by Leigh Kelsey
He was making a similar assessment of her, she noticed when she’d finished scrutinising him. Kati wondered what he’d seen: a girl with a sharp jaw, freckles, glaring eyes, fiery hair wrecked by humidity even in autumn, and nostrils constantly flaring with anger. She could have been pretty, she thought, if not for the scowling and the silently threatening looks. But then, Mr Worth probably wasn’t looking for signs of beauty, but signs of evil.
“If I tell you why I’m trying to help you,” he said, meeting her eyes, “will you tell me what book you were looking for?”
Kati bit the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. On the upside, she’d know what mysterious motives he had for being nice. On the downside, he’d know she was hearing voices. Well, one voice. “Fine,” she sighed eventually, curling her fingers around the desk beneath her and gripping tight.
“Okay.” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck again. He nodded, as if psyching himself up, and said, “My surname—Worth—came from my mother, but I had another surname once. One that’s associated with evil much more than yours, Kati. Wilson sparks fear and outrage in this school.” He met her eyes, his softness hidden behind steely determination as he took a breath and said, “Imagine how people would react to the name LaVoire.”
Kati just stared, unblinking, letting his words filter into her mind. “Wait—you’re a LaVoire?”
She began to rethink his harmlessness and—stopped those thoughts in their tracks. She was sick of people judging her because of Theo’s maybe-actions; she wouldn’t do the exact same thing to someone else. Oh. Oh, that’s why he was being kind. Because he knew exactly what Kati was going through. She looked at him again; messy haired, ink stained, soft eyed behind wire-frame glasses. A LaVoire. “Was she your mum?”
“No.” He exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his dark hair. “My aunt, my father’s sister. But the name marks me as evil, as dangerous.”
Kati gazed at him, sympathy for what he must have been through knocking down all the walls she’d built in the library. “Shit. And I thought I had it bad with these assholes.”
A wry smile curled the very corner of his mouth. “Imagine having all the assholes of the world on your back.”
Kati had been hounded and harassed by the press, had been taunted by the students and some teachers here at SBA, but that was just in York. At its widest, only people in the UK would know her brother’s name. But the world knew of Lady LaVoire; the world had lived in terror under her reign, had been tortured by her army of the dead and possessed and pure evil.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Kati said eventually, glancing up to find Mr Worth’s eyes unfocused. She reached across the space between the two desks and laid her hand over his, a heaviness in her chest for what he must have gone through. He startled at the contact, a jolt of shock, and Kati’s heart screwed up tight at his response. It wasn’t revulsion, and it wasn’t reluctance to be touched either—he’d have pulled his hand away, but it still lay beneath hers. He just wasn’t used to being touched.
How long had people avoided him, abhorred him, just for his family name?
“I hope you’re not trying to corrupt me, Miss Wilson,” he said with a tiny smirk, his gaze on their hands.
Kati snorted. “There’s this thing called sympathy. I know it’s probably a radical, new concept to you, but I’m trying to comfort you, not seduce you.”
His laugh was both warm and sad. “It is a radical concept.”
Her heart aching, Kati’s mind ran the numbers. Lady LaVoire had been captured and turned to stone nine years ago. Which meant that Mr Worth had been dealing with the same shit Kati had these past few months, but multiplied by a million because Lady LaVoire had been so much worse than Theo, and he’d been dealing with it for nine years. She squeezed his hand. “Fuck the lot of them.”
His smile grew. “You’d best let go of me now, Kati, before anyone sees.”
“Rude,” she complained, but drew her hand back, returning his smile. “I guess I owe you an answer, since you told me why you’re being so nice to me. Thanks for that, by the way. It’s a good feeling, having someone see me as a human instead of evil incarnate for once.”
“The world is still scared, Kati,” he said, meeting her eyes. “The shadow of my aunt’s reign never left, and most people remember what it was like to live in fear, to never know when your loved ones might be stolen, or when you yourself might become a blood puppet.”
