“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Swan, her perfectly smooth forehead puckering in a frown.
“It’s too nice,” I said. “What if at my rager someone spills beer?”
“I sincerely hope you are joking.” Her voice had lowered several notches and she was looking at me sternly. I gulped.
“Yes,” I said meekly. At that moment she reminded me of my mother.
Her face smoothed out again. “Wonderful.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t live here.”
“You don’t need to worry about the furniture. All of the ancient artifacts and things that were part of the Queen’s chambers have been put into storage in Astra’s very clean attic. All of this furniture is expendable, though I do hope you won’t make a habit of ruining furniture.” She was frowning again.
“It just feels too grand,” I said again. “Can I see the other rooms?”
She sighed. “You can, but I would really rather you stayed here.”
“Why?” I asked. “Are there, like, hidden cameras all over the place?”
I hated to admit it, but I had become a lot less trusting since last semester. If the President of my college couldn’t be trusted, could anyone?
Mrs. Swan waved her hand. “Certainly not. Cameras are a rudimentary way of spying on individuals, not nearly sophisticated enough for someone with magic. Like myself.” She winked at me.
I choked and she grinned.
“There is nothing in there that spies on you. There is an alarm that will tell me if there is a high concentration of darkness in your room or if you’re in distress. It has been especially set not to go off in the presence of Ms. Verlans. That is all.”
“Speaking of my friends. . . .”
I turned and hurried down the stairs. Just as I reached the bottom there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” said Mrs. Swan as she swept past me in a blur of blue.
I skidded to a halt. “Why can’t I open the door?”
She paused, hand on the handle, and said, “You can, but why risk it when I’m around?” She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and I blinked stupidly. This was going to take some getting used to. Basically, what she had just told me was that she was expendable and I was not.
“Good evening, Ms. Quest and Ms. Verlans,” said Mrs. Swan as she swept the door wide.
I took a little bit of comfort in Lisabelle’s shocked expression. I didn’t think I had ever seen her shocked before. Ha.
“Hi,” said Sip brightly. “How are you?” She stuck out her hand to Mrs. Swan, who looked pleased.
Lisabelle raised her eyebrows to me and I shrugged. “We can’t have even one normal night with you, can we?” she asked dryly.
Sip gave her a playful slap on the shoulder. “Who wants normal anyway?”
“I was just showing Ms. Rollins her room,” Mrs. Swan explained.
“It’s too big for me,” I added.
“Where is it?” Lisabelle asked. I pointed vaguely up the stairs and towards the back.
Lisabelle nodded. “You aren’t there because it’s big. You’re there because it’s the safest room in the house. Am I right?” she asked, turning to Mrs. Swan.
A small smile played across my new housemate’s lips. “You’re right, Ms. Verlans. If half the rumors are true, you are a smart lady indeed.”
“Oh, with Lisabelle I’m pretty sure more than half the rumors are true,” said Sip sadly.
“Shall we go into the kitchen and get a snack?” asked Mrs. Swan.
I was about to say yes when what could only have been described as a shudder went through Lisabelle.
“I actually wanted to see the room for the fire elementals,” I said. “Let’s go in there.”
Mrs. Swan nodded. “I’m still going to bring treats.”
“What are we, five?” Lisabelle muttered to me.
I grinned. “Maybe.”
Once we were all seated in the room covered in red and images of fire, Mrs. Swan came bustling in with a tray of cheese, cookies, and crackers, placing it in the middle of the table. She was about to leave when I said, “What did you mean about the Committee coming tomorrow?”
Lisabelle, mid-bite into her cookie, froze. “They’re coming tomorrow?” she mused. “That’s later than I thought they’d be here.”
Mrs. Swan gave her a pointed glance, her dark features serving to make her look like a glaring basilisk. I had a feeling she knew more than she wanted to say sitting here with freshmen at Public on their first night back.
