Seemingly with great effort, he shoved himself off the wall. "Let's head—"
My bell began to ring. I froze, a hard shudder sweeping down my spine.
Ramsey stopped next to me and tensed his jaw while he searched our surroundings. "Not all that surprising."
He was right. Of course there were reliving wandering around down here, but that didn't mean I had to like it. Or that I'd prepared myself for it. I screwed my eyes shut briefly and willed my spine straight as the bell continued to ring.
“Let’s keep going,” he whispered. “We can double back and get out of here.”
As we crept onward, the tunnel walls narrowed considerably, forcing us to slide through them sideways at times. I hated it, feeling closed in like this. It felt like I was being buried alive.
My bell kept ringing. My heart crashed into my ribs as I squeezed myself around the next bend and the next, fully expecting a reliver to charge at me head-on.
"Maybe you should’ve gone first?" I muttered. My eyes felt like they were swallowing up my head, they were so wide, trying to take in as much of my dark light as possible so I could see in front of me.
"I disagree." His breaths rasped close to my ear.
"Why?"
"I can hear something moving. I think whatever’s making your bell ring is right behind us."
Alarms blared inside my head. I thought skinny thoughts, tightened my grip on his hand, and dragged him along even faster.
"Do you know the spell?" I squeaked out. "The spell that kills them again?"
"Never had the chance to try it yet, but I'm about to find out," he whispered, "because it's gaining on us."
Oh gods. The bone walls pressed in even farther, making forward progress even slower. We had to suck in and basically stop breathing. We couldn't go back the way we came, so what if we got stuck? The only ones around to hear us scream were dead. Or not dead, which was even worse.
Ramsey's grip loosened from mine, and he cried out.
I whipped my head back toward him, the bone wall in front of me so close it scraped over my nose. "What is it?"
"I'm stuck." Panic lit over his features as he wriggled and squirmed his wide shoulders between the two walls, throwing looks behind him.
"No." I refused to believe it. I yanked on his arm, but he wasn't budging. Ahead, the walls curved again, possibly into a tighter crevasse. And behind, over the ringing bell, something scratched over the walls, like bone on bone. Coming closer.
"Revertere ad mortem," Ramsey shouted, but it didn't do anything. The bell and the scratching sound continued.
From my limited angle, I couldn't see anything, so I shoved myself backward toward him, shook free of Ramsey's grip, and shoved my hand through the small space between his neck and jaw. "Revertere ad mortem."
Nothing. The scratching came closer. It might not even be a reliver. It could be whoever was down here with us ready with another killing spell. And Ramsey wouldn’t be able to dodge it.
“Transport out of here,” I whispered.
He whipped his head around to stare at me like I was crazy. “Not without you.”
“I’m not stuck. I can get out fine. Just go,” I hissed.
He pushed his lips together, his shoulders heaving. “Fine. I’ll be inside the skull waiting for you. Do not double back and see who’s behind us. Go forward, find a new tunnel, and don’t get lost.” He reached up and dragged me forward for a rough, brief kiss. “Evanescet.”
He vanished.
I stared at where he’d been, my lips still tingling. Over the sounds of the bell and the scratching came a new noise, a strange tapping coming from the other end of the tunnel. Someone—something—else was coming. And I was trapped in the middle.
My elbow bumped hard between the two walls as I stuffed my hand into my pocket and grasped the skeletal digits. “Umbra deambulatio.”
I scattered apart into a shadow and doubled back the way we’d come. Maybe I could creep right by whoever was here with me. I slinked along the ground, the noises coming from both directions growing louder.
Then I saw what was coming straight for me. Nothing but bones with a skull that bobbed on its spine at a wrong angle. It stared with an emptiness that went beyond its eye sockets that shook me to my soul. There wasn’t a lot of space to slide around it, but I’d do my best. As soon as I slinked underneath its swinging head, though, it bent and grabbed me. Grabbed shadow me. Except that wasn’t possible. You couldn’t grab a shadow.
