Wilde Intent

by K M Charron

  His hands moved up and rested on hers. They were warm and softer than she’d expected. His fingers gently pulled hers from his shirt, but he didn’t let them go. “It’s okay, Syd. I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” The soft gaze in his blue eyes reassured her.

  “Thank you,” she said, pressing herself against him. His arms wrapped around her, and she rested her head in the crook of his neck. He smelled different than Langston, woodsier. Neither good nor bad, just different. When his back stiffened, she realized what she’d just done and reeled back from him, crossing her arms. “I, uh, knew you’d understand. Thank you.” Her eyes found his face. Steady. Loyal.

  She and Jax had known each other for four years now, from the first week he’d moved from England. She only knew that his family had been a part of a coven in London, but when his brother died during training, his parents had blamed one of the Masters there. All Jax ever said about it was that his family wanted a fresh start in America.

  Four years of sarcastic quips and passing each other in the halls, four years of hanging out, eating together, and working next to each other, and yet this seemed to be the first time that she was actually seeing him. He wasn’t all brash insults and bravado. He had a heart after all.

  It would be safest to re-use the same lie, in case Jax spoke with Langston. “I have to go see my mother. I’ll check in with you later.” He nodded, and she slipped past him.

  It was just after ten, and almost everyone had left. A few Lord and Elder witches remained in the Library and Main Hall, but for the most part, the Nest corridors were empty. She worried Oswald had left for the day too. She’d never really considered it before, but she assumed he lived somewhere off-campus.

  Checking around his office uninvited was sneaky, she knew, but if it served the greater good, it should be acceptable. Sydney casually walked down the main hallway that connected most of the Nest’s rooms.

  When she reached Oswald’s door, it was closed. She knocked lightly. Turning the knob and pushing the door open a crack, she whispered, “Oswald, are you here?”

  It was dark inside the small, dank room. When there was no response, she took the liberty of letting herself in the rest of the way. A deep, growling hiss sounded. The words to an illumination spell flew out her mouth, and a medium-sized orb appeared, glowing so brightly it lit up the small space. Fists clenched and ready, Ainsley spotted an orange tabby with its back arched straddling the couch, his yellow eyes fixed on her. He looked pissed. “Well excuse me, Percy, I didn’t know you’d be in here.” The cat closed his mouth and nestled back down, closing his eyes.

  Sydney steadied her nerves and walked to Oswald’s bookcase. It was a wobbly old relic, and she was amazed it was still standing. He claimed to be a history buff, so it only made sense that he’d have something in here about the construction and design of the coven grounds, maybe even floor plans.

  It surprised her to see how many magical texts and grimoires he had. It would make her nervous, she noted, if he had any magical capabilities. Did her mother know he had these? Was he even allowed to possess them? It was likely her mother had never set foot inside this room. Sydney doubted any of the witches had. In their minds, he was simply the trusted, middling caretaker. As long as he kept the coven and Ashcroft clean—which he did—no one had any reason to bother him—or about him. Smart. Syd wondered if he was shrewder than anyone gave him credit for.

  On the bottom shelf, underneath a stack of papers, lay a dusty brown box. She pulled it out and had her fingers on the lid when the door burst open.

  “Who’s in here? Show yourself!”

  She gripped the box and held her breath, ducking behind the edge of the bookshelf. There was no place to hide properly. Why did she keep finding herself in places where there was nowhere to hide?

  There was a loud scraping and banging. “I have a weapon. Come out, and I may be merciful.”

  Sydney’s stomach was a tight ball. She lowered the unopened box to the floor and put her arms up in surrender. “It’s just me, Oswald, Sydney Lockwood.” She tiptoed out from behind the bookcase and saw the old man in a defensive stance, a shovel in his hands as if it were a baseball bat.

  He squinted, taking a step closer. Then his eyes opened wide, and he lowered the shovel. “Ms. Lockwood, what on earth are you doing in my office!”

  Her lungs grew heavy as she watched a wounded look appear on Oswald’s drawn face.

