Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  “That’s exactly what I intend to find out,” I say, matching the gravity in Matteo’s voice. “I don’t know Family politics the way you do, but I know enough to say that Jag is—”

  “Jag is your father’s father, your grandfather,” he says judgmentally.

  “Do we share some of the same genes? Yes,” I say, my defensiveness ratcheting up a notch. “But don’t you dare suggest I’m anything like him or the Lions. He killed my mom, and our aunt. The Lions are hunting my dad. They’re trying to kill me. And as far as I can tell, they would be happy to take out Layla, Ines, and the rest of the talented students at this school, making all of Strategia bow to their will. Meanwhile everything I’ve been doing at this school has been aimed at stopping them.”

  He grunts. “Everything you’ve done here has been to save your own butt.”

  For a second, I’m silent. He’s not right, but he’s also not wrong.

  “So your plan is to what? To challenge the Lions by yourself? Or maybe you and your traitor father will team up,” he says flippantly, “if they haven’t killed him already, that is.”

  “Geez, Matteo,” I say, taken aback. “Can you be any more of an ass? You expect me to understand how deeply your friend’s death has affected you, but you can’t sympathize with the fact that I’m scared for my dad?” I shake my head at him disapprovingly. “At least he’s doing something. At least I am. What are you doing?”

  Matteo’s face falls and he rubs his hand over his forehead. He takes a few steps away from me. “You’re right,” he says, and his voice loses its edge. “That was uncalled for.”

  I watch him. Underneath his temper and his grief, I catch a glimpse of someone decent. And for a few seconds we stand there awkwardly, neither of us sure how to proceed in the absence of our usual ire.

  “Where are you going in Europe?” he finally asks.

  “I’m starting in the UK,” I say.

  He nods like he assumed as much. “Who else knows you’re leaving?”

  “Ash, Layla, and Blackwood,” I say.

  He watches me with a searching expression. “And Ash is going with you,” he says, and I look at him sideways.

  Did the way I said Ash’s name give that away or was it something in my body language? “He is,” I say reluctantly, and as the words leave my mouth, I’m surprised at how easily I’m telling him things. I have no reason to trust Matteo, do I?

  “And I’m assuming you’re here because you want my help,” Matteo continues.

  I exhale, relieved by the opening he just gave me. “Yes. Please. Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” I say. “If I’m going to be in Lion territory, I’ll need all the help I can get. And even if you hate me, surely you must hate the Lions more?”

  Matteo presses his lips together and looks around the room, like there might be an answer there somewhere. He’s silent for a few seconds and then nods like he’s come to a decision. “If I agree to help you, there’s a condition.”

  “What kind of a condition?” I say slowly.

  Matteo’s expression is serious. “You must agree that this information will be used by you and you alone. I need your word. I have absolutely no interest in telling Ash my Family secrets.”

  I hesitate. I hate the idea of keeping things from Ash, but I can’t discredit Matteo’s need to protect Family secrets. And in truth, I’m flattered that he’s considering trusting me with them.

  “Agreed,” I say.

  Matteo takes a good look at me, reading me again, and when he seems satisfied that I’m telling the truth, he continues. “There’s a Bear Family apothecary in London. Her shop is called Arcane Minded; the front is an antiques store. If you need supplies to use against the Lions, you can go to her. Tell her Aut cum scuto aut in scuto.”

  “Aut cum scuto aut in scuto,” I say, repeating the Latin phrase.

  “Either with shield or on shield,” Matteo says before I have a chance to work out the meaning. “It roughly means ‘Don’t surrender; never give up.’ It will let her know that you’re battling the Lions and you need her assistance.”

  Secret phrases in secret shops with secret apothecaries. A month ago I would have rolled my eyes and made a comment about how I didn’t think apothecaries existed in anything except old stories, but my entire world has shifted since I came here.

  “Will it matter that she’s never met me before?” I ask.

  “Well, that’s the thing, you do look like our immediate family. She may just assume you’re a second or third cousin she’s never met. But”—Matteo pauses—“if she realizes who you really are, you may have a problem.”

  I remember my talk with Ash last night and his warning that some European Strategia might recognize me. “Do the Bears hate me, too?”

  He looks thoughtful for a moment. “My mom might accept you. She loved her sisters a great deal. But our grandfather is head of the Family and I’m not sure he’ll want anything to do with you. I can’t tell you what to expect out there. You might have Bear support. You might not.”

  MY BOOTS CLICK against the stone corridor as I speed-walk toward the dining hall. Layla and Ash were in their classes for a good hour longer than I was and so I spent that time stewing in my room. I’ve had an awful knot in my stomach ever since my encounter with Nyx this morning, and I’m crossing everything I have in the hopes that I can make it through the rest of the day without incident.

  I push through the enormous arched door with iron rivets that leads to the dining hall. Maroon velvet chairs, long tables laid with white linen tablecloths, and sparkly silver await me. There are centerpieces made from green ivy and clusters of white flowers, and from the ceiling hang cast-iron chandeliers alight with real candles. On a platform at the end of the room is a table of nineteen teachers presiding over the hall and an empty chair where Conner used to sit. The students speak in polite and quiet voices, exactly what you wouldn’t expect from a room full of a hundred teenagers eating dinner.

