Killing November

by Adriana Mather

  I collide with the stone and quickly feel around the mantel. “Got you.”

  The sound of paper crumpling next to me makes my heart skip a beat.

  “Here, find my hand,” I say, reaching out, and Ines does.

  I take the crumpled paper, secure it on top of the stone with my thumb, and hit the edge of the stone hard with the old pliers. A few sparks fly. Yes!

  “If you could—” I start, but Ines is already blowing on the paper.

  I hit the stone a few more times, and by my fourth go one of the sparks catches, creating a tiny burning hole in the paper.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” I coax it impatiently while Ines continues to blow gently on the flame. Little by little the burning circle widens until at last we’re rewarded by an actual flame. Ines has rolled up another paper and tips it against the flame, giving us a small but definite torch, and my heart soars. It’s not much light, no brighter than a birthday candle, but hopefully enough to get the general outline of things. As I squint through the gloom, Ines puts the knocked-over chair back on the table and climbs onto it.

  “What in the…,” I say in horror. Layla’s legs are wrapped around the candelabra branches in an awkward position and there’s something tied around her wrists, preventing her from using her hands to hold on to anything.

  Ines doesn’t say a word to Layla, and to my shock she doesn’t try to help her. Instead, she just grabs two candles and jumps down to the floor, returning to me and lighting the candles with the paper. She gives me one and the room gets instantly brighter. Blackwood and the guards are definitely gone, not that I thought any differently.

  I quickly drip some wax onto the mantel and stick the bottom of the candle in it to free up my hands. “Hang on, I’m gonna get you down,” I say to Layla.

  “It’s a zip tie,” Layla says, having regained most of her breath. But I can tell she’s struggling. “It’s wrapped around the iron. If I take any weight off my legs, it’s going to cut into my skin more than it already has. And it’s so tight that if we use fire to try to melt it, I’m going to get seriously burned.”

  “Layla, the file. Where did you put it?” I say. But before I finish my sentence, I spot the piece of metal on the floor next to the table. I reach for it, but Ines is quicker. Only instead of handing it to me, she walks away.

  “Hey, where the hell are you go—” I snap, but abruptly stop.

  I follow her line of sight to Aarya, who’s lying on the ground. There’s a metal and leather contraption covering her mouth and nose that’s secured by five metal chains reaching behind her head.

  “Holy shit. Can she breathe?” I ask.

  Aarya’s eyes are closed.

  Ines places a hand on Aarya’s chest and shakes her head in a way that lets me know that whatever she’s observing isn’t good. Blackwood said there’d be serious consequences, but this is extreme. Life-and-death extreme.

  I look between Aarya and Layla. If Aarya can’t breathe and I don’t help Ines, I could be partially responsible for suffocating her. But I have no love for Aarya, and if I let Layla get sliced up because of her, I won’t forgive myself. However, fighting Ines for the file will only ensure that everyone loses.

  “Layla, how long can you hold on in that position?” I ask.

  “Maybe two minutes?” she says, and I can hear the strain in her voice.

  “Yell out when you’re reaching your limit,” I say, and crouch down next to Ines and Aarya.

  For a split second, Ines looks up at me, surprised.

  “Tell me what to do,” I say as she files the last inch of a partially straightened paper clip.

  “Unravel the second paper clip and fold it exactly in half,” she says, and I find myself marveling at the sound of her voice, which is surprisingly soothing and self-assured for someone who so rarely uses it. “Bend the last half inch in a ninety-degree angle to form an L shape.”

  I start working while she explains.

  She holds up her own paper clip. “See how I filed this to be flat instead of round? Do the same with the bent part of yours.”

  Ines hands me the file and uses the pliers to bend the flattened end of hers first one way, then the other, creating three little waves in the straight line.

  I file away at my paper-clip L for all I’m worth, my fingers clumsy and trembling with nerves. “You okay, Layla?” I call.

