Instrument of Peace (Symphony of the Cursed Book 1)

by Rebecca Hall

  “If I may have your attention,” Dr Dalman yelled, having lost the microphone in the confusion. Her voice was laced with subtle hints of empathic magic intended to calm the panicked students. It made Mitch’s skin crawl; magic like that was only one step away from compulsion. “The night’s proceedings are at an end,” she continued, talking over those who had yet to fall silent. “You will return to your rooms in an orderly fashion and you will remain there until summoned for dinner. Dismissed.”

  Mitch wanted more, he wanted an explanation for what had just happened, he wanted someone to tell him that everything was ok. He wasn’t going to get either. The rest of the school looked far too shell-shocked to handle any kind of explanation and he wouldn’t believe anyone who told him that things were ok. At least things could hardly get worse.

  MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS

  Mitch walked along the corridor. He had been creeping before he realised that he hadn’t seen any of the teachers since Dr Henly’s disastrous funeral. He’d felt a little silly skulking around after that, even if it was well past curfew. He had tried to sleep but he’d been haunted by images of Dr Henly’s death and funeral, with occasional images of the zombie horse thrown in, whenever he was about to drift off.

  He needed to talk to someone. Bates would just laugh at him, assuming he wasn’t with Mindy, and Richard would probably slam the door in his face. That left Gwen. Just a couple more doors and he’d be safe from any teachers who happened to remember that they had almost 150 students to supervise. With any luck their discussion of tonight’s events, Mitch couldn’t imagine anything else occupying their attention quite so thoroughly, would keep them away. In any case it wouldn’t matter once he got to Gwen’s room; they patrolled the corridors sometimes but they never checked to make sure the students were in their rooms.

  He heard a muffled noise and he froze; it was entirely possible that he’d miscalculated. He considered his invisibility spell, they’d probably assume that it was just one of the girls but if they didn’t... The noise repeated itself and this time he was able to identify it as a sob. He listened and on the third sob he was able to identify which door it came from.

  The door was decorated with a familiar handmade shell-work sign. Sam. Mitch swallowed, she’d made one for him once though he wasn’t sure what had become of it. He’d ‘misplaced’ a number of things after they broke up over the summer. Just ignore her and go to Gwen said the rational part of his brain. You’re here to talk to your girlfriend not comfort your ex.

  His body ignored that sensible voice and knocked on Sam’s door. “Sam,” he called softly. Sam didn’t answer but he could still hear her sobbing. He hesitated a second longer; none of their rooms had locks, he could just walk in. “Sam,” he tried again, hoping that she would tell him to go away. Again no answer. He turned the doorknob, praying that Sam wasn’t naked, it would be unbelievably awkward if she was, they’d never actually gone that far when they were together. Silently calling himself an idiot in a half a dozen languages, he went in.

  Much to his relief Sam was wearing fluffy blue pyjamas adorned with bow-tie wearing sheep. They had little top-hats and canes and some had pipes or monocles. Mitch grinned, he couldn’t imagine Gwen wearing something like that.

  “Sam?” She was curled up in the corner of the bed, leaving plenty of room for him to perch on its edge and awkwardly pat her arm.

  “It’ll be okay,” Mitch said, not even sure what it was, “they’ll find a way to fix it.” He kept mumbling empty assurances that lacked conviction and patting her arm. Sam didn’t seem to notice. He braced himself and sat on the bed properly, allowing him to hug her. She uncurled slowly and started sobbing into his shirt. This was definitely awkward and he wasn’t sure how he would explain the tear-stains to Gwen. He wanted to believe that she would understand.

  “They took him away,” Sam said, her voice raw and shaky. “He was covered in blood and... and... they took him away. No one will tell me where he is.”

  “Sven?” Mitch guessed.

  Sam nodded and wiped her eyes on a sleeve. “I don’t understand. He was so nice and gentle and he would never hurt anyone but there was so much blood.” Mitch swallowed, realising that she must have been one of the students thronging the corridor when they were led to the infirmary. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Sven had been screaming denials and the rest of the class had alternated between stunned silence and hysterics.