  I walk between the tables, avoiding the probing glances from the other students. No one has said anything to me about Conner’s death, but as I make my way across the room, everyone I pass follows me with their eyes. There were times this happened to me in the cafeteria in Pembrook, once in sixth grade after I scaled the flagpole and strung up a pair of enormous underwear and once in ninth grade when I put all the supplies for a dreaded science practical on the roof of the school. Only, back then I was met with hoots and cheers and pats on the back. But this attention is neither congratulatory nor good-natured, and instead of strutting I find myself wishing I could pull up the hood of my cloak.

  I’m halfway to my usual spot, where Ash and Layla are already seated, when Brendan suddenly pushes his chair back. He stands up, still chatting with a group of guys, and takes a wide stance, placing himself and his chair directly in my path. I slow my pace, unsure how to navigate this obvious challenge and aware that everyone is now paying attention. It’s not as though I can turn back and go a different way; it’ll look like I’m scared of him. Nyx, thankfully, is nowhere to be seen.

  I stop in front of Brendan. He makes no effort to move, and by the way his chest is puffed out, I’m certain he has no plan to.

  My shoulders tense. “Excuse me,” I say with as much civility as I can muster, but he doesn’t even look in my direction. “I know you hear me, Brendan. You’re not that subtle.”

  Now he does make eye contact with me. “Go around,” he says like he couldn’t care less that I’m being inconvenienced. He wears a smug smile and his voice is confident. His platinum hair reflects the candlelight above.

  From farther down the table Aarya leans back to get a good view. Ines gives me a sympathetic look.

  I stare at Brendan. “Or, you could literally move over a foot and push in your chair so I can get to my dinner,” I say. I could try to squeeze past him, but it would be tight and i
f he shifted his weight and knocked me over, I would fall into the table and probably land on a strategically placed knife.

  He considers my suggestion. “Nah, I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

  So much for not starting a fight.

  I exhale, scanning the room for an alternative solution, and find none. “Since we’re going to be here for a minute until you decide eating is more interesting than blocking my path, what should we discuss?” I say in a relaxed voice. “The weather, sports…or your friends helping Conner kill other students? Which makes me wonder, how were you involved in Stefano’s death, Brendan?”

  Brendan smirks. “Not bad. Not bad. But I was thinking more friendly chitchat.” He glances to the side to make sure the people near us are listening. “Maybe I should wish you well on your trip.”

  Aarya is practically falling out of her chair to listen.

  My heart thuds. He knows.

  Brendan scans my face. “Oh, you thought that was a secret?” He laughs. “Just another reason you’re going to fail.”

  I’m not sure whether he means I’ll fail to find my father in time or fail to retaliate against the Lions or maybe both. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

  “It’s odd,” I say, outwardly dismissing his comment. “No one in this school saw me coming. No one thought I would be any good. And yet I keep beating you at every turn. Does that mean I’m that good? Or you’re that bad?”

  His smirk suggests he knows something I don’t. “Maybe you’ll last a week…if you’re lucky.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” I say, doing my best to convince him and the onlookers that I’m not worried. “You’re in the running to be the head of the Lions, right? And technically we’re cousins. So does that mean I’m also a contender for the throne? Or whatever you power-obsessed Lions like to call it?”

  His chin juts out and his nostrils flare—not one but two indicators that he wants to hurt me. Brendan might not have tried to kill me with his bare hands thus far, but it’s obvious he wants me dead, and now I’m wondering if I inadvertently stumbled onto the reason he and his friends went after me so aggressively. I glance at the small gap between him and the table. If I make a move now, it won’t end well. But I also can’t stand here; he knows I’m leaving and he has every reason to want to incapacitate me, even if it does earn him a punishment.

  I make a flash decision and take the only other option available—I slip into his empty chair. I don’t dare look back at him. Instead, I scoop some mashed potatoes onto his clean plate.

  “How’s it going?” I say casually to the guys he was chatting with, who all stare at me, unsure, which I’m fairly certain is the Strategia version of shock.

  I keep a close watch on the guy directly across from me as he shifts his attention to Brendan. By the way the guy’s eyes move down and the slight pressure I feel on my chair, I’m pretty sure Brendan just gripped the back of it. If he yanks the chair backward, there is no way I won’t fall on my butt.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say with a mouth full of garlic mashed potatoes. “There is an entire table of teachers keeping close watch on this room, and if I go flying onto the floor—which I will make sure I do—it will look like you started a fight.”

  “Do you imagine I care if they think I started a fight?” he says with an arrogant tone, and he’s so close to the back of my head that the hair on my neck stands up.

  “I do, actually,” I say without turning around. “Because the one thing no one’s been able to figure out about me is how I did what others couldn’t—get into this school at seventeen. Maybe I have more influence than you think. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll use that influence to make your stay in the dungeon particularly unpleasant.” It’s a gamble. I’m banking on the assumption that he’s never been sent to the dungeon, considering he’s practically catered to at this school. And if I’m right, he probably fears it more than most. “Now as you said, if we get in a fight, I’m out of here. But you?”

