Nightborne Academy

by Jessica Morris

  A stinging pain in my throat draws my attention. I touch the scar. It's a band around my neck as wide as my pinky finger. I would have to wear those, right? Those magic resistance bands that seemed to kill two people in my visions.

  Warmth still lingers from the meds the doc gave me, but how is it supposed to heal an injury I never got in the first place? I guess touching my sister's corpse did exactly what Dad intended.

  I pull on one of my hoodies and decide to investigate the rest of the room. This was the place Lacey lived. How much would it tell me about her?

  On an immaculate desk sits a lone picture frame and plain white envelope. The frame is ordinary. The photo inside, however, makes my heart ache. Lacey smiles with her arm around another girl. Her eyes reflect soul-deep joy.

  A spark of jealousy eats at me, but I try to smash it down. Of course, my sister made friends. Even as a kid, she drew the attention of everyone around her. I ran my finger along her cheek.

  Another thought invades. Was my vision accurate? Did Mom and Dad sell her out like they did me?

  I pick up the frame and look closer, analyzing the other girl in the picture. Her smile is similar to Lacey's, wide and open, like she's having the time of her life. Who is this girl? Will I have to pretend to be Lacey around her? If they're close enough for this photo to be prominently displayed, how can I fool her into thinking I'm someone else?

  A flash of memory flutters in my mind. Warm laughter. I close my eyes and run a hand over my face. Too many questions. I set the frame back down and slouch into the desk chair. The person who shows up to guide me will fill me in, I'm sure.

  A loud knock on my door jerks my eyes open. I run my palms down my thighs and rise from the chair.

  "Lacey, it's me," a woman's voice calls from the other side.

  I clench my fists at my sides and call out, "I don’t feel like company right now." Is that something my sister would say?

  "The headmistress sent me to check on you."

  I rush to the door and open it just enough to peek outside. Recognition hits me and her palm covers my mouth before I can speak. She pushes me into the room and shuts the door behind us. I fall away from her touch and shove her wrist away from me. Frowning and angry, her face is so much different than the smiling one in the picture.

  She’s wearing the same uniform as the ones hanging up in my closet. Red plaid skirt, white starched blouse, dark tights, and black shoes. The jacket looks too thin to keep her warm, but at least it's something to use against the cold.

  She holds out her palm and I see a green glow emanating from a stone. "This is a privacy spell. No one can hear us while this is activated. It's on a timelock, so save your questions."

  I nod slowly, rubbing a hand over my throat. Dad used privacy spells often enough. My wrists and neck started throbbing the moment she burst into the room. Is the stone causing it?

  "My name is Courtney. I am—was," she corrects herself and clears her throat. "I was Lacey's best friend. I know who you are, so we'll cut to the chase. For the next three months, I'm supposed to guide you into becoming an exact mimic of Lacey." She puts a fist on her hip and rakes me with her gaze. "This is going to take a lot of work. First, we need to get you dressed and ready for class. Our class schedule runs by three rotations. The first one began at seven this morning and runs until noon. The second one runs from two in the afternoon to seven at night. The third runs from midnight to five in the morning."

  "What shift are we in now?"

  "We just finished the first one."

  I turn to look at the window.

  "Oh, that's right. I guess Lacey never told you." I can hear the condescension in her voice. My jaw clenches, but I endure it. For now. "The Nightborne Academy is under a perpetual night spell during school terms. The winter term began today. There's a sunroom in the infirmary building. You're required to visit every day until Doctor Reese releases you." She tilts her head, picking me apart. I know this feeling better than almost any other. I'm a non-entity to her.

  I clench my fists and shove them into my hoodie pockets. Note to self, I’m still too antisocial to deal with people invading my space. "How will you help me integrate?"

  "Well, let's start with getting your uniform on. From now on, you can only move around the campus in your uniform. After we get you changed, you'll need to see the headmistress so we can get your bands calibrated and put on."