  “It was an accident,” Mitch said, manoeuvring the two of them so that they were sitting against the wall. He kept one arm around her, running his hand through her thick curly hair. She’d always hated it when he did that but tonight she didn’t object. Somehow this wasn’t as awkward as he anticipated standing out in the corridor.

  “He... He’s not a murderer?” Sam asked. Mitch shook his head, both the counsellor and his teachers had wanted to know what had happened but they hadn’t bothered to inform the rest of the school. He’d felt more comfortable talking to Nikola.

  “But he was covered in blood.”

  Mitch found himself telling her the whole story, his voice growing hoarse and shaky as he related the horror of Dr Henly’s attack and Sven’s pleading. The story seemed to help calm Sam and by the time he was done she was the one trying to comfort him. Mitch kept telling himself that it was self-defence, that he hadn’t witnessed a murder. He couldn’t have, not in school in the middle of class. Those kinds of things happened on the news, not here. He’d avoided thinking about the horror of that day so far but now it was there and he couldn’t escape.

  #

  Whoever had said the truth will set you free had never had to explain to their girlfriend why they were sneaking out of their ex’s room first thing in the morning. Mitch didn’t think lying would have helped but the truth hadn’t got him anywhere. Gwen had barely spoken to him all day. First Hayley and now this; perhaps he should just stop talking to girls altogether. It was probably just a matter of time until he wasn’t allowed to talk to Mindy either, not that he wanted to talk to their resident psychopath.

  He’d spent the day mooching around not doing anything. Their classes had been cancelled after Dr Henly’s funeral and he hadn’t been able to focus on his homework or pry Bates away from Mindy. God only knew what Richard had been doing all day; no doubt they’d find out when it exploded. He’d somewhat belatedly realised that Richard could have made the gunpowder for the fireworks.

  With any luck their curfew would ensure that Gwen was in her room. No one appeared to be enforcing curfew, again, but Mitch had spent the day trying to work out how to fix things and it would be much easier without everyone else constantly trying to talk to them. He’d thought about Bates as well; he still wasn’t sure how to tell his best friend that his girlfriend was a homicidal maniac but a misunderstanding with Gwen would be comparatively easy to fix.

  This time he kept his attention focused on Gwen’s door, carefully not listening for any sobbing. The corridor was silent, so quiet that he felt guilty for disturbing it by tapping on Gwen’s door. She didn’t answer but he thought he heard a thump. He hoped he hadn’t woken her. He considered leaving but if he had woken her she would be royally pissed to answer the door and find him halfway down the hall.

  “Gwen?” he called, knocking a little harder. There was another thump followed by a low moan and a short sharp scream, the sounds oddly distorted by the door. Maybe she was having a nightmare, it wouldn’t be surprising after yesterday. He would check, he decided, if she was sleeping peacefully then he would leave and if she was having a nightmare then perhaps they would be able to talk.

  He twisted the door handle and realised immediately that Gwen wasn’t the one having a nightmare, he was. Gwen was stretched out on the bed, her clothes strewn across the floor and Richard was on top of her. Mitch yanked the door shut and sagged against the wall. He rubbed his eyes, wishing that it was a dream. He couldn’t have just seen that; Gwen would never cheat on him and Richard was his friend. Perhaps he’d upset her more t
han he thought, this had to be the first time. Neither of them would have been able to look him in the eye if it wasn’t. Maybe now she’d forgive him for sleeping with Sam although they’d both been fully clothed.

  She could forgive him in the morning, he wasn’t about to venture through that door though he was sorely tempted to go back and break Richard’s nose again. And maybe his arm for good measure; it wouldn’t have fully healed yet even if it was out of its cast and up to supporting him as he... Mitch slammed his fist into the wall. It had to be their first time, sure they’d lied to him about Nessie but that was different. That was Nessie, this was Gwen and her best friend. He took another shot at the wall.

  “Mitch?”