  “I came to ask you something, but you weren’t here.”

  “So, you thought it would be acceptable to help yourself to my things instead?” He turned his body to see what she had been holding but kept a good amount of distance between them. Was he afraid of her? Sydney wondered. It made sense if he was. She did have magical powers, after all.

  “I know I shouldn’t have, but I’m desperate.”

  “So much so that it couldn’t wait until morning when you knew I’d be in?”

  She tried a blameless smile. “You’re here now. Will you help me?”

  He straightened the best he could, gazing down his nose at her. “I’m disinclined to help those who betray me, Ms. Lockwood. This invasion of my privacy comes as a very unwelcome surprise since I recently helped you and kept your secret—as you asked.”

  Guilt twisted inside her chest. “I know, Oswald, and I’m sorry, but this is beyond important.” She looked at her feet and them up at him.“Please, I’m so sorry I went behind your back. I wouldn’t have if I weren’t desperate.”

  He eyed her warily. “Tell me. I’ll be the judge of whether or not your crime is worthy of such illicit behavior.” He moved to the couch and motioned her to the opposite end.

  Part of her wanted to tell him off for acting so lordly over her, threaten him with magic, or use a forgetting spell on him, but she did need his help. Playing nice might be the only way to get the information she needed. She sat, placing her clasped hands neatly in her lap. Appearing sweet usually worked with him.

  “Well, go on,” he said with more impatience than she’d heard from him before. He was always so genial.

  “I came across something odd in the woods—an underground room that seemed like it could’ve been part of the Nest at one time. I know that Ashcroft was built over the coven on purpose and only in this location. But I found this weird room isolated in the forest and not connected to anything else.”

  Oswald appeared thoughtful. “Yes, the school was built to hide the Wilde witches in plain sight, to give them a safe place to teach magic, but to my knowledge, there were never any rooms constructed beyond the Ashcroft campus grounds, especially not out in the forest.”

  Her lungs deflated. “There’s got to be more to our history. Can you think of anything else? I can’t say much, but something is going on. Something that could affect everyone in the Wildes.” Her gaze swept his face, taking in the shallow grooves in his cheeks and forehead and the graying eyebrows that desperately needed trimming.

  He licked his lips. “What makes you believe this underground room has anything to do with the Wildes?” He scanned her face as though trying to read her thoughts. “Unless this has something to do with that binding symbol you were asking me about.”

  “It might, but I can’t give you details. You’re not a—” Syd cut herself off before she said it.

  He narrowed his pale eyes on her. “Not a what? A witch? Therefore, I’m undeserving to know?” He clasped his hands in his lap, mirroring her. “You made it my business when you violated the sanctity of my office. I kept your secret once, and if you want me to protect you now, I suggest you start talking, young lady. I know far more about magic than you.” There was a bite to his words.

  There was only one way for her to be sure that she could trust him. Closing her eyes, she focused on him, allowing his energy and emotion to wash over her. “Fine, but you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.”

  He nodded, and she could feel that he was pleased and eager. He sat forward, his eyes wide and alert. Something a
bout it made her sad for him. Did he have anyone in his life? A wife, children, friends? She’d never considered it before.

  She told him about the underground room but left out the symbols and how the mist and stench had rendered her unconscious and nauseous. She left out Ainsley and the room’s exact location. She didn’t want him snooping around there himself.

  He sat back, taking it all in. “Well, that’s certainly not what I was expecting. But you didn’t open the door?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not? You’d gone that far.”

  Another lie was necessary. “By the time I found it, it was nearly class time, and I couldn’t be late. I plan on going back but want to know what I’m dealing with.”

  “If you didn’t open it, how do you know there’s a room?”

  Keeping her face even, she said, “There has to be. What else would a door lead to?” She thought some flattery might help. “You are a history expert, so who better for me to go to than you?”

  “A lot happened on these grounds before Sarah Wildes’ son and daughter created this coven. Many witch bloodlines and numerous smaller covens have lived in the area.” He narrowed his gaze. “Was the symbol carved on the door?”