“They’re coming at the first possible opportunity. It took a while to get everyone together. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”
Her phrasing had made the Committee members sound terribly important. I started to wonder who exactly they were.
Once Mrs. Swan had left Lisabelle said, “She’s interesting. I can’t quite tell if I like her or not.”
“That’s an improvement from your normal decision to hate everyone on sight,” Sip pointed out.
Lisabelle shrugged. “I like to mix it up.”
“And I’ll ask again,” I interrupted. “Who is the Committee?”
Sip, always ready with the answer to any question, said, “They’re the ones who are finding a new President for Public and who, until one is found, will be running the school.”
“And why,” I asked, still looking at Sip, “does Lisabelle looked like death warmed over at the prospect?”
Sip spared a quick look at Lisabelle. “Because there are four Committee members, one to represent the interests of each type of paranormal: Vampires, Pixies, Fallen Angels, and everyone who makes up Airlee. And Lisabelle hates authority, and authority hates her back, so she is rightfully nervous.” Sip gave our friend an evil grin.
“They didn’t invite you to be on it, did they, to represent the elementals?” asked Lisabelle, ignoring Sip’s gibe.
I shook my head.
“Well, she can’t,” said Sip with a wave of her hand. “She’s just a student. Anyway, the representative for Airlee is a darkness mage.”
My eyebrows raised. “Oh? Lisabelle will have some competition?”
Lisabelle snorted. “He’s not competition. More like a major annoyance.”
“Who are the other representatives?”
“We don’t know yet,” said Sip, shrugging. “I only know about the darkness mage because Lisabelle told me.”
“And how do you know about it?” I asked Lisabelle curiously.
Lisabelle grinned. “He was at our Christmas party. People say the funniest things after they’ve had some alcohol. He let it slip that he would be spending the semester at Public.”
“There was alcohol at your Christmas party?” asked Sip, aghast.
Sip grinned. “It was a family gathering. You can’t expect us to be able to get through that stone sober.”
Sip rolled her eyes.
“Oh, I almost forgot, they left a couple of things in your closet,” said Sip, glancing nervously at me. “Why don’t you come get them?”
“Personally, I think you should make that Mrs. Swan fetch them,” said Lisabelle, “since they went to the trouble of making you move and all.”
“Of course you think that. You see a person and what instantly pops into your head is ‘hum, how can I get on bad terms with this one? I’ll find a mathematician to plot me the fastest rout,’” Sip chirped.
“I don’t associate with mathematicians,” sniffed Lisabelle. “I might catch something nerdy.”
Stepping back into Airlee was weird. It looked exactly the same as when I had left a few hours before. The carpets were the same, all the impressive wall hangings were the same, but somehow it was no longer mine. The Committee was arriving the next day and I couldn’t wait to give them a piece of my mind, or several. I just hoped I would have a chance to talk to them.
“Are you going to challenge the decision to have you live in Astra?” Sip asked as we made our way to the third floor and my
former room.
I shook my head. “I need to talk to them, but my living in Astra is probably for the best.”
“What are you going to say?” Sip asked, skipping ahead to open her door.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to try and stand my ground. I need to go all Lisabelle on their butts,” I said.
Lisabelle smirked. “Which will be difficult for someone who just declined to swear.”
“My mother raised me right,” I replied, smiling.
“Swearing, really Lisabelle, it’s so vulgar,” argued Sip.
“Sometimes it’s the only way to get your point across,” said Lisabelle.
It felt strange walking back into my room, which had been the happiest place on campus for me last semester. Now my stuff was gone, or almost gone. The only thing left in the closet was a jacket I had never liked. I frowned. “Sip, I thought you said I had some stuff here, but is this really why I came over?” I asked, examining the jacket. I probably wouldn’t wear it again until next fall.
Sip sat on the edge of her bed, twisting her hands together and giving me a nervous smile. “Well, actually, no, I wanted you here when I told Lisabelle something.”
