by Cheree Alsop
“Looks like it,” I replied.
Lyris came up behind us. “Vicken’s going to be mad to go down when we just climbed up.” The tremor in her voice told of how hard it had been for her to take the invisible staircase.
“Oh, a slide!” Alden said from behind her. “I love slides!”
“He would,” Dara grumbled in my ear.
I stifled a smile and sat down on the edge of the dark tube. Before I was ready, Dara shoved me from behind. I slid through the darkness about half as far as we had climbed and then flew out onto a pile of cushions. I heard someone else in the slide and rolled to the side before Dara could land on me. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the way just before Lyris plummeted onto the cushions.
“Thanks,” Dara said.
We helped Lyris and Alden. The tube rumbled with deep laughter before Brack flew out and hit the cushions with a resounding thud. We all tried to pull him up, but Lorne and then Jean landed on the laughing warlock before he would move.
Vicken tumbled out of the slide and fell on his stomach with a muffled oomph.
“You might want to move,” I suggested when nobody stepped forward to help the vampire.
“Why?” Vicken snarled.
“You’re about to be a pancake,” Lyris pointed out.
At the sound of Professor Briggs sliding toward the exit, Vicken scrambled ungracefully to his feet and moved out of the way. To our surprise, the professor slid to a stop just before flying out. He put his cane on the ground and hopped down as if he did it every day.
At our stares, Professor Briggs allowed himself a small smile before he said, “Control is key.”
He limped past us toward a short door at the end. There was no handle; instead a cup with the words ‘Toll please’ written in gold had been fastened to the middle.
“What’s the toll?” I asked.
“Will someone tell me what you’re talking about?” Vicken replied. “You sound like an idiot.”
“At least he doesn’t look like an idiot,” I heard Alden replied under his breath.
I glanced back to see that Vicken’s long black hair he always kept pulled back in a ponytail had come free on his landing and was an unruly mess that stuck out everywhere. I met Alden’s eyes and smothered a laugh. The Grim grinned back at me.
“Silvia was particular about her tolls,” Briggs said. He fumbled inside the sleeves of his robe for a moment. “Ah. This will do!”
He pulled out a marble and set it in the cup. The was a slight puffing sound as though the marble had been sucked into a vacuum and the door opened inward. When I glanced in the cup as I passed, I found that it was empty. I ducked through the door and then rose to find myself standing in the middle of a small room.
“Where are we?” Lyris asked in amazement.
The rest of the team squeezed in. It took both Jean and Lorne to push Brack through, but finally we all stood inside. The room looked like the inside of a treehouse. Wood covered the ground, floors, and ceiling. Sentences had been written along the panels in bright paint in a language I didn’t know. I recognized my mother’s handwriting from the shopping list my dad still kept on our refrigerator and ran my fingers along it.
“This is a clubhouse,” I said.
I realized it was true as I took in the piles of items in one corner that students might horde, like old books, crates, and cups filled with pencils, pens, scissors, and even a few utensils. Drawings of dragons, a few of demons, and one picture sketched in purple of a hulking beast in the middle of flames occupied the far wall. Several wooden chairs and a small table took up a corner. Professor Briggs made his way to one of the chairs and sat down. The sheen of sweat on his forehead told of the toll the journey had taken on his battered body, but he didn’t complain.
“Yes, this is a clubhouse,” the professor said, his voice tight. “It was our clubhouse.”
“Who all came here?” Alden asked in amazement as he looked around.
The lines that surrounded the professor’s eyes deepened when he said, “Me, Zanie, Parken, Stith, Silvia, and Branch. This was our escape from the Academy.”
“What did you do here?” Dara asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vicken said, cutting her off. He glared around the small room. “Why are we here? This is ridiculous. We’re wasting time when we could be finding Amryn.”