  She leans close and lifts my chin up. I jerk my head away from her touch, annoyed at her over-familiarity.

  "You better get over your fear of touch. Your sister loved hugs and affection."

  I step away when she reaches for me again. "I'm mourning my sister's death. It changes people."

  "Not that much."

  I smirk. What does she know? How many hundreds of families have I faced? How many levels of grief and emotional trauma? "I thought you'd be here in a few hours."

  "Two hours. Your remedial tutoring in magic defense starts then. You can't show up without your bands in place." She tosses the green stone in the air and it hovers next to her. "Let's pick out your clothes. You'll need something that hides your wrists and neck for now." She opens Lacey's closet and selects a few pieces. The skirts and shirts all look the same, but she's taking meticulous care in choosing.

  "This is a winter weight skirt. It's wool. You're not allergic, right?" She arches an eyebrow.

  "No."

  "Good." She tosses it at me. "This shirt is good enough." She throws it over her shoulder, and I lunge to catch it. "Now for something to cover your neck." She rummages through the drawers. "Ah, here it is." She holds up a black turtleneck. "You can wear this under the shirt as long as you wear coordinating tights. Your shoes also have to black." She finds the rest of the items and then shoves them into my hand.

  "I don't like turtlenecks."

  She stops moving and turns to glare at me. "So what?"

  I drop it back in the drawer. "I won't wear it."

  "What's wrong with turtlenecks?"

  "Does it matter? What other options are there?" No way in hell would I tell her that the scar on my neck throbs and aches too much to have something so constricting around it. The idea of wearing a choker, or anything else for that matter, worries me.

  "Fine. We'll button up your shirt and use the necktie option then. It will be cuter anyway. Since you're wearing a skirt, it will have to be the crosstie." She opens Lacey's drawers and pulls out a small package wrapped in tissue. "She never wore it, but it looks good."

  She seems less hostile than before. I should give her a break. It can’t be easy seeing my face and knowing you have to pretend Lacey’s still alive. “Thanks for helping me out.”

  "I’m just doing what I have to. Go through that door. It's a shared bathroom, so keep your door locked when you're not using it."

  "Why?"

  She snorts. "Do you know how many people hated your sister? High grades, popular with teachers, always arrogant when she should have backed off."

  My nails dig into my palms as I try keep my calm. "That's a crappy thing for a best friend to say."

  Raw anger flares up, leaving her body taut with tension. Hands shaking, fists clenched at her side. I stepped on a landmine. "Your sister was everything to me. I'm only doing this because the headmistress asked. I've known you for less than fifteen minutes and I can already tell that you're going to fail at this. You slouch, complain, throw attitude that you won't be able back up, are too sullen, and look sloppy. I admired Lacey. But she wasn't an easy person to be friends with. Go shower and change. We don't have time to waste if you want to fool the entire school before the next term."

  She grabs my shoulders and turns me back toward the room.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm coming with you. There's a lot to fill you in on."

  I jerk away from her touch and spin back around to face her. "No thanks. I like my privacy." Before she can stop me, I rush to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Her mocking laughter comes
through the door and I clench my jaw in irritation. The bathroom is small, but bigger than most motel rooms I've stayed at. It's clean and neat. I drop my clothes on the counter and lock the other door.

  Was the person next door dangerous? Did she target my sister, or did someone use her to get to Lacey?

  I start the water for a shower and see multiple body washes and shampoos on both sides of the shower. Which ones should I use? Steam fills the room and I open the small cabinet to find a washcloth.

  "You'll meet with the headmistress after this." Courtney calls from outside the bathroom door. "After that, we meet with the doctor."

  I strip my clothes and glance toward the door. "Aren't you worried that we'll be overheard?"

  "Relax. Almost everyone is home for the winter holidays. We take an extended vacation here. Only a few stay behind for remedial classes and tutoring sessions. Even the seniors are forced to go home and recover."

