by Sofia Daniel
I wrapped an arm around my middle, wondering if Barrett had attacked Bianca because of her connection to Ashley. My brows furrowed. That was a bit of a stretch, considering that the auburn-haired boy likely resented me for being the sister of his brother’s killer.
“What’s Riley looking at?” Leopold growled under his breath.
The auburn-haired boy snatched his gaze away and turned to Mrs. Benazir.
Sebastian slid his hand into mine and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll have to warn him against any retaliation.”
Knots formed in my stomach. He was probably just grieving the deaths of his brother and best friend, but the malice in his glare had made my flesh crawl.
“Thanks,” I whispered, “But go easy on him, okay?”
“It will just be a few well-placed words in his ear,” added Leopold.
Mrs. Benazir pressed her hands together. “Please join me in a silent prayer for the full recovery of Miss Byrd.”
Later, we met Mr. Pinkerton in a small meeting room Mr. Blunt had opened up for the occasion. The lawyer’s drawn features made my heartbeat accelerate, and I hoped the update on Prakash wouldn’t be too devastating. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table with his fingers steepled and waited for us to settle in our places.
“Why did the police arrest him this time?” asked Sebastian.
Mr. Pinkerton exhaled through his nostrils. “They believe that all the incidents—Corrine’s death, the attacks on Willow, the overdoses, and Bianca Byrd’s accident—were perpetrated by the same person.”
My brows drew together. “Didn’t Barrett Riley report his suspicions about my sister to the police?”
“And Miss Claymore was behind most of the attacks on Willow,” added Leopold. “Willow reported the girls to the police and didn’t mention Kash at all.”
“And how can they think Prakash pushed Bianca when he was with me all night? I told them in my statement.” I glanced at Sebastian, who bowed his head.
The lawyer’s lips twisted with distaste. “The killer has a habit of intoxicating his victims.”
Sebastian’s head snapped up. “His?”
“Or her.” Mr. Pinkerton ran a hand through his gray hair. “It’s entirely possible, according to them, that Mr. Kashaayah got you drunk enough to sleep through the night while he pushed Miss Byrd off the east wing.”
I shook my head. “The police would have noticed if I was stinking of alcohol this morning. Did they question Mr. Byrd?”
“He has an alibi,” replied the lawyer.
I opened my mouth to say that alibis could be fabricated then clamped it shut. If I told Mr. Pinkerton that Sebastian had paid the butler for a false statement to secure Prakash’s release, the lawyer might not want to represent us. Instead, I asked, “And they’re believing him?”
Mr. Pinkerton sighed. “This case has become more complicated than we initially believed. Instead of a simple case of grievous bodily harm, it morphed into an accusation of the attempted murder of one girl and the murder of another. I’ll need more billable staff. Is that alright with you, Mr. Garraway?”
“It’s fine,” muttered Sebastian. “Can you get him out on bail?”
“I’m working on it,” replied Mr. Pinkerton. “However, it might serve Mr. Kashaayah to remain behind bars.”
“Why?” Leopold and I practically wailed.
“There’s one thing we know for certain. Someone is attacking students in Brittas Academy, and the police are determined to blame Mr. Kashaayah for everything, regardless of evidence or alibis.”
“It’s because he’s Indian, isn’t it?” spat Leopold.
A lump formed in my throat, and tears pricked the backs of my eyes.
“They’re not going to admit their bias against Mr. Kashaayah.” The lawyer rubbed his brow. “But last year’s rape accusation and corroborating forensic evidence haven’t helped his case in the slightest.”
A thick fog formed over my mind, and I stared straight ahead, aware of Leopold’s impassioned arguments. Maybe Mr. Pinkerton was right. If the attacker struck while Prakash was behind bars, the police would have to admit to themselves that it wasn’t him hurting girls in the academy.
Shoulders slumping, I swallowed back the lump in my throat. Prakash had to be devastated at once again being unjustly imprisoned. This was so unfair, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to help him.