  “Yeah,” she says, but the strain in her voice has deepened.

  Ines turns Aarya over. There’s a padlock on the back of her head, holding the chains together like a medieval torture device.

  Ines grabs the lock. I give her the L paper clip I filed and she shoves it into the bottom of the keyhole, sliding the wavy end of hers in on top of it. I take the file and run for Layla, climbing the chair so fast that it wobbles.

  Whoever put her up here was taller than me, and I can barely reach her wrists. I squeeze the file between her skin and the plastic and saw at it as fast as I can. The plastic is thick and resistant and I can see the desperation on Layla’s face.

  “November?” Layla says. “I can’t—”

  A chair hits the table, and within a second, Ines is on it. She positions her shoulder under Layla’s butt and supports her.

  Three more seconds of filing and the plastic snaps. Layla grabs the candelabra, and Ines and I move out of the way so she can jump down onto the table.

  Layla rubs her wrists, which have cuts on them, but nothing like what she would have had if she’d fallen. “I have no idea how they got me up there so fast. I’ve never fought a guard before. They’re—”

  “As agile as giant ballerinas,” Aarya says. She’s sitting up and rubbing her head. “I feel like I got clobbered by an ogre.”

  I grab the candle off the mantel and climb back up to the candelabra to light the others.

  “You’re pretty banged up, too, Ines,” Aarya says, and in the brighter light I can see that Ines has two bruises forming, one on her hand where she potentially landed a punch and one on her cheek surrounding a scrape that I can only guess is from colliding with the bookshelf in the dark. “In fact, the only person here who doesn’t look like they fought is November. How is it you were magically spared in this challenge? And wasn’t Dr. Conner also there to save you right before Nyx tried to skewer you? Sounds like a big fat conspiracy to me. Maybe you’re not a Bear at all, but a Lion sent to screw with everyone.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but the door creaks and we all turn toward it.

  Blackwood stands in the doorway. “I see you girls managed to get yourselves in order,” she says flatly, like she left us drinking tea and eating cookies. “You may all return to your rooms now. These gentlemen will escort you back.” She gestures to two of the four guards who attacked us, one of whom is the X guard.

  “Gentlemen, that’s one way to describe them,” Aarya says in an Italian accent that drips sarcasm.

  Blackwood gives her a hard look. “Perhaps you would prefer to continue with the challenges?”

  Aarya doesn’t flinch. In fact, she looks like she’s about to accept Blackwood’s offer.

  “Say the word and you and Ines will get your wish,” Blackwood says.

  Anger flashes in Aarya’s eyes. She almost imperceptibly glances at Ines and then reluctantly shakes her head. So Aarya does have a weakness. And it’s another person. I have to admit that I’m surprised. I always got the sense she would throw her own mother off a building if the thought occurred to her, so this hint of loyalty is something unexpected.

  Layla and I file through the door before Blackwood can change her mind.

  The X guard takes up his position behind us, and I can’t get up the stairs fast enough. Layla opens our door, and just as I’m about to follow her through it, I feel warm air graze the back of my neck.

  “You’re next,” the X guard whispers, and I whip
around, but he’s already walking away down the hall.

  I close the door behind me, my hand shaking.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask Layla.

  She looks at me expectantly.

  “That guard just whispered ‘You’re next.’ ”

  For a second she just stares at me. Then her mouth drops into a frown. “You’re absolutely positive he spoke to you?” There’s worry in her voice.

  “Positive.” I search Layla for answers. “Was that a threat? Did he just threaten me?”

  Layla chews on her lip. “He’s the same one who caught you the other night?”

  I nod.

  “Guards don’t talk to students. Yes, we break lots of rules here, but that’s not one of them. I told you I thought there was something off. Now I’m sure of it,” she says.

  “And that exercise Blackwood just had us do, is that a normal—” I start.

