“Good,” Arthur says. “Remember that feeling next time we practice. And as a reward for your success, I’ll give you a days’ rest.”
For some inexplicable reason, the idea of not training with him tomorrow leaves me disappointed.
“And when you have this one under control, you can practice with others,” Arthur says. “Just don’t use Dagaz.”
“Why not?” I ask, feeling myself slip into dreamland.
“Especially not when wearing metal,” I hear him say as if from very far away. “It would be suicidal.”
When I open my eyes again, Arthur’s gone. I look about the room. If I thought it was messy before, it’s nothing compared to what we’ve done to it during this practice session. Every single piece of furniture has been turned to shreds. And before me lies the chair leg Arthur had used as a weapon, neatly sliced in two.
My chest swells with pride—my work, and mine alone!
I can barely get my tired mind to shut up long enough to fall asleep. But it doesn’t stop me from springing out of bed the next morning, still pumped full of adrenaline, a foolish grin slapped on my face.
“If you’re that energetic,” Keva tells me, applying her mascara, “tell your little furry friend there that next time he tries to sneak in on me while I’m changing, I’ll have him neutered.”
“No problem,” I say, unable to get my cheeks to function properly again. Puck jumps into my arms, and I pet him hello.
“What is wrong with you?” Keva asks, arching her eyebrow at me in her mirror. She swivels around to face me. “You dreamed of a boy, didn’t you?”
Still smiling, I shake my head, but Keva’s already gone into la-la land.
“Can’t be anyone from here,” she says, “nobody’s that stupid.”
My smile falters. Keva slams her hand on her desk. “It’s that Deacon guy, isn’t it?” she asks, her eyes fiery with excitement. “I knew it! I told Bri there was something going on between the two of you, what with the way he looks at you…” She smiles impishly. “Like he wants to eat you.”
I stare at her before bursting out laughing. “You mean Dean?” I ask, shaking so much Puck hops out of my arms. “Please, that’s ridiculous. He’s like a father to me, or a much older brother, that’s all.”
“Whatevs,” Keva says. “I saw what I saw. You can be in denial if you want.”
I wish I could tell her the truth, but I know that’s impossible. Not only would I get Arthur and myself in trouble, but I might lose my ring, and there’s no way I’d want to risk it. But despite that, for the first time in my life, I feel I truly belong somewhere, that I’m not a failure, and it feels really good.
“Where were you after practice yesterday?” Keva asks, applying lipstick. “We waited for you, but you never showed up.”
“I had more work to do,” I say, looking away. Keva is rather apt at knowing when I lie.
“Right.”
The church bells ring, calling us to Mass, in time to prevent me from having to expand on the subject, and I rush outside.
“What happened to her?” I hear Bri ask my roommate as I skip on our way to church.
“Probably got a concussion at practice last night,” Keva replies. “Would explain a lot.”
Bri giggles. “She’s gotten beaten up before. It’s never affected her this way though.”
“Well, why don’t you ask her?” Keva retorts with a huff. “She’s the one who’s been coming back to the dorms super late every night.”
I slow down to let my friends catch up and to avoid the odd glances from the rest of the school. The cool quiet of the church greets us as we head over to the pages’ area. I glance over to the KORT benches but, apart from Jennifer, no one’s arrived yet, not even my ever-punctual brother.
“What’s going on?” I whisper in Keva’s ear.
Noticing where I’m looking, she gives me her usual shrug. “If you’re not going to answer my questions, I don’t see why I should answer yours.” She shakes her finger before I can protest. “No, no. That’s the basis of relationships: give and take. Unless one happens to be a masochist, which is definitely not my case.”
Father Tristan clears his throat, and we all turn our attention to his lithe figure, erect before the simple stone altar.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,” he intones, his clear voice resonating around the domed ceiling.
“Amen,” I say.
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you,” Father Tristan continues, his hands and eyes raised to the ceiling as if he can see the Holy Spirit itself descending.
“And with you also,” I drone.
The priest’s clear eyes deign to lower themselves to our sinful forms. I do so wish he’d hurry, however blasphemous that might be. I just don’t have it in me to be kneeling or sitting down for a whole hour, not today.
Besides, what is KORT doing? I’ve been here nearly a month, and I’ve never seen them miss a single Mass. They are the epitome of the good students, always following the rules and setting the right example. Except, perhaps, for the cousins and Percy.
“And so it is that summer is drawing to an end,” Father Tristan says. “All Saints’ Day—or, as many of you like to call it, Samhain— will soon be upon us. And if you are not ready, mentally and physically, the demons lurking in the shadows will pounce, eager for your demise. And they will show no mercy.”
The doors open up, and in walk the eleven KORT members, Arthur at their head. They each kneel before the altar, cross themselves, then take up their habitual seats.
I throw surreptitious looks in their direction for the rest of the liturgy. They all look drawn, tense. Is it that my secret training sessions have been discovered?
I scrutinize Arthur more openly, but apart from a slight twitch in his jaw, he seems perfectly fine.
Once the service over, we stream out to get to the dining hall as quickly as possible. I scan the group of seniors ahead of us, searching for Arthur’s broad back, but he and the rest of KORT have already disappeared.
