The Circle

by Val St. Crowe

  “Pretty much,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t accept that.”

  “Well,” he said, “it would be easier if you’d leave campus, honestly.”

  “Never going to happen,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He spread his hands. “Look, I’ll come by later, okay? Let you know how everything went, if we sold the cover story, if everything is cool. For now, go get a shower, go to class. And we probably are going to need to remake that potion at some point. If we’re going to do that again, though, it really needs to mature longer.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Class. The potion. Sure.” I turned my face to the sky and I gazed at the sun struggling over the horizon. This was all incredibly surreal.

  * * *

  So, I’ll tell you what I didn’t do that evening. I didn’t sit around in my room waiting for Phist to show up like some kind of lovesick puppy. No, I completely got on with my life and didn’t give a damn if he didn’t show up until nearly 10:00 that night.

  Right, who am I kidding?

  I sat on the couch, waiting for him, chewing my nails the whole time, and worrying they’d found him out and killed him.

  I sent him a text or two.

  Okay, ten.

  After the third text, he replied, Chill.

  Which, of course, only drove me to send the other seven texts in a flurry. Because knowing he wasn’t dead only brought into sharper relief all the things that I didn’t know.

  Oh, I guess I forgot to mention the fact that Abbadon had my phone on him, and we were able to get it off his dead body. That was handy, having my phone back and all.

  Anyway, eventually, Phist showed up at my door. There he was, leaning against my door frame, smoking a cigarette.

  I wanted to punch him.

  “Did you miss me?” he said, grinning.

  “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” I said.

  He laughed. “Yeah, okay.” He pushed past me into my dorm room. “So, I really did you a favor, huh? You could have been in that first-year dump, but I got you into this room.”

  “Yeah, this is a palace,” I said sarcastically. “How can I possibly repay you?”

  “I can think of ways,” he said, dropping his cigarette butt in a glass on my coffee table.

  “Oh, gross,” I said. “Has anyone ever told you that smoking will kill you?”

  He laughed. “I’m half spirit, Suther. A little smoking isn’t going to kill me.”

  I leveled a glare at him. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Actually, it’s well within the abilities of most occultists to heal the incremental damage to the lungs that smoking causes,” he said.

  “You don’t want to be addicted to black magic, but there you are, smoking.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a little contradictory, don’t you think?”

  He sat down on my couch. “What can I say? I’m an enigma.”

  “You’re a jerk is what you are.”

  “I am a jerk,” he said sounding proud of the fact. “I’m definitely a jerk.” He winked at me.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Well, Tess and I presented everything to the Acclasia, and they bought it,” said Phist. “They had a lot of questions, though, and they were pretty angry with me for setting up that little sting with you without telling them anything. I was severely scolded and told that the next time I had suspicions, I should go straight to an authority figure. They also weren’t happy that all the women with the babies escaped.”

  “Oh, that,” I said. “Are they all going to be recaptured?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m going to talk to the Resistance. If we can find them, protect them, that would be ideal.”

  “Oh, that would be good,” I said. “That would be really good.”

  “I thought that we could go there together tonight,” he said.

  “To the Resistance?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m thinking that if anyone can figure out how to unlace us without killing you, it’ll be the demonborn there.”

  “Is there a way to do that?” I said.

  “I don’t know, but I’m hoping,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

  I had a moment of trepidation, so many years of distrust against the demonborn coming up against my newfound realization that they were just doing what they had to do in order to survive. The occultist community was corrupt, and they needed to be stopped. The things they did to the demonborn were horrible. Enid had died for this cause. I could do worse than to devote myself to it as well.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

  He got up off my couch. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  To get to the Resistance’s headquarters, we took Phist’s motorcycle. But he was real weird about it and forced me to wear a blindfold, so that I couldn’t figure out where it was that we were going or get back there on my own. I insisted to him that he could trust me, but he said he couldn’t risk it.

