Catacombs

by Avery Cross

  “Do I look like I keep up with the latest fashion? Whatever they provide is fine with me.”

  He eyed me up and down, and that tic in his jaw was back, but I sensed it was happening for a very different reason this time and focused on my nails instead of the fact that he clearly checked me out.

  “No, no you don’t,” he said quietly, but it was clear that didn’t matter to him.

  Not at all. Maybe no makeup and messy hair girls were his thing. Yeah, right.

  “And what if someone does break that rule?” I asked, curious.

  His look turned serious again. “There’s a penalty for that. There’s a penalty for every infraction. Most send you to the crypt.”

  I shivered. “Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “Penalties and punishments aren’t supposed to be pleasant, but I promise it sounds worse than it is. Sort of.” His dark blue eyes bored into my eyes. “Honestly, it’s worse for me if you get in trouble so don’t push your luck, Shroud.”

  I tried to fight the butterflies that had decided to descend on my stomach like a swarm of locusts. What was that about? “What else gets you put into the crypt?”

  “A litany of offenses, too many infractions of the same kind.” He turned, as if worried someone was listening in on our conversation, before he leaned in closer. “And do yourself a favor? Don’t mention those disappearances to anyone else, alright?”

  “Why the hell not?” I muttered loudly, and he shushed me, eyes wild. “Zach?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just trying to save you from being seen as the crazy newcomer, that’s all.”

  I wanted to push him for answers. It was more than that, much more, so why wasn’t he just telling me the truth? I saw it on his face he knew way more about this, or something close to it maybe.

  “I’ve been seen worse things,” I told him. “Crazy would be a step up.”

  “Not here,” he warned. “Here, you’ll be ousted, seen as dangerous, unstable. You do not want that, trust me.”

  “You don’t know what I want,” I argued. “I don’t even know that.”

  He held up his hands and took a step backward. “Fine, you’re right. Do whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me when no one will talk to you or help you figure out this world, Shroud. It’ll all be on you. Like I said, your past no longer matters. There’s so much more you should be concerned with, and it starts right now.”

  I wasn’t sure what made me do it, but my hand moved before I could stop it, furious at his endless lectures for how I acted, and he’d only known me for less than three hours. I raised my fist. I’m not proud of my instinctive reaction. I’m not proud that my fist flew out and went straight for his jaw, eager to wipe that scowl away.

  But what happened next freaked me out. And almost put my hand in a cast.

  My fist stopped, right before it hit his face, it stopped short. Not because I wanted it to. It hit something solid, hard, and freezing cold.

  A tiny yelp escaped me before I could contain it. The pain made tears prickle in my eyes.

  No. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain, though my fist was already beginning to throb. I glanced around to see if we’d attracted any attention. Not a single person was looking in our direction.

  I studied my knuckles. They were red and swollen with abrasions where the skin was stretched thinnest over the knucklebone.

  “What was that?”

  He sighed as if knowing he was fighting a losing battle with me. “You don’t hit your upperclassman, Shroud. Unless we’re in training of course.” He turned his back on me as if I hadn’t just tried to deck him.

  “You don’t know me,” I snapped, and he paused. “You don’t know a damned thing about me so don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

  Slowly, he turned back, and the bit of friendliness I’d seen on his face was gone, replaced by a hard look that told me exactly what he was going to say before he did. “And you know nothing about me. Welcome to my world, Shroud. Get used to it, or get out.”

  Get out, just like that. Telling me to leave, but where the hell would I go? I didn’t belong anywhere else, never had. I never fit in, no matter how hard I tried. Whether I was with my mother or in the system, I was always the kid with the clothes that looked like hand-me-downs because they were exactly that. Or the one who tried not to cry because I hadn’t eaten in a day or two. I didn’t belong with my mother, clearly since my mother picked drugs over me. Even Jake had chosen someone—anyone—but me. Yeah, I was a bit crushed, and anger coursed white hot through my veins, chewing up and torching the butterflies that had been in my tummy a few moments before.

  Butterflies he’d caused. I scoffed at myself.

  I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to belong somewhere.

  And right about now, this was the only somewhere that I had a chance to do that.

  I stayed in that alcove, alone, watching the others milling about, talking, laughing, giggling, like normal people. They weren’t embroiled in a heated exchange with their upperclassman.

  I nursed my hurt fist, cupping it with my other hand, wondering what caused that to happen. Wondering if I would ever be able to put my past in the past and get on with my life.

  A few short minutes after Zach stormed away, Headmaster Hooke called us back to our seats, and as I made my way back, I noticed that in front of the stage, four eight-foot folding tables had been set up, with cardboard boxes on each table, and they held files. Behind each table sat two official looking people, with pens and clipboards before them.

  I was still staring at them as I took my seat. Nyala was already in place.

  “How’s the hottie?” she asked.

  “What?” I was having a hard time processing what she was saying, until I realized she was talking about Zach.

  “Your upperclassman,” she elaborated. “He’s so hot. That’s what my upperclassman said, too. She said they were a thing a while back, but it didn’t last. Apparently, he’s not the easiest guy to get on with. Can be a bit of a stick in the mud.”