Kati glanced away. “I know. But Theo’s not like that.” She twisted an amethyst ring around her finger. “For starters, he’s never been that fucking clever. I doubt he’d know how to do a murder ritual if he wanted to. And don’t look at me like that.” His eyes were unfathomably soft, full of pity. “I’m serious, keep looking at me like that and I’ll stab you somewhere soft and vulnerable.”
He laughed, a sharp, short sound that seemed to surprise even him. It was the first genuine laugh she’d heard from him, not coloured by sadness or self-deprecation, but real. “I’m your teacher, Kati.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. And now you’re my friend.” She made a face, shaking her head at her own words. “I came to this damn school without anyone and now I’m stuck with three of you.”
She couldn’t interpret the look on his face, but when he spoke she realised it was understanding again. Pure, deep understanding. “I came without anyone, too, but I’ll be glad to consider you a friend. As long as my colleagues don’t find out; Madam Hawkness has done her best to cover up my family name but I know for a fact that Mrs Hale knows.”
Kati scowled at the bitch’s name; she was quickly overtaking Alexandra Chen in Kati’s to-mentally-murder book. “Oh good, we have a common enemy.”
He laughed again, outraged. “Kati.”
“What?”
He shook his head, his eyes shining with amusement. It suited him—laughter, happiness. Kati wanted to make him laugh again, just to spare him the heavy black cloud he carried around. She carried her own thundercloud, too, and knew how quickly and completely it blotted out any hint of light. “If you think of teachers as your enemies, you’ll never learn anything from your classes.”
“Yeah, well.” Kati scuffed her boots on the leg of her desk, her legs unable to reach the floor. “They started it.”
He was quiet for a moment, disapproving, she thought, until he asked, “Are you going to tell me what you were searching for in the library?”
“Oh.” Kati stared out the window, watching moonlight outline a half-deflated football as it soared halfheartedly through the air. “Right. Um, I was in potions and poisons earlier, making a complete mess of a clear thinking potion and I … uh … I heard a voice.”
“A voice,” Mr Worth repeated, scratching his jaw.
“In my head,” she clarified. “Right sarcastic bitch too. So either I’m going mental or someone managed to get inside my head. I was looking for a spell to protect myself.”
His eyes brightened, and Kati realised this was his area of obsessive study—spells and magic. He looked like she’d given him a puppy for Christmas. “I can think of a number of spells that could work for you, especially given your advanced magical ability.”
“Yeah, let’s not dwell on that, shall we?”
He looked at her like she was mad. “Are you complaining about being good at something?”
She shrugged off the question. “What spells could I use?”
“I’ll dupli-copy some pages you’ll find helpful—I know exactly which books to check.” He looked delighted to have an excuse to use the dupli-copy charm, the teacher’s holy grail that had replaced photocopiers a few years back. “I’ll give them to you next lesson.”
Kati frowned, not wanting to wait that long, but she didn’t complain. It was nice to have someone want to help her, now that she knew his motive.
“Of course, there’s another possibility.” He tilted his head, peering into her eyes. “It could be a familiar connecting with you.”
Kati snorted. “Yeah
, right. What familiar’s going to want to bond with me?”
Mr Worth’s expression turned stormy, deeply disapproving. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Kati. If I was a familiar, I’d want to bind myself to you.”
Kati’s stomach did a pathetic little flip. She grinned, her face warming, but she was gratified to see a blush on his cheeks too. “And you warned me not to be inappropriate? Mr Worth.” She gasped, faux-scandalised. “A girl could think you’re trying to flatter her.”
He rolled his eyes, and she beamed. “I’m not trying to flatter you. Something tells me, all things aside, your ego doesn’t need inflating any further.”
Kati laughed, swinging her feet under the desk. “Wait. How would I know if it was a familiar?”
He leant forward, suddenly focussed. “Did it feel malicious?”
“No.”
“Did the presence try to access any of your memories?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No. It just felt like … pressure.”
