"What is this?" The bearded vulture scoffed, eyeing a measly pouch on the edge of her desk before returning to her papers. "Have you come to ask for treats?"
Kirill laughed, a hearty boom that sounded to her almost like a screech. "It's your lucky day, Verity. I'm here to give you some."
She cast a distasteful glance in his direction, eyes narrowed with doubt. A brief once-over was enough for her to conclude that the headmaster had come to boast or to sneer, which was what vultures tended to do—even amongst their own kind. She waited.
"Aren't you curious, my dear?"
She snorted, unwilling to raise her gaze. "Unfortunately not."
"What a pity," Kirill sighed falsely, pretending to reach for the leather pouch. "I thought you'd like a couple more Jokers in our little game."
Her attention snapped towards him upon the word; sharp and eager. Although she considered him unsightly and far too traditional for her tastes, V regarded the man as a necessary ally—unworthy of her attention unless there was something he could offer. She gathered her papers and placed them aside, fingers steepling as she leaned against the backrest of her armchair.
"Why, for the headmaster himself to leave his cosy nest and seek my opinion!" She laughed. "How...delightful."
"Indeed."
She folded her arms, fingers in a slow drum. "You have my attention."
Kirill found that he did not particularly like the tone she was using to speak to him and because he assumed the upper hand in the current play, he decided to go about this quite differently.
"I didn't ask for your attention, Verity," he pretended to frown, stowing the pouch back under his coat. "In fact, I doubt it is necessary."
Her patience was running thin. "Then explain your presence," the bearded vulture scoffed, raising a brow. "Leave if you have not come to strike a deal or do any business. I don't entertain your kind."
V rose from her seat to show him out but the latter raised a hand to stop her from proceeding. "You're no fun at all, Verity. It is no surprise Wint didn't like you as his predator."
"Last I checked, he didn't like you either." Her snap was sharp and final, putting an end to a conversation that did not hold any distinct purpose. "Speak. What do you want?"
Again, Kirill produced the drawstring pouch but this time, held it out for her to receive. The Himalayan vulture waited. With the smile of a devil, he did. Verity untied the knot of the bag and pulled its mouth apart, peering in.
"Duplicates?"
Inside, were at least a dozen Mark of Prey with the exact same identity.
"And what do you suggest we do with this?" She pulled on the strings and knotted their ends together, returning it to its original place.
"For the sparrow to draw his Mark, of course!" Kirill began after a timely pause. "Surely, you know what that means?"
Her Avian screeched from across the room, akin to laughter. "Allowing Iolani Tori a guaranteed draw of the Joker? You must have lost your mind—not that you had a proper one in the first place, Kirill, I assure you."
YOU ARE READING
Flight School: Predator
Fantasy[Second book of the Flight Series] "More than anything, the sky was red. It wasn't dark, no. Just red." Iolani Tori learns about the part of him that isn't human; and sees the line between animal and himself thin to something less than a thread. If...