  “Yes. I’m assuming that whichever coven or witch was using the grounds at the time must’ve had a prisoner.”

  “Could be,” Oswald agreed. “Binding spells were common back then. They’re one of the oldest enchantments; witches focused primarily on ways to protect themselves back then. The binding symbol was one way to imprison an aggressive middling who discovered what they were.”

  “What about an angry or dangerous witch?”

  He nodded. “Also possible.”

  “Do you have any old maps of the Nest?” She pointed to the box she’d been holding. “Maybe there’s something in there I can tie to the area.”

  He pulled himself to his feet and retrieved a cylinder from behind a stack of old boxes. “I believe these are a copy of the original plans. You’re welcome to them as long as you return them in the same condition.” He passed her the tube and lowered himself back into his spot on the couch.

  “Thank you. I promise I’ll keep them safe.”

  He scrubbed his worn face with his hand. “While all this is interesting, I’m afraid I’m missing the desperate part, Ms. Lockwood. You’ve stumbled on some ancient habitation, surely that’s nothing to worry over.” He tilted his head and regarded her curiously.

  But she’d known for days that it wasn’t a harmless discovery. Images rose in her mind: the skeleton atop an intricate pentagram, frenzied symbols covering the walls, a fog that sickened her, and an eviscerated rat and crows. She’d been repressing the truth, not wanting to admit it to herself. That fog hadn’t been a gust of dirt and dust. She and Ainsley had let something out, something that had been locked inside for some time.

  Sydney's body tensed, and her lungs constricted so hard she could barely force air inside them. If anyone in the coven found out that she was responsible, she could be expelled. Forcing the edges of her mouth upward, she said, “I’m sure you’re right. I tend to have a flair for the dramatic.” Clutching the tube, she stood and made her way to the doorway. “I’ll get these back to you soon.” She smiled and closed the door behind her, bracing herself against it.

  Chapter 7

  Ainsley

  October 30

  The past couple of weeks had been a whirlwind. Ainsley had finished her last midterm yesterday, doing almost nothing but study—and obsess about the underground room she’d found with Sydney. It was always at the forefront of her mind. It became her reward for hard work done. Read a chapter of her History textbook—research cults and local newspaper articles for anything. Write a practice essay for Lit—remind Harper to hack into the remainder of her dad’s locked folders. Cram for her AP Chem exam—try and figure out who the other missing girls were and if they had anything in common.

  There was so much to do. All the time. On top of it all, Darren was endlessly showing up at her locker or texting her about some lead that wasn’t a lead at all. He was certain the police were covering up the truth. She was certain he was right.

  She wanted to sleep, to curl up behind her laptop with Netflix and junk food like everyone else during her off-hours. But her investigation was too important. She found herself in a catch twenty-two. She needed to practically kill herself to keep up her academics, which left her almost no time to investigate. But if she focused on the case at all, she fell behind in her classes. If she fell behind, she’d lose her scholarship and be back in Maine with no answers.

  Harper texted Ainsley to say she was going to be late for lunch because she wanted to finish something in the Chem lab. This was one thing they’d never have in common. Ainsley would choose to do almost anything than to spend even 30 seconds more than she had to, trying to understand how things on the Periodic Table reacted when you mixed them together.

  She grabbed her sandwich and scanned the caf.

  “You can sit with me.”

  Justin was standing so close that his breath tickled the back of her neck, sending shivers down her skin. She clutched her tray tighter. “With you, or with you and your group?” she asked, still searching for an empty table. Preferably one on the opposite end of the room from Sydney.

  “Come on. She’s not that bad, and if she gets out of line, I’ll protect you.”

  “I’m meeting Harper.”

  “She can come, too.”

  He was not taking the hint. “I’ve had my fair share of stress lately, and I just want to eat in peace. Maybe another time.” She spotted a table a few feet away that was nearly empty and bolted toward it. She was just about to rest her tray down when another group beat her to it.

  “I guess that settles it,” he said, beaming.