  "How long is the break?"

  "Three months. Our summer break is only three weeks long."

  That's why they said I have three months to get up to speed. The water is warm enough so I step in, drawing the curtain closed behind me. Three months to blend in. Will I be targeted during that time?

  “When did the break start?”

  “The week before you showed up.”

  So Lacey was killed during the break.

  I open the body washes. One smells like roses and the other like coconut. I choose the coconut. Roses were my sister's favorite, but for me, they always represent death. Dad would often make us attend the funerals of the bodies we found as a way to provide closure, he said. But I knew it was for exposure to others so we would be hired again.

  "What will we do about Lacey’s class schedule?"

  The hot water blasts me in the face and I scrub my body.

  "We'll plan your spring semester curriculum after you're evaluated. We can use your mourning as an excuse for switching classes next term. It might be for the best to plan on that."

  Courtney seems more sincere than the first impression. My lack of trust comes from years on the road watching Dad manipulate the world around him. How many times had the murderers joined the search parties and consoled the families? More than I ever want to remember. Everyone wears a mask, and trusting first impressions will get me killed.

  I rinse off my body and switch to washing my hair. The shampoo is a brand I've never used, but it feels amazing as I lather up.

  I spent four days in bed but didn't feel dirty. Did that mean the doctor's clones bathed me? Embarrassment floods my thoughts and I shove my face under the water.

  When did I get moved to the room? How long was I in the infirmary? Did anyone notice that I was transferred? These questions ran around in my head and I shoved them away as unimportant. Instead, there was something far more important to ask.

  "How many people will know about the funeral?"

  "Only select families showed up, so naturally, everyone will know. The cover story is simple. You weren’t there because you had a breakdown. The NBI is investigating her death because it looks like you were targeted by a rogue bounty agent. It will save some questions if they see them on campus."

  I finish washing my hair and turn off the water. Grabbing a towel to dry off, I think about how I can use that to help my integration in the school. Can I use moodiness and grief as a reason for personality changes? I rub my body down with the towel and step onto the icy floor.

  Getting dressed takes longer than normal since I'm putting on unfamiliar tights and clipping the skirt. I would think it would have buttons and a zipper, but these clips are a pain. The bra is a little tight, but it's bearable. The shoes are a little loose. I guess we're not completely identical. I scrub at my hair with the towel and open the door.

  Courtney jumps up from my desk, knocking the chair over. There’s guilt written all over her face. I glance down and see an envelope clutched in her hand.

  9

  “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”

  “No.” She slowly moves her hand behind her, envelope clutched tightly.

  Do you think I’m stupid? I attack my hair with the towel, waiting to see what she’ll do next. “You didn’t hear the water turn off?”

  “I did. But I thought you were taking a bath. Lacey hated showers.”

  The stress and anger leading up to this moment snaps my patience. Maybe she’s a naive idiot. "Whatever you've got in your hands, put it back on the desk."

  "I was just organizing some things for you." She half-laughs and clears her throat.

  "Do it now." Ice fills my veins. Everything else is out of my control, but this, this I know how to deal with.

  "Fine." She slaps an envelope on the desk and then bumps my arm as she passes by.

  I grab her upper arm and use the momentum to spin her around to face me. "Empty your pockets and your backpack on the bed."

  "No."

  "Do it now, or I'll do it for you. And then, I'll ask the headmistress and Detective Cutter why they would allow a thief to come into Lacey's room. I hear they don't have a suspect for your best friend's death. Want to be first in line?"

  "Tell them. They won't believe you."

  "Then I'll have to spread it to the school. You were so jealous that your best friend paid attention to her twin sister over break that you murdered her."

  "That's stupid."

  "Is it? You were jealous of Lacey."

  "I hate you. You're nothing like her."

  "That's right. I'm not. She would have done far worse if she caught you snooping through her things, and you know it."