He tapped his bottom lip, looking very teacher-like all of a sudden. “Did anyone else hear the voice?”
“No.”
He sat back, nodding. “You have a familiar, Kati Wilson. I’d put money on it.”
“Great,” Kati muttered. “How do I find her?”
His laugh was a washed-out version of the one from minutes ago, a huff of breath rather than a burst of sound, and Kati saddened to realise this was his regular laugh. “You don’t.”
“Perfect,” she muttered, turning the idea over in her mind. “At least I know someone’s not trying to get into my head. I’ll still take those spells, though. Just in case.”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” he agreed. A furrow appeared between his eyes. “Although in this case, forearmed is forearmed.”
Kati smirked. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a total nerd, Mr Worth?”
“Only since I was three,” he replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
Kati hopped off the desk. “It’s cute. Don’t ever change.”
His expression turned frosty, a warning in his expression that should have intimidated Kati. As it was, it was a red rag to a bull: a challenge. “I’ve warned you about being inappropriate, Miss Wilson.”
Kati shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t have told me your sob story, then. Don’t worry,” she added, “I won’t flirt during class.”
He threw his hands up. “This is a lost cause.”
“Yep.” Kati slung her bag over her shoulder. “It’s your fault really. Your eyes are too sparkly and blue—I wouldn’t have noticed you without them.”
He glanced up, a little surprised. “You think I have nice eyes?” He shook his head hard, his expression clearing. “I’ll see you in class, Kati.”
“Thanks for the help.”
He nodded. “Reluctant as I am to extend the offer and encourage you, should you need to talk or just to escape from…” He waved a hand to indicate the world outside the classroom. “That. My door is always open.”
True warmth filled her belly, not the thrill of flirting or the enjoyment of winding him up. Something purer. “Thanks. And thanks for being a decent guy. It’s good to have someone on my side.”
He just nodded.
“And in case you were wondering, I’m on your side too. So if the assholes find out about your real name, you’ve got backup.”
His smile was sudden and soft. “I appreciate it.”
Kati nodded and left before her tiny crush could become something more significant.
Mr Worth, Lady LaVoire’s nephew … shit.
THE CALM BEFORE THE SHITSTORM
Rahmi, sweetest person in the known universe, spent the hour between tea and bed teaching Kati how to brew a successful mind clearing potion. Kati didn’t have the heart to tell her it had been a mysterious voice that’d distressed her so much—rather than screwing up her potion. Besides, she needed all the help she could get with P&P.
“Perfect!” Rahmi said, clapping her hands together as she bent over the mini cauldron set up on the coffee table over a hot plate. “See, I told you you’d get it.”
“Thanks, Rahmi,” Kati said, feeling guilty for keeping secrets but not yet ready to share the fact she might have a familiar, or to confess that she’d had a moment with Mr Worth. Not that she could tell either of her friends about his true identity—she hadn’t verbally promised to keep his secret, but it was implied.
With a yawn, Kati stretched, working out the kinks in her back from being bent over the potion for long minutes. When Rahmi produced a teardrop shaped vial, Kati carefully decanted her potion, feeling a giddy flip in her belly at the accomplishment. “My first successful potion,” she said proudly.
“The first of many,” Rahmi promised. “Naia—” She cut off at the sight of Naia propped up in the armchair, a giant book on her lap and her head tilted back, a soft snore coming from her. “Aw, bless her.”
“I’m not waking her,” Kati declared before Rahmi could ask. “I’m brushing my teeth, framing this potion because I’ll never brew one so perfect again, and going straight to bed.”
Rahmi snorted, climbing to her feet.
“I’m serious about framing it.” Kati held up the potion. “It needs immortalising. A true miracle.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Rahmi rolled her eyes. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Kati remained sceptical but pride still spun through her at the achievement. “Yeah, maybe. See you in the morning.” She paused, shaking her head. “Evening. I’m still not used to that.”
“I know what you mean,” Rahmi agreed, shaking Naia’s shoulder.
