by W. J. May
Just move on. Trust me—this isn’t a fight you can win.
He stayed frozen another moment, then his lips curved up ever so slightly. A second later he leaned against his desk, crossing his legs and staring over the class with a polite smile.
“Let me ask you this...what do you think happened?”
The class was stunned. Never before had their opinion been considered, let alone solicited. Their volley of complaints a moment earlier had been petulant, but based on truth. They were treated as children. Regular, common world students. Never as anything more.
“I think it was an inside job,” Milo blurted. There were several raised eyebrows and he rolled his eyes. “Not Aria. I’m saying someone who was already on campus and through the gates.”
“Well it would have to be, wouldn’t it?” Catalina piped up from the opposite side of the class. “No one can get through the gates or inside the perimeter without permission. The whole place is guarded by some invisible force field tatù.”
Dorian nodded thoughtfully, letting it play out with a polite smile. “That’s true. The perimeter is guarded supernaturally.”
“Well, if it was an inside job—then the council would be looking at people who were out after curfew, which is exactly what they’re doing.” Tiffany McHedgen, arguably one of Aria’s least favorite students at Guilder, flung a wave of blonde hair over her shoulder. Her mother worked for the PC, but in a strictly secretarial role. “And no, I’m not saying it was Aria either. I’m just saying it’s not like they’re ignoring the problem. Besides...Aria wasn’t the only one out of bed.”
There was a sudden buzz through the students as both Jason and Oliver swiveled towards her in their chairs. A temporary alliance formed as they stared her down with the same cold smile.
“Something you want to ask me, Tiff?” Jason said quietly. The two had dated years before. It ended quickly, leaving quite a lot of bitterness on her side. “’Cause there were just the three of us.”
“That we know of,” she said quickly, blushing and lowering her eyes. “I wasn’t accusing you of actually—”
“Sounded that way.”
“That’s enough,” Dorian inserted softly, playing the part of referee.
“Who’s to say it was even a student?” Milo glanced around the room, hover-twirling a pencil excitedly above his hand. “Chances are it wasn’t. Only four students unaccounted for, while the entire campus was crawling with agents and PC staff.”
“And that’s assuming it was an inside job,” Lizette added quickly. “Guilder’s security isn’t infallible; it’s been broken plenty of times before. Even students have been able to—”
She caught herself quickly, hiding her face with a grin. It was a well-known fact that Aria and her friends regularly snuck both on to and off campus. How was a mystery. Trade secret. But it provided the very foundation for their reputations and was a particular point of pride.
“Allegedly,” Aria murmured.
Jason and Benji glanced away in opposite directions, a portrait of total innocence.
“So say that someone we don’t know snuck on to campus,” Milo reasoned. “They rushed in and out, risking their lives...just to kill a history teacher?” He glanced quickly at Dorian. “No offense, but it’s not the most glamorous of jobs.”
Dorian chuckled and lifted his hands. “None taken.”
“What we need to be doing is looking into Dorf’s background,” the boy continued excitedly, quivering the points of his vibrant hair. “Does he have any enemies? Who would have the most to gain from his removal? If we don’t have any suspects, then we should start at the source—”
“Why are we discussing this?” Alexander interrupted sharply.
Aria’s eyes burned into the back of his head as the class swiveled around in surprise. He alone hadn’t taken part in the discussion. In fact, he looked more and more irritated the longer it was allowed to go on. He was leaning back in a seemingly casual position, but the tension was rolling off of him in waves. His eyes burned into Dorian’s as he waited impatiently for a reply.
“This is supposed to be a history class, right?” He threw a sharp glance to his right and his left. “So, why aren’t we discussing history? Just because the first guy died doesn’t mean we have to live out the rest of his class as some kind of homage. I’m sorry, but that’s not what we’re here for.”
The words cut through the air, sharp and cold, stunning the astonished teenagers sitting around him. They weren’t an especially sentimental bunch, but they’d sat in the man’s class for the past four years. After gossiping vigorously each day about his murder they’d go back to their dorms and stare blankly at the wall, unable to believe that he’d really been attacked and killed.
“Fine—you want to know what this new guys knows?” Alexander gestured briskly to the librarian. “Mr. Locke, who killed the last guy?”
A ripple of anger spread through the desks at his callous tone, but at the same time everyone fell silent and turned their eyes back to Dorian. He calmly stared back.
“I don’t know,” he answered, “because the Council hasn’t told me. And they haven’t told me because they don’t know themselves.”
There was a snort of derision and he took off his glasses, wiping them with a sad smile.
“I know you feel excluded, I know you feel like the system’s been stacked against you. But do you really think that the Privy Council—or any of your parents, for that matter—would ever withhold information that could keep you safe?”
There was an inescapable logic to the words. A perspective they’d never considered. Quick looks passed between friends before Milo slumped down lower in his chair.
“So you’re saying we should drop it?”
“Absolutely not.” Dorian stood up quickly, pacing in front of the students. “I’m saying you should ask questions, you should keep your eyes open. And take nothing for granted.”
