by Ilana Waters
“Don’t know,” said Miles.
“I’m thinking supernatural royalty. It makes sense that a magic boarding school would
have a little, well, magic. Like the rosebush I saw outside Specs’s office window. It has color combinations generally not found in nature.”
Miles chuckled. “Just watch. By the end of the year, it’ll be bitten down to nubs, just like always.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” he said with a smile. “I keep thinking I’ll nick one to impress Pen.”
“Yes, get caught stealing the headmaster’s prize roses. Endure faerie punishments like being pinched all night, or death by nonstop dancing. That’ll impress the trousers right off her.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it,” Miles muttered. “But you don’t understand these things, Alderman. You don’t have a sweetheart.” He looked at me. “Or do you?”
I shook my head. “Too much risk of falling in love that way. Right now, that’s the last thing I want. I saw how it was with my parents: nothing but endless fighting.”
“Yeah, but that’s not all there is to love, mate.” As if on cue, we passed Roger and Nadine. They were oblivious to us, arms wrapped around each other as they leaned against the lockers. Roger whispered something in Nadine’s ear. She erupted in giggles and pulled his face in for a kiss. I put a finger in my throat and made silent gagging noises. Miles covered his mouth to hide his laughter.
“Okay.” He was still laughing once we were out of earshot. “I’ll admit, that was pretty nauseating. But only because Roger and Nadine are a right pair of tossers.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care who’s doing it, Miles. What is it about romance that turns everyone into blushing, finger-twiddling balls of mush?” We emerged in the open hallway, where one could see the quad on the left-hand side. I looked over the large expanse of green lawn, and my heart stopped.
I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. You’ll have to forgive the cliché, dear reader, but only because it’s the truth. It was as if someone dropped a bird of paradise into a host of sparrows. His lithe, slender frame didn’t have on a blazer, tie, or waistcoat. In fact, the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, the top part of his chest clearly visible.
His soft, wavy hair was the color of fresh straw, bringing to mind what Rapunzel’s brother might look like. It was in a loose braid strewn with flowers, tied with a red ribbon at the end. Flung over one shoulder, it ended at his waist. He had a jaw that was almost square, but had decided to veer into a heart shape at the last minute. Great big, violet eyes with mile-long lashes completed the picture. In a forest of navy blue and white, he stood out like a hothouse flower. A single burst of color that eclipsed my dull, gray world.
He sat on his knees, in the grass, in the middle of a group of students, including Oliver. With bags and books scattered all around, he was talking and gesturing, though I couldn’t hear the conversation. But whatever he said must have been hilarious, because seconds later, even stuffy Oliver was in stitches.
For the first time in forever, I forgot I was miserable. Forgot my mother was gone, my father uncaring, forgot my exile to a world where I was unwanted. Instead, a warm feeling rushed over me, like the one I used to get on holidays, or my birthday. For a few brief seconds, nothing but happiness existed. I was reminded of Browning’s lines about how she loved “with the passion put to use / In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.” Yes, that was it, faithful reader. It was like seeing crocuses come up after months of howling winds and snow. It was like suddenly feeling my heart beat again under a mountain of ice.
“Who in the world is that?” I breathed.
“Who, the one in the middle?” Miles asked. “That’s House of Fire’s prefect, Colleen. Year Twelve.” Miles gave me a funny look. “She was introduced with the other prefects at breakfast. You just saw her this morning.”
“No, I didn’t.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the smiling, laughing figure. “I mean, yes, the prefects were introduced, but I didn’t actually see this one.” My brow furrowed. “You said his name is Colleen?”
“Her name,” Miles corrected.
“Her?”
Miles shrugged. “That’s how she likes it.”
I shrugged back. “Whatever works for him.”
“Her.”
“Right.” I nodded. “What is he—she—doing there with that lot?” What I should have said was, “What is it about this person that has everyone revolving around them like a planet?” But Miles misunderstood.
“Well, Colleen and the prefects—plus the rest of that bunch—are all six formers. Must be their free period.”
“No, I mean—”
“Bloody hell, look at the time!” Miles’s jaw dropped when he spotted a clock on the wall. “I’ve been gone nearly fifteen minutes. That’s way too long for a piss. Professor Martinez’ll know something’s off. Look, I’ll catch you at lunch, all right, Joshua?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” I was still staring at Colleen, but knew I had to get to class as well. I continued staring until I walked straight into a column, hit my head, and stumbled back. Miles caught me, and Colleen and her friends turned around at the sound. Fortunately, Miles had dragged me around the corner by that point, and they saw nothing.
“What happened? Where—what were we just talking about?” I winced and rubbed my forehead.
“You were going on about love, and finger-twiddling balls of mush,” Miles said dryly.
“Right. I was . . . oh, just shut it, Miles.”
Chapter 5
“How’s your head?” Miles asked. It was lunchtime, and as usual, the dining hall was bustling with activity.
“My head? Oh, it’s fine.” I set my tray down next to his and threw my bag under the table. “Where are Pen and the others?”