It’s not until we’re at breakfast that Keva finds out what’s going on.
“Apparently she didn’t come back yesterday,” she says, drenching her oatmeal in honey. “So something must have happened during her round.”
“Who didn’t come back?” I ask.
“Her squire is also missing,” Keva continues, without bothering to look at me.
“Whose squire?” I ask.
“If you wanted to know, you should’ve been paying attention,” she snaps.
“It’s K,” Bri says. “Knights go on rounds at the surface at least once a week to make sure everything’s OK. Last night was her turn, but she hasn’t come back.”
“But I thought the Board was in charge of all surface affairs?” I ask.
Jack nods, his mouth stuffed. “Idz gof idz gloch dar schall.”
“Bless you,” Keva says.
“The area around Lake Winnebago’s also under our supervision,” Bri explains. “The Board’s already stretched thin, so the lake is under KORT’s jurisdiction too, even at the surface.”
“Which would explain why Arthur and the others went on the island,” I muse.
“They went where?” Keva asks, ears perked up.
“Never mind,” I say and realize belatedly I’ve just made my second mistake of the day with her.
Glowering, Keva says, “Well that’s all I heard. If you’ll excuse me.” She pushes her chair back and walks away imperiously.
“So what kind of trouble could she have gotten into?” I ask.
I remember the empty houses, the clurichaun’s fear before he disappeared. Goose bumps rise along my arms.
“Who knows?” Jack says. “Could be anything. Fey, or even laypeople. Or it could be something stupid, like this one time, Gareth was found sleeping on duty. Only got caught because he didn’t wake in time to go to church.”
“It doesn�
��t make sense,” Bri says. “K’s always been a stickler for the rules, more so than Arthur. She would never have fallen asleep while on duty.”
“Maybe she was just delayed,” I say. “And that’s why her squire’s not back yet either.” I try hard not to think of this K suffering a fate like Owen’s, or worse.
“I guess we’ll find out later,” Bri says, looking like her thoughts have followed along parallel paths to mine.
We’re about to set our trays away, when the doors to the hall slam open and a girl stumbles in, her cheeks flushed from running.
“They’ve found Rei!” she yells, huffing loudly.
Everyone rushes out like the place is on fire. Bri, Jack, and I follow the crowd at an ever-increasing speed north through the school, past the church, and toward the large standing stone I’d once visited with Lady Vivian.
The stone is still there, towering over the growing throng of people, which is unusually quiet.
“What’s going on?” Bri asks as we near the large group clustered at the base of the rock.
“Looks like they found something,” I say, hopping up to get a better view, but all I can tell is that people are looking at something behind the warding stone.
“Let’s get closer,” Bri suggests.
To the annoyance of some onlookers, we push our way through. We’re about to reach the front when a couple of salamanders send sparks flying in the air like some kind of signal.
“Why are the doctors taking so long?” I hear someone exclaim.
“Someone’s hurt,” Jack says.
“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” Bri says as she tries to peer from around a knight’s beefy arms. She draws in a sharp breath. “It’s Rei, K’s squire.”
“Excuse me,” I say, forcing my way past the knight, and freeze.
Lying in a patch of dead grass is a young girl, her long black hair fanned out about her face. Kneeling next to her is Arthur, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He motions for Percy to come near him and starts talking to him very low.
“She’s dead,” Bri murmurs next to me.
I stare at the dead girl. Every single muscle in my body tenses. I let out a soft moan as I take in the dark lines marring her otherwise serene face, almond eyes closed to the outside world.
Memories of my last few days in Switzerland, memories I’d finally managed to suppress, come back to me full force.
“She’s been poisoned,” a girl says.
“How?” another asks.
The questions and theories are thrown out in a familiar pattern. At last, a couple of male nurses arrive, carrying a stretcher. They carefully lay the lifeless girl on it, then march back to the school.
I watch them pass by, unable to tear my gaze from all those black veins. Will this nightmare never stop?
“It’s your fault!”
The people who’d started following the nurses back stop in their tracks and turn to face me.
“It’s your fault this happened to her,” says Jennifer, stalking toward me like a tigress toward its prey.
I feel myself grow cold. “No,” I say.
She keeps advancing on me, her ice-blue eyes fixed on mine. “Wasn’t this why you were kicked out of your previous school?”
My mouth goes dry. “No.”
A disdainful look flashes on her perfect features. “There’s no need to lie, Morgan. There’s someone here who can tell us the truth. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”
I look past her at Arthur, standing rigid as a Greek statue, his face as unreadable.
Jennifer looks over her shoulder at him. “I heard her classmate died in a similar way,” she says, “and she was the primary suspect. Am I wrong?”
I clench my hands together to prevent them from shaking.
Don’t listen to her, my guardian angel’s voice breathes. Don’t cry before them, and stand strong.
“Nothing was proven,” Arthur growls, so low it might as well have never been said.
Jennifer turns back to me with a cruel smile. “Can anyone deny what I’ve said? And after her previous school, she’s brought the killings to us. We’ve found Rei, Morgan, but where’s Kaede?”
She’s standing so close to me I can feel her breath on my face. Like a vulture, she circles me until she’s standing behind me.