  The blindfold made it all strange. Sitting on the back of the motorcycle, clinging to him, the front of my body molded against the back of him, feeling his heat come through our clothes, and feeling the bike vibrate between my thighs.

  It was a very confusing ride.

  Thankfully, it didn’t last that long. Twenty minutes later, and Phist was helping me off the motorcycle and taking off my blindfold.

  We were on the side of a cliff, his bike propped up on a dirt road. Above us, the stars shone down on us, bright and white. The air was warm and a late summer breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders.

  Ahead of us was the mouth of a cave.

  “Follow me,” said Phist, and plunged into the darkness of the cave.

  I had a second to gulp in a breath, and then I had to go after him, or he would disappear from my sight.

  We walked for about ten feet into the cave in total darkness. And then we rounded a bend, and flickering light appeared in the distance.

  Phist kept walking, going deeper into the belly of the mountain.

  I followed him, but the air seemed cooler, heavier, stranger.

  Soon, I could see the source of the flickering lights. Candelabras, each with four or five dripping candles, were bolted into the walls every few feet. We moved through the cavern, and the ceiling was low, low enough in places that Phist had to duck. Sometimes, it narrowed so much that his shoulders brushed against the smooth, damp walls.

  And we went deeper.

  Eventually, we emerged into a huge cavern with a high ceiling. It was lit with numerous candles and one huge light in the middle, which seemed to be comprised of magic. It floated next to the ceiling and gave off white sparks, like a sparkler at the Fourth of July. The cavern was full of hanging tapestries in velvet and paisleys.

  Ripped lace curtains partitioned sections from each other. There were beds along the wall, swathed in crimson covers. One was a canopy bed, and strips of mismatched fabric fluttered down around it, obscuring it from view.

  In the center of the room was an empty chair. It sat just under the magical light, and it had been made from pieces of junk metal, welded together to make something imposing and monstrous. It jutted up like a throne of trash, proud of its deformities.

  All around the room were demonborn, men and women with fluttering wings, beautiful and translucent. They wore long leather coats and flowing skirts and vintage dresses. They were like gypsy fairies, like something out of a story come to life. When I looked at them, my heart leaped into my throat, and I felt ordinary and ugly, like I didn’t belong in their presence.

  A man with long blond hair and huge black and purple wings stepped up to the chair in the middle of the room. He arched an eyebrow at Phist, and then he sank down in the chair.

  Phist approached the man. The chair was on a raised platform, like a dais. At its foot, Phist sank down on one knee, bowin
g his head.

  Caught by surprise, I followed suit, looking at the floor and feeling confused.

  Seconds later, Phist pulled me to my feet.

  I slowly raised my gaze to the man in the throne.

  He sneered at me. “So, this is the other Astaroth girl.”

  I swallowed.

  Phist bobbed his head. “Her name is Sutherland, Erik.”

  “She’s been causing problems for you, I understand? I heard a version of it all from Flynn. Somehow you’ve gotten yourself laced to her?”

  “Yes,” said Phist. “I was hoping there was a way to undo that.”

  Erik laughed. “I can unlace you.” He gathered a whirlwind of black power in his palm.

  “Wait!” said Phist. “You can’t… kill her.”

  “No?” said Erik.

  “No,” said Phist, looking annoyed.

  Alarm shot through me. Why had Phist brought me here? Wasn’t I safe here? Enid had given her life for these people. Certainly, they must respect that.

  “She’s smart,” said Phist. “She figured a lot of things out on her own, and she thinks on her feet. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know how all of it would have been covered up.”

  “There would have been nothing to cover up if she hadn’t been there,” countered Erik.

  Phist considered this. “Okay, good point.”

  Erik lifted his hand.

  “Don’t kill me!” I blurted.

  “Seriously, Erik,” said Phist. “She’s Enid’s sister. Keaton would have wanted—”

  “Keaton got himself captured and killed because of Enid,” said Erik. “Enid did nothing but bring strife and suffering to us.”

  Phist mused on that. “Okay, that’s a good point, too.”

  “I want to help you,” I said.