When the lawyer left the room, I slumped onto Leopold’s chest and wept. This was the most powerless I’d felt since joining the academy.
Sebastian, Leopold, and I spent the next few days desperate for developments in Prakash’s situation. On the Friday morning after his arrest, the police charged him with the murder of Corrine Gibbons and moved him back into the juvenile detention center to await a trial.
In Software Systems Development, I sat at a computer monitor trying to focus, but my thoughts kept swinging to Prakash and how he was faring in custody. Our teacher sat at the front of the room and tapped into his computer, seeming lost in his work.
“Willow,” whispered Cormac from the computer next to mine.
I raised my head but didn’t speak.
“Are you sure he’s innocent?” he asked.
My brows drew together. He hadn’t spoken to me properly in weeks. Was he having doubts about Prakash, now that he had been arrested?
I cleared my throat and whispered back, “He knows what he did to Corrine, and he regrets it every single day.” My voice croaked. “But he didn’t hurt her.”
Cormac scowled. “You think Corrine killed herself?”
“I don’t know.” My gaze dropped down to my keyboard. “Everything I’ve read in her diary so far tells me that she was tormented, but she hadn’t fallen into hopelessness. Corrine fought back… At least in her mind.”
“What do you mean?” he whispered.
“She hated a lot of people in the academy and thought certain practices were unfair, but she never expressed any of her anger inward. There were no single mentions of herself being unworthy or anything. She was a fighter, and she knew people had acted unfairly toward her.”
“Like you.”
My shoulders drooped, and I thought about all those times I let Ashley’s vitriol about my appearance and selfishness soak into my psyche. Corrine wasn’t like that. Everyone who barraged her with insults approached as an enemy, not as a sibling. “I don’t do nearly enough to defend myself.”
Cormac shook his head, and I didn’t bother to ask what he meant. It was either disagreement or disapproval of my relationship with the kings.
“What did Corrine say at the end of the diary?” he asked.
“It’s so difficult to decipher.” After plugging a memory stick into the school computer containing the OCR readout and my translations, I whizzed through an explanation of what I had done to turn Corrine’s numbering system into letters.
Cormac rubbed his chin. “She should have written this in base 26, using the alphabet after the ninth digit.”
I nodded. “Even simple words like 3118 are problematic.”
He chewed on his lip. “Car?” When I nodded, he added, “it also spells CAAH if you assume 18 is 1 and 8.”
“See what I mean?”
He twisted around in his seat and rolled up his sleeves. “What if I added a subroutine to your program where it recalculated nonsensical words until it found something that could be referenced in the dictionary?”
I shook my head. “That crossed my mind last term, but some of her words are in Latin and Spanish.”
Cormac blew out a long breath. “Maybe what’s needed is someone who knew her better. I think I can break this code if I make some amendments to your program.”
Hope sprung in my chest. Cormac hadn’t wanted to look at the diary in the first term, but it was a relief that he was now willing to help. I imagined his motive was to uncover incriminating information against Prakash, but I accepted his assistance anyway.
I emailed Cormac the scans, t
he OCR readouts, and the program I had devised to make the transitions. “Hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this puzzle.”
He gave me a sharp nod. “And we’ll send our report to the police.”
Chapter 14
Weeks passed, and still no return of Prakash. According to Mr. Pinkerton, the Crown Prosecution Service had gathered enough evidence to bring his case to trial and decided there was a realistic prospect of conviction. To make matters worse, Mrs. Benazir had ordered Sebastian’s jeep clamped from Monday to Friday, so venturing to the hideout meant a mountain hike, which ended up taking too much time.
Due to not feeling safe in the west wing, I spent alternate nights sleeping in Sebastian and Leopold’s room. Although Cormac shot me disapproving glares, he didn’t report me or demand that I return to my room.