“Where were you last night?” she asks.
I flick my eyes toward Arthur, but he hasn’t moved an inch, his lips sealed.
Clearly, he’s not planning on saying a single thing in my defense. I take a deep breath, trying to deal with this betrayal. It’s not the first time someone’s stabbed me in the back. I should be immune to it by now. I look at the gray sky to keep the tears from pouring out.
“Well, if you’re not going to answer,” Jennifer continues, “perhaps I’ll ask your roommate.” She faces the crowd. “Is Morgan’s roommate here?”
“She was with me,” Arthur says.
Jennifer’s triumphant look turns sour. “What for?”
“Do I really have to explain my every move to you?” Arthur quips, looking cold and distant.
Jennifer’s composure slips. “No, I—”
Arthur strides after the nurses before she finishes, ignoring my grateful look.
“We’re not done with this,” Jennifer tells me through clenched teeth. “What I said was true, and nothing your brother says can undo that.”
My stomach sinks as she walks away. She’s cast her judgment, and now the eyes of hundreds of students pierce me like a thousand arrows pierced Saint Sebastian.
“You have no proof!” Bri exclaims though Jennifer’s halfway to the school now. “If she had been guilty, they wouldn’t have let her go.”
“Maybe they couldn’t find out how she did it,” a guy ventures.
“Well, can you?” Bri retorts. “You know how she did it?”
“It could’ve been poison,” someone interjects. “I hear she’s good with those.”
“Then the police would have found out it was,” Bri says. “Or at least the Board. But no, they let her come here. And that’s because they know she isn’t the one behind it. Didn’t you see the body? Who do you think would have the ability to do such a thing? You? No. A KORT member? I doubt it. But certainly not someone who doesn’t even know how to do EM!”
I see a few people nod, whispering to each other. As they herd back inside, the noose around my neck uncoils a few notches.
“Thanks,” I say to Bri when they’re all gone.
“Don’t mention it,” she says. “I know you didn’t do it. It was one of them. And believe me, when I find those Fey, I’m going to destroy them.”
The sweetness of September is swiftly replaced with the bitterness of October, bringing with it the first snowfall. Though the weather under the lake is milder, I can still feel a shift in the light, like all the colors have been muted.
What I wish would be muted instead are the rumors surrounding Rei’s death and K’s disappearance, but they’re still going strong, spurred every so often by more supposed proof of my involvement.
“You shouldn’t go in here,” Bri says as Keva and I arrive before Sir Boris’s classroom. “I mean, you should wait a bit.”
“Wait for what?” I ask, pushing through anyway.
Taped to the blackboard are hundreds of newspaper cuttings and enlarged pictures of Agnès’s dead body, and of me as I’m being taken to the police station. Jack’s trying to tear everything down, though with difficulty. In their corner, Ross and Brockton snigger, and I feel Daniel’s intense gaze follow my every movement.
Shock, then anger flare within me, warring with my desire to flee and never be seen again. But that’s exactly what all these kids want. I clench my jaw shut and head straight for my seat, to the disappointment of many.
Just pretend none of it’s there, I tell myself in a now overly familiar self-hypnosis pattern. Pretend like everything’s as it should be and nobody even knows you’re here.
But it’s hard to believe in my own wo
rds when the whole world is dead set against me.
“What is this?” asks Sir Boris when he sees the partially torn collage.
Jack hurries back to his seat.
“Who’s the dolt who messed up my room?” he asks again, furious enough his Russian accent grows thicker.
Every student’s eyes are kept studiously down as the teacher scans the rows, looking for the culprit. His gaze crosses mine and lingers there for a second before moving on.
“Very well. Mr. von Blumenthal, please clear this up. Bistro!”19
“But I didn’t—” Daniel starts protesting.
“Whether you’re the instigator is of no concern to me,” Sir Boris says. “You seem like an enterprising young man. Surely you can get rid of this filth in under a minute. Now get a move on, boy. We haven’t got all day.”
Daniel glares at me as he gets up. I shrug, enjoying this tiny victory, for I know he’s the one behind this.
But this instant of glory is quickly dispelled by the constant attacks I’m faced with whenever Sir Boris’s back is turned. On my way to the blackboard, Dina trips me and I sprawl to the floor under the laughter of my classmates. Burning with humiliation, I quickly return to my seat.
“Morgan, watch out!” Bri shouts.
I duck instinctively as a pair of scissors zooms past me to embed itself, sharp end first, in my textbook.
“You did that on purpose!” I yell, looking at Daniel accusingly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daniel says with a sneer.
“Miss Pendragon!” Sir Boris exclaims. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Glaring, I yank the pair of scissors out of my book before grabbing my backpack. I’m done with this place.
“Where are you going, Miss Pendragon?” Sir Boris asks, his face purpling with anger.
Angry tears stinging my eyes, I make my escape. I realize that I should be the bigger person, but it’s awfully hard to turn the other cheek when all people want to do is squish me to a pulp.
Somehow, I end up by the kitchens. I veer left toward my secret practice room, eager to avoid attention. But once inside the storage room, I find it hard to get my composure back.
Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) Page 22