“I don’t want to live alone,” Sip explained, looking between us, “and I wanted you here when I explained to Lisabelle that there are only two people on campus who I’m willing to live with, you” - she nodded towards me - “and Lisabelle.”
Lisabelle made a strangled noise, but Sip held up her hand for silence. “I know Lisabelle prefers to live all alone in her room with no one to talk to and no one to keep her company and no one to brighten the space” - she spoke as if to me, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Lisabelle give a venomous glare in the direction of Sip’s neon decorations - “but what Lisabelle doesn’t understand is that we are friends,” Sip continued confidently. “And sometimes friends must make sacrifices for other friends, which is why Lisabelle is going to be my new roommate.”
Lisabelle made a noise like a cat being strangled.
“Look,” said Lisabelle, “I can’t live with anyone else. I like my space, I like my solitude, I like my own personal sense of style.”
“Black cloud?”
“And I especially can’t live with the Pep Princess of Public,” Lisabelle continued. “It’s just embarrassing.”
Sip’s eyes flashed briefly, then she grinned. Putting both her hands over her heart she said, “Look, Lisabelle, I want you to understand that I have heard your concerns, I truly have, and I understand where you are coming from. What you say makes a lot of sense.”
“Thank you,” said Lisabelle, nodding happily. “See?” she asked, turning to me. “You just need to know how to handle people.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Sip, springing to her feet with a wide smile and peeling out the door.
“Where’s she going?” I asked, frowning.
“Probably the bathroom,” said Lisabelle, shrugging.
A moment later Sip returned, her arms clutching a massive black blanket as tightly as she could. She dumped it on the bed. Lisabelle stood there dumbfounded, staring at her comforter, which Sip had just gone to fetch.
“So, when you say you wanted to have a discussion . . . ?” Lisabelle asked, her voice rising to a squeak.
“What I meant was that I was going to try and convince you of my rightness,” Sip confirmed. “It really is for the best. That’s all you’ll need for tonight, right? We can move the rest of your stuff tomorrow. Oh, this is going to be such fun!” Sip said, clapping her hands together. “We can decorate together.”
Lisabelle sank onto her new bed, her head in her hands. “This is going to be a VERY long semester,” she mumbled desperately.
“Don’t worry, Lisabelle,” said Sip, hurrying over and putting her arm around her new roommate’s shoulders comfortingly. “We’ll get through it together.”
“My point exactly.”
Chapter Six
It felt strange walking over to the dining hall from Astra. I was used to walking with Sip and Lisabelle, but now I was alone. They were going to meet me over there, probably with Lough.
The dining hall was pretty empty when I walked in. Most students would be arriving sometime today, assuming they made it though the demons, but they weren’t at breakfast. My friends were already there, in their usual table by the window, the sunlight beating down on them. I grinned.
When I reached the table Lough stood up and came towards me, arms outstretched.
“You know you gave her a hug when you saw her last night, don’t you?” Lisabelle asked.
“Of course,” said Lough, stepping back from me. “But she was forced to move to Astra after that. I gave her a hug in case she wanted some comfort.”
Lough said all of this as if to the room at large, not looking at Lisabelle. His cheeks were normally a bit red, but every time he looked at her his face did an excellent imitation of a cherry, and everyone noticed except Lisabelle.
Once I sat down Lough said, “So, what’s everyone taking this semester?”
“Oh, I have such a wonderful course load this semester. It’s really amazing what I’ll get to learn about,” said Sip brightly. “I’m taking Werewolf Speed as my elective, and then I think the other three we’re all in together?” She frowned. “Let me look at our schedule.”
Lisabelle rolled her eyes.
Sip pulled a laminated piece of paper out of her bag. “Can I see all of yours, too, please?” she asked, holding out her hand.
Quickly I fished through my folder - I got a new one every semester - and pulled out the printout of my schedule. Lough pulled his out of his pocket. Sip raised her eyebrows expectantly at Lisabelle, who started to fish within her dress, finally pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Oh,” Sip moaned. “You should have let me laminate it.”