Professor Briggs spoke with the calm voice required of a teacher of monsters. “Amryn was taken by demons. According to the ghost who attacked Finn, we need to find the key to the door that his uncle unlocked. If we can find the door, we can hopefully find your sister, but if we’re unable to lock it when we find it, we may let out the rest of the demons and doom the Academy entirely, not to mention the rest of the world.”
“So we’re looking for a clue to where the key might be?” Alden supplied helpfully.
Professor Briggs nodded. “Look everywhere. The ghost of Finn’s mom must have led him here for a reason.”
We searched the entire room. Fortunately, there weren’t many places to look. Unfortunately, there was nothing to find. By the time we gave up, Vicken was in an even worse mood.
“You’re all lunatics,” he said. “You believe the words of Finn’s mom’s ghost even though the Grims said they’re merely reliving memories? This is ridiculous.”
I clenched my hands into fists, letting the pain of my palm keep me centered before I could retaliate.
“I’m afraid Vicken may be right.”
I turned at the sound of defeat in Professor Briggs’ voice. He gave me an apologetic look. “I had hoped she was trying to tell you something, but I think we may all have been following just a memory.”
I shook my head. “It was too real.”
“Oh, poor Finn,” Vicken replied in a singsong voice. “Did your mommy tell you wrong?”
His words destroyed the last of my self-control. I lunged at him and was caught with my hands inches from his throat. Brack, Lyris, Alden, and Dara pulled me back before I could strangle the vampire.
Vicken laughed, but I could tell by the tightness of his voice that he had actually been afraid for a moment. “Calm down, little weremutt. You can leave the Academy as soon as you find my sister and go crying home to your pathetic human daddy. It’ll all be fine.”
“You’re taking out your worry for your mother and sister on Finn,” Dara said.
Vicken glared at her and his hands clenched into fists, but instead of attacking, he turned around and faced the slide. “How do I get out of this blasted place?”
I pushed their hands away and stood. “I’m alright,” I said. My fingers itched to attack again, but I ignored the impulse. “You can let me go.” I looked at the professor. “Maybe you’re right. We should all leave.”
Professor Briggs nodded. “Vicken, sit on the edge of the slide and say ‘up’.” He smiled at Lyris’ amazed look. “Branch was very good with physics spells.”
“That’s amazing!” Lyris said when Vicken did as the professor asked and slid in reverse up the slide.
Everyone else took their turn until Professor Briggs and I were the last in the clubhouse.
“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything,” Briggs said. “I really hoped we would.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. “I guess we just need more time to figure out what the ghost meant. It’s neat to find a place where my mom was, though.”
He nodded. “She really liked it in here. We all did.” He gestured toward the slide. “You first.”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll stay here for a bit.”
He nodded with an understanding expression. “Try to get some sleep tonight. You still have class in the morning.”
“Don’t remind me,” I replied with a groan.
He chuckled and sat on the edge of the slide with his damaged leg held carefully out in front of him. He set the cane on his lap and said “Up,” in a commanding tone.
The professor slid up the tube and out of sight. I took a seat on one of the chairs and studied
the writing on the wall. Briggs had said the words were sayings, poems, or anything else the students found inspiring writing in a variety of mythic languages. Lyris and Dara had translated all the words, but didn’t find anything helpful. Though they weren’t the key, I found myself drawn to my mother’s handwriting. I wished I could read the language and vowed to study harder in Professor Mellon’s class.
Sparrow stirred from around my wrist. She climbed onto my palm and made a little mewling noise.
“Hey girl,” I said to her. “Good to see you awake.” I lifted my hand so she could see the clubhouse. “Want to explore?”
I smiled when she took the words to heart. The tiny dragon flew from my hand and darted around the little room. She climbed up the wooden walls and even licked one of the words as if checking to see if the paint tasted good. It apparently didn’t because she took off again, exploring the boxes, the cups of writing implements, and beneath the table. At first I hoped she might lead me to a clue, but then it became clear she was just filled with enthusiasm like a puppy brought outside for the first time.