  Inside, a part of me was felt like a bag of potato chips that had been stepped on, crushed, and mashed. Of course, other girls had been with Zach. Why wouldn’t they? Not like I should care, I wasn’t here to find out how I so did not belong with yet another interesting guy who fell into my life. I was here to figure out to be a damned witch.

  Headmaster Hooke tapped the microphone’s head. The sound traveled through the PA system and exited the speakers, bringing the auditorium to a hush.

  “I hope you all had a chance to meet your upperclassmen. They’ll be your tour guides throughout your first year. They’ll model the behavior that will be expected of you when you’re in their position.”

  Ha, funny. Wasn’t sure I could act like Zach no matter how hard I tried. But some strange voice in my head told me it was time I started proving people wrong. There was obviously more to me than I ever thought possible and I was just going to what, give up? Oh no, not this time. This time, I was going to show the world exactly what I was made of. I was going to make Zach eat his words.

  “Form a line to your left, one row at a time, and we’ll get the paperwork signed and get you on to a brief tour of the grounds, followed by a visit to the cafeteria, because I’m sure everyone is hungry,” Hooke explained.

  A round of applause followed his announcement. My stomach growled, agreeing with the applause. No breakfast or lunch, I’d been too nervous, and it was well past when I would’ve eaten dinner. The crackers the airline served, though fancy gourmet, were tiny, and even when I asked for and devoured a second serving, they’d still hardly be called a meal. The rows in front of us stood, and when it was our turn, we fell in line with everyone else.

  Nyala bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet behind me, and I was running out of nails to pick at that weren’t already broken.

  The line moved ahead steadily, and I watched the upperclassmen file out of the auditorium, clearly fin
ished with their task and probably headed to the cafeteria before the rest of us joined them. Each step brought me closer to that table and apprehension warred with determination to be good at something in my life, to prove I wasn’t worthless.

  Eventually, there were only a few people ahead of me, and then it was finally my turn. Just like that, I was facing two people, one male, one female. The man wore a black suit, the woman, a black dress, straight cut, all business, no frill. Her hair was pulled back into an austere bun.

  “Name?” Her tone was nasal.

  “I—well, I—” I swallowed the sand that I could have sworn was blocking my speech and tried again. “I—”

  “Name?” she repeated, this time with a hint of impatience, and her smile was a close-lipped, insincere flat line.

  “Briar. Briar Shroud.” My voice didn’t even sound like my own, but there, I said it.

  The woman nodded, gave the man a glance I couldn’t decipher, then she began to thumb through the files that were hanging from the cardboard filing cabinet on the tabletop.

  She retrieved a file from the box. That was my name across the tab. Opening it, she laid paperwork on the table between us, so it faced me. Taking a highlighter, she made perfect and symmetrical Xs on each page, sometimes in several places.

  “Sign here.” She handed me a pen. “And here.” She indicated with the capped highlighter. “Here, too.” She tapped and tapped and tapped.

  I was unmoving.

  Finally, she looked up. “Well?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I picked up the pen and signed every line she indicated. I expected to have a weight fall on me, but instead that same weird vibe I got when we first entered the main building filled me. Like whatever magic lay dormant inside me all these years was ready to get out.

  I set the pen down on the table, and the woman took the signed papers, handed them to the man, and smiled politely at me. “You’re all set. Please wait over there until the others are finished. And take these.” She held out a packet of papers that I accepted. “Go on now.”

  “Thanks.” I watched my papers get filed away in a box and stepped aside for the next person in line to sign away the next four years of their lives to Academy. I flipped through the papers as I wandered back to my seat, trying to be out of the way.

  There was a map on top with a lot of red zones marked off on it. “Restricted? That’s interesting… and tempting.”

  The place had more than just one or two areas off limits to newcomers. Half the campus was covered with red slashes, with several all caps warnings spelled out to stay away unless escorted by a professor or upperclassman, with written permission. What did they have here that was so dangerous? Dragons? I smirked at the notion until I realized after everything else I’d been told today, I probably shouldn’t rule that out. The next few pages were detailed maps of the buildings, including this one, as well as even more pages laying out rules, descriptions of areas of study, the tests we’d be going through this week. By the time I got to the last page, my head was spinning, and Nyala was finally heading my way.

  “Did it take that long for you?” I asked, worried she had problems.

  “What? Oh no, I was talking with Stacey, my mentor,” she said, nodding toward the doors as a few more people exited. “You looked pretty engrossed. Anything good?”

  “About a million things we can’t do,” I said as I got to my feet.

  “Well, we can head to our quarters first, check them out. And did you see?”

  “See what?” I asked.

  She shuffled through the papers again and turned to a page near the back I must’ve skipped.

  “Roommate assignment… Hey. We’re together.” Thank God, at least one thing went right today. “That’s great.”

