by G. Bailey
Cats be crazy. That’s all I’m saying about this.
Chapter 19
Sometimes crazy can look pretty normal
“Guess what?” Sera asks as I sit down at the counter, resting my head on the table as I try not to yawn.
“What?” I ask, smelling something amazing cooking in the oven that I bet is a chicken hot pot, which happens to be a speciality of Sera and her cooking skills. She pushes a plate of toast and various fruits in a bowl toward me as I sit up before she answers.
“A note came that said your necromancy teacher is back, and your first lesson is today in about half an hour!” she says excitedly. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Not exactly, to be honest,” I admit. “Other than the one time in the headmaster’s office and in my first class in voodoo, I’ve had not one bit of demon power to show. I’m failing at everything, and I’ve seen what happens to students that fail.”
“Santino and I were talking in the kitchens—”
“Santino and you?” I suggestively say, and her red cheeks suggest I’m on to something as she carries on talking, ignoring my comment.
“He said no one fully transforms into their demon form until year one or two. He said that the headmaster was bragging about how quickly you almost transformed in his office...before you threw up,” she says, and my cheeks redden. That was embarrassing.
“So maybe they won’t kill me that quickly then. I’m just frustrated with myself,” I admit to her. I feel like something is holding me back since that time in the office. I haven’t even heard that woman’s voice since then. I don’t know what has changed.
“How was training this morning?” she asks.
“Bad and bad. I didn’t get the orb, and Morgan is being more of an ass than before. It’s almost teasing now,” I admit.
“Morgan? You even have a nickname for him now!” she cheerily says, and I rapidly change the subject.
“What about you and Santino? Don’t think I missed your blushed cheeks,” I point out.
“It can’t be anything, and we both know it. We are slaves, and slaves are not permitted to be in love or have children. One of the first things they do when they take us as a slave is force us to take a medicine to make us infertile and unable to reproduce,” she says, turning around and starting washing up. I put the toast in my hand back down on my plate and get off my seat, walking around the table and wrapping my arms around her waist. She pauses in shock as I hug her before she hugs me back.
“I’m so, so sorry they did that to you,” I tell her. “The assholes deserve to rot in hell for that.”
“It’s in the past,” she whispers to me.
“It doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt you, Sera. If you ever want to talk it out or anything, I’m here,” I tell her.
“You’re a good friend, Lexi,” she whispers to me.
“That means a lot. I think you’re the first person to call me their friend,” I admit.
“Other people are stupid then,” she says, and we both chuckle. “But you need to get ready for class. You don’t want to be late.”
“Yep, on it. Wish me luck!” I say, rushing into my room and grabbing my clothes. I quickly change and leave my hair down before heading back into the main part of the apartment, seeing Amethyst slithering around Sera’s legs as she meows at her.
“Wolfdog, feed me. I need you to pay attention to me, or I’m going to have to cough up a hairball in your shoe again,” Amethyst warns. Sometimes I wish I couldn’t hear her.
“One second, Amethyst. Your food is warming up in the microwave,” Sera sweetly says, leaning down and fussing the evil cat. If only Sera could understand what she was saying.
“Good wolfdog. I shall throw my hairball up in the hallway for you to find as usual.” I blank out the rest of Amethyst’s insane mumbling as I wait for Sera to feed Amethyst and then come to me. She heads out the door first, and I follow behind her down the corridor.
“Oh look, it’s Lexi going to necromancy. Funny, considering her murderous parents likely have some bodies she could practice on if she asked them nicely,” Letitia says rather loudly so everyone can hear. Sera’s eyes widen at me, but I shake my head before facing Letitia.
“Or I could kill you and see if your bitchiness carries on throughout death, Letitia?” I suggest, stopping in front of her. Maggie crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at me, but Letitia is silent as I walk right up to her face. Bullies don’t like being challenged. It’s something my mum always said. “Stay out of my way and stop being a petty, jealous cow, Letitia.”
“I’m not jealous or petty!” she protests back.
“Then why are you so interested in me?” I ask, stepping a little closer. “Because if you like girls and I’m your type, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t like you that way. Or at all, while we are on the subject.”
“I d-don’t like girls. I mean, I love Claus, so—” she stops, clamping her hand over her mouth.
“He isn’t your mate, Letitia. We have talked about this,” Maggie gently says to her as the three other girls just giggle to themselves, walking away. Letitia shoves Maggie’s hand off her arm and glares at her.
“Says you who stalks Mr. Morganach just for a tiny hope he will actually speak to you. Talk about hopeless and desperate,” she hisses at her best friend. And everyone hears it.
“At least I’m not desperate enough—”
I walk away, not that either of them notices as they carry on shouting at each other, and Sera grins at me.
“That’s how you stick up for yourself. I’m super proud,” she admits.
“Really? I feel like I’m going to puke. I was scared,” I admit to her, and she chuckles before moving in front of me as other students and wolves start to pass us in the corridor. The necromancy room is right at the front of the building, and I head inside as Sera waits for me. I’m not surprised to see a dead body on the desk at the front of the room, but I’m ever so thankful his eyes are closed. He looks in his eighties, only his head is sticking out from a white sheet hanging over him, and his skin is a ghostly white colour. To my surprise though, the room only smells of roses instead of the decaying human. Someone must have sprayed him with rose-scented Febreze or something.