He pointed to the writing across the top of the board, written in Dorf’s own hand.
History 403
“Why do we study this?”
There was a brief silence, broken by a playful voice.
“...graduation requirement.”
Dorian chuckled, slipping the glasses back onto his face. “Oh, Mr. Fodder. We’re going to have fun with you.”
Benji grinned, leaning back in his chair.
“Unless we study the past, we are doomed to repeat it. Not all history happened hundreds of years ago. We’re making history every day. Tomorrow, this class will be a thing of the past.”
Dorian stopped his pacing, staring at each of them intently.
“If you don’t like the status quo, if there are things in your life you want to see changed, then now is the time to act. Learn everything you can. Do everything you can. If you don’t then one day there will be a new class of students in here, talking about your generation’s mistakes.”
The bell rang, making everyone jump.
“What?” Aria glanced at the clock as everyone else pushed to their feet, talking excitedly about the class. “Why are we leaving so soon? We just got here.”
Benji swung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Oh that’s right, they announced it when you weren’t here.” He and Jason shared a quick look before he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “They’re letting us out early...for the funeral.”
Aria froze dead still, anchored to her desk.
“...oh.” Her mind scrambled as she stalled for time. “And you two are going?”
“Pretty much everyone is going,” Jason answered, though he looked as though he wished that wasn’t the case. “No one’s going to notice—”
“I’m not going,” a loud voice interrupted.
Aria glanced up to see Alexander sitting backwards on his desk, head cocked with a grin.
“Why am I not surprised,” she answered coldly.
He shrugged as if her approval didn’t matter either way. “I’m not trying to be a
dick, I just didn’t know the guy. You can’t really expect me to have a breakdown like the rest of you because he’s dead.”
“No,” Jason snapped, “but you can shut up.”
“That would be immensely helpful,” Benji added with a sweet smile.
Alexander stared at them for a moment before returning his gaze to Aria.
“I only mentioned it in case you were thinking of ditching yourself.” His eyes gleamed as they swept her up and down. “I can think of a lot more interesting things we can do than watch them lower a body into the ground.”
In hindsight, it was good that Dorian intervened when he did.
“Mr. Hastings, I believe you’re needed out in the hall.”
Alexander glanced at the door in confusion, then rolled his eyes when he realized it was just a dismissal. He picked up his bag a second later, sweeping outside without a backwards glance.
Aria glared after him, not noticing the spirals of smoke rising from her hands.
“Miss Wardell?”
Her eyes snapped up.
“Yes?”
Dorian smiled patiently, gesturing to the desk. “If you’d be so kind not to set my classroom on fire...”
Chapter 13
There was a quiet heaviness to the air as the students of Guilder Boarding School headed across the lawns in a sea of black to honor their fallen teacher. Their parents and the rest of the faculty was already there—along with some particularly devastated-looking people who must have been Dorf’s family.
Aria found her own parents immediately, standing in the center of the group with James. However, she found herself drifting the opposite way—hovering at the very edge of the gathering, where she could still see the coffin but had a clear exit behind her over the gently rippling grass.
They didn’t actually bury people on campus. She’d learned that from hastily interrogating Madame Elpis while tripping down the stairs in a pair of uncomfortable ebony heels. The funeral would be held on campus, while the actual burial would take place in a cemetery nearby. Only a select few people were allowed to forever reside on the campus grounds. Old presidents, agents who’d performed extraordinary acts of valor. She supposed her parents and their friends would be offered the honor when their time came, but she didn’t know if they’d want to take it.
There was a stiff breeze blowing and she shivered slightly in her thin dress. It was a gift from Molly, like most of the rest of her wardrobe, and she’d learned long ago that her aunt prized fashion over basic survival necessities like breathing and warmth. The shoes didn’t help. No matter how hard she tried to keep balance, their pointed heels kept sinking into the soft dirt.
The quiet hum of conversation stopped the moment Carter and Tristan made their way to the front of the crowd. Technically, the headmaster of the school (and unofficial leader of the magical community) was supposed to speak alone at functions such as these, but the family had requested that Tristan say a few words as well. He’d been the one to hire Dorf more than fifteen years ago, and knew him better than almost any member of the staff.
Aria’s eyes glazed over as the two of them began to speak. She’d never liked funerals—not that she’d been to many. The only one she could really remember was of a PC agent a few years back—a shifter who used to drop by for the occasional dinner at her house. Her own father had been asked to speak at that one. She remembered him walking through the chairs to the tall podium by the casket. He opened his mouth, but then took a single glance behind him and froze. He stood in silence for a full minute before Rae walked him back to his seat. Julian spoke that day instead.
From the looks of things, Carter and Tristan were doing a wonderful job. Just a few minutes in and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
Correction: there were a few.
And they’re all looking at me...
Aria stiffened as she gazed over the coffin and saw several agents staring back at her. Among them were Maize and Windall—the pair that had grabbed her after she found the body. Their eyes narrowed at the same time, glittering with the same anticipatory smile.