  “No,” Layla says, shaking her head vigorously. “It was typical as far as the psychology of those challenges goes, but not in its execution. Students have died in the occasional accident or…homicide, but never from being suffocated by the headmaster.” By the way Layla’s looking at me, I can tell she’s as scared as I am. “Having a challenge like this on the heels of two students dying is…well, I don’t know what it is, and that’s what worries me.”

  I take my cloak off, but she doesn’t. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Ash’s room,” she says. “He needs to know.”

  “You’re going to Ash’s right after the guard said someone’s coming for me? Can I go with you?” I ask.

  “No, but I’ll be back soon,” she says, and slips out the door, leaving me all alone.

  THE MORNING LIGHT creeps through the edge of my curtains. I toss and turn under my comforter. I’ve been in and out of sleep all night, afraid that if I actually passed out, someone would come in and attack me. I’m fairly certain that this past week is going to make me the lightest sleeper in the world.

  Between the guard’s bizarre comment and the terror of Blackwood’s challenge, the events of last night have only compounded my list of fears. Plus, I still can’t get the sight of Stefano’s body, the gasping sound Charles made when the arrow pierced his chest, or the hate in Nyx’s eyes when she attacked me out of my thoughts. If Layla and Ash are right that the Lions want me dead, there has to be a bigger reason than me failing to take the fall for Stefano. Matteo is clearly a more important Bear than I am, and they’re not going after him like this. Ash said that people in this school might recognize me, and all I can assume is that Brendan and his crew must think they know something about me, and that something could be the difference between my life and death. And on top of everything, I’m getting more stressed by the day about my dad and Aunt Jo.

  Suddenly, there’s a muffled scream and I launch out of bed so fast that my legs nearly get tangled in my blankets. I shove aside the trunk that I placed in front of my door and bolt into the common room.

  Layla already has our main door open, and Pippa’s on the other side in the hallway with a horror-stricken expression on her face and her hand pressed to her heart. I follow her eyes down to the body of the X guard by her feet. His throat is slit and blood is pooled on the floor below him.

  “Oh no…no,” I breathe, grabbing my stomach.

  I look from the body to Layla, who’s staring at the guard and is so still that I can’t tell if she’s in shock or logging every single detail. She went to Ash’s room last night and told him the guard had threatened me—and possibly her. Now that same guard is dead and laid out in front of our door. I know Ash is fiercely protective of his sister, but even he wouldn’t have done this…would he?

  Up and down the hall, doors open and girls peer out to see what the commotion is all about.

  I can tell by the way Layla’s leaning that she wants to bend down, probably to touch him and figure out how long he’s been dead. But she doesn’t dare with this many onlookers. I try to focus on anything else, but my eyes keep involuntarily returning to the guard.

  “Everyone back in your rooms! Immediately!” Blackwood has appeared, and the girls and their maids quickly shuffle into their rooms.

  Layla closes our door, and I’m grateful to shut out the bloody image. I open my mouth to say something, but she shakes her head.

  “Not now, November,” she says, heading for her bedroom.

  “We need to talk about this,” I say in a demanding whisper. “We need to—”

  “What I need to do is think,” she says, and closes her door. Is she, too, wondering if Ash did it?

  I hover in the common room for a while, but I can’t make out any talking coming from the hallway. Eventually I hear some rustling and what I assume is water sloshing on the floor, then silence again. I spend the next hour pacing, biting my nails off, and watching the day brighten outside the window. Just when I’m certain I can’t stand another minute of silence, Pippa opens our door.

  Her face is red and blotchy and she can barely make eye contact with me.

  “Pippa,” I say, wanting to offer her some comfort but unsure how to go about it.

  She wipes her nose. “He was a nice man. A good guard.”

  “You were close?”

  She nods. “He was planning on leaving here in a year and—” She stops herself and takes a breath, like it’s all too much.

  She places a tray of breakfast food on our table.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say, but she looks at the table and not at me.

  “After you eat, you’re to go straight to class,” she says, and, having delivered her message, promptly turns around and leaves.

