by Marisa Mills
“But that’s impossible,” Francisca said. “How could they release so many demons without even being in the same room?”
“I don’t know,” Delacroix said. “Maybe they have new technology. But turning our own weapons against us, and going after our children? This is unforgivable. Aubade will pay.”
“I’m taking them back to Rosewood,” Francisca said. “If you see His Royal Highness, tell him Alexander is safe with me. He can send troops to protect the estate if he wishes. This school… is no place for children.”
Delacroix nodded, straightening suddenly to her full height.
“Keep them safe,” she said.
I wanted to fight. I wanted to argue. But when I looked around me, there was so much blood, and I couldn’t do it. My chest squeezed painfully as I looked at Jessa, the glowering light of her mage tech shining through the folds of her black dress. If someone had figured out how to release demons remotely, we were in far more danger than we’d assumed. My lip trembled as I realized, if we had been here, and the demon powering her artificial spine had been freed with the others, Jessa would already be dead.
Eleven
I WRESTLED WITH THE SATIN sheets for hours, but each time I dozed off I woke to nightmares, drenched in sweat. Francisca had the staff prepare us dinner, but everything tasted too rich and oily, and turned my stomach. The halls of the Rosewood estate were too tall and empty, too full of riches and treasures. And the bed was definitely way too soft. The single mattress in the dorm was comfortable, but I’d gotten used to the sounds of other girls breathing around me. Dorian’s empty manor was quiet like a grave.
Sometime after midnight, I buckled my sword belt around my waist and tugged on a pair of leather pants. I slipped out of my room, and grabbed one of Dorian’s long dark cloaks from a rack near the door. I wondered if my friends were all awake, too—haunted by visions of the gruesome attack like I was, staring at the ceilings of their rooms. I thought about checking in on them, but if I shared my plans, they’d insist on joining me. And what I had in mind was dangerous.
While classes were indefinitely suspended until the Academy had been restored, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. Why had someone attacked the school? Was it to get to me? Was it some kind of distraction? Whatever it was, I was sure it wasn’t their true end goal, which made rage boil to the surface. They’d hurt so many innocent kids, and for what? Lucian’s fire flickered across my skin, wrapping around my neck and shoulders like a scarf, roused by the anger. I wasn’t going to just sit around waiting for answers. First, I would check the demon chamber to be sure it was still locked, and if it was, I’d return to the Academy and look for clues there.
Francisca met me by the front door, fully dressed and armed. Beneath her dark cloak, I could see the glint of several short throwing knives along with the heavy handle of her sword. A leather breastplate was strapped tightly around her small figure.
“I have to go,” I said, frowning.
“I know,” she nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
The night wind brushed against my face, cool and welcoming, and I sucked down the fresh air. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it had felt in the mansion, surrounded by my friends. Survivors of the mage school massacre, alive by luck and chance. I paused at the gate, glancing back over my shoulder and chewing my lip at the solid frame of the Rosewood estate, cutting a rectangular voice into the starlight sky.
“They’ll be safe here,” Francisca said, as if reading my thoughts. I nodded, even though my heart ached to leave them alone, I trusted that Dorian’s security measures would keep them protected. I turned on my heel and set off quickly through the city.
A full moon shone overhead, bright and luminous even with the cloud cover. There would be rain soon. Francisca was silent as we walked through the less savory part of Reverie. It was far nicer than the worst of the Scraps, but the recent earthquake had caused some of the walls and towers to crumble, and the rubble had been pushed into corners or stacked out of the way. I kept waiting for her to scold me for being reckless, but she said nothing as we climbed the fence into the graveyard, picked our way across the field of tombstones, and lifted the heavy door marking the secret entrance of the demon chamber.
After a while, I found her quiet presence comforting.
I can see why your nobleman likes her, Lucian said, springing forward to light the path now that we were concealed underground.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “You didn’t have to come with me.”
“My Lord only gave me one task while he was gone,” she said, with a thin smile, “and that was to keep you safe. I’d hate to fail him now.”
Soon, we reached the crystalline door, and the detailed reliefs carved into the large stone panels, showing the history of Reverie and the creation of the floating kingdoms. I shivered, remembering our fight with Celeste, and Alexander in my lap, drenched in blood. Without the healing powers of my mother’s pendant, he wouldn’t have survived. I put my ear against the door, but inside it was silent, apart from the white noise of rushing water. I pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I guess this is still secure, for now.” As far as I knew, we needed both my blood and the pendant to open the door. Francisca lingered, frowning at the cavernous entryway and the large stone door. Her eyes widened as she trailed the historical depictions etched into the walls.
“You’ve never been here before?” I asked.
“Until recently, I was unaware of its existence,” she said quietly. “Let’s just say Dorian had other matters more pressing than the collapse of his kingdom, though in hindsight, that seems uncharacteristically reckless of him.”
“The technology is ancient,” I said, describing the scene within. “A whole hallway full of spinning pillars, each holding hundreds of jeweled demons in rose quartz and gold. The whole thing is naturally powered by waterfalls.”