  Her smile was involuntary, even though it meant dealing with Sydney. Why should she let that brat keep her away from Justin? Besides, it would be fun to see her face as she walked with him to their exclusive table.

  It was full of the regulars: Jax, Langston, Ava, Khourtney, and of course, Sydney, who glanced up and wasted no time saying, “No freaking way. Not here.”

  “Chill out, Syd. She’s my friend, and she’s staying.” Justin sat next to Sydney, so Ainsley didn’t have to.

  She glared at the strawberry blonde nightmare and said, “Nice to see you too, Syd,” in a false peppy tone followed by a huge grin. She slid in next to Justin, his broad shoulders the only thing preventing Armageddon.

  Ava snorted. “Oh, I almost like her.” She regarded Ainsley. “You’ve got balls, girl. I wonder if you’ll live to tell anyone about it.”

  Sydney pushed her full plate away from her. “There goes my appetite.”

  Khourtney and Jax laughed, their eyes darting back and forth as if watching a tennis match. Langston reached across the table and clasped Sydney’s hand. “You’ll have to excuse my girlfriend. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  Syd yanked her hand back. “You of all people should know how deep my bite can be.”

  His smile faltered. It was beyond awkward. Ainsley’s phone chirped, the welcome distraction coming just in time. She texted Harper back with where she was sitting and that she should come. It took four more texts to convince her it was safe, with the reminder that Jax was there.

  Khourtney played with her salad. “How are you liking Ashcroft?”

  Was this the portion of the meal where she fielded uncomfortable questions from people who didn’t actually care, especially when the hostility was so evident?

  “It’s been okay. The classes are interesting. It’s a lot more proper here.”

  “Yes, we have class and good breeding,” Sydney said, “not everyone can relate.”

  “Give it a rest,” Justin said, nudging her.

  How could he be friends with her? As far as she’d seen, Sydney had zero redeeming qualities.

  “The ratio of bitches is significantly higher too,” Ainsley quipped.
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  Jax covered his mouth with the back of his hand, and even Langston bit his lip to keep from laughing.

  Ava took a swig of her Diet Coke. “Are you coming to the Halloween dance tomorrow?” she asked it like a challenge, so Ainsley had no idea how to reply.

  Khourtney piped up, “Ashcroft goes all out and recreates the Witch Trials, complete with games like dunk the witch. It’s so fun. We re-enact a bunch of the tests the villagers used to determine who was a witch: Pressing, the Touch Test, and eating Witch Cake.”

  “Pressing?” Ainsley asked.

  “The villagers used to make an accused witch lie down, and then they’d place a giant piece of wood on them and take turns piling rocks on top of it, knowing the pressure would cause enough pain that it would force a confession of witchcraft out of them,” Justin said flatly.

  Ainsley pictured the grotesque scene and tried to keep the disgust off her face, not wanting them to think she was delicate.

  “The touch test,” Ava added, “was when villagers who claimed to be victims of witchcraft would flail around and freak out. The town leaders would make a suspected witch touch the victim, and if they calmed down, it was considered proof. Apparently, the evil energy would leave the victim and return to the witch through the touch. It’s hilarious.” Ava side-eyed her friends, and Ainsley wondered what that action was about.

  “It’s amazing what idiots will believe,” Sydney said, and Ainsley was sure she saw Langston shoot her a warning look.

  “Anyway, you should come. You get to dress up in historically accurate villager attire,” Khourtney said in an animated voice.

  Ainsley wondered if this was a test of their own. Were they asking her so they could set up some sort of trap? She’d read Carrie, and she wouldn’t put a bucket of pig’s blood past Sydney or her friends. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hey, guys.”

  Ainsley turned to see Harper, lunch tray in her hands, her knuckles white in a death grip.

  “Hey, come sit,” Ainsley encouraged her, pointing to the empty seat across from her, which also happened to be next to Jax. Harper’s face turned the color of an overripe tomato as she sat down, and Ainsley wished she could save her friend the embarrassment of her obvious crush.