My stumble back to campus is solo because Hercules decided his afternoon would be dedicated to running. How he could manage that with as much alcohol as we consumed is proof enough that whatever was affecting his strain was temporary. As I cross the bridge, I watch an entire trail of camellias wash down the stream.

Caiden, that crazy kid. He must've cut all the flowers from the bushes. I hold the rail and try my best to walk upright while I make my way to the garden.

"Caiden! Hey guy, why'd you cut all of the flowers?"

I can make out his blurry form still next to the bushes. I go over to the stream and pick up a handful of flowers.

"Here, put them back."

I start to slide forward, but he catches me.

"Elizabeth, are you drunk?"

I shake my head.

"Not totally, but still, don't tell Matthew. He wouldn't like it."

Caiden slings my arm over his shoulder.

"I thought you were supposed to be in class. How did you get like this?" He half drags me to the secluded area beneath the willow tree. I crash to the cool ground and roll to one side.

"Elizabeth? Do you think this was a good idea, considering what is happening on campus, I mean."

I cover my face with my hands. "I know, I know. Hercules was upset, I didn't know what else to do."

He pats my head. "I am so confused right now."

At least I know Caiden can keep a secret.

"Somehow Hercules lost his strength before class, that's why he canceled it...I just...ugh." And now my head is beginning to hurt. Hercules might be feeling better, but I think I'll need a nap to fully recuperate.

"That's really odd. Strains don't just disappear like that..." Caiden says, looking outward. I get up from my seat and dust off my clothes.

"Yeah, I don't get it either. He was fine at breakfast."

"Speaking of food, you'd better get something in your stomach to soak up that alcohol," Caiden says.

I nod. "I knew it was a bad idea to share breakfast with Hercules. That salad Matthew left me for lunch wasn't nearly enough."

Caiden's eyebrows furrow.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"Oh I just remembered that I have this," he reaches into his cloak and pulls out some kind of bread. It smells sweet, like a living world honey bun. He places it into my hands.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow?"

"Sober, I hope."

I let out a chuckle that turns into a hiccupping fit. My face goes red as I wave at him and leave the garden behind me.

***

I nap off the effects of the wine in my bedroom. Since I've already completed the midterm for my core class, Matthew has given me the next week off to prepare for my other classes. He's using the time to do academy business and probably researching over at Doc's.

I wish he would have asked me to help, instead of making me feel useless. I'd like to take satisfaction of catching this guy myself. I have a prime suspect, but suspicion isn't enough.

I sit in my bed with a cup of tea in one hand. It does nothing for my headache.

Dinner will be starting in an hour, and since Matthew hasn't barged through my door yet; I'm guessing he didn't find what he was looking for. Most likely, I'll be doing dishes late again tonight. So, if Matthew didn't catch him, I'll be seeing Levi again tonight. That doesn't bode well. Last night I had an advantage, but now that he knows I'm armed, that will likely be to my own detriment. He might even bring a weapon of his own this time. I need an edge somehow.

I tap at the cup in my hands, then look at my wrist. Guess I'll be heading to dinner early today.

Only Chef Floy is in the kitchen when I enter through the back door. He's too busy focusing on the ghosts to pay me any attention as I walk to the supply closet and pilfer through it. I grab a few things and shove them into my backpack. Then, I tuck the bag away under the station I usually work at.

Wind whips my hair as I approach the Chef.

"Excuse me, Chef?"

"Busy."

"I just wanted to know if you'd be doing inventory tonight."

"No, I do that on Mondays."

"And inventory on the dishes, when is that done?"

The wind breaks. "Dishes? We don't do inventory on dishes. Houses replace whatever they break themselves. You should know that, you've broken enough."

"Right, which is how I can tell the bowls look pretty low. Lower than usual."

He grits his teeth and looks away. The wind picks up again.

"I'll look into it."

I sit through dinner trying my best to stay calm. My eyes drift over to the Spark table and scan the students for Levi. No one seems to be missing, and no one is looking my way. When their facilitator notices me staring, I quickly look away.

It doesn't take long for dinner to be over, and for dishes to begin. Hercules, April, and Matthew are still at the table drinking when I go to collect their plates.

"Evening," I say to everyone.

They all return the greeting. April is the first to leave in an attempt to avoid another hangover. Then Hercules leaves and on his way out gives me a heavy-handed smack on the shoulder. A painful signal that his strength has returned. Good. I'm glad he's feeling better.

"You're planning something, aren't you?" Matthew whispers from behind his wine glass.

"Already in motion, sir."

"Don't do anything stupid. I can handle this myself."

"Sir, it's my body that's at risk, not yours. If you want to help, just make sure enforcers are posted outside the kitchen the minute it hits curfew."

He regards me for a moment, then nods his head.