“It should be protected,” Francisca replied. “The king should have the whole area surrounded with guards.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to draw more attention to Reverie’s weakness,” I said. “Celeste very nearly destroyed everything. And Reverie could still be in danger if Aubade sent other agents to finish the job. All they would need is my blood, and the king’s pendant.”
“If someone poisoned the queen at the Palace, who’s to say they don’t already have the pendant? Which means if the man Kit caught had succeeded, we could be falling already. The queen’s murder could have been a distraction; it also cleared out most of the Academy so they wouldn’t be noticed. Perhaps they have some kind of machine that can destroy multiple sigils at once; they couldn’t get your blood to access the chamber, so they used the tunnel to do the next best thing—destroy a piece of our armory, while causing terror and panic among the students.”
I took a sharp breath, leaning against the wall to steady myself.
“So you think my classmates were—were slaughtered because of me?”
“It’s not your fault whose blood you have, although it is troubling that someone might be seeking it specifically. The real fault lies with the king,” Francisca said. “If he’d spent less time torturing adolescent girls, King Gregory might have caught Celeste earlier. She’s the only one who knew you’re really Nick’s daughter, right?”
I tried thinking back to the day of my public shaming. The king didn’t find out until after we’d escaped. So it was only Dorian, Celeste and Gareth.
“Gareth knew too, but he was injured in the attack, so he couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”
“But he could have told someone else,” Francisca replied. “Why don’t we ask him?”
We forked through the narrow side tunnel leading to the Academy, Lucian’s fire splashing blue light against the stone walls. Finally, we arrived at the hidden door, which led into the room used for storing the Academy’s treasure trove of enchanted objects. I picked my way through the blades, jewels, and pens sc
attered and broken across the floor. At the edge of my hearing I could make out whispers, from the demons still trapped within objects.
Francisca moved fluidly with me, barely making a sound. We kept to the shadows, avoiding the king’s soldiers who were patrolling the floors above.
“What are you hoping to find here?” she whispered.
“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “Something about this doesn’t make sense. Why show off what they can do, if their real aim was just to open the demon chambers? Why cause so much damage and destruction?”
“You think they were after something else?” Fran asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s check with Professor Gareth. If he’s awake, he might be able to tell us what happened.”
Francisca hummed, seemingly content to follow me. We left the room and turned down the corridor towards the infirmary.
I swallowed and hesitated by the door. My hand shook as I slowly twisted the knob and entered the room. It was beyond full. Every bed was filled, and mattresses had been dragged out and placed onto the floor to accommodate more. Burning lanterns gave off just enough light to see, making the blood stains seeping through bandages dance like shifting black moths.
I tiptoed through the room, trying not to disturb anyone. I froze when I saw Kris’s pale face and dark hair. I remembered dancing with her and laughing in class.
I took a steadying breath and walked forward, searching every bed. There were people I knew. Meg, who shared a dormitory with me. Professor Conrad, the dancing instructor. And although glowing sigils were already working on the visible injuries, I knew each person was had been through something so horrible, they’d never forget it.
A lump formed in my throat and seemed to harden, making it difficult to breathe. When I found Professor Gareth, my chest hurt. I covered my mouth with my hands and bit my fist to keep from screaming.
Bandages and sigils had been generously placed over the red wounds and dark bruises covering his shoulders and neck, but angry scarring and lingering burns covered half of Gareth’s face. Even the sigils hadn’t been enough to heal the damage fully. Blood and plasma seeped through the bandages that were holding him together. My mouth tasted of vomit. My eyes trailed down over his red and bruised shoulder, following the column of dark blue sigils, reading them as if it were a map. Healing, protection, numbness to pain. My fingers trembled over the air above his blanket. I couldn’t make myself lift it to check the extent of his injuries. If I found any more damage, I was going to fall to pieces. Instead, I stepped back and hung my head. I was about to walk away, when his hand reached out and seized me by the wrist.
***
My heart pounded as Gareth’s icy fingers wrapped tightly around my arm, holding me in place. His eyes were feverish, glistening in the darkness, and he mumbled words I couldn’t understand. Finally his eyes widened with a look of recognition.
“Is it safe?” he asked, glancing behind me at the dark silhouette of Francisca.
“What?” I asked.
“The journal… keep it safe, keep it hidden. Destroy it if you must.”
Then his eyes rolled back, and his body spasmed. Francisca drew a few more sigils, finding room on the back of his arm, and he drifted into a deep sleep.
I practically ran from the infirmary. I only dared breathe again once I was in the corridor. When I was younger, I thought foolishly that magic could fix everything; that mages never got sick, never felt pain. But now my classmates, and even my teachers, had been injured. People we saw every day. People who had families that loved them. I knew there were sons and daughters that would never return to their parents.
It could have been us, if we hadn’t skipped the assembly to go shopping. A few dozen demons had done this much damage, and there were thousands in the demon chamber. If they ever escaped, they would slaughter every man, woman and child in the kingdom, as the drifting continent plummeted to its fate. For the first time, I realized how rare the relationship between me and Lucian was. Demons were the enemy. They were dangerous. Maybe the mages were right to keep them locked up.