Naia jerked awake, her eyes flying open but glazed over. “While mint is a common potion ingredient, it should never be mixed with wolfsbane or sow’s femur.”
Rahmi snorted, shaking her again.
“Wakey, wakey, Clarke,” Kati said, clicking her fingers in front of Naia’s face until her eyes cleared.
“Huh?” she asked. “What—oh, I fell asleep?”
“Yup,” Kati confirmed. “You should probably go to bed before you pass out again.”
Naia glanced down, then looked at Kati in horror, “But I haven’t finished the chapter.”
“You can finish it tomorrow,” Rahmi assured. “Come on, you, I’ll get you to bed. Kati will mark your page.”
Kati grabbed the nearest thing—a clean wooden stick from a stack of potion stirrers—and stuck it in the book, setting it on the coffee table. “Done.”
“You guys,” Naia sighed, her glasses askew as she glanced at Kati on the threshold of her room “You’re the best friends I’ve ever had.” She smiled, half asleep, but the words were genuine.
“Yeah, Clarke, you too,” Kati said, the words utterly true. She’d been completely against forming any sort of attachments, but the three of them being friends now felt like a foregone conclusion, an inevitable end. Or a beginning.
They were a thousand times better friends than the bitches Kati had called besties last year.
Kati stuck around long enough to see Naia fall face-first onto the mattress and moan, “Oh, no! Did I hurt my glasses?” and then she snuck away to her room. She eagerly kicked off her boots, undressed, and pulled on pyjamas at double speed before collapsing into bed.
Kati never dreamed—never—but this night she did.
THE STUDY HALL OF DREAMS. LITERALLY.
There was no indication for a long time that Kati was dreaming. The academy was empty, bright sunlight streaming through the windows and, high above, refracting through the Diamond Rotunda in kaleidoscope colours as Kati strode purposefully across the foyer.
She shouldn’t have been out of her dorm in the middle of the day, and yet she kept walking, heading for the sweeping staircase in the lobby. In a daze, she hurried up the stairs, an urge, a need, tugging her past paintings and plaster busts and snoozing catgoyles, their snores the only sound besides her quiet footfalls as she climbed to
the second floor, and then the third, stopping at a room she’d yet to explore in real life.
She didn’t feel present, disoriented as if she had a migraine or a hangover—or both—but urgency beat against her breastbone and kept her moving, crossing the mezzanine level of the very top floor of the academy, past infirmary beds and carts of potions arranged below the glass dome.
Kati entered a room marked STUDY HALL. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gone there to do, but she wandered down the empty aisles of tables and chairs, stopping at a desk near the back to run her fingers over the pockmarked wooden surface. Biro-gouged names and messages bumped the pad of her fingertip and, almost against her will, Kati’s head tilted to read the scratch print.
Look! it said, carved deep into the desk.
Listen! it commanded, just below.
Learn! it advised finally, this word pressed even deeper into the wood, cutting right through a swoop of Sharpie that had Kati’s heart stopping. She knew that scrawl—the tag, as he’d proudly told her when he designed it, scribbling it anywhere he could think of: notebooks, backpacks, the fridge at home, the bathroom mirror. At first inspection, it was just a jagged shape, but peering closer resolved it into four letters, one word: a name.
Theo.
Kati lurched awake, her heart beating so fast she was suddenly, irrationally, convinced it would burst through her rib cage. She gasped, a hand pressed to her chest until her heart rate settled. That fucking dream…
What was that? She’d never been to the third floor in her life, but an alarming certainty gripped her—there really was a study hall up there, and her brother’s name really was carved into that desk. There was no way for her to know that, but she couldn’t shake the certainty.
Except there was a way to know.
Still shaky but ignoring it, Kati threw back the covers, grabbed a hoodie to throw over her pyjama vest and leggings, and shoved her feet into boots. This was mad, and definitely broke a handful of rules, but she had to know. There was something off about that dream… It had felt real. No, more than real. Like a message.
