Nightborne Academy

by Jessica Morris

  I open the pages and see nothing but garbled text.

  “Now close the book.” I do and she puts her hand on it. I see no change, but when she releases it, I open it up and find normal text.

  “That’s amazing.”

  She laughs. Not the bitter, hostile laugh from before, but a genuine and delightful sound that eases my tension slightly. Maybe she wasn’t such a hateful person after all.

  “We learn this in elementary school.”

  And just like that, my warm feelings are crushed. Still hateful.

  “Well, then please teach me as though you’re tutoring an elementary school student.”

  Her smirk sets my hackles off. “Take it with you and copy each symbol and complete every exercise. If you want me to teach you the next step, you’ll have it done by Friday.”

  Four days. I unwrap my scarf and start taking off my jacket.

  “There’s no reason to stay.”

  I freeze in the middle of sliding the jacket off. “I was supposed to be tutored by you.”

  “You delivered my meal and received my instructions. So go do your homework like a good elementary school student. Actually, no. Go to the library and reserve a study room. I want you there copying the book until the end of our study session.”

  “Don’t we have a study room in our dorm?”

  “That’s the group study. I want you to have uninterrupted time to learn.”

  With a sigh, I drag my cold gear back on. “Where is the library?”

  “Leave the dorm, walk straight for about ten minutes, and you’ll see the large building. You better hurry, I think the snow is really coming down tonight.”

  I toss the book into my bag and ignore her laughter as I leave the room. Could she be any more obnoxious? Ugh. Stomping through the snow, I half expect a wild goose chase as I follow her directions. Instead, it’s exactly what she said. The Nightborne Academy library.

  Stepping inside was like a blast of heavenly heat. With relief, I rub my cheeks to get warmth back into them.

  “Hello, may I help you?” A lady behind the desk smiles at me.

  “Yes. I am supposed to reserve a study room.”

  “No problem. Scan your wrist, then.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your left wrist. Put it here to be scanned.” She points to a small scanner and I hesitantly comply.

  My name pops up and her smile crumples.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” The smile is back. “It’s just, I thought you were new. Sorry for being so rude.”

  I wave my hand to deny her apology. “It’s fine. I’m just so exhausted right now I’m not really thinking things through. It’s not your fault.”

  She shows deep concern and guilt eats at me.

  “Do you need to rest? We have nap rooms for the seniors, but no one is here now so you can use one.”

  “Why would seniors need nap rooms?”

  “Their thesis year is intense and having them pass out in the middle of studying became hazardous, especially when they might accidentally call out a partial spell in their sleep.”

  My eyes widen and I nod slowly. “That makes sense.”

  “The nap rooms have a desk for studying and magic suppression so that they can’t accidentally harm themselves or others.”

  “That’s impressive. I don’t need a nap room, though. Just a regular study room.”

  “No problem. I’ll reserve one now. How long will you need it?”

  I close my eyes. “Four hours should be fine.”

  “We close up around then during the off season, so I’ll let you know when it’s time to leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything I can do to help. As you can see, we’re pretty dead.”

  A thought occurs to me. “Do you have pictures of the previous classes in the Academy?”

  “Like the year books?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “We do. They’re in the archive. What year did you need?”

  “I need something from around seventy years ago.”

  “I’ll check. Your study room is the fourth from the left down this hall. Scan your wrist again to confirm the room.”

  I do so and she smiles. “Let me go find what you need. I’ll bring the books to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Following her instructions, I find the room without a problem. It has a flat panel over where a door lock should be. Dad and I stayed in a hotel once where you used a special access key card to open the door; maybe it worked the same way. Giving it a shot, I put my wrist against the panel and the door opens.

  Wow. Impressive technology. It’s when I realize these bracelets are being used for far more than limiting my magic ability.

  I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  Slipping my jacket and scarf off, I hang them on the the hooks by the door. Then I pull the book of seals and the others from Grayson out of my backpack. If I was going to be here, I might as well study everything.

  There was a soft knock on the door, probably the librarian with the yearbooks. She looked a little anxious when she handed me the five books she held.

  “These are all I could find. There was a fire several years ago and we lost part of the library at that time. The older books weren’t spelled properly against damage. This year didn’t survive. Put your hand on the books so I can unlock them for you.”

  Embarrassed at having not known on my own, I do as she says. We unlock each book. “Why do I have to touch these with you? Can’t you unlock them without my touch?”

  “I’m not powerful enough to do that.” Now it was her turn to be embarrassed.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” I wave my hand. “I just recently became interested in researching this topic. My experiences outside of the classroom are limited to what I’ve learned on my own.”

  “Oh.” She seems mollified by my explanation.

  “I keep saying the wrong things today. Maybe I really am too exhausted to think straight.”

  She clasps her hands in front of her. “May I ask what happened to you?”