Late one Thursday evening, the three of us strolled out of the dining room toward the east wing, when a dark figure loomed toward us through the hallway. She was man-sized, and clad in a shapeless pantsuit draped with flowing, academic robes.
Miss Claymore… A boulder of shock knocked the air out of my lungs. What was she doing back on the premises?
Passing students gaped at her. Some of them even tried to engage her in conversation, but she continued striding through the hallway with her dark eyes fixed on us.
My autonomic nervous system turned to fight or flight, and my heart galloped into action. I wrapped both arms around Sebastian’s bicep in an attempt to keep her from snatching him away.
Sebastian’s muscles seized, and he ground out, “Oh, shit.”
Leopold gagged. “I thought we’d seen the last of that old battle-ax.”
We stood in the middle of the hallway as younger students walked in both directions around us. As she approached, a happy flush stained Miss Claymore’s cheeks, and the corners of her mouth curled into the subtlest of smiles.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted.
Miss Claymore raised her brows. “That’s no way to speak to your deputy headmistress.”
My mouth gaped open. “But—”
“The Board of Directors heard my side of the story.” She raised her patrician nose in the air. “Unlike you, they see the world in shades of gray, rather than black and white. ”
I ground my teeth. Mr. Byrd’s approval, I could understand. The psychopath probably thought Miss Claymore was a kindred spirit, but what about the others? Didn’t they seem to care that a grown woman couldn’t keep her hands off an unwilling, male student?
“Is this where you warn me to stay away from Sebastian?” I snarled.
Her gaze flicked to Leopold, making me wonder if she was tired of brunets. Then she turned back to me and said, “No, but Mrs. Brunswick was very vocal about keeping you away from her son.”
“Why?” Leopold snapped.
Still addressing me, she said, “Perhaps she doesn’t want her son poisoned when the relationship inevitably goes sour.”
Right. I tore my gaze away from the subtle glee on her face and pressed my lips together. The Board of Governors probably saw how bad things had become in the academy and decided that reemploying Miss Claymore was the lesser evil than allowing more students to die or become maimed under Mrs. Benazir’s lack of direction.
Blood roared through my ears, punctuated by the pounding of my pulse. I imagined that they’d justified it by telling themselves that Sebastian was seventeen and over the age of consent. Never mind that their relationship had started when he was just thirteen.
“Miss Evergreen?” Miss Claymore gave me an expectant look.
My shoulders slumped. What was the point of arguing with her when she’d regained her position of authority? It would be foolish of me to lose my shit, get a detention in her office, and get myself strangled.
“Yes?” I said.
“I will be keeping my eye on you. Any sign of trouble and you will be expelled.”
Nausea roiled through my gut, making me want to heave all over her polished, black shoes. If there was any justice in the world, Miss Claymore would be behind bars. The woman continued staring at me with those glittering, black eyes. Whatever smugness she radiated now turned to an intense examination. I hoped she wasn’t plotting my death.
“Let’s go,” murmured Sebastian.
Without a word or a backward glance, we continued down the hallway. My fingers trembled, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Every instinct screamed at me not to turn my back on a predator, especially one who had tried to kill me on at least two occasions.
“Mr. Brunswick,” she snapped.
Leopold turned around and shrugged. “Mother didn’t tell me to stay away from Sebastian, did she?”
Miss Claymore didn’t reply, but I would bet my entire bursary that she would soon try to separate me from Leopold. And from Sebastian.
We hurried through the hallway toward the nearest stairwell. I was tempted to track Mrs. Benazir down and hand in my resignation, but that would only mean repaying my bursary and having to stay alone in the cottage where Miss Claymore could sneak in and kill me in my sleep.
Nobody spoke until we were safe behind the doors of Leopold’s room. Sebastian sat on the sofa and pulled me down on his lap, enveloping me in his masculine, cedar scent. He wrapped muscular arms held me firmly around the middle. Strong, frantic heartbeats reverberated against my back, revealing the anxiety behind his calm exterior.
