharp relief.
“Chan,” he says, his forehead creasing. “Are youmadat me?”
“Did you have to interrupt like that?” I hiss, ignoring the way our proximity is forcing his muscular, coverall-clad body against mine. “Pen wasjustabout to do a blood draw and you had to come and interfere!”
He rakes a hand through his hair, though it just flops right back down onto his forehead. “Oh. I had no idea. I was just trying to help—”
“Well, you didn’t help.” I go to cross my arms but only succeed in bumping our bodies together even closer. It’s upsetting—and mortifying—how quickly my heart rate speeds up in response.
Harrisford frowns at me. “I actually just came by to see how you were doing, after, you know…”
“Your father nearly murdered me and I exploded the roof of hisworkplace? Yeah, I’m just jolly, obviously.” I still have some cuts and bruises, but who’s really keeping count?
Despite our crowded surroundings, Harrisford reaches up, touching a small wound that’s still on my chin. “I missed one,” he says, running the pad of his thumb across it. “Do you want me to heal—”
“I’m good, thanks.” My face heats, and I bat his hand away.
We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, during which Harrisford won’t stop looking at me, and…why won’t he stop looking at me?
“I brought back your book,” he says finally, producing it from some inner pocket of his coveralls.
The listening book. I hadn’t even noticed he had taken it, so focused was I on catching up on my studies. With some maneuvering, I manage to take ahold of it and clasp it against my chest as though it is a shield. And it occurs to me that in a way, it is. Since it contains Darghan Briggs’s full confession, it’s my insurance against being charged for endangering life and property, should Harrisford’s dad ever wake up and think to accuse me.
In fact, perhaps I should pre-empt that possibility, even before Mr.Briggs wakes up. “I think we should take this to the police,” I say to Harrisford, who’s still staring down at me.
His expression hardens, his brows drawing way down. “Why?”
“Because I think this is getting beyond what we can feasibly handle ourselves. We think it’s sabotage, but we have no idea who it could be, or even where to bloody look.” And also I don’t want to get in trouble for what I did at the Magecorp vault.
Harrisford’s gaze slides away, his jaw working, before returning to me. “No,” he says, his eyes becoming cold, like ice. Once again, even though they look nothing alike, I’m painfully reminded of his father. It’s the little details that are similar—like father, like son.
“What do you mean, no?” I try to keep my voice steady, try to stop it from rising in pitch. We’re in a drug cupboard just off the main corridor, and I don’t want to be overheard. “We have a written record of your father’s confession—we should be reporting him to the authorities.”
“Chan,” Harrisford says, and sighs. “I see what you’re saying, but I can assure you, we really can’t trust the authorities.”
I tilt my head, regarding him through narrowed eyes. “Is this about protecting your father?” I ask. “Because don’t you forget that he held agunto my head—”
“It’s not about protecting him!” Now Harrisford is sounding frustrated. I can see the pulse in his neck distending.
“That’s dragonshit and you know it, Briggs! You’re refusing to hand in his confession, right? And from where I’m standing, that looks a lot like you’re trying to protect him.” White-hot rage is tearing through my body, collecting in my extremities, making my heart pound and my head heat up and my skin feel barely held together. After everything we went through…After everythingIwent through to procure that goddamned book, it’ll all amount to nothing because of Harrisford’s misplaced loyalty?
He shuts his eyes and massages his temples. “You know, for a smart woman, you really can be incredibly obtuse.”
“Obtuse? Going to the police is notobtuse!”
Harrisford lowers his hand to glower at me, and when he moves even closer his eyes become shadowed. Then he leans in and says, right in my face, “It’s instinctive for you, isn’t it, Chan? To be a goody two-shoes and run off to whoever’s in charge as soon as something happens.” His lips spread into a grin, and he shakes his head. “You just cannot help yourself, can you?”
