But how could I tie them together?
First, I needed to find out as much as I could about my beast, because that might also give us the key to unraveling some of the mysteries surrounding Wadsworth. The best place to look would be in the book I’d found in the hidden room in the library.
When the doctor had said I would probably never shift, I’d tried to shrug it off. Being a witch was enough for my sister, so it would be enough for me. I’d ignored the lingering sadness in my fox-shifter mom’s eyes. It was natural for her to want me to have dominant shifter genes. She and my dad…sometimes I couldn’t even imagine why they’d hooked up. I mean, I understood the sex stuff, but they had next to nothing in common. Not even magic.
Dad had smacked my back and grinned when he’d found out I’d be solely a witch. I believed that was the only time he’d ever been pleased with me, which was ironic because he’d been happy about something I couldn’t do instead of something I’d done.
I ducked inside my room and tugged the book out from underneath the mattress. Scooting into the corner, I sat and dropped the heavy tome on my lap. I traced the griffin embossed on the leather surface.
Could I shift into a griffin? Was that why the book had essentially popped into my hands? It had known I hungered for knowledge of who I was and who I could possibly be.
The spine creaked when I opened it and a puff of dust spun up from the opening page, as if a gust of wind had swept through the room and sought me out in the corner. Coughing, I waved my hand to clear the air, then hunched over the book.
A History of Winged Creatures. I whispered the book’s title as I turned the page. A table of contents. Hmm. I traced my finger down the column. Nothing shouted out at me, and my fingertip didn’t tingle when I touched anything in particular. Would’ve been nice if the book had made it easy for me.
I turned a few more pages, hoping something insightful would pop out at me.
“There have not been winged shifters since the Dark Ages,” I read. I looked up, staring forward blankly. “So how do you explain those things that sprouted from my back when I jumped? I am not extinct.” Not yet, anyway.
Flipping through more pages, I came to a section with hand drawings of various types of winged shifter skin. Scales, mostly.
I drifted through page after page of drawings, comparing each to what I remembered seeing in the brief time my hand had changed. It seemed that scales that came to a point were less common than the oval variety. And colors. While the watercolor had faded in the book, most showed various shades of dark blue and brown. Very little green-as-a-deep-forest, my variety. Points and color suggested reptilian, though the book didn’t show anything I’d seen on myself.
Cece and Rhys had said my eyes had been slitted, like a reptile’s.
Leave it to me to shift into something like an armadillo. They had scales—sort of. But they didn’t have wings. Maybe I was some sort of hybrid armadillo. That should make Mom proud.
My heart sank, knowing that it could become a wedge between us. I was already convinced that there was nothing I could ever do that would make my dad eager to claim me. Losing my mom’s affection would be too much.
Flicking through more dusty, crumbling pages, I came to a section about reptiles. There were more than eight thousand species. Wonderful. That should make it easy to narrow it down. But there were four different orders: the group with crocodiles and alligators, the lizard and snake group, turtles, and tuataras—creatures named with a Maori word meaning ‘spiny back’. Squirming against the cold cinderblock wall, I prayed that a ridge didn’t glide down my back. Tuataras were nocturnal and, strangely, had a third eye on their backs.
No winged creatures among the group, however.
The next section dealt with mythical creatures. Some might dismiss ‘mythical’ as an option, but hey, I regularly interacted with fairies, vampires, and witches. The most interesting varieties included horses with wings, deer—deer?!—and great cats. Had I sprouted claws or hooves? I couldn’t remember.
I’d just come to the section with more unusual winged creatures when the bell rang for lunch.
Standing, I tossed the book on my bed and stretched. A groan escaped me, and I wondered who would’ve thought that raising magic could result in sore muscles? Maybe it had been all the running I’d been doing lately. Or falling from that tree. Who needed P.E. when you had to flee from keepers, run to get help for supposedly dying teachers, or dart away from exploding power sources?
