Sparks, Smashed Doors, and a Sassy Guide

The blackness receded slowly, my vision coming back in fuzzy patches. I blinked rapidly, trying to orient myself. I was on the floor of my room, propped against something.

"Holy shit," a voice groaned nearby. "What was that?"

I turned my head to find Rhys Warner sprawled on the floor beside me, his blonde hair disheveled. He was rubbing his chest like it hurt.

"The spark," he muttered, his blue eyes wide with shock. "Fuck me, that was intense."

"What spark?" My voice came out raspy. "What did you do to me?"

Before Rhys could answer, the door to my room—which he had closed when he barged in—literally exploded inward. Wood fragments scattered across the floor as a tall, dark figure stormed through the opening.

"Warner!" The newcomer's voice was a deadly growl. "What the fuck did you do?"

My breath caught in my throat as I recognized him—the tattooed man from the hallway when Mr. Vance first brought me here. Jaxon Ryder. His eyes weren't just flashing blue; they were practically glowing with rage.

Rhys scrambled to his feet. "Jax, wait—"

But Jaxon wasn't listening. His gaze locked on me, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Not because I was scared—though I definitely was—but because an invisible hand seemed to be squeezing my throat.

I clutched at my neck, gasping. Nothing was physically there, but the pressure was real and getting tighter by the second.

"Stop!" Rhys lunged toward Jaxon, grabbing his arm. "She wasn't hurting me! It was the spark!"

The pressure eased slightly. Through watering eyes, I saw confusion flicker across Jaxon's face.

"The spark?" he repeated, his voice dangerous. "With her?"

"Yes, you psychotic asshole," I wheezed, finding my voice now that I could partially breathe again. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped choking me with your freaky mind powers!"

Jaxon's eyes narrowed, but the invisible grip vanished completely. I sucked in a desperate breath as Rhys stepped between us.

"She's new," Rhys explained quickly. "Just got here yesterday. I came to introduce myself, and when we touched—boom. The spark."

Jaxon's jaw clenched. "That's impossible."

"Clearly not," Rhys countered.

I pushed myself to my feet, anger replacing fear. "Would someone please explain what the hell is happening? And you—" I pointed at Jaxon, "—did you seriously just try to kill me?"

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," Jaxon replied coldly.

"Oh well, that's comforting," I spat. My hands were shaking, and I balled them into fists to hide it.

Before either man could respond, a new voice chirped from the doorway.

"What the actual hell happened to this door?"

A short girl with pixie-like features stood in the splintered doorway, her hands on her hips. She had bright pink nails and was wearing the Ruby house uniform I'd seen in my wardrobe.

Her gaze swept from the demolished door to Rhys to Jaxon, and understanding dawned on her face.

"Jaxon Ryder, did you hulk smash this door?" She sighed dramatically. "Mr. Vance is going to have your ass."

"Fuck off, Lyr," Jaxon muttered, but there was less heat in his voice now.

The girl—Lyr—rolled her eyes and turned to me with a bright smile. "Hi! I'm Lyra, but everyone calls me Lyr. You must be Hazel!" Her cheerful demeanor was jarring after the intensity of what had just happened.

"Um, yeah," I replied, unsure how to respond to her bubbly introduction.

Lyra clapped her hands. "Excellent! Boys, get out. And fix this door."

To my surprise, both men moved toward the exit without argument, though Jaxon shot me one more suspicious glance.

"We'll talk later," Rhys mouthed to me before Lyra shooed them into the hallway.

Once they were gone, Lyra surveyed the splintered remains of my door, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Don't worry about the door. Those two idiots can fix it with a repair spell," she said brightly. "Mr. Vance assigned me to be your guide and tutor!" She bounced on the balls of her feet. "I'm supposed to show you around, help you adjust, all that good stuff."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of the whiplash-inducing shift from being psychically choked to this peppy welcome committee.

"Am I in a mental hospital?" I asked finally. "Because that would explain a lot."

Lyra's laughter was like tinkling bells. "No, no, no! You're at Greys Academy, silly! The school for Greys." She paused, studying my confused expression. "Mr. Vance didn't explain much, did he?"

"He said I'm a Grey, whatever that means. And that I can't leave." My voice hardened at the last part.

"Well, that's the headline version," Lyra conceded. "But there's so much more to it! We're going to have so much fun getting you settled in." She clapped her hands again. "First things first—we need to get you properly dressed. Not that your current outfit isn't... nice," she added diplomatically, eyeing my leggings and t-shirt.

I glanced down at myself, then at the destroyed doorway. "I don't think I want to go anywhere right now. That guy just tried to kill me."

"Jaxon? Nah, he's just intense. If he wanted to hurt you, you'd know it." Her casual dismissal of the assault made my jaw drop. "Besides, you're in Ruby house! That's my house too. Safety in numbers and all that."

"Mr. Vance picked out clothes for me," I said, changing the subject as I gestured toward the wardrobe. "Which is creepy, by the way. How did he know my size?"

Lyra waved her hand dismissively. "He's the headmaster. Knowing things is like, his whole deal." She moved to the wardrobe and flung it open. "Ooh, nice selection! He even got you Converse."

She pulled out a pair of black high-tops, which I had to admit were exactly what I would have chosen for myself. It was unnerving.

"Put these on," Lyra instructed, tossing me the shoes and pulling out jeans and a Ruby-red sweater. "I'll give you the grand tour, introduce you to some people who won't try to choke you, and answer all your questions."

"All of them?" I asked skeptically, catching the clothes.

"Well, all the ones I'm allowed to answer," she amended with a wink. "Some things are for Mr. Vance to explain."

I sighed, resigned to the fact that straight answers weren't coming any time soon. "Fine." I changed quickly, pulling on the jeans and sweater. They fit perfectly, which was another layer of creepy.

As I laced up the Converse, I asked, "So what was that 'spark' thing Rhys mentioned?"

A flicker of something—surprise? concern?—crossed Lyra's face before her cheerful mask slipped back into place.

"Let's just tackle one weird thing at a time, shall we?" she suggested. "Right now, I'm supposed to show you around campus and get you familiar with Ruby house."

"But—"

"Trust me, Hazel," she cut in, suddenly serious. "Some questions are better asked in private, not with half the hallway listening through a broken door."

I glanced at the doorway, where sure enough, shadows moved beyond the splintered frame. Great. I was already the subject of dorm gossip.

Lyra linked her arm through mine. "Come on! The sooner we start, the sooner you get answers."

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding. What choice did I have? I was trapped in this place with mind-choking psychos and eerily cheerful guides. If Lyra was offering a lifeline of information, I'd be stupid not to take it.

"Lead the way," I said finally.

With a triumphant smile, Lyra tugged me toward the doorway. I stepped over the threshold, following my pixie-like guide into the unknown world of Greys Academy, my new Converse squeaking on the polished floor.