  He blinked at Hayley, wondering why she was up in the middle of the night.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Nothing apparently,” Mitch muttered, stalking down the corridor. He hoped Bates was alone because Mitch would drive himself crazy if the only thing he could do all night was lie on his bed and imagine what Gwen was doing with Richard. Bates had better be alone, he did not want to have to deal with Mindy right now. He started running, taking the stairs three at a time and almost careening into the wall at the bottom. He was tempted to hit it as well but his knuckles were already bruised and he preferred to keep his blood where it belonged. He dashed across the foyer and up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. He pounded on Bates’ door and then threw it open when his friend didn’t answer. It rebounded off the wall, almost knocking him out but he didn’t care, Bates was asleep and there was no sign of Mindy. Mitch shook him awake.

  Bates shoved him away before peering at him muzzily in the light streaming in through the open door.

  “Mitch? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Gwen’s cheating on me.”

  “What?”

  “She’s fucking Richard.”

  “So?”

  “So she’s fucking cheating on me,” Mitch said, considering opening the window and grabbing a handful of snow from the sill. Bates couldn’t still be half asleep. The light in the corridor flicked out, plunging them into darkness until Bates hit the desk lamp.

  “How is it cheating if you were there?” Bates asked.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Mitch yelled when he realised what Bates was hinting at. “Gwen and I weren’t... I would never...” How could Bates think that he was having a three way with Richard?

  “Oh,” said Bates finally on the same page as him. “You should have joined them, it’s not as awkward as you might think.”

  “Why the Hell... wait, how do you know it’s not awkward?” Mitch said, his anger temporarily derailed.

  Bates shrugged, “It was Mindy’s idea, and Richard was game.”

  “Mindy’s a fucking psychopath.”

  “She’s my girlfriend,” Bates snapped, seeming properly awake for the first time.

  “She tried to murder her sister with a fucking zombie horse!” Mitch yelled. He stared at Bates, trying to find his best friend under the influence of the Twisted Curse.

  “It was just a practical joke,” Bates said. It was no good; he couldn’t see his best friend at all. “They’re forcing her to see a shrink now, all because you got a little scared.”

  Mitch stared at him a second longer and then slammed the door on the way out. He grabbed a coat and shoes from his room and went out, clearly talking to anyone right now was not a good idea. Gwen and Richard, and Bates had lost his mind and the entire fucking Academy was going to Hell. He shivered, cold even with his coat, and used magic to push away the cold. He quickly left the buildings behind, knowing that those were the areas where he was most likely to get spotted; detention would be the perfect ending to the night. He headed towards the lake, now seemed like the perfect time to explore the path running around it, barely noticing the footprints in the fresh snow.

  Hayley stood on the lake shore. Fuck; Mitch made to turn back but gravel crunched underfoot and she span to face him.

  Hayley sighed, “I thought you were a teacher.”

  “Sorry. What are you doing out here?” Unlike him she’d dressed properly and wasn’t in danger of freezing her ass off.

  “I couldn’t sleep after you...”

  “Sorry,” Mitch repeated. “Think he’ll come up and talk to us?” Mitch asked, waving at the lake. He still remembered the headache from last time but he would almost welcome the pain now, if nothing else it would put a stop to the constant replays of Gwen and Richard.

  “No.”

  Mitch sighed, “It would probably yell at me for not delivering its message anyway.” He’d tell it to give him a fucking postal address next time, maybe he should just send a postcard to the Vatican and they could pass it on. “I wish I knew how to break this damned curse,” Mitch said.

  “Not damned.”

  “What?” Her eyes had paled to an almost luminescent white.

  “The Twisted Curse is the work of Heaven,” Hayley said, “it was laid upon Lucifer and damns all who touch it.” Mitch thought that he saw a hint of gold in her eyes where the pupil was supposed to be.

  “Er...” Mitch was pretty shaky on religion but Heaven was supposed to be good, it couldn’t go around cursing people. “You must be mistaken.”

  “No.”

