"Of course there's no 'family resemblance,' dillweed, I'm adopted," Luz told him. "He's been wearing that dumb mask for, what, fifty-odd years and you think he'd have biological kids?" She snorted. "As if. Though, I have been trying to get him into dating, I think a lot of guys might be interested—you're single, right? You have to be, with your attitude—"
"Oh, for the love of the Titan," Darius groaned. "You can't even concentrate in a simple conversation and you think you deserve to wear this?" He held the cape up. "I knew your predecessor, you know. He was my mentor, one of the strongest witches I'd ever known. But you..."
Luz felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't need natural magic to serve the Coven, Dari, or do you remember how I earned my mask in the first place?" she retorted, her tone darkening. "I'd watch your tongue before I rip it out of your smug little mouth, you stuck-up germaphobe—"
"I remember an irresponsible little girl turning a small prison riot into the near-massacre of nearly a thousand convicts, and being rewarded for her recklessness." Darius brushed past her. "If you want my opinion, I don't think you deserve to wear that patch."
Don't listen to him, Luz told herself, balling her fists. You don't need to pay attention to him, he doesn't matter—Papa matters, Amity matters, Raine matters, I don't need approval from that snob—
Can't mess up can't mess up can't ever mess up can't ignore what he says can't ignore what he says I NEED TO DO BETTER—
"Well, how do I earn it?" she burst, spinning around.
Darius rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sweet mother of Titan—I don't know, find new recruits for the Emperor's Coven? The best and the brightest witches in all the land, or whatever. Then maybe, you can get your cloak back."
Luz narrowed her lips. "I'll do it. Just watch me."
"Of course you will," Darius said airily. "After all..." He gave her a look over his shoulder as he left the room. "You're very good at doing exactly what you're told."
..............
"FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK SHIT FUCKING GODDAMNIT!" Hunter yelled, running at near lightspeed through the halls. "KILL IT! KILL THE MONSTER! KILL IT!"
"ICE GLYPH!" Gus shouted, nearly tripping over his own feet. "TRY AN ICE GLYPH!"
"I ALREADY DID! IT'S NOT STOPPING FOR ANYTHING!"
The locker roared as it closed in on them, skidding around the corner after them. Hunter spotted Willow and instantly ducked behind her, Gus following suit.
Willow quickly drew a spell circle and summoned a few vines, pulling the locker down onto the floor.
"Ohhhhhhh thank god," Hunter sighed, hugging her. "You're a lifesaver, Wilsy."
"And that's why we try not to store our lunches in our lockers," Gus said, sitting down on the vanquished locker.
Hunter gave Willow's new hairstyle—two little pigtails with a bright green streak in the front—a little ruffle. "So, you ready for the club fair? Me and Edric need some new members for the Casey Cane Book Club, if you wanna give it a shot—"
She laughed. "Thanks, but I'm interested in something with a little more drama, flair, and face paint."
He inhaled sharply. "I am so excited to hear the next words out of your mouth."
Willow pulled out her scroll. "Flyer Derby!"
Hunter squinted at the clip of a punk-rock witch and a big-shouldered demon flying around on brooms, playing something that looked like Capture the Flag.