My panic spiking, I lurched away from it, pouring backward along the tunnel like spilled ink. Just enough to buy me some time, then I morphed into the real me. Or tried to. The shadows yanked and pulled, refusing to let me out of their clutches.
Behind me, the tapping came louder and faster. In front of me, the reanimated skeleton lunged again. I groaned with the effort to free myself, but the shadows wouldn’t budge.
“Revertere ad mortem,” I shouted. Wasn’t that the spell Ramsey had said? It didn’t do a damn thing.
The skeleton kept coming. So did the thing behind me. The shadows still gripped me, and I couldn’t even free a hand to do a petrification spell. It was almost upon me. By the sound of it, so was the thing behind me.
Gritting my teeth, I fought and pulled. I gained inches of myself back and knocked wildly between the two walls with bruising force.
The skeleton’s empty sockets locked on my eyes. It reached down for my head.
Finally, I wrenched myself free. Without a second thought, I snatched the dagger from my boot and surged upward. The blade pierced harmlessly between two ribs. When my fist hit the ribs a second after, I punched through bone. The thing shattered and dissolved into bone fragments.
From behind, something slithered into my hair, tightened painfully, and threw my head against the wall.
I cried out and stumbled forward. Still seeing stars, I poured on speed and dared a glance back. Another reliver gave chase, this one with rotted, stringy flesh stretched between its jaw and cheekbones. It would kill me, the horrible pain in my head proof of that.
“Obrigesunt,” I shouted, aiming behind me. But my gray magic bounced off the wall. I couldn’t stop to take aim. It was coming too fast.
I burst into the small cavern where Ramsey and I had first learned we weren’t alone down here. I was almost to the skull where Ramsey would be waiting.
From out of the shadows, the cloaked figure stepped in front of me.
Desperation twisted me up. I slowed as everything inside me screamed. The reliver behind me sped its pace, gaining on me fast. Death in front of me and death behind me.
“Occidere,” the cloaked figure hissed and hurled black-veined green spheres from their palms right at my head.
At the last second, I threw myself to the ground. The sphere flew overhead, slammed into the reliver, and bones exploded everywhere.
"Reducere," Ramsey yelled at the same time from somewhere unseen.
The cloaked figure dissolved into swirling black mist, and behind where it had been stood Ramsey. Paler than I’d ever seen him, he surged forward, took my wrists, and hauled me to my feet.
Keeping his grip on me tight, we raced upward for the skull and the exit. “Had enough of the catacombs for one day?”
I swallowed down my relief. “Yeah. That was plenty.”
Chapter Eight
PROFESSOR MARGO WOOLERY stared out at all of us in Death, Dying, and Reliving class as she paused dramatically at the end of a dark, drawn-out cautionary tale. "So that's why you should never, ever mix necromancy with drinking mead."
"Because of the alcohol?" a freshman in the front asked.
The professor clucked her tongue and closed her eyes briefly since her point for the last hour must’ve gotten lost. "No, Ferris. Because of the honey in mead. It works well with white magic spells but not necromancy given its sticky qualities, especially in mead, as I just explained. Necromancy spells can stick to your tongue after drinking mead and make you repeat them whenever you o
pen your mouth, like what happened to Mr. Wallace Tister, whom I just told you about. Were you sleeping with your eyes open again, Ferris?"
He scratched his quill to his temple and shrugged.
"Four-page essays on other foods and drinks that should be avoided while performing necromancy due tomorrow, everyone. I want thoughtful, complete work this time." She tapped the table in front of Echo and gave her a meaningful look. "Not like last time."
I could feel Echo's scowl without even looking at her, like she was trying to crack through Professor Woolery's friendly smile. It didn't work.
While the rest of the class gathered their things and stood, she aimed her smile at me. "Dawn, could I see you for a moment?"
I bit back a groan and fought to keep my face expressionless while my insides curled up and died. No, I didn't want to talk about Leo or the schoolwork I knew I was behind on or any number of my past traumas or mistakes. I rose from my seat, though, and crossed the center aisle toward her while Jon and Echo eavesdropped in the aisle behind me.