  She nodded in agreement, and I picked up my bag. For the first time, I noticed she didn’t have anything with her and gave her a curious look. “We left all our stuff by the front doors when we got here. Said they would take it up to our rooms for us. You were kinda late, so I guess Zach forgot to tell you that part.” She cringed, but it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Yeah, forgot.” I shouldered it, and we meandered out the door as soon as an older guy with white hair announced newcomers could follow him or another professor to the dorms. Quarters. Whatever they called them here.

  Chapter Six

  Zach

  I was more than ready to kick back and relax for the rest of the night, catch up with my friends, and ignore the growing dread about having to deal with someone like Briar during orientation week.

  Food was laid out on the tables, steaming plates of burgers, fries, onion rings, everything I needed after a day like today. I was just about to fill up my plate when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and the table I sat at fell silent.

  “Headmaster Hooke has requested to see you, Zachary.”

  “Ivan.” I turned around on the bench. “Can’t it wait? I’m starving here.”

  A lot of students found Ivan intimidating. He was six and a half feet tall and was built like an ox. Sadly, I was one of those students, though I put on a good show of not being scared by Hooke’s second-hand man and head of campus security. Ivan had a crazy reputation as a very powerful warlock, too. Always made me wonder how he wound up being here at Academy instead of off fighting in the army where his brutish demeanor belonged.

  “I’m afraid he insists. It will not take long.”

  No room for argument there. With a nod to my friends, all of whom looked ready to hide under the table if Ivan stayed any longer, staring at us all with those beady eyes, I got up.

  Ivan led the way out of the cafeteria and back through the foyer of the main building. I spied several groups of newcomers wandering around, laughing and talking. All of them hushed when I passed with Ivan, their curious whisperings trailing away behind me as we took a door toward the right of the great hall and walked up three flights of old, stone stairs. Ivan said nothing the entire walk until finally, we reached Headmaster Hooke’s office. Ivan pressed his hand into a series of stones to the right, left, and above the seemingly normal alcove.

  The first time I’d seen this door opened, I’d been impressed. I even snuck back here later that night to try and get back inside, but nothing I tried worked. The stones only answered to specific people: Ivan, Hooke, and a few of the other higher up professors.

  Stones ground as the inner wall of the alcove slid back and behind, revealing a wide passage that ended in Hooke’s office. Ivan stepped to the side and waved me in. “He’s expecting you.”

  I bit back a smartass remark and headed inside to see what Hooke wanted this time.

  The short passage was lit with more oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and the office glowed with them, as well as flames from a roaring fire in the hearth behind the massive, wooden desk. It chased away the chill and damp from being so deep inside the mountain. Conventional heat wasn’t really something used by warlocks or witches, never had been. No technology really was honestly. We had cell phones and computers but needed nothing else; we used magic.

  I stepped into the large office and stared around. Quills were busy writing letters or notes at a desk to the right beneath a window that looked out into the courtyard. Other papers fluttered over my head, zooming from the bookshelves and desk then out the open window being delivered to other buildings.

  I spun around slowly, taking in the somehow clean appearing mess that Hooke’s office always seemed to be in when I was here.

  Something warm rubbed against my leg, and I glanced down to find a black and white cat, flicking her tail in the air as she meowed at me.

  “Hey Sphinx.” I bent down to scratch the ancient cat behind the ears.

  She’d been here for decades. No one knew how old she was. Several students had an ongoing bet on whether she was really a cat.

  “Where’s Hooke, huh?”

  She meowed again then purred, rubbing into my open palm.

  There was a click, and I glanced up to catch Ho
oke stepping out of a doorway near the rear of his office.

  “Ah, Zach, sorry for keeping you waiting. But I see you had company.” He shook his head as the cat continued to purr, not wanting me to stop. “You’d think she never got any attention.”

  “So it would seem.” I moved to one of the plush, high-backed chairs in front of Hooke’s solid mahogany desk.

  Sphinx followed me and hopped right up into my lap.

  “Now then, I wanted to see how your plans are coming along for your senior year.”

  Hooke smiled kindly at me, just as he always did.

  My dad died right when I started attending Academy, and Hooke took it upon himself to keep a closer eye on me than he did a lot of other students. He knew all of us by name, but he never called any of them into his office just to check on their progress.

  “It’s good. I feel confident this year is going to be my best yet,” I informed him. “Providing there are no issues,” I added, thinking of Briar.

  He smirked, and a glint of his usual mischief appeared in his eyes. “That is the real reason I asked you to speak with me actually. Forgive an old man his curiosities, but how are you finding Briar Shroud?”

  My hand paused in the middle of petting Sphinx. “Sorry?”

  He laughed and rapped his knuckles on his desk. “She is much bolder than I expected her to be.”

  “You mean she has a mouth,” I mumbled quietly, and he laughed louder. “Sorry, Headmaster, it’s just… it was an interesting car ride here.”

  “I bet it was.”

  I wondered how much to tell him about what we talked about, but more, I wanted to know why he wanted to know so badly. “Who is she? I mean, she’s not some legacy, is she? Never heard of the Shrouds before and she had no idea she was a witch, obviously.”