  I feel his grip on the chair tighten and hear him suck in a deep breath.

  “It was lovely meeting you all,” I say to the table, and stand up on the other side of Brendan. I immediately start walking toward Ash and Layla, grateful that I got past him without a physical altercation.

  “It’s a shame what’s going to happen to your father,” he says, and I stop dead in my tracks. “I would tell you, but I guess you’ll know soon enough.”

  My heart jumps into my throat. I whip around. The look Brendan and I share is pure anger.

  Before I take a step in his direction, Ines stands up and blocks my path. Her red braid hangs down her back and her eyes are determined.

  “He wants you to attack him,” she says, and it’s literally the second time I’ve ever heard her speak. “And if you do, you won’t be leaving here anytime soon. He will win.” She watches me closely, as though she’s looking for a sign that I understand.

  I take a breath and unclench my fists. And just like that Ines sits back down and returns to her meal like none of it ever happened.

  “Thanks,” I say, but she doesn’t respond. Both Felix and Aarya stare at her, clearly as surprised that she spoke to me as I am.

  I don’t waste any time; I walk to my usual spot and sit down across from Ash and Layla, my heart rate elevated. It takes a couple of long breaths before I can relax my rigid posture and lean back in my chair.

  Ash smiles at me. “I can’t leave you alone for two minutes. Good thing I don’t intend to.”

  Layla raises her eyebrows. “Are you flirting right now? That could have turned into a fight.”

  “But it didn’t,” he says, as unfazed as usual. “November handled it beautifully. Sitting in Brendan’s chair was genius.”

  Layla frowns. “I seriously don’t know what to think about you two. One’s more reckless than the other.” She pauses. “You’re going to be completely lost without me.”

  Ash nudges her with his shoulder and grins at her in a way that gives me a clear window into what they must have been like as kids. “Is this you looking for an invite? Am I sensing a bit of, I don’t know, jealousy?”

  Layla gives him a hard look. “Jealousy? Not even close. I’m just looking forward to the moment when I can read a book in peace without having to save one of you from your own stupidity.”

  Ash laughs, but I don’t have a laugh in me. “He seemed so certain that I would fail,” I say, concern leaking into my voice. They both look at me.

  Ash’s smile fades, but he doesn’t appear worried. “Retaliation against the Lions is no small feat. From Brendan’s perspective, it’s unthinkable.”

  There is that word again, retaliation. Truth is, I haven’t even thought about retaliating. “I just want to find my dad,” I say.

  “Finding your father will not solve the problem,” Layla says as she refills her water glass. “The Lions will not stop hunting you both.”

  I know she’s right, that I haven’t properly considered the big picture. “I can’t stop thinking about what Brendan said about my dad,” I say, looking at them both for reassurance. “Could Brendan actually know something about what’s going on with him?”

  Ash’s lips subtly and momentarily tighten, which I recognize as one of the microexpressions Gupta taught us in deception class. Gupta said that when someone presses their lips together it’s often a sign that they’re holding back information or refraining from saying something.

  “Like I said, communication to and from the Academy is monitored and often delayed,” Ash says. “Brendan was probably just toying with you.”

  Layla remains silent, which tells me everything I need to know. Brendan might have been toying with me, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t also telling the truth.

  * * *

  The furniture in the common room of our suite, which once seemed lavish and
formal, now feels familiar and cozy. I scan every detail, trying to catalogue them all in my mind—the couch where Ash kissed me, the breakfast table near the arched window where Layla coached me for hours on end, and the fireplace, which I often sat in front of contemplating whatever my current mess was. I thought I hated this school, but when faced with leaving it, I realize I’ve felt more alive here than I ever have.

  Layla’s bedroom door opens and she joins me in the common room, glancing at the clock. “Almost time,” she says with a smile.

  I wish I could smile back. “I hate that we’re leaving you.”

  She brushes off my comment. “You’ll see me again soon.”

  “I know, but…”

  “You’ll be fine, November,” she says with such assurance that I almost believe her. “Watch out for each other, don’t let my brother do anything outrageous, and keep your eyes open. Danger always shows up when you least expect it.”

  Her words remind me of our lesson in poisons class today and I find myself agreeing with her warning. It reminds me how often Layla called me naïve when I first arrived, how right she probably was, and how much I’ve changed since I was last in Pembrook. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”

  Layla gives me a no-nonsense glare. “Now I’m going to give you something, but I swear if you get emotional I will take it right back.”

  “Okay,” I say in a cautious tone.

  She pulls something black and shiny out of her pocket and holds it before me.

  My eyes widen. “A lock of your hair?” I say, and my voice falters. We’ve been through some harrowing experiences together over these past few weeks and it’s fair to say that we’ve bonded, but it’s also always been clear that I’ve liked her more than she’s liked me.

  She holds up the braided lock, which is tied with a piece of thread. “In the Wolf Family we give a lock of hair to someone going on an important journey. It’s a show of faith, to tell you that I’m there with you in spirit and to wish you luck-filled travels and a quick trip home.” She sighs. “So I expect that you’ll bring this back when you both return safely.”