The professor dipped her head to look at me with kind eyes, her smile unwavering. "How are you?"
"Better than Mr. Wallace Tister?"
She chuckled, such a pleasant sound. I wished I'd known her while she and Leo had been together. I'd always wondered what it would be like to have an older sister and would often tell Leo as much, especially when I was little and especially when he got to do something just because he was a guy. Like chopping firewood. I'd always wanted to help, but no one trusted me with an ax, apparently.
I wish you were my sister, I’d told him more than once when I was about six or seven.
Well, I wish you smelled like you took a bath once in a while. He tapped me on the shoulder from behind, and when I spun around and saw no one there, he danced around me laughing. I guess none of us will get our wishes.
I took a bath, um... Well, he’d gotten me there since I hadn’t remembered when exactly. Don't you wish I were your brother?
Nah, Biscuit. Then you wouldn’t be you. He’d smiled then, and I’d stopped fussing after that.
Was I me now, here at this academy instead of White Magic Academy and learning about the dangers of mixing necromancy with mead?
"Dawn?"
I blinked and found Professor Woolery staring back at me with raised eyebrows like she'd been waiting for an answer. "Sorry, what?"
"Is there anything I can do? Any questions I can answer about your missing assignments?"
Everything inside me sagged. "No. I've got it all figured out."
"That's good to hear,” she said. “I look forward to reading your papers, then."
I nodded, glancing down, and something fluttered from the professor's hand. Quickly, before I could see what it was on the ground, she moved her brown buckled shoe to cover it. I snapped my gaze up to hers again, but she didn't act like anything was wrong. What was that? And why had she hidden it?
She pointed behind me toward the classroom door. "If you have it under control, better get to your next class."
"Okay. See you, Professor." I turned, the back of my neck prickling.
She was watching me. I could feel it. How was it that someone could be so constantly gorgeous and happy after everything that had happened? What did she have to be happy about? The fact that Ryze was back? Was she in on it somehow? Was that a death charm hidden under her shoe she’d dropped on the floor instead of into my pocket?
Jon and Echo stood like sentinels in the center aisle, and they both must've read something from my open-book face. Echo slid a glare toward the professor, and Jon reached behind his back, for what I didn’t know. I gathered my parchment and risked another look at the professor from behind my lashes. She hadn't moved, her kind smile carved to her face. She was hiding something behind that too. Maybe she was the skin-walker, or maybe right at this moment, the skin-walker was her.
The three of us got out of there fast. Out in the hallway a safe distance away, I muttered, "What do we really know about her?"
"She loves assigning research papers?" Jon offered.
"Ridiculously high expectations?" Echo said at the same time.
"When I was talking to her, something fell from her hand, and she hid it. I couldn't tell what it was. A death charm maybe. Check your pockets." While they did theirs, I grasped the dead man's open hand in mine. I could slip back in there as a shadow and discover everything she was hiding. She wouldn't even know I was there.
"No charms," Echo said.
Jon shrugged. "I'm good."
"Okay...listen." I looked over my shoulder and about jumped out of my skin.
She was following us, still smiling as she greeted the students who passed her. But then there was a break in the crowd, and her smile vanished as she faced straight forward again. Right at me.
I turned back around and quickened my steps. "Don’t look, but she's right behind us."
"She's not going to try anything in a crowded hallway," Echo said.
"Accidents happen," I said, thinking of Vickie. Her murder had been no accident.
"So we go to our next class.” Jon shrugged. “Pretend like nothing's wrong."
Echo shot him a look. "How practical of you.”
“Thanks. It's what I was going to do anyway," he said, missing her sarcasm, or choosing to ignore it.
Symbology was on the first floor. As we took the steps down, I looked again over my shoulder—and nearly froze. She was almost upon us, so close my billowing cloak nearly touched hers. Her hand was in her pocket, too. What did she have in there? A twin's eyeball for skin-walking? A knife? She was smiling again at passing students as they hurried to class, and she cut her gaze to me. I immediately faced forward again and steered us quickly to the left, out of her path.