  She’s been avoiding my gaze almost the entire time. Glancing at my hands and the bandages wrapped around them, how could she not wonder about them? I remembered Courtney’s insults and the weird expression on Joe’s face. Only Grayson looked at me like I was normal.

  “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.”

  “It’s fine.” I force myself to meet her gaze. “Sometimes you have to hit a wall to learn a lesson. Otherwise, how can overcome your limits? It turns out I’m not the biggest fish in the pond.”

  Her eyes widen and she nods, red flooding her cheeks. In embarrassment or joy, I can’t tell, but her eyes are overly bright. If she has an aura, it’s so weak or I’m so exhausted that I can’t see it.

  “I’ll leave you to your studies.”

  “Thank you.” The door closes and I sigh. “It seems I’m destroying your reputation every chance I get.” There’s no way Courtney sent me here for my own good. I had no doubt the entire campus, and even those currently on vacation, would know how bad I look right now.

  A cool presence appears over my shoulder as I open the yearbooks.

  “Hey, Lacey.”

  She hovers over my shoulder then moves toward a seat. I pull it out for her and she flops down in it, sprawling her upper body across the table.

  I smirk at her obvious expression of boredom. “You look like a sullen teenager.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  “Want something to do?”

  She nods.

  I take out the notebook from my backpack, the one with the seals, and open it up. “Do you recognize this seal?” I tap the image.

  She shakes her head.

  “This seal is important somehow. Remember that vision you told me I wasn’t supposed to see? The one with the black-haired girl?�
�

  She nods.

  “She drew this on the ground before she died. Seventy years ago.” I tap the yearbooks. “In here are the students from that time. I’m trying to find out more about her.”

  Lacey waves her hands, trying to prevent me from searching.

  “She was the first person it happened to, and since she drew the seal, it is important. I saw both of them. I experienced both of your deaths. There’s no telling how many others have died the same way.”

  Lacey sits up and rests her forearms on the table. I see her skin give way to the wood and jump up. She sits up in shock and I rush to her side. “You can make yourself solid?” I touch her arm, but my fingers flow through.

  “Lean on the desk again.”

  She does, but her arm dips into the wood like before. Kneeling down beside her gives me a better view, but it doesn’t happen again. Maybe I am too exhausted.

  “Nevermind,” I mutter, and return to my seat.

  Lacey paces around the room as I flip through the old yearbooks. Finally, my patience snaps. “I have to learn this stuff and keep up your grades and that number one spot. Want to help me?”

  She glares at me.

  “If you’re that bored, come practice with me during lunch. I need to strengthen my aura manipulation.”

  Her expression turns even angrier and I laugh. “Okay, I actually need to learn how to use my death magic. Whatever that is. And you’re the only death-related thing close to me. I’d rather not go back to the cemetery if I can help it.”

  She nods and starts to fade.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Her fingers wave as she disappears.

  How strange is my life? I’ve spent more time with my twin sister after her death than I did for the past ten years of our lives. And I still don’t know anything about her, only what others say.

  I pore through the school archive, trying to find a picture of the girl from my vision and come up with nothing. There are over a dozen missing photos in each year. Maybe those will prove fruitful. I jot down their names and every mention in the yearbooks. Sports teams, spell teams, academic teams. Does the Academy still have stuff like this? If so, I want to check them out.

  When I reach a dead end, I flip back to Grayson’s books and Courtney’s assignment. At closing, I clean up my stuff and promise to see the librarian tomorrow. She gives me a sincere smile. Maybe we bonded over my cuts and bruises. I chuckle as I step out into the snowstorm. This place is so weird.

  For nearly two weeks, I maintained the same schedule. I would train with Rendall in the morning, use my lunch break to practice aura control with Lacey, have afternoon study sessions with Grayson, and deliver dinner to Courtney for seals and restriction spells homework and ridicule. The only highlight in our rocky relationship was when I showed her the amulet to see if she could decipher the runes. Since then, the assignments have been less grueling, but still annoying.

  Late nights at the library led me from one dead end to another. I wasn’t able to find the black-haired girl anywhere, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

  My dreams grew more chaotic. Lost children, unaware that they’re dead. The two little girls who Lacey accidentally killed the first time her power manifested. Betrayed lovers, angry parents, terrifying murderers, and worse. Every ghost I ever interacted with paraded through my mind in a never-ending cycle of torment, leaving me more and more exhausted.

  We were marching toward the dark-haired girl’s two week deadline and I was not any closer to figuring things out.

  21

  We were in the same study room as always. A stack of books beside me on magic theory and herbology and no end in sight. The book of seals wasn’t as helpful as I hoped, and I considered breaking ours down into pieces to start asking Courtney for more information.

  Grayson is excited to teach, it seems. Maybe he’s just happy to be out of his room.

  The librarians told us to grab hot chocolate on our way to the back and I couldn’t believe they would do something like that.

  “Wait until end of semester exam time. Then they really go all out. Coffee bar, hot chocolate, some weird alchemic potions the graduating class swears will make us super intelligent.”