After tucking the book underneath the mattress again, I left the room and joined Rhys at the entrance to the cafeteria. Cece and Aidan came up to us, their clothing and hair askew.
“You’re not going to believe what happened!” In a hushed voice, my sister explained how the secret room in the library had almost eaten them.
“What the—”
As a student passed by, Cece held up her hand. “Let’s get food and then we can talk.”
I expected Aidan to bail on us immediately. If anyone seemed eager to maintain separation according to magical ability, it was this fey dude.
Cece leaned close to me as I stared at Aidan, waiting. “He’s glamoured. Only we can see him.” She snagged my arm and guided me toward the line forming to pick up food. “Ignore him.”
Sure, sure. Really, sometimes I wondered how she did it.
We grabbed food, then drifted to a small table near but not too close to my usual section. Sitting, we dug in. I wolfed—or lizarded, ugh—down my food, then shoved my tray back.
After we hashed out what had happened in the library, coming to no conclusions, I filled them in on what had happened with Nancy. There was no joy in seeing their eyes widen again about yet another incident we’d gotten ourselves involved in.
“We need to test this theory,” Aidan’s lips curled down, “about you.”
“That I’m the common denominator?” I said. “No thanks. Been there, done that one too many times already.”
Rhys stood. “I don’t blame you, Maddy, but we can test out the general theory that everyone’s turning into Stepford—no, Wadsworth—Wives.” Before we could comment, he’d strolled over to a keeper standing at attention near the cafeteria entrance. After a quick conversation, he returned, not hiding his grim expression. He sat and scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing seems weird to him, from what I could tell. I could only vaguely sound him out about the basement action last night, but he said he patrolled down there before he left and found nothing unusual.”
“Has anyone noticed any keepers missing?” I asked. “As in the ones involved last night?”
The others shrugged.
“We all saw what happened with the headmaster,” I grumbled. “The same thing happened with Nancy.”
“We believe you,” Cece said. “We just need to find out what it means.”
Aidan stood. “I’ll press the fey a bit to see if they’ve seen anything since this morning.” His gaze fell to Cece. “Try not to—”
She smirked. “Do what? Get eaten by another random room? I’ll do my best, but no promises.”
Grinding his teeth, he gave her a long look that insisted that she behave, but when her smile didn’t fade even a smidge, he shook his head and strode out through the cafeteria entrance, returning inside within moments. I knew he’d ditched the glamour when Sarah called out his name and patted the seat beside her at the fey table.
Cece’s smile wavered only slightly before she picked up her fork and proceeded to poke holes in the remains of her sandwich.
“We done?” I asked. I started to stand, but a commotion at the cafeteria entrance drew my attention. Legs giving out, I slumped back into my seat.
Cece and Rhys, sitting opposite me, shot looks over their shoulders before facing me again.
“Don’t move,” Cece hissed.
“Me?” I squeaked defensively. “I’m not the one who—”
Her hand flicked my way. “Shhh!”
I zipped my lips and placed my hands on th
e table, pretending calm I did not feel as the headmaster made his way across the room, stopping briefly to pat various students on their shoulders. Through it all, his gaze remained trained on us. He meandered up to the table and stood beside it, a pleasant smile on his face. Good to see that his cheery mood was holding, because it sure beat his murderous expression from last night. But still...
“There you are.” He glanced around, and his gaze fell on the fey table. “I’d wanted to talk to all four of you, but I guess you can fill Aidan in on the news.”
“What news?” I almost hated to ask.
Rhys’s shoulders tightened. I wasn’t sure if he was planning to run or to cast some sort of spell to freeze the headmaster while Cece and I took off. Not that I knew where we could hide.
“About the grand ball you mentioned,” he said to Cece.
“Oh, um, you mean the dance?” A deep wedge appeared between her brows. “Please not a ball,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I’ve taken time to think about it.”
She stared up at him raptly. “You have?”