I marveled at the fact that there was no dust in the clubhouse. I wondered if one of Briggs and my mother’s friends had an affinity for controlling dust. It may not have been the most exciting warlock skill, but it would definitely have its uses. All in all, it amazed me to be sitting there in a clubhouse where my mother used to escape with her friends. The path there and the presence of the clubhouse itself was incredible, and I felt closer to her just by being there.
Eventually, Sparrow grew tired and curled up to sleep around my wrist again. I ran my finger down her spikes the way she seemed to like and soon her breathing steadied into a whispery cadence I could barely hear. A sound on the slide made me wonder how long I had been there.
Dara appeared and didn’t seem the least bit surprised at finding me still there. I suspected Professor Briggs had sent her to check on me.
“Hey,” she said when she stood and attempted to straighten her long ash-colored hair after her unceremonious landing on the cushions.
“Hey,” I replied, unsure what else to say.
Dara took a seat next to me and looked around the room. “This is pretty neat,” she admitted.
I nodded. “It would be a good place to go when you feel overwhelmed with everyone’s emotions.”
She gave me a sideways look, her violet eyes guarded. “I thought, well, with it being your mom’s clubhouse and everything….”
I smiled at her. “Dara, you’re more than welcome to come here. She would have liked that.”
The empath gave a little sound of consideration and turned away so I couldn’t see her face. She picked a pen from one of the cups and turned it over in her hand.
“I don’t know what it’s like, really,” she said quietly.
“What what’s like?” I probed.
She was silent a moment before she said, “What it’s like to have a parent who cares about you enough to lead you to this place.”
That caught me off-guard. I hadn’t thought of my mother’s appearance like that. It was hard not to think of it as just another of the Grim’s so-called memory ghosts living out snippets of their life without any realization that we could see them. The thought of Mom giving me the secret to her special place at the Academy made me feel warm inside, as though I wasn’t so alone.
I started to smile, then realized Dara wasn’t smiling at all. In fact, even with her head turned, I could see tears running down her cheek. I heard a quiet catch in her breath that she tried to hide. It took me a moment to remember that her parents hadn’t been at parent night. She had refused to let the Headmistress invite them at all. From what she had told me, her parents had abused her empath skills and used her to take away the pains they didn’t care to avoid because she was there. Her whole life had been spent carrying the pain of others, and those who should have valued her the most had abused her.
I put my hand on her back. “This clubhouse can be both of ours,” I told her. “Come here whenever you want. I won’t tell anyone.”
She sniffed and looked at me with watery eyes. “Really?”
“Definitely,” I replied, giving her my warmest smile. “Everyone needs an escape once in a while.”
She shook her head. “How are you so strong all the time?”
I stared at her. “I’m not strong at all,” I admitted, lowering my gaze. “To tell you the truth, I’m barely holding on here. It was nice to see my dad and brother, but even the possibility of Drake turning into a werewolf terrifies me.” My voice dropped and I said, “I thought it would be easier than this.”
Chapter Five
We both fell quiet. Only the sound of Sparrow’s tiny breaths and Dara’s heartbeat met my ears. I hadn’t realized my hand was still on Dara’s back until I felt the lessening of pain in my right hand. It always throbbed. Dr. Six had mentioned that it might hurt forever. As much as my palm ached, I couldn’t imagine being covered in the types of wounds Professor Briggs had from the same fire. It made me respect the warlock even more.
I didn’t realize how much my hand hurt until the ache disappeared. I heard Dara’s intake of breath and my heart skipped a beat at the thought that she was taking my pain. I jerked my hands back and tipped over on the flimsy wooden chair. I landed on the floor with a hard thump. Sparrow stirred, but didn’t awaken.
“Finn, I—” Dara began.
“Dara, you don’t deserve my pain,” I said from the floor.
“But you could use a break,” she replied. “I can give you that.” Her eyebrows formed a little furrow between them when she looked down at me and said, “The pain is intense.”