“Hey.”
She jumped, and turned around just as Jason walked up beside her, looking handsome but incredibly awkward in an Armani suit. When it came to wardrobe, Molly had free rein in his closet as well. No matter how many times he and Benji changed the lock on their door, she found a way in.
“Hey,” she answered, tucking her hair quickly behind her ears. “I’m actually beginning to think that maybe Alexander was right. I should have ditched this thing.”
Jason glanced at her curiously, then followed her gaze—tensing when he saw the cluster of agents staring back. A look of anger flashed in his eyes, but it cooled just as quickly.
“Ignore them,” he said calmly. “He was our teacher. You were right to have come.”
As if the kind words weren’t enough, he slipped his hand into hers. She glanced up in surprise to see him staring steadily at the coffin. They’d never done that sort of thing before. It was strange...and completely welcome given the circumstances. She squeezed his fingers.
The ceremony was over quickly. A healthy man in his early forties, Dorf had made no real provisions beyond the financial and the most his friends had to offer were beautiful words. They did so in spades, then stepped back to allow a slow procession of flowers.
Aria watched in morbid fascination as students, agents, and faculty alike walked forward to place their contribution on the casket. What would happen when it was time to move it, she wondered. Was it someone’s job to gather them all back up again before it was loaded into the hearse?
“Beautiful service.”
She glanced up with a start as Maize stepped right in front of her. She’d been so focused on the damn flower arrangements, she hadn’t seen him and his partner making their way across the grass until it was already too late. Her own family was distracted, waiting in line.
“I’m surprised you came,” Windall said boldly.
“No, there’s a nice symmetry to it,” Maize answered with a gleam in his eyes. “She was the last person to see him alive, it makes sense she’d be there to bury him as well.”
“I was not the last person to see him alive,” she insisted fiercely. “The last person who saw him alive is the same person who killed him. A person you’re apparently unable to find.”
“Who says we haven’t found them?” the agent taunted softly, studying her every reaction with a practiced eye. “Who says we don’t know exactly what happened that night?”
Aria stood her ground, wishing she was wearing body armor instead of a silk dress. “If you did, then you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Oh, but we haven’t gotten to talk with you,” Windall replied, standing tall by his partner’s side. They had the same synchronized way of mirroring each other’s movements as her dad and Uncle Julian. “We were just getting started when your grandfather pulled the plug. You really want to help the investigation and find out what happened to your teacher, you should come down to the Oratory and volunteer a statement. Let someone interrogate you who isn’t blood—”
“Really?” Jason interrupted softly. “You’re doing this here?”
The guy might have only been eighteen, but he stood just as tall as the agents. And despite their ink and years of training, he stared them down without a hint of fear.
“I was out after dark and the woman who cleared me was my own mother.” His eyes flashed as he looked from one to the other. “If you want to interrogate someone, you can start with me.”
Maize smiled, stepping closer. “It would be my pleasure. Natasha Alden isn’t the only master of memory, and I’d certainly love to play with yours.” With a flick of his fingers he produced a card, slapping it against Jason’s chest. “If you happen to remember anything else...” Then the agents made their way away from the service.
Both friends stared after them, rooted to the spot. All around them, the service was winding down and the crowd was beginn
ing to disperse. Out of the corner of her eye, Aria saw her parents glance around before spotting her. Devon tapped James’ shoulder as they made their way closer. A few feet away Gabriel was deep in conversation with Carter, but he’d soon be joining them as well.
“They probably want to get some lunch,” she croaked, clearing her throat and trying to pull herself together. “We should—”
“No,” Jason interrupted suddenly. “I’m tired. I’m going back to my dorm.” He took off, calling over his shoulder. “Tell my dad?”
Aria nodded quickly, staring after him with a frown. The guy didn’t have a speed tatù, but she could swear that when he didn’t want to deal with something he had a supernatural way of disappearing. By the time her family reached her, he was already gone.
“Hey, sweetie.” Rae pulled her in for a tight hug, rubbing the tops of her arms. “Oh dear...Molly strikes again. You must be freezing.”
“I’m fine,” Aria said faintly, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I was just...I’m fine.”
“Mom and Dad want to take us out to lunch,” James said bluntly, oblivious to the glaze that had come over his sister’s face. “They want Italian, but I’m pushing for Jake’s.”
Aria nodded distractedly, still staring after Jason. “Yeah, uh...Chinese sounds great.”
James snapped in front of her face with a frown before Devon swatted his hand.
“Honey, are you okay?” He stepped into his daughter’s line of vision, a line of worry creasing the center of his forehead. “I can’t imagine this was easy for you—”
“It was fine,” she said quickly, spotting Maize and Windall over his shoulder. “Lunch sounds great. Let’s get out of here.”
Rae and Devon exchanged a quick look, but seemed to chalk it up to the funeral. A moment later he pulled out his phone, texting Julian where to find them in the crowd. Gabriel was already on his way, having concluded his conversation with Carter. He gave Aria a quick smile before glancing around in surprise, looking for his son.