“I think this might be just what we need to lift everyone’s spirits.”
“We need to lift everyone’s spirits?” Cece parroted. Her slow blinks shouted her confusion. “Why do we need to lift everyone’s spirits?”
“You know how it is.” His benign smile took in Rhys and me. “Children miss their families. It’s been a hot summer. And we work all of you hard, pushing you to do your absolute best in all your classes.”
So far, I’d yet to exert myself in class other than by avoiding trances, bloodletting, and causing seizures.
“Since you brought up the lovely idea, Celine, I thought you should be in charge of organizing the event.”
“Me?” she said, her tone thick with incredulity. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
It wasn’t wise. Cece, an event planner? I couldn’t picture her—and Aidan, because she’d surely enlist his help—hanging up streamers and filling balloons. And where would we hold it? Last I knew, there was no ballroom at Wadsworth, but Rhys would know more about that than me.
“I believe we should host the event on Saturday night right here in this cafeteria, don’t you?” the headmaster said, his fingers linking on his chest. A dimple appeared in his cheek, and he rocked backward on his heels. “We’ll need to meet soon so we can go over the details.”
Her lips tight and her eyes bigger than that crystal ball we all feared, Cece nodded.
“Delightful.” The headmaster patted her shoulder. “Come by later and we’ll find a block of time in your schedule for tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TEN
Cece
“Well, that fucking backfired,” I muttered to myself as I watched the headmaster walk out of the cafeteria. When reality finally set in, I was on my feet, rushing after him.
“Where are you going?” Maddy called after me.
“I need to fix this! I’ll find you later.”
With tray in hand, I rushed past the tables full of supernaturals, desperate to put an end to my ad lib gone wrong. I was not going to plan a dance. I hated dances. Plus, I was too busy trying to figure out what was going on at Wadsworth and how to escape to worry about much else.
My preoccupation with the headmaster blinded me to all else in the cafeteria except for the sound of my breathing in my ears and the feel of concern drifting toward me from my right—the fey table. I dared a glance Aidan’s way and found his narrowed eyes staring back at me, his brow furrowed.
And then something else drew my attention away in a flash.
“Traitor,” a boy coughed out right before my foot snagged something on the floor and I crashed to the ground, sprawled out on my plate of leftover food. I’d narrowly missed being shanked by my own fork, and I shot to my feet with it in hand, prepared to square off against whoever had tripped me.
The echoes of laughter died off quickly.
“You got something to say?” I snarled as I turned to find a table full of silver-collared witches staring back at me. “No? Nothing at all? Not when you can just take a cheap shot?”
“Celine,” a keeper called from near the cafeteria door, “please put your tray away and head to your room to change.”
“Yeah,” I said, scanning the table of mute witches—my people—to find nothing but empty stares. The stares of the guilty. The stares of the complicit. “I think I'll do that.”
I bent down and grabbed my tray before storming over to the return. I chucked it on the pile and continued through the double doors without breaking my stride. The keeper’s suggestion had been unnecessary, since I had no desire to keep my mustard-and-ketchup-stained shirt and jeans on, but I followed it all the same and headed for my room.
The door slammed behind me, and I leaned against it for a moment. Part of me expected Maddy to tentatively knock to see if I was all right, or Aidan to sneak in demanding to know what the headmaster had said, but the door remained silent. With a sigh, I pushed off and snatched clean clothes off my dresser. As I pulled them on, I stared at the book I couldn't read lying on my bed. It made me feel stupid and useless.
I hated being the divining rod and never the solution.
But maybe I didn’t have to be…
I walked into the bathroom to find the mysterious ball lying right where it was supposed to be, cradled in the shower drain. A sense of relief rushed over me, and I bent down to pick it up.
“I don’t suppose you're the key to me helping us get out of here, are you?”
Not surprisingly, the ball didn’t answer. I felt dumber still.
I reached out to put it down, but a knock at the door startled me, and I shot to my feet.