I couldn’t downplay it because she would know the lie. Instead, I glanced around, searching for something light to say. My eyes fell on a mark scratched into the bottom of the table. The familiarity of it pushed at the back of my mind. I had seen it somewhere, of that I was sure.
“It’s a sign,” I said, staring.
“Being in pain isn’t a sign,” Dara replied. “And you don’t have to suffer needlessly. That’s why I—”
I shook my head. “No. It’s a sign! Look!”
I scrambled to my feet and pushed the table over. She stared at me as if I had gone made. But when I pointed at the mark, her eyes widened.
“It’s a sigil,” Dara breathed.
“It’s not a bird,” I replied, studying the mark that look nothing like the ocean fowl she mentioned. The symbol was a square with a half circle inside and three lines through it.
A small laugh escaped her and she said, “Not a seagull, a sigil. It’s a symbol of a specific demon. The mark itself is the demon’s signature.” She let out a breath and shook her head. “This is a powerful demon.”
“Could it be Chutka?” I asked.
She turned her violet eyes on me. “Where did you hear that name?”
“The professors keep mentioning it, and the demon that burned my hand said it before he died. So did the ghost my brother talked to. I have a feeling this is all connected.”
Dara’s face paled. She backed away from the table. “Chutka the Shambler is no ordinary demon. If he’s at the bottom of this, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
I nodded. “That’s why the Headmistress and the professors are so scared. Maybe they think this Chutka will come through the door.” I reached out a hand to touch the sigil.
“Finn, don’t,” Dara whispered.
I glanced back at her and was amazed at the fear on her face. She hadn’t looked that frightened even when the demon attacked in the corridor. I pulled my hand back.
“I’ve seen this symbol before,” I told her, rising.
“Where?”
“I can’t remember,” I admitted. “I keep going over the image in my mind. It’s written on a box, but I can’t figure out where it would be.”
“Show me,” she said.
Caught off-guard, I replied, “What?”
“Show me,” she said, holding out her hand. “
It’s a werewolf thing, right? You can show me the memory and maybe I can figure out where it is.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asked.
I glanced at the sigil, then back at her. “The first and last time I tried to show someone something, it went wrong.”
I winced inward at the memory. I had tried to show Lorne the memories a fox in Creature Languages had given to me. It was more of a moment of pride than anything else, and the memory turned, giving me no control until I showed him the accident in which Sebastian had died and I had become a werewolf. It had left us both shaken.
“You can trust me,” Dara said, her voice encouraging and filled with understanding. “It might be our only chance to stop whatever demon is linked to this sigil.”
I knew she was right. We didn’t have any other leads.
The sound of a bell caught my ear. The thought of sitting through class wasn’t a welcome one. I held out a hand. “It’s worth a try.”
Dara motioned to the chairs and we both took a seat. She set her hand in mine and closed her eyes. I studied her face. As an empath, Dara was one of the most closed-off people I had ever met. Usually her gaze was either accusing or angry. I couldn’t blame her after all she had been through, but it was nice to be able to look at her without fearing her wrath.
She was beautiful with her features relaxed and with trust on her face. It caught me by surprise to realize it and I must have stared at her longer than I planned because she opened one eye and gave me a skeptical look.
“Are we doing this?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
I nodded quickly and closed my eyes. “Just keep your mind open,” I said. “I’ll do the rest.”
“How do I know if my mind’s open?” she asked.
I opened my eyes and smiled at her concerned expression. “I have no idea. We’ll just give it a try.”
“Alright,” she replied. She closed her eyes again.
I shut my eyes and let out a slow breath, but my mind raced with thoughts of the sigil, the feeling of Dara’s hand in mine, and the thought that we were both missing breakfast. My stomach growled, reminding me that werewolves are fond of food. I counted to ten, willing my mind to clear. It was something Julianne had taught me to do whenever I got frustrated. It worked to calm my whirlwind of thoughts and let me concentrate.