“Greenhouse.” Miles put a samosa to his mouth and bit into it. Steam rose from the creamy potato mixture inside. “They’re taking a course on herbal magic this term. But don’t worry. I filled them in on what happened with you and Specs this morning.” Then his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “And how you bruised your head.”
“Thank you.” With knife and fork, I cut into my own samosa. “For a while, I was really worried part of my life might remain private.”
“Oh, come on.” Miles took a swig of soda from the can next to him. “You have to admit, it’s pretty funny. You going on about how love is all bollocks, then you fall in love at first sight.”
My knife and fork clattered to my plate. “It was not love at first sight! I was just . . . taken aback, that’s all. Really, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I told you; I saw how ugly it got with my father and Abigail.”
“Abigail?” Miles took another bite of his samosa. “Is that your stepmum?”
“What? No, she’s my real mother.”
“Then why do you call her Abigail?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I just started to one day.” Truthfully, I’d never called my mother by her first name to her face. But when Miles mentioned it, I realized I’d referred to her that way in my mind—and when speaking to my father—only after she disappeared. A subconscious attempt to create emotional distance, perhaps? I’ll leave that for the psychoanalysts among you to decide, dear reader.
“Doesn’t she mind?” Miles popped the rest of the samosa into his mouth.
“Well, I’ve never done it in front of her.” I chewed my own food in silence. “Though I’m not sure if she would’ve minded. Abigail had a very . . . relaxed attitude toward parenting.” Professor Burgess hadn’t exactly been wrong when he said I was raised by a hippie. Abigail’s approach to life was distinctly free-spirited.
“Sounds like the opposite of your dad, at least from what I heard.” Miles took another swig of soda before starting on his chicken tikka masala. “So why’d she marry him if they didn’t get along? Just curious.”
Oh, dear reader, the story of how Abigail got involved with Titus . . . well, it’s a long story. Suffice it to say, opposites attract, which is what I told Miles.
“Right.” Miles nodded, spooning masala and basmati rice into his mouth. “So . . . if you don’t mind my asking, what really happened to her? I mean, there’s gossip all over Equin about it, but you never know what’s true here and what’s not.”
I sighed. I supposed it was inevitable that I would have to tell someone. I relayed everything I knew about the situation to Miles. A few years ago, our house exhibited signs of a break-in, and my mother vanished—without a trace—in the middle of the night. At first, I was frantic, desperate to find her. Even my untouchably stoic father was concerned. We chased down every lead, looked down every avenue, both magical and mundane. But eventually, the trail ran cold. Even after all this time, we still had no idea who kidnapped my mother, or why.
“Bloody hell,” Miles said softly. He swallowed the food left in his mouth with great difficulty. “Sorry, mate. Hard luck, that. Is there really nowhere else you can look for her?”
“My father promised to follow up on his own,” I said darkly. “Go to places that only a vampire could go. But I have my doubts.”
“You don’t think he’s really looking?”
I chewed slowly. “I honestly don’t know. Part of me wonders if he relishes finally being free of his wife and son. Maybe he’s ready to go back to his old ways of violence and debauchery—two things ancient Rome was famous for. Although . . .” I sipped my soda, suddenly wishing it was something stronger. “Being a former general and all, I’m surprised he didn’t send me to military school.”
“Maybe with the tension between you, he thought giving you access to advanced weapons and combat training was too risky.” Miles polished off the last of his masala.
“Good point. Maybe he shipped me here because, with my mother gone, he either didn’t know what to do with me, or didn’t care.” I stirred bits of chicken and rice around on my plate. “For all I know, he never wanted a son.” And he accepted the fact that Abigail might be dea—er, gone a little too readily. Makes me wonder if he ever cared for her at all. “Who knows if he could be searching harder? I was thinking of picking up the trail again when I got out of school. Or start earlier on it, and just run away.”
Miles shook his head. “No, no. Bad idea, mate. Don’t do that. It’ll just make things worse between you and your dad. What’ll happen if he visits and you’re not here?”
I snorted. “I doubt he’d come all the way from the States just to say hello.”
“Your dad’s not in the UK?”
This time, I was the one shaking my head. “When I was ten, he bought this ridiculous casino: the Roman, or some similarly narcissistic name. It’s his obsession. He’s been developing it for years.”
“Wow. A casino owner.” Miles had moved onto dessert, spooning thick kheer into his mouth. “Did your father ever actually hold a job before? Like, a real-person job?”
“Let’s just say that over the centuries he was . . . productive.”
“Oh, right. How could I forget the general bit? So, productive as in slaughtering and enslaving countless people? Sorry.” He stopped eating long enough to hold up both hands. “I’m just repeating what I learned in the history books.”
“He was productive in a destructive sort of way.” I pushed the remainder of my masala aside and started on my own kheer.
“Okay, so he’s not the most loving of fathers. Mine’s a bit of a cool one himself.” A blot of kheer fell onto Miles’s shirt, and he wiped it away with a napkin. “But maybe you’re wrong about your dad. Maybe his detachment over your mum’s situation is just a—what does Pen call it? An emotional defense mechanism.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. Titus’s idea of a defense mechanism is a cannon and a lit match.” It was then I heard whispers behind me. I craned my neck, and saw a group of younger students at the next table with their heads together. They looked at me, then looked away, then looked back at me again.
