The Deepest Night by Shana Abe

ready to hit him again.
    “What the hell … ?”
    I believe that’s what he said. It was pretty garbled from behind his fingers.
    “Are you lost?” I whispered, unmoving. “Perhaps searching for a chambermaid up for a tumble?”
    “I thought you were up for a tumble,” he growled, coming to his feet.
    “Yes. Because we got on so splendidly this evening, didn’t we?”
    Laurence lowered his hands, examining the blood that I could not see but could definitely smell.
    I’d learned dancing and deportment at Iverson. At Blisshaven I’d learned how to punch: do it fast, do it hard, keep your thumb tucked and your wrist straight. Don’t run away unless you have to. Make damned sure you win, because if you don’t, you’ll be watching your back for weeks.
    “You’re a ruddy bitch, you know that?”
    “And you’re a ruddy cad. I know you must know that . The only reason you’re in my room is because you think I’m Armand’s summer dalliance. That makes me fair game, eh?”
    He leered at me, ugly. “Why should he have all the fun?”
    “Because he’s your friend , you jackass.”
    “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to give it a go with a real man? I’m not some blighter too afraid to enlist. I’m an officer, Eleanore. I’m out there fighting for us.”
    Some blighter too afraid to enlist. He meant Armand.
    “Try it with me,” Laurence cajoled, sidling closer. “Try it with someone sane. I’ll make it ever so good for you, I swear.”
    My body went to ice. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
    “Or we can get as deranged as you want.” He kept inching toward me. “If that’s what you fancy. Howling mad, if that’s what—”
    “You think he’s mad. You think Armand’s mad?”
    “Can’t blame him if he’s off his onion. Look at his parents. Anyway, better mad than a coward.”
    “You rotter,” I breathed. “You stinking, prissed-up, preening bastard. You don’t know anything about him!”
    “I know what people say.”
    “People like you . People who’ve never even been to the front, I’d bet, who’d piss themselves with fear in a real battle. You’re more someone’s secretary than an actual fighting man, am I right? Rich boy like you, no need to get your hands dirty.”
    He surged toward me. “Shut up, bitch.”
    Dragon reflexes, dragon strength—I hit him again. It was easy. He didn’t even have time to flinch as my arm came up.
    He didn’t land on the floor this time. But there was a lot more blood.
    “You’re going to leave this place,” I told him, very quiet. “You’re going to leave first thing in the morning, before breakfast. If you don’t, I’ll tell Armand everything. Let him realize what a great friend you are.”
    “Like he’d believe a slut like you—”
    Something happened then, something I didn’t understand at first. There was a flash of light, silvery purplish, very bright. It showed me Laurence’s face and the blood smeared down his nose and lips, the walls behind him and the furniture and curtains. Everything intensely sharp and clear.
    And in that split second of light, I saw myself reflected in his pupils, shining there, frozen. I saw a radiant-eyed monster caged inside a girl.
    A Thing within me shifted. A Thing that was huge and twisting and hungry, rippling beneath my skin.
    “Go away,” I said. It came out strangled, hoarse. “Don’t ever come back.”
    He backed up, one step, two, three—and then he was scrambling for the door. He ran down the hallway to the exact rhythm of Aunt Lottie’s snores.
    I stood there, my hands still fisted, ready to strike again at something. Anything. The rippling, twisting Thing shuddered through me, growing stronger, eating into my marrow. My skin felt too tight and my heart was hammering, boom-boom-boomboomboomboom , wild and fast as a hummingbird’s.
    I was panting. I was fever, I was ice. I was running to the closest window, shoving apart the heavy curtains. My fingers found the twin locks on