“Cece?” Aidan’s muffled voice carried into the room. In truth, I’d already known who it was before he’d spoken, his air of superiority having wafted in, followed closely by concern.
“Not now,” I whispered to myself, not really wanting to see him right then. I was already upset. Rehashing what had just happened with him was pretty low on the pyramid at that moment.
“I know you’re in there.” Arrogant fey. He couldn’t know that. “In an attempt to be respectful, I haven't opened the door, but if you don’t acknowledge me, I'll be forced to assume your room is trying to devour you and barge in uninvited.”
I could feel my anxiety rising. I just wanted to be alone to figure my shit out. Was that so wrong?
The knob creaked as he turned it, announcing his entrance.
“I wish I could get out of here,” I whispered to myself.
In the blink of an eye, I was standing in an unfamiliar hallway in the old section of Wadsworth, crystal ball in hand, though it had shrunk down to the more portable marble size I preferred.
“What in the actual fuck?” I said, the shock I felt plain in my tone. “Where am I?” The darkened corridor was humid and dusty, and the air smelled stale. Four doors lined the way, with a fifth at the far end. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.” I gripped the marble tight and walked toward the fifth door. The worn oak frame had a crack through it, and I wondered if the thing would even move when I tugged it, but it did.
I pushed it open to find a storage room of sorts, with low rafters and a single window on the far side of the room. Boxes and paintings and random shit filled the place, like a hoarder had decorated. There was no system, no rhyme or reason to where things had been placed, and I struggled to understand why I was there.
“Well, this is cozy,” I muttered to myself as I waded through all the crap. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and I hoped I wasn’t alerting anyone below that I was up there. I couldn't imagine my presence there was allowed. “Anyone here summon an empath?” I laughed nervously under my breath, knowing that entertaining myself was the only way I'd hold my shit together while skulking around that place. The question hadn’t really been directed at anyone or anything.
And yet, I got a response.
“Let me see you,” a voice hissed from somewhere to my
left. I yelped and damn near jumped out of my skin. The voice reminded me so much of the smoke demon in the basement who’d tried to eat Maddy and me that I could barely keep myself from bolting out of there.
But there was a softness to this voice that the demon hadn’t possessed. A curiosity. A knowing. So, like any fool about to die in a horror movie, I slowly crept toward the sound of the inhuman voice.
“How about you let me see you,” I countered as I slinked around a massive cardboard box. Much to my surprise, there wasn’t some killer animal waiting on the other side; only a painting of a medieval castle with a red dragon perched on a turret.
“You are not what I expected,” the oil-painted dragon said, a plume of smoke billowing from its nostrils as it spoke.
“Can’t say you are, either, buddy.”
“You are not whom I expected, either…”
I looked behind me, then back to the massive painting. “Sorry to disappoint you?”
“Do you have it?” the dragon asked.
“Um…have what?”
“The relic. The orb…”
My hand clenched the marble tighter and I took a step back, as though the dragon were about to launch from the canvas and snatch it from me. In fairness, with all the other weird shit that I’d seen at Wadsworth, I wasn’t about to rule out that possibility.
“Maybe. Why do you want to know?”
“Because only the one who possesses it can know the way.”
“The way to what?”
“The way to freedom.” The dragon shot through the air of the painting and danced in circles before landing at the forefront of the rendering. “That is what you seek, is it not?”
“It is…”
“Then you will need it.” Its golden, slitted eyes drifted to my clenched fist, then back to my face. “But can you wield it, I wonder?”
That made two of us.
It slowly prowled closer to the front of the picture setting, and I swallowed back my fear.
“Is she brave enough to face the truth?”
Without warning, it lunged forward, mouth open, teeth bared. Flame blossomed in the depths of its throat, and I had no intention of waiting to see if it could shoot from the canvas and burn me to a crisp.
Rogue Reformatory: Broken (Supernatural Misfits Academy Book 2) Page 8