I sighed. It was going to be a looong year.
“Excuse me.” I felt a tap on my shoulder. Miles raised his eyebrows, and I saw one of the younger students behind me. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen, probably in Year Nine.
“Is Titus Aurelius really your dad?” she asked. It was an innocent enough question. And she didn’t seem like the type to ask merely to make a snide comment in return.
“Ah, yes,” I replied. “Yes, he is.” More murmurs from her friends at the other table.
“Gawd,” she said softly. Then, she glanced to the left and right before leaning closer and whispering: “Tell me the truth. What does blood taste like?”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, is it horrible?” one of her friends called. Apparently, her whisper hadn’t been soft enough.
“Is it gross?” called another.
“Is it sticky?”
“Or do you really like it?”
“Ew! That’s even worse.”
I held up my hand. “Stop. I have no idea what blood tastes like because I never drank it. Why would I? How many times do I have to tell you people? I’m not a vampire.”
The first girl frowned. She seemed disappointed. “Have you killed someone, then?” Miles laughed, trying to hide it with a snort.
I took a deep breath. “If I had, do you think I’d be foolish enough to brag about it?”
“Well, did you at least burn down a building?” This time, Miles didn’t bother covering up his laughter.
I let out my breath very slowly. “Now, why would I do that?”
“I don’t know.” The girl shrugged. “Maybe you were mad.”
“At a building?” I went back to eating my kheer. “I think you’re confusing rumor and fact. A quick truth spell might help you separate the two.”
“I’m not allowed to do truth spells yet.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I learned my head toward the girl, and kept my voice low.
“I’ll tell you what. It’s best you start doing all kind of things you’re not allowed to. Good practice for later.”
If only I knew how prophetic those words would prove to be.
***
“Father, do calm down.”
“I AM CALM.” I held Equinox’s ancient landline phone away from my ear as my father roared into it. I was in the red-metal phone booth in House of Air’s common room. Each house had one booth—for preapproved phone calls only. Apparently, when a two-thousand-year-old vampire is on the other end, he gets put through right away. Instant approval.
It was later that night, and I was glad the call came just as everyone else was getting ready for bed. At least I didn’t have to deal with smug glances and curious onlookers as I sat in the cramped booth, my knees bumping against the wall. Ordinarily, students weren’t allowed to receive phone calls so late. But we were several hours ahead of the States, and my father could only make calls when it was night there, so I was granted special permission. I’m sure there’s no need to inform you, dear reader, how incredibly lucky that made me feel. Tentatively, I put the phone a little closer to my face.
“I do wish Headmaster Specs had let me tell you of my exploits, rather than keeping you apprised of them himself.” I was still miffed with Specs for that. I mean, he could at least have warned me he was going to tell Titus. My finding out like this was a little more than I bargained for my first week here. Then again, it was hardly surprising. Specs had probably told Victor’s parents as well. I dearly hoped he was getting more of an earful than I was.
“Don’t try to blame this on your headmaster,” Titus snapped. I could practically feel crackles of angry magic coming through the wire. It went well with the sounds of jackhammers, drills, and what I imagined were burly men shouting as they worked on the latest addition to my father’s casino. “I sent you to Equinox to stay out of trouble,” he said. “So why can’t you
stay out of it?”
“Because, for my entire life, you’ve been preparing me to take on trouble.” The loudness of my own voice in the small booth surprised me. I glanced around, just in case anyone had wandered out of their room and overheard. “Not to mention the fact that when people find out I’m your son, trouble has a way of finding me.”
I heard Titus sigh. “I suppose that was inevitable. Always is. When you’re the top dog, or the new man in town, you’re the target of every fool trying to make a name for themselves. Their only reason for attacking may be because they think it’ll lift them one rung higher on the ladder. Or keep themselves there, like this Wright fellow.”
“Now you tell me,” I muttered. As soon as I got on the phone with Titus, it became clear that Specs hadn’t said Victor and I got into a fight. Not exactly. Just that we’d been in the courtyard, and a bench had been in the courtyard, and . . . one of the three didn’t make it out in one piece. At least until Professor Stone repaired it.
“Well, it doesn’t give you an excuse to go gallivanting off, trying to play the hero. Stop sticking your neck out, or your nose in where it doesn’t belong, and—you fool!”
“All right, all right! I’m sorry it happened. I’ll try not to gallivant from now on.” It’s your fault for sending me here in the first place, I thought to myself. No, no—don’t be concerned that your son was nearly burned alive by a schoolmate. After all, if he can’t handle attempted murder on the first day, the juggernaut general probably didn’t raise him right.
“No, you fools!” Titus’s voice sounded farther away. As if he was the one holding the phone away from himself now. “Over there. I told the foremen over there. Oh, Fate be damned. Listen.” His voice sounded closer again. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a casino to build, and I’d like it to be done within my lifetime.”
“Your lifetime is infinite.” My own voice hardened. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with trying to find your missing wife? Who’d be furious if she knew you sent me here, by the way. Abigail believed in freedom of thought.”