  Layla’s door remains closed. I frown. Class instead of a summons to Blackwood’s office? Not even an assembly to announce what happened? And poor Pippa. Layla was right—something is very, very off.

  AS LAYLA AND I exit strategic sparring, I rub my ribs, certain I have a serious bruise forming. I spent the entire class holding my breath and sweating over the possibility of getting paired with Brendan, but it never happened. He shot me taunting looks whenever he could, though. The moves Ash has been showing me definitely helped, but I still have a lot to learn. And to top off this horrible morning, Layla still isn’t talking.

  Everything feels on edge and upside down, like we’re all collectively waiting for the next unexplainable horror. And now I have another dead body seared into my memory, another image I won’t be able to erase from my mind. It’s obvious everyone knows what’s happened. People keep stealing glances at me and Layla when they think we’re not looking.

  I turn toward Layla, who is walking so slowly in the direction of the library that I wonder if she’s having some sort of meltdown. But she doesn’t look at me, and she also doesn’t push through the library door. She just walks right past it at a snail’s pace.

  “Layla?” I say, walking slowly next to her, and she shushes me.

  Her eyes are alert, and she’s silenced her footsteps.

  We make a turn and I realize where we are—the first floor of the boys’ dorm. I turn to her in shock. I want to say something to dissuade her, yell at her that this is a bad idea, but I don’t dare draw attention to us.

  Three doors down she lifts a handle and slips inside a room. I hesitate for a split second and she grabs my arm and pulls me inside, closing the door silently behind us.

  “Damn it, Layla, you should have warned me,” I whisper at her. “And tell me we’re not where I think we are right now.”

  “We only have forty-five minutes before these hallways will be populated again and before Matteo will be headed back,” she says. “We’ll start in Stefano’s bedroom.”

  Everything inside me sinks. “You don’t say anything all morning and now you sneak us into Matteo’s room?” I say with frustration. “Don’t you think that’s a supremely bad idea wh
en another murder victim just appeared in front of our door? You’re supposed to be the sensible twin.”

  Her dark eyes flash the same fire they did that night she was angry about the parlor. “I didn’t warn you because you wear your thoughts on your face like a child—something we really don’t need right now. And I haven’t spoken all morning because I was thinking, watching, observing—maybe if you and my brother did more of these silent activities we wouldn’t be in danger every other damn day!”

  I swallow.

  She narrows her eyes. “And I am well aware that there was a body in front of our door this morning. Did you see a murder weapon with that body? No, you didn’t. So where is it?”

  “I—”

  “Exactly!” she says. “It’s still out there. And as far as I can tell, none of this makes any damn sense. Not Stefano’s murder, not the blood on your floor, not the guard. Yes, there have been deaths in this school before, but nothing like this. Nothing on this scale has ever happened here. So I’m going back to square one. We are very obviously missing something and I want to know what it is before one of these people succeeds in killing you.”

  “Layla—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Either help me or don’t. But I need to get to work.” She turns around and walks away from me.

  I stand in Matteo’s common room for a couple of seconds. As much as I don’t want to admit it, she’s right. And as much as I hate this, I can’t leave her here while she’s trying to help me. I huff once and follow her, noting exactly what position the door was in so that I can put it back before we leave.

  At the sight of Stefano’s room my stomach clenches and my heartbeat pounds in my temples. It’s set up exactly like mine, except the air feels stale, like there hasn’t been anyone in here in days.

  Layla lifts her head from the storage trunk she’s been examining. “Look for any trace of blood,” she says, still with an edge to her voice. “If Stefano was killed here, then the killer would likely have had to keep his body here before planting it in the hallway. There are only a handful of places he would fit.” She looks up for a second. “The way you used the soot from the fireplace last night made me think of it. Even if someone cleaned and covered their tracks, there’s every likelihood the blood would get caught in the imperfections of the stone or wood.”