The Path of Razors by Chris Marie Green

hadn’t seemed to do the trick last night—not altogether—but she suspected that maybe it didn’t cover the scent of ultradread so well, and she and Kiko had been feeling just that while they’d waited in some woods to be discovered by those vamp girls.
    But the dread wouldn’t happen again. Dawn would make sure of it.
    Scare me once, she thought, bully for you. Scare me twice, and I’ll already have my blades out.
    After Dawn got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, Kiko came knocking. Steam wisped the air as she let him in and he held up a red sweater enclosed in a plastic bag.
    “From the costume bin,” he said. Back when they’d been preparing headquarters, they’d raided vintage stores for clothing, wigs, shoes, and all manner of disguise, which they could use for interviews and any necessary undercover work. “It still has a whiff of that former-owner smell, plus a different cleaning detergent than we use, so maybe it’ll help with distracting the noses on these vamps.”
    She combed the tangles from her hair, which was the opposite of her mom’s: brown, unspectacular, and more functional than glamorous.
    “Nothing like a red sweater for undercover work,” Dawn said.
    “Don’t be picky.” Kiko tossed it on the bathroom counter and headed for the door. “You can thank me for saving your ass later.”
    “My ass is very appreciative now.”
    As he left, he gave her a smirk, and she grinned back while firing up a hair dryer that didn’t have half the power of the ones in the States.
    Still, not long afterward, she, Kiko, and Frank—who huddled under a protective blanket even with the darkened windows of their modified Kia Sedona—drove to Queenshill. Once there, in the relative privacy of the back, she stuffed her hair under a wig cap and went to work on her cover.
    The wig she’d chosen was mousy—the ashy, wavy brown of a bookworm. She secured it over her head, then topped off the schoolgirl look by dressing in a calf-length checkered skirt, a white blouse that buttoned at the wrists, a pair of random, thick glasses she’d found among other handy costume wear, and, of course, the sweater.
    After checking her weapons and stowing them, she headed from the sheltered cove where they’d parked toward the unguarded gates of Queenshill, thinking it was interesting that last night’s ruckus hadn’t resulted in more security. Bobbies had been called and everything, but Dawn supposed that they probably hadn’t found much on campus besides the remnants of a wildlife fight from the animals the schoolgirls had summoned.
    Even so, she kept her eyes peeled while traveling a gravel path that took her between a chapel and the gothic-tinged administration building. She clutched a pink folder to her stomach, her head down, her wig covering her features. A “book bag” was strapped crossways over her chest, and it was heavy with everything she’d need once she got past the housematron’s door:
    Two smaller stakes: One ash, one aspen. One tipped with silver, one plain.
    Two UV grenades.
    A mini flamethrower.
    A mini machete.
    Frank and Kiko were off campus with the bigger stuff, like her saw-bow.
    Her earpiece came to life with Kiko’s voice.“You there yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    She barely moved her mouth. Not that anyone was really around right now to hear, but schoolgirls were supposed to be in class and she didn’t want to draw undue attention. Then again, during a previous daytime trip to campus, Dawn had gotten the distinct impression that these students weren’t exactly under lock and key. They were overachievers here at Queenshill and seemingly treated with the respect and freedom they’d earned, so a schoolgirl cruising to the dorm right now wouldn’t be entirely out of place.
    Yet as Dawn passed by the main buildings with their chimeras spreading their wings and gaping at her, she reconsidered the whole “watching thing.” She definitely felt like there were curious eyes