“You want to… borrow a car.” I had caught Maggie in her homeroom a half hour before class was set to start. Her voice was chirpy and energetic, even when tinged with confusion. It felt strange when I stumbled across her in her teacher mode, among all the insipidly encouraging posters that decorated her room, since I knew the real woman beneath the façade. It felt rather like seeing a magician after you have had the trick explained.

I had changed into my uniform and sat on the edge of her desk. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And you won’t tell me why.”

“It’s serious business, ma’am. I’m not at liberty to say.”

She shot up out of her wheeled chair, sending it rolling away as strands of her red hair popped out of her bun. “We don’t have secrets between us, Holy Brother Mockingbird!”

“I have to keep this one, I’m afraid,” I said. “It’s related to the source that told me about Sumatra. A demonkin would be hesitant to let the head of the local Holy Brotherhood chapter know his or her name.”

Maggie fumed silently for a moment. “As well he should. He’s a traitor to the species.”

“He’s a useful one,” I said.

“That’s something that’s been bothering me,” she said. “If he’s a demonkin, why did he reveal the attack in the first place? Is he a double agent?”

“I very much doubt that,” I replied. Any agent Fera trusted to relay her messages probably had a failsafe curse mark somewhere on his body, similar to what we had stamped on Haru. “What I have gathered over time is that the Grim Horde isn’t as united as they might seem from the outside. It was probably some sort of internal struggle.”

Maggie pulled her seat back into place and flopped down. “That’s the most encouraging thing I’ve heard in ages.”

“Not really,” I said. “Devils are ambitious and not afraid to throw orcs at a problem until it’s solved. I’d expect them to launch an attack that’s just as large sometime next year. All that probably did was change who will be giving out the orders.”

As Maggie’s shoulders slumped, I worried I might have given away too much. Would a demonkin on the street know as much about the inner goings on of the Horde as I had just let slip? She seemed too busy thinking through the implications of what I had said instead of wondering why I said them.

She shocked me by jumping up again, stomping over to the enormous touchscreen at the front of the room and punching it. The glass spiderwebbed around her hand, and when she withdrew her fist, a small trail of blood seeped through her balled fist.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“Stress relief,” she said. Her affinity went to work, and a hint of mint wafted through the air. Under her orders, the glass liquified again. When she was done, it was as if her little tantrum had never happened at all.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve relieved stress that way?”

“Glass manipulation isn’t the most powerful affinity, but it has its perks.” Laughing bitterly, she pulled out her smartphone. “I haven’t bought a case for one of these babies since my magic emerged.” She held up her hand. “Fix it.”

“Fix it, please?”

“Fix it if you want me to jeopardize my job to get you a car,” said snapped, flopping down again in her chair.

“It sounds like a fair trade to me,” I said.

“Don’t use that demon magic this time,” she said. “People would see scars on my fingers.”

“Yes, Holy Sister Shrike,” I said, trying to sound obsequious. She was helping me out, after all. I cast a light healing spell, since the damage was all superficial. That mint scent intensified as I worked through the magic.

“Are you using your affinity?”

“Do you see any glass moving?” she replied sarcastically.

“No, I suppose not. It must have been a false positive from my Mimic Sight.” I decided not to tell her about the recent development. Why was I smelling the mint, though? It hit me after a moment’s consideration; healing magic used the energy of the recipient to heal wounds. Her magic had that scent, and it didn’t seem to matter if it was being used by her or for her.

I still hadn’t figured out a practical application for Mimic Scent, but most theoretical research seems pointless at first.

“I already knew what you just said, for the record,” said Maggie once I released her hand. “At least, that the next attack would come. It’s why playing on defense makes no sense at all. It’s why every scrap of intel we can get is so important.” She pulled a pocket mirror out of her desk to straighten her hair. “Do you have any idea what this meeting is about?”

“I can’t say I do,” I said. “But it’s bound to be good, based on past performance.”

“It was so close, Soren,” she said. “They woke me up in the middle of the night and flew me down there to face down the wrath of the Grim Horde, and then they shipped me back up and told me to go back to work without a minute of downtime. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re close to exam time?” I offered.

“Because they didn’t want to panic the students! They should be panicked!”

“You’re preaching to the choir, my dear,” I said. “We don’t have much longer until class starts. About the car?”

She searched her pockets before pulling out a small plastic card with a magnetic strip. I took it in my hand, but she didn’t let go. “I’ll check out Car Seventeen for the night and curl up with a good book. If anyone asks, you were with me working on affinity training out in the woods.”

“And Kiyo,” I said. “She’s coming too.”

Her steely blue eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“You’ve had me so busy that she’s starting to go stir crazy,” I said. “I figure I can kill two birds with one stone.”

“I swear, if this is all a scheme to get out of the school for a date night, you’ll pay for it.”

“That’s only a secondary concern. Besides, you did promise that I would have tonight to myself.”

She let out a long sigh. “There had better not be so much as a scratch on it when you’re done.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

She went to cancel the Zone of Silence, but stopped short of snapping her fingers. “Make sure you keep tomorrow night clear.”

“What for?” I asked.

The slightest smirk played across her lips. “You were right about Mr. Wilson. I am his type.”

“I thought you were in a better mood today,” I said. “I take it pounding glass isn’t your only form of stress relief?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she said. “That would be the wrong approach for him. I can string him along for ages, and he’ll be more loyal to me for it. If I just jumped right into bed with him, he’d go off to tell his friends. Slow and steady will win that race.”

I suppressed a chuckle. Poor Paul. I had set him up with another woman who wanted to take it slow. Ah, well. He couldn’t hate me any more than he already did.