  “If you know so much then break it!” Mitch almost yelled but there was no mistaking the gold in her eyes now.

  “The Twisted Curse is the work of Heaven,” she said. Mitch cringed at the power in her voice and fell to his knees, truly understanding the power of a phonomancer for the first time. Her eyes were luminous and unnatural with a pupil of burnished gold and an iris of pure white that was indistinguishable from the rest of the eye. The light behind her was twisting oddly, leaving a void shaped like great feathered wings that stretched high into the sky without leaving a shadow. He swallowed; the creature that had devoured Dr Henly had looked like that as well.

  “And only Heaven can remove it,” she continued. “You sought salvation but all that the Fallen touch goes awry. You will live and die in the blink of an eye but the Host cares not, for the fires of Hell are surpassed only by those of Heaven.” Golden fire danced around her but instead of the crackle of flames all he could hear was the rustle of feathers and the pounding of his own heart.

  “You have your answer Bartholomew Harry Mitchell.”

  The flames flared and he snapped his eyes closed, sprawling across the snow-covered ground. He lay in the snow and ash, panting, afraid to open his eyes again. He started to shiver, he’d stopped using magic to keep himself warm and he wasn’t sure how long he’d spent lying there as the snow slowly worked its way into his coat and melted.

  He needed to get up and go back inside but the snow was surprisingly comfortable and his limbs seemed to have turned into jelly, frozen jelly. Mmm frozen jelly, he liked frozen jelly, especially with a little ice cream and chocolate sauce. He’d really like some frozen jelly right now, dinner had been a really long time ago. He opened one eye, raising a hand to shield himself from the light that wasn’t there. He opened the other eye and sat up. There was no sign of Hayley or, more worryingly, any footprints leading away from him.

  The snow was pink where he had been lying. He licked his lips and tasted blood. A little cautious exploration with his numbed hand told him that he’d had a nose bleed. He struggled to his feet and almost fell again, his head spinning. Had he hit his head while falling? He’d been warned not to try healing himself if he had a concussion. He tried to warm himself a little instead and his head almost split open. No magic then, not with his brain made out of frozen jelly as well.

  He staggered back towards the academy buildings, stumbling every other step and weaving from side to side. Tiny slivers of moonlight were filtering through the clouded sky and bathing the world in a silver light that he wanted to drown himself in. It looked so peaceful. No curses, no cheating girlfriend or insane best friend. No annoying younger brother or secretly divorced parents. No froz
en jelly. He wanted frozen jelly. He ignored the tempting slivers of light as well as he could, staggering around them when they fell in his path, circling around a building when they blocked his way and careful not to let so much as a single hair fall into their trap. If he entered the silver light he’d never get his frozen jelly.

  He reached the dormitory and stopped. There was a thick oaken door barring his way supported by massive iron hinges and adorned with serpentine handles. There was a knocker shaped like a dragon. Mitch stared at it. He was supposed to do something here and if he got it right he’d get the frozen jelly. He walked into the doors and they stayed right where they were. He tried again. On his third try he pulled on the door and it swung open. He had done it right; he was almost at the frozen jelly.

  He shuffled forward another step and tripped over the door frame. He threw out his arms to catch himself but frozen jelly wasn’t known for its coordination and he face-planted instead. He felt a trickle of warmth as his nose started to bleed again. The door creaked closed and butted into his foot, prompting him to heave himself all the way inside. It was almost uncomfortably warm inside, he discovered as he tried to stop the trickle of blood from his nose. He really needed to start carrying tissues or something.

  He sat on the floor as his body slowly thawed and blood dripped off his chin, until a little pilot light turned on in his brain and told him that there would be paper towels in the bathroom. He crawled over to a side table and used it to haul himself to his feet, almost bringing it down on top of himself. He winced when he saw his reflection in the mirror. The bottom half of his face was smeared with blood and the rest was ingrained with ash. He licked his lips and remembered that he was supposed to be going to the bathroom, not standing there like an idiot while a puddle formed at his feet as the snow melted and dripped down his clothes.