“It’s all right,” Francisca murmured, coming from behind and placing her hands on my shoulders. A sudden smoldering anger ignited in me, and I spun around, shoving her hands away.
“No, it isn’t!” I snapped. “Don’t you get it, this is just the beginning. It will never be all right again! These are the ones that survived, and they were lucky they got treatment in time. Dorian is out there alone, without magic, how long do you think he’ll last?”
Francisca looked at me as if I’d reached across the space and slapped her, and in the rush of guilt and embarrassment that followed, I realized how worried she must be over Dorian.
“I didn’t mean that,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“Upset,” Francisca supplied, tugging on the ends of her sleeve. “It’s fine. I think we’re all a little short of temper these days.”
“I still shouldn’t have said it.”
Francisca smiled sadly and coaxed me into a hug. She trailed her fingers through my hair and kissed my temple the same way Claribel used to when I was very small. It was far more tenderness than I’d ever seen her display, but it was enough. I blinked away the tears that had formed in my eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.
“Gareth mentioned the journal,” Francisca said after a moment. “Do you think that’s what the rebels were after?”
“It’s not here,” I said. “I brought it with me to Rosewood last night.”
“But how many people know that?” she asked.
I frowned, thinking. She was right. I’d stolen the journal from Gareth’s desk and given it to Dorian, who’d only given it back to me recently. Gareth only learned I’d stolen it a few days ago, and Viviane was the only one who’d seen it recently.
“But why go after the journal?” I asked. “I’ve already looked through it, there’s nothing there.”
“They don’t know that yet,” Francisca said.
My eyes burned, and I dug my fingernails into my palms. If this attack was all because of that stupid journal… the same one Dorian hired me to find. I took a shuddering breath and continued down the corridor, keeping to the shadows. I reached Gareth’s office without difficulty. When I twisted the knob, it was locked. I reached for a hairpin, taking a deep breath, but before I could pick the lock, the door opened inward. I jumped backward, as Francisca pulled out a knife, but it was only Elaine.
Rather than taking her demonic form as a fox, today she appeared as the elegant woman I’d seen walking with professor Gareth on the edges of Reverie. Her thick, snow-white hair wrapped and styled intricately around her head, and a black velvet dress fell off her pale, slender shoulders. Large chunks of pale crystal gleamed from a heavy necklace. My throat went dry as I gazed at her. Her cheeks were damp, and I wondered if she’d been crying. If demons even could cry.
“Elaine,” I said.
“Wynter,” she said, stiffening at the sight of Francisca behind me. “Hello.”
“I was hoping I could look around,” I said, “if that’s all right.”
Elaine shrugged, waving us in and closing the door behind us.
“There’s not much left,” she said, gesturing at the bare walls. The copious notes, illustrations and sigils that Gareth had spent weeks replicating from my father’s notebook were gone.
“Did you see him?” Elaine asked. “I’m afraid to step out right now. The faculty is already on high alert, looking for stray demons. If I ran into someone, I’m sure I’d be exterminated, like a rat in a trap.”
“Couldn’t you just explain you’re a friend of Gareth’s?” I asked. I heard Lucian laugh darkly in the back of my mind. Elaine’s ghostly form wavered, dissipating into a floating cloud of sparkling, blue dust before coming together again.
“This form is hard to maintain,” Elaine said. “Under stress, I’d probably give up and run. As for explaining that I’m a freed demon
and I mean them no harm, even if they were even inclined to listen, they can’t hear me, remember?” Elaine grinned sadly. “Most mages can’t hear demons.”
“Why can I hear you, then?” Fran asked. She was still standing near the door, her hand tensed over her blade.
“Oh I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You don’t know each other. This Francisca, a servant to Lord Rosewood.” I frowned, wondering if servant was the right word. I knew she was so much more, but Dorian’s assassin wasn’t much better. “And this is Elaine.”
The two women shook hands, and Francisca’s eyes widened as Elaine’s hand met hers.
“You’re right to fear me,” Elaine said. “I am a demon after all. But I’ve been free for a long time. That’s mostly why you can hear me. Demons get locked up, and the binding also strips us of our voices. After screaming for decades, and being locked up for centuries, we forget how to communicate. We lose our voices first, and our reason second. I’ve been free much longer than Lucian, and Gareth and I have practiced communication exclusively for years. I’ve gotten quite good at it. Although I suspect, you not being a mage also has something to do with it. Most mages are taught not to listen to demons; to tune out the whispers.”
“Gareth is… still alive.” I interrupted, going back to Elaine’s question. “He said to protect the journal. Is that what they wanted? Were they here?”
“I don’t know,” Elaine said. “I’m usually with Gareth, in his pen. I’ve built myself somewhat of an apartment in there. It’s quite comfortable. I came out when I sensed his fear, and pain, and… it was chaos. I fought them off, as many as I could, but I couldn’t stop them all. Most of the demons fled when the mages pulled out the binding crystals, and I came back here to hide. It was like this when I found it.”
I walked around to the back of the desk and saw that the drawers had been broken out.
“But I don’t understand, if the rebels just wanted the journal, why attack the school?”