“Next semester for sure,” said Lisabelle sarcastically.
“Are you making fun of me?” Sip asked, frowning.
“Yes.”
“Okay, so . . . let’s see here,” said Sip, peering at the schedules. “We each have one elective, and then three other classes,” she said.
“Lisabelle’s elective is Darkness 101, excellent, Lough’s is Dream Giver Advanced Dreams, and Charlotte yours is . . . ohhh that’s fascinating.”
“What?” I asked. I had noticed what my elective was, but I wasn’t especially happy about it.
“You’re doing an internship in the Museum of Masks. That’s really impressive,” she said in awe.
“Oh nice,” said Lough. “Awesome. Someone must like you.”
“Everyone likes Charlotte,” said Sip, “except Camilla.”
“Oh, her,” Lough scoffed. “You’d think someone that pretty would be more pleasant.”
“That’s not really how it works,” said Lisabelle dryly.
“Obviously,” said Sip, grinning at her.
“Why is it impressive that I have that internship?” I asked. I knew nothing about the Museum of Masks.
“First, Starters, or former Starters since we all passed our tests, don’t usually get internships. Like, maybe in the summer most of us will have internships, but during the semester usually only seniors have them. Also, the Museum of Masks is one of several Museums on campus, but it’s probably the most important. Consequently, internships are only rarely given out there. Plus, the paranormal that runs it, Professor Dacer, is known to be a bit eccentric. He’s a vampire, but he doesn’t teach because he doesn’t like students.”
“Being a professor, then, makes perfect sense,” said Lisabelle with amusement.
“It’s the masks,” said Sip. “He loves them. And a lot of them have to do with vampire history, so they’re very important to him.”
“What are the masks, exactly?” I asked. “Just something that you wear to a fancy ball?”
“No, absolutely not,” said Sip, hurrying to correct my mistake. “They aren’t masks that you mess with. Masks are what they sound like, physical o
bjects that you put over your face, but they hold intense powers. To put one on is to wield that power and to have the ability to cause lots of goodness . . . or lots of pain. The making of masks was popular several hundred years ago. They were used in conjunction with rings to hold paranormal powers, but normally instead of just intensifying powers that the rings already had, masks created new powers. And there was about a ten year period when people were making masks that created dangerous powers.”
“What do you mean by dangerous?” I wanted to know. My attention was totally focused on what Sip was saying. It sounded like my internship might turn out to be more interesting than I had thought. Somehow I had assumed it was going to be more like a punishment.
“I mean,” said Sip carefully, “that some of the masks have the ability to kill. Many of them are specifically targeted or geared towards one paranormal type, which means that one mask might send bursts of energy into the air, so that whoever is wearing it could disrupt the flight of a fallen angel. Or another mask could block the moon, thus cutting werewolves off from the source of their changing.”
“But you can change whenever you want,” I argued, and for about the millionth time I wished I had grown up around paranormals or believed my mother or SOMETHING.
“Yes, but that’s irrelevant. There still has to be a moon for us to exist,” said Sip, waving her hand impatiently. “There are less powerful masks too, of course, and maybe those are the ones you’ll be working with.”
“Wait, how will I be working with them? There’s no way they’re going to let some freshman handle masks that could kill people.”
“Why not?” asked Lisabelle. When we all looked at her with raised eyebrows she continued. “I mean, think about it. I could kill people with my hand if I wanted to.”
“It’s just SO good of you not to,” said Sip dryly.
“And who is this Dacer?” asked Lough. “I’ve never heard of him, but he sounds scary.”
“How does he sound scary?” Lisabelle asked. “The only thing you know about him is that he’s a vampire.”
At Lisabelle’s direct address, Lough’s breathing instantly quickened. “That’s all I need to know,” he stammered.
Museum of Masks (Paranormal Public Series) Page 4