  Her eyes widened and I smirk at her surprise. "Who do you think she practiced on when we were kids? So empty your pockets and your backpack. Once I'm satisfied, I'll let you go."

  Her laugh came out brittle and angry. "You can't hurt me. Do you have any idea how easy it is to rip you to pieces?" She hovers inches from my face. "You're powerless. Lacey told me everything about you. You're a loser, a swindler who pretends to help people while your dad milks them for money. Your mom won't even have anything to do with you."

  Rage and humiliation explode inside me. Power swells from within. Cold burns my chest. My breath comes out in a cold mist and the ice in my veins moves to my fingertips. Courtney cries out as I squeeze her arm tighter. This feels like Lacey’s power. I’ll use it.

  "You don't know anything about me. Empty your pockets. Hand over your backpack. Or you're going to find out what it really means to see me pissed off." I clench my jaw, scared that I'm somehow affecting the air around me. Keep it together. I need to know if she took anything else.

  Her breath comes out in a white mist and her face drains of color. "What are you doing? Why is it s-so c-cold?" She wrenches her arm from my grasp and rubs where I touched. I see the marks of bright red finger indentions.

  "Give me your backpack."

  She throws it at me and I catch it at my chest. With angry movements, she turns out her pockets and turns around. "Fine. See? Hurry up and look through my bag."

  I see her jacket hanging on a hook by the door. "Turn out the pockets of your jacket."

  She does so with a hateful glare.

  “Now let me check you.” I step up to her, cold fire still burning with me. "Don't move." I pat her down to make sure she hasn't hidden anything. Fatigue hits me like a brick and the ice melts within me. To hide the trembling of my hands, I walk over to the mattress and dump everything out of her backpack onto the bed.

  My dad's envelope. I glance over at the desk. So the one she was reading was the one on my desk. Why take this one?

  I flip through her books and flap the pages to see if she's hidden anything else. The name in each cover is hers, and I don't see my sister's handwriting on anything else. The other things in her bag seem normal.

  "Why did you take my dad's letter?"

  "I thought it was—"

  "Don't." I meet her gaze with a glare. "Don't give me some sappy loving my sister excuse. It w
as mine, obviously on my bed next to my open suitcase. Why did you take it? And why were you going through my things?"

  "This is Lacey's room."

  I tilt my head. "No. This was Lacey's room. It's now mine. Thieves aren't welcome."

  "I'm supposed to help you."

  I shake the envelope in my hand. "I don't need this kind of help. Clean up your crap and get out."

  "I have to take you to the infirmar—"

  "Get out," I scream, and throw the backpack at her. All the stuff on the bed follows as I peg her with them, throwing one after another. My whole body locks up and I double over in pain. Tears fill my eyes. "Get out," I force through my lips.

  "Alright." Her voice shakes as she scrambles to put her stuff in the backpack. "I'm sorry—"

  "Go!" I bellow, and she winces, racing from the room.

  "I'll be right outside," she whispers, and then closes the door carefully behind her.

  I put a hand on my head and another on my stomach as I stagger toward the bed. Everything hurts. What happened?

  Something steps from the shadows and grabs me. I recognize it. "Were you here the whole time?"

  He nods.

  "Did she take anything else?"

  He shakes his head as he helps me to the only chair in the room.

  "Why didn't you stop her?" I stare up at him and see no emotion staring back at me. He doesn't answer.

  "It's not within your parameters to protect my things, only me, right?"

  He nods. Ah, easy to see the limitations of this wondrous ability. His hand touches my forehead and I can feel the ice disperse from his touch. Everything in my body moves sluggishly and I groan at the pain of pushing it to work again.

  "Will I be okay?"

  The shadow lets me go and tilts his head the same way the doctor clones had before. Doc Reese must be listening or giving commands. I sigh, put my elbows on the table, and bury my head in my hands. My whole body trembles and aches like I've run a marathon. What's happening to me?