Leopold paced from left to right. “Shit. Just when I thought you could sleep easy, she comes back.”
“Did Miss Claymore bother you when you slept in Kash’s room?”
“No,” said Sebastian.
“You can sleep here, I suppose.” Leopold stopped pacing and glanced around the room. “But the sofa’s not the most comfortable.”
I shook my head. “Hiding yourself away isn’t the solution. We have to face her.”
Sebastian groaned. “You don’t know what she’s like.”
I twisted around in his lap. “An overpowered, vindictive harpy who takes what she wants and throws her rivals into deadly situations?”
“Maybe Wills has the best idea of Claymore’s true nature.” Leopold sat on the edge of his bed.
“Sorry, Willow.” Sebastian pressed a kiss on my cheek. “Sometimes, it’s hard to believe she went that far to get rid of you.”
“Do you have a plan?” asked Leopold.
“We need to prove to the Board of Directors that she’s still a danger.” I turned to Leopold, who tilted his head to the side. “What would your mother say if an older woman tried to force her way into your bedroom?”
He shrugged. “She probably wouldn’t care.”
I smirked. “But she asked Miss Claymore to keep us apart, so it looks like she doesn’t like the idea of you having a girlfriend.”
“That sounds about right,” Sebastian muttered into my ear.
Leopold pushed himself off the bed and walked across the room to the small cabinet he used to keep alcohol. After pulling out two tumblers and pouring two generous measures of single malt whiskey, he handed a glass to Sebastian and returned to the edge of his bed.
Sebastian offered me a sip. A woody, medicinal scent stung my sinuses, reminding me of waking up in hospitals with no memory of how I got there. Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head and shifted on his lap.
“Are you suggesting I become a honey trap?” asked Leopold. “Claymore is a one-woman man.”
“Bait and switch,” I replied.
Sebastian nibbled on my ear. “You want Leo to sleep in my room?”
“We’ll all sleep there.” I glanced at Leopold, who gave me a confused look. “But we’ll have our cameras at the ready in case she tries to sneak in. Then I’ll capture footage of her in a bedroom with a half-naked Leo, proving to the board that she’s obsessed with more than one young man.”
We spent the rest of the evening refining my plan and making sure it would work. Sebastian suggested an early warning system that would wake us the moment Miss C
laymore unlocked the door, and Leopold wanted to push the mattresses together so we could all be comfortable while we slept.
“Should we put this plan in action tonight?” I asked.
“In a minute.” Sebastian dipped me and pressed a kiss on my lips.
“Don’t leave me out,” said Leopold.
The corner of my lips curled into a smile. The return of Miss Claymore gave us an enemy to fight, and a distraction from the powerlessness we felt from Prakash’s incarceration. And if the deputy headmistress went back to her murderous ways, we might be able to prove our fourth’s innocence.
Miss Claymore didn’t try to sneak into Sebastian’s room that night or the night after that. But it was fun to share a bed with the kings again, even if it was two mattresses pushed together. Without revealing his plan, Sebastian had confided Miss Claymore’s proclivities to the housekeeper, and the scandalized woman agreed not to report him to the headmistress.
One morning, while we were eating breakfast under the watchful eye of Miss Claymore, someone cleared her throat with a high-pitched squeak. I glanced up into Geraldine’s cold, gray eyes. To her left and right stood two fifth-year blond girls who I guessed were now her ladies-in-waiting.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to comment on my relationship with Cormac?”
The blonde girls at her sides copied her pose, but their movements were out of synch. Obviously, the trio needed to spend a little more time practicing.
I glanced at the scholars’ tables, only to find the space next to Michelle and opposite Cora empty. “You want me to congratulate you?”
“Don’t you care about him?” Geraldine said with a scowl.
I tilted my head to the side. “What are you getting at?”
The girl on her left said, “You’re supposed to threaten Geraldine.”
Geraldine’s haughty mask faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t quite briefed her young apprentice in the fine art of bitch-craft.