We rushed toward Symbology, my back prickling with her nearness. She was right behind us despite there being an entire hallway to walk in. We dove inside the classroom, and I whirled around, expecting her to barge in after us. But the door slammed shut in my face.
"Well?" a voice creaked to my right. It was Professor Turtle—technically Professor Pain—his shoulders stooped as if from the weight of a shell. He was so old, I expected him to exhale dust. "Sit. I literally don't have all day."
I glanced again at the door in front of my nose, running through a list of excuses to get back out there and follow Professor Woolery.
"You think you can get out of here, try it," he rasped as he started the long distance to the front of the room toward his desk. "In fact, your assignment today is to find a counter-symbol to the one that shuts and locks the door throughout the hour and a half I have you for class. Pro tip—you'll find it on the ceiling."
The class—all fifteen of us—tilted our heads back and back some more. The ceiling towered above us about forty feet high and was covered with square-cut stones engraved with different symbols. Hundreds of them.
Professor Turtle cackled, having only taken two steps closer to his desk. "Good luck."
NO SURPRISE THAT WE didn't find the symbol. But we did get out of there in a hurry at the end of class. Professor Woolery was long gone, of course, and we didn't see her for the rest of the morning or afternoon.
On the way to P.P.E.,—which was now held outside instead of the gym—something else curious happened. We were headed down the hall when Ramsey caught my eye from the other end. He wore his crooked, dimpled smile that meant he was up to no good. With his hand on a classroom’s doorknob, he jerked his head for me to follow him inside.
Only I didn’t sense his magical signature through our blood bond.
“Hey, I’ll catch up with you two outside,” I said, unable to tear my gaze away from Ramsey.
Jon and Echo nodded, barely stopping their serious discussion about whether a gorlab bog beast should have wings or not. Side note, they don’t, and I must’ve missed the part where they decided they both should have a say in the beast’s biology. Regardless, it was lovably weird of them.
They went on ahead whi
le I crept up on the room Ramsey had disappeared through. Still no hint of his magical signature. It had to be the skin-walker, but it didn’t need to know that I knew that.
Outside the closed door, I bent to retrieve my dagger from my boot, keeping it hidden under my sleeve. The thought of revenge burned along my nerves and made my whole body tremble. With my heart striking the back of my throat, I turned the knob. The door opened silently into a torchlit classroom filled with tables and chairs. Empty except for Ramsey. He stood in the middle aisle with his back turned, facing the far wall. Just like Seph used to in the gym...when she was not Seph.
“Hey, did you need something?” My voice sounded calm and measured. A small victory really since the need to attack my brother’s killer seared through muscle and bone and filled my mouth with ashes. I gripped my dagger tighter and shut the door behind me, willing my face blank before I turned around. The real Ramsey would have no trouble reading it anyway.
“Come here,” the skin-walker said and sounded just like him. “I want to show you something.”
A knife as sharp as mine, maybe? The same knife it had killed Leo with?
I burned my gaze through its black cloak as I neared while the back of my mind whirred. I had the advantage here. Not it. Time to find out who the skin-walker really was.
My lips peeled back in a manic grin, and I lifted my arm palm up. “Obrig—”
The door burst open behind me, and a couple attached at the lips stumbled in.
I whipped my head from them back to the skin-walker. Gone. Vanished.
“NO!” I shouted. Frustrated tears scorched my eyes as I whirled on the couple. “Get. Out.”
They unlocked from each other and scrambled out the door, and I crumbled to the ground in a seething, twisted mass of rage.
LATER THAT DAY IN UNDEAD Botany, some of us nearly died. Again. Whether it was because we were freshmen or because of Ryze’s effect on magic since his return, I didn’t know.
“Adhuc plantabis vixeritis,” the freshmen all said to the dead vines coiled on their tables.
Necromancer Revealed: Book 3 Page 8