  I laugh. “Where I come from, you don’t have open cups in the library.”

  “Why not?”

  “You could damage the books.”

  “Oh. You can’t damage these. They’re spelled against just about anything. Even fire.” My expression made him laugh. “What? Don’t you believe me?”

  “No. Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t all the books in this massive library have spells to prevent them from being destroyed?” Of course, I knew that they decided to do it for all of them after that major fire several years ago, but there’s no reason to tell him that. My favorite librarian gets talkative at closing time.

  “You’ll get used to magic and seals. Hopefully, before you do something to blow your cover when the rest of the students return.”

  My smile dies and I groan in frustration. That’s right. There will be an entire campus of Courtneys and Rendalls. People who have a grudge against my sister. And how many more will come out of the woodwork to make a name for themselves when they realize I can’t fight like she could?

  I collapse, burying my face in my arms. “It’s impossible.”

  “Cheer up. We have the rest of this month, January, and most of February to get you ready. So many things to look forward to. Christmas is going to be so delicious. Since it’s just a few of us, the kitchen staff goes way out. They even bring cookies and brownies from home. You’ve got to try the deep-fried turkey.”

  Another sigh as I moan into my arms. “That sounds so nice, but I won’t be here.”

  “Why?”

  With a sigh, I sit up and tug my mug of hot chocolate closer. “The job Dad mentioned. Remember?”

  “Oh yeah. I’ve been thinking about that. Why that day?”

  I swirl my spoon in the hot chocolate. “I don’t make the schedule. It’s probably a job with a local police force.”

  “On Christmas? What kind of job would require you to work on that day? Isn’t it like a government holiday or something?”

  My eyes widen and tension ratchets within me. That’s right. I unzip my backpack and pull out my journal. “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I borrow it?”

  “Sure.” He hands it over. I recognize the brand and the too ridiculously huge screen. I cut a glare at him. “What? My uncle bought it for me.”

  “Spoiled brat,” I mutter, and flip the journal open to the back where I put phone numbers we regularly have to call. My fingers tremble as I dial the first number, an FBI agent who frequently hires us in human trafficking cases. Dad has his personal number since we work with him so often.

  “Hello?” His familiar baritone comes over the line.

  “Mr. Kenning? This is Elizabeth Reynolds. I don’t know if you remember my father, Marcus Reynolds.”

  “Oh, hi. Of course I remember you. How is your dad doing? Did you guys find another person from that list I sent him last month?”

  “Actually, I might be calling for that reason. Dad’s phone is dead and I’m trying to see if we had something scheduled with you this month.”

  “I don’t think so. Let me check.” I hear him tap on the phone, his nails making clicking noises against the surface. Kenning’s nails were always immaculate, and he was always poking at his phone. My lips lift in a slight smile.

  “No. Not before my vacation.”

  “Finally taking time off?” He always grumbles about not having enough people in his department, but he never lets go of a case. Too many times he looked as rough and exhausted as I felt when we met up to find victims. He was my least favorite contact because the ghosts on his cases were never easy for me to deal with, but he’s the most open and honest of the group.

  “Yeah, I’m being forced to, actually. Anyway, you guys stay safe ove
r the holidays. If you call while I’m on vacation, I’ll answer.”

  “I won’t do that to you.” My smile is full and stretched wide. Workaholic. I’d give anything to have someone with Kenning’s drive on my side through this.

  “Anyway, send me an update if you find anything. Your dad should have my contact information saved to his email. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I hang up and set down the phone.

  “Who was that?”

  “The FBI. He’s not the one.” I take a sip of my hot chocolate and let it warm me from the inside.

  “You have the FBI phone number in your notebook?”

  I chuckle. “I have the number for a person who works in the FBI. He calls us in when things are really bad.” My smile disappears and I stuff those memories back where they belong.

  “Who’s next on your list?”

  “A regional coordinator for missing and exploited children.” I took another soothing sip of hot chocolate, calming my nerves before I dial the phone again.

  “What kind of work did you do with your dad?”

  “Like I said, I talk to ghosts. If Dad knows the date in advance, it’s not a current case. So that means one of these phone numbers or a private hire. I doubt even a client would want to meet for Christmas.” I take another drink and force myself to pick up the phone. Kids. My least favorite ghost to face. Most of the time, they don’t know they’re dead. And if they did know…well, there’s no way to protect yourself from a telekinetic rampage of a ghost child.

  I make the call. In no time, I reach a dead end. Nothing. My relief is immediate, but more questions remain.

  I give the phone back to Grayson and settle against the bench. The study room is bright and airy, but everything seems dim and restricted.

  “So what now?”

  “Now, I make him come to me.”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  Nerves taut with anguish twist my stomach and make me regret the heavy meal we just ate. “No. He’ll show up.”

  “How?”

  “If I don’t show up, he’ll have to come see me the next day, right?”