  Erik turned his gaze on me. He had very, very blue eyes. They were iridescent. “How could you possibly help us?”

  “Well, Phist says that my sister wasn’t very good at being under cover. That she wanted to be too kind, and that she was trying to be faithful to Keaton. But I don’t have anyone anymore. My sister is gone, so I have nothing to lose. I’m willing to do anything. Send me in to do what she couldn’t. Let me work with Phist. I can help infiltrate the Acclasia and take down the entire system from within.”

  “What?” said Phist, looking at me. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “Why can’t I help?”

  “I want less of you in my life, not more,” said Phist. “Come on, Erik, I brought her here so that you could unlace us.”

  “She can’t be unlaced from you unless she dies, you die, or she laces to someone or something else.”

  “I’ll never lace to a demon,” I said. “I never wanted to be laced at all.”

  “Can’t be unlaced?” said Phist. “Can’t?”

  “Can’t,” repeated Erik. “So, let’s kill her and—”

  “No,” said Phist, glowering at me. “We’re not killing her.”

  Erik chuckled low and hard. “Well, you have sung her praises. Could she do what her sister could not?”

  “Maybe,” said Phist.

  “Yes,” I said. “You know I could.”

  “She’s, uh, she’s pretty fearless,” said Phist. “And once she’s committed to something, she doesn’t back down.”

  “Could you get her inside the Black Circle?” said Erik. “Wouldn’t they distrust her, considering her ties to Enid?”

  “Well, I may have already laid the groundwork for that. I said that I’d seduced her, that she was in my thrall, that she’d do whatever I wanted. So, yeah, I could get her into the Circle. I could just say she was my girlfriend.”

  I licked my lips, and my stomach turned over in a funny way.

  Erik turned his strange eyes on me again. “And you? Are you really willing to do anything for the cause, as you claim?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But why?” he said. “Your sister, she cared about Keaton. That made sense. But you couldn’t possibly give as much as she did. She sacrificed everything.”

  “I came to Hellespointe Academy to get revenge for my sister,” I said. “And now I’ve found out that the Acclasia is responsible. So, I won’t rest until I take them all down.”

  Erik’s lips split into a grin. He let out another laugh, but this one was high and amused. “Well, well. I see what you meant about the commitment, Phist. I might even like you, Sutherland, and I hate all humans.” He shrugged. “Very well. Take her back to the school, Blake. And you, Sutherland, await our orders.”

  I bowed my head. “I won’t fail you.”

  * * *

  Later, we were getting back on the motorcycle, and Phist got out the blindfold again.

  “Seriously?” I said. “I’m committed to the cause. Do you have to blindfold me?”

  “It’s just a precaution,” he said. He weighed it in his hands, not looking at me. “Listen, you might think that you understand what it’s like to be in the Circle, but it’s going to be harder than you think.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Black magic? Can you do it if you have to?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

  “And if you’re posing as my girlfriend that means that you and I are going to have to—”

  “I know that,” I said. “It’s fine.”

  He nodded slowly, raising his gaze to mine. “I want you to understand something, though. You’re not my girlfriend.”

  “I know that too,” I said. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “I could never have feelings for a human, for a witch. We’re not even the same species.”

  “I mean… you’re half human,” I said. “I don’t see—”

  “I could never feel anything for you,” he growled, and there was so much venom in his voice, I took a step backwards, away from him.

  “Got it,” I said. “I don’t feel anything for you, either.” But it didn’t sound like I meant it.

  “I’m going to find a way to get us unlaced,” he said, lifting the blindfold.

  “Great,” I said. “I don’t want to be laced to you, anyway.”

  He yanked the blindfold too tight around my face.

  I yelped.

  “Never forget that I don’t like you, Sutherland Astaroth.” An acid whisper at my ear.

  “I won’t,” I said, venom rising in my voice. “Because I hate you, too, Blake Mephistopheles.”

  * * *

  Thanks for reading!

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  Where’s Book Two?

  Find info here.