I return to the kitchen and begin working feverishly on the dishes. One by one, the houses finish and leave. Soon, I'm all alone. The only dishes left in the sink are the salad bowls. With thirty minutes left until curfew, I set the bowls rim side down on the floor just in front of the doors. Whichever way he decides to come in, I'll know it.

A few more Kevin McCalister-level set-ups and I'm ready. Well, not the most ready, but as ready as I'll ever be.

It's five minutes to curfew when the first bowl shatters. He's entered through the door leading from the dining room. Another bowl breaks as I hit the lights and darken the area. He breaks three more, grunting as he tries to jump into the kitchen.

"Who are you? And why are you doing this?" I say, notifying him of my position, but covering up any other sounds he might hear. Would he notice that I'm at the Aqua washing station instead of my own?

Finally, his shadowy figure steps into view. Looking him over, I confirm my suspicions were correct. He's holding a pole or pipe in one hand. Whatever it is, it's probably metal. Just another way for him to use his strain against me.

"You must be nervous. You never seem to talk unless it looks like you'll win," I say. Come on. Take the bait. He strides forward.

I begin tossing bowls at him, one after the other, which he bats away with the pole. Shards of ceramic rain down onto the floor and pop up like deadly hail before they vanish.

Once my supply of bowls is depleted, I back away from the sink. My blood begins to boil as he draws near me.

"What the hell kind of hero are you supposed to be anyway? You don't deserve to be here!"

That makes him pause.

"Then why would Fate give me this power and leave you powerless?"

His words stun me. How did he know that? He lurches forward and swings his pipe across my body. My reflexes kick in and catch it before it can connect with my chest.

He laughs. "I just figured I'd have a good time before I killed you."

Electricity cracks and sparks along the length of the pipe, but my grip holds firm. His hold buckles in surprise. I shove the pipe up to his chin and use it as leverage to spin us around.

"Rubber gloves, asshole."

The Aqua washing station is not only the biggest in the kitchen, but it's also the closest to the wine cellar. A door that I've already opened and prepared for just this occasion.

I push him towards the door, but my momentum is gone. He's pushing back now, using sheer force instead of his strain. He's stronger than me in every sense of the word, even if he weren't a superhuman.

I see a glint of joy spark in his eyes. He's enjoying this. Enjoying overpowering me in this savage way.

"You really are just a pathetic little girl, aren't you?" he says as my shoulder lets out an audible pop. "Nothing special, just another weak human."

"Everyone here is just a human," I spit out. Because it's true. Everyone here is just a human, and we're all weak. We weren't strong enough to live, and we aren't even strong enough to do what we were led here to do in the first place. I look into his dark, cold, and evil eyes. "But since you forgot, let me remind you."

Then, with every ounce of humanity I have inside of me, I kick him straight in his balls.

Like all the men I've ever known in life, he crumbles to the floor, hands clutching what I hope I've busted. I use the pole to push him down the cellar steps, then lock the door. My eyes instantly tear up as the realization that I've won washes over me.

Ceramic scrapes the tile as the kitchen door is opened.

"What the hell?"

Light floods the kitchen and Chef Floy surveys the unbroken dishes still on the ground before he spots me.

"Elizabeth, what is. What..." he stutters.

"Someone attacked me, please call for help. I trapped him in the cellar."

The back door opens and a cloaked figure walks inside.

"Something going on here?"

Chef Floy runs a hand through his hair. "You'd better get your boss."

Matthew guides me back to my room and even does me the favor of shoving my door open for me. After he had shown up in the kitchen, I was left in the dining hall while they dealt with the kid I had trapped.

I step inside and sit on the edge of my bed.

"Who was it?" I ask, ready to finally confirm my suspicions.

Matthew takes his seat at my desk and reveals his face.

"Theron. The facilitator of the Sparks," he says. "I'm so freaking stupid. A student wouldn't have been able to pull this off, it was so damn obvious."

I can't reassure him because I can't seem to process it. I was wrong. A facilitator was after me. A graduate. Someone who was supposed to be a true hero.

"Disgrace. That's what it is. I didn't even consider..." He slams his fist on my desk. "Bastard was an enforcer before he graduated. One of my enforcers. How many times did he...shit!"

"Teacher?"

"I'm too pissed right now, Elizabeth!"

"But..."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten. His voice lowers.

"What is it?"

"Do all the facilitators know—" I swallow hard. "That I'm strainless?"

"The hell are you talking about right now," he says, an exasperated hand dropping to his side.

"He knew. He knew, and he threw it in my face like I was some kind of freak."

"Bastard has some nerve. How did he find out?" Matthew begins mumbling to himself and hits my desk a few more times.

"I'm going to take it from here, alright? You've done enough, more than enough actually. And I..." He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry that you've had to make up for my shortcomings. I'll take care of the rest. Just get some sleep. Those bowls though..."

"I'll pick them up Sunday morning."

He nods. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight, Teacher."