“Ah, Miss Cameron?” a woman in a white lab coat over a purple jumper and jeans asks as she comes up to me. Her long blonde hair is up in a high ponytail, pulled ever so tightly, and there isn’t a single hair out of place. Her eyes remind me of chocolate; they are such a deep brown. She offers me her hand to shake, and I look at the body and back to her hand, undecided if I should touch her hand as she likely brought that body in here. “Oh, I washed my hands. We might be demons, but we aren’t barbaric.”
Says the woman that has a dead body on her desk in her classroom.
Alright then.
I gulp as I shake her hand, and she smiles sweetly. “My name is Mrs. Friis, and as you can guess, I am an expert at necromancy.”
“Lovely to meet you,” I tell her, though I’m pretty sure she is one biscuit short of the full tin from her smile alone.
“And you! I went to DA with your mother and father back in the day, and oh how you are the image of them both. I want you to know that I’m personally not ever going to give up on you. You know, for their sakes. You will bring back the dead and make them do whatever you wish if my life depends on it!”
“That’s definitely something to hope for,” I try to say with as much enthusiasm as she has. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice my total nervous disgust at the idea of waking the dead and forcing them to do what I want. Who the hell would hope for that?
“Go and sit down! Class is about to start!” she says in an overly cheery way. She reminds me of those bubbly people I used to see on the bus to school at seven in the morning. I never understood how anyone could be that bubbly and happy, especially at that time in the morning. I walk past three rows of students, who all look at me briefly before settling their gaze down, and I
find a seat on the fourth row, where no one else is. I recognise a few of the students from my other classes but none whom I’ve actually spoken to. I kinda wish Lela was in this class, even though I’m not sure if we are friends or not. Either way, she is nicer than the rest of the students here.
“So class, do any of you know the single spell to bring back the dead?” Mrs. Friis asks us, and there is silence for a reply. “Well, has no other teacher taught it to you?”
“No, miss,” a guy near the front answers for everyone.
“Do I have a volunteer to do the spell?” she asks, and again there is silence. I try to hide, but Mrs. Friis isn’t having any of that. She points at me and curls her finger for me to come up front. I try not to look at the body as I slide out of my seat and walk down the gap to Mrs. Friis.
“Brilliant. At least one of you are brave enough to go first,” she says, and there are a few mumbles from the other students. She really isn’t making me look good here. Mrs. Friis places her hand on my shoulder and offers me a small piece of parchment. I unroll it, seeing words I don’t recognise or have a clue how to pronounce.
“If you stare long enough, they will turn into English. You must let your demon show you, Miss Cameron,” she tells me, moving just behind me and resting both her hands on my shoulder. “Silence in the room!” Not that there was anything other than mumbles from the other students anyway. I gulp and stare down at the paper, willing to see anything but the words that make no sense. At first, there is nothing but paper, and then something changes. My hands change, turning black at the ends, and my nails stretch out, ending in pointy tips. The room becomes hazy and cold as the words on the paper change into a sentence I can definitely read.
“I summon the dead to hear my call. I summon hell to send me back this soul. I summon hell to bring back the dead to heed my command, for I am the master of death. For I am born in the flames of hell, and death is my tool. I summon this dead to heed my call.”
I scream and jump back as the body on the table sits up, the white sheet dropping to his stomach. He stays still, just sitting as Mrs. Friis starts jumping up and down in the air at my side.
“Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant! Aren’t you just brilliant!” she exclaims with the excitement of a five-year-old at Christmas. The dead guy falls back onto the desk with a loud thud, and Mrs. Friis smiles at me.
“Don’t worry. The problem with necromancy is that you have to practice it again and again before you can command them to do anything but exist,” she muses.
“Okay,” I mutter.
“Anyone could do that! The new girl isn’t special!” the guy that spoke earlier exclaims, standing up and crossing his arms. “Let me have a go!”
“Of course! Come here,” Mrs. Friis says with a happy giggle. The guy walks right up to her and leans down to pick the parchment up off the floor. In one swift motion, Mrs. Friis summons a dagger out of nowhere and slams it into the heart of the guy, and he falls to the ground, silently dying in moments.
“Now, who wants to bring this guy back?” Mrs. Friis excitedly asks as I carefully walk back to my seat, knowing this teacher is likely the most dangerous of them all.
Maybe we were all better off when she was in hell.
She definitely deserves to go there, the crazy cow.
Chapter 20
Tease me once, fool on you. Tease me twice, fool on me
“Javier got you these. I don’t know why he decided to bring them for you, but I promised to give them to you, so here,” Sera mumbles as I come out of my room, finding her waiting for me with a small woven box. I open the box still in her hand and find a basket full of little cakes.
“Why would he send me cakes?” I ask, though I don’t mind that he has. I’ve noticed Javier isn’t all that bad from our movie nights with Sera. He always lets me and Sera eat first. He helps Sera wash up the plates, and he knows all sorts of random bits of information for Sera’s multiple questions throughout each movie.
“Giving homemade food to another is a sign of friendship with wolves. It’s a sign of thankfulness and respect,” she explains to me. “Some males cook for months for the female they think is their mate before actually telling them.”
“And you think he made these?” I ask, trying to ignore the mating thing. I think Sera just said it randomly, and she definitely doesn’t know the thoughts that go through my messed-up head about her seriously attractive brother.
“I know he did. Javier is a good cook,” she explains to me, her eyes holding in something I know she wants to say. I shrug and take a cake as I head off to my lesson with Morgan. I take a deep bite of the orange and chocolate cake, and I nearly moan out loud. Man, these taste seriously good. I pause and go back to Sera, who is heading for the kitchen, and grab two more cakes.
“I’m going to give one to Morgan and eat two on the way,” I explain to her around a mouthful of cake. She just chuckles at me as I turn around and head out of the apartment. I take my time walking to the library as I eat my cakes and find a bin for the wrappers on the way. Morgan is leaning against the window as I come into the library, nearly taking my breath away. The rising sun casts orange and yellow beams of light over his body, almost framing him in light. It makes every bit of Morgan seem a little softer than the tough guy I’ve grown to like to dislike.
“Morning, Miss Cameron,” Morgan says, noticing me even though I didn’t move for the last few minutes as I stared. I wonder if he always knew I was there.
“I brought you a homemade cake. It’s orange and chocolate and really good,” I say, offering it to him.
“How do I know it’s not poisoned?” he enquires. “It would be a good way for you to win the prize.”
“I’m not crazy, that’s how you know it’s not poisoned,” I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “I also want to win on my own terms and not by cheating,” I add.
“At this point, I’d be happy you won in any way. This lesson is getting boring,” he says, and I frown as he takes the cake from me and sniffs it. Gosh, he’s ungrateful. I really want to shove the cake into his face.
“I want the cake back. You don’t deserve it,” I say, going to snatch the cake back, but he moves out the way and takes a bite of the cake.
“You don’t take gifts back. It’s rude,” he tells me.
“I hope you choke on it,” I say, and he only laughs, walking away and finishing off the cake. That is the last time I share food with him.
“Let’s start this again then,” he says in a bored tone, chucking the wrapper into a bin across the room, and of course it lands perfectly inside. Morgan gets the orb out and throws it behind him, where it disappears. I’m running after it down the aisle of the bookshelves before it disappears from my view. I spin around a bookcase and see it at the end, floating in the air. I gasp as Morgan catches me around the waist, stopping me by a wall. The lights are so dim at the back of the library that every sense is heightened and the prize just looks that much more inviting being so bright.
“Tut, tut. You aren’t fast enough, baby,” he whispers into my ear, his hot breath making my whole body shiver. I suck in a deep breath and push off the wall, only to find he has disappeared again. I search around in the dim room, my breaths sounding harsher and longer with every second until I see the prize flash in the corner of the room. I run as fast as I can, my hair whipping behind me, and my legs aching from the movement as I push myself further than usual. I’m inches away from the prize when he grabs me around the waist, pulling me against his chest, and I sharply turn my head to the side to look up at him. Even in the dark, I can see the smugness in his eyes. “I won.”
“You never gave me a chance,” I protest.
“No one ever will, baby. You need to learn that sooner rather than later,” he tells me, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.
“Stop calling me baby,” I demand.
“Win the prize for once in your goddamn life and maybe I will,” he replies, leaning down closer so his minty breath
blows across my lips. “Baby.” The word leaves his lips in such a seductive manner that I almost ignore the teasing.
“For a teacher and an angel, you are a flipping tease. You know that?”
“Who said I am teasing?” he asks, letting me go, and I nearly fall over as I straighten up. The lights blast on in the room, forcing me to close my eyes, and when I open them, I’m alone. What the hell did he mean by that?
Chapter 21
Angels, demons, and Love Island
“So do explain to me why he is leaving her?” Amethyst asks as we sit watching Love Island on the laptop in my room. I don’t really like it, but Amethyst is addicted to it, and she won’t watch it alone because she is a pain like that. Not that she can get the laptop open and use her paws to get the shows on for her.
I’m pretty sure, if she could, she would. I pull the page over in the book I’m reading, my eyes drawn to the painting on the one side of an angel with white wings wrapped around a woman with long dark hair, though her face is hidden in his chest. I move my eyes to the writing, though there isn’t much of it on this page. It is meant to be the history of hell and heaven, but like every book I’ve gotten out so far, it is nothing but vague sayings and painting of angels and demons. It’s like someone doesn’t want anyone to know about the past.
Angels are forbidden to enter hell, let alone fall for the firstborn daughter of hell: Lilith. Lucifer, first of his name, did not heed the rules. Love is forbidden, but it did not stop a romance which would last many years. Thousands upon thousands died in the war their love created, and until the day their children were born, their love was perfect.
“I wasn’t watching, who left who?” I ask, getting to the end of the small amount of writing. I flip through the rest of the book, finding one more passage right at the end.
