by Theresa Kay
“I want that animal put down!” hisses Bernadette as she points in Penny’s direction.
Through the back window, Penny gives her a grin, all teeth, all mocking. There’s a hardness to her I don’t recognize, a level of rancor I’d never noticed before, and it’s filling in pieces of a picture I’m not so sure I want to see. She’s been friendly enough, but she’s never been particularly helpful before, and she barely knows Isobel.
Why did Penny come here? Was it solely to take a shot at the St. James family? And why would she lie about the Bite and what happens to a witch’s magic? What purpose would that serve? To stay at Ravencrest? To earn my trust? What the hell is going on?
There are too many questions, too many possibilities, and nothing makes sense. A thought niggles at the back of my mind. I’m missing something, and my thoughts are too all over the place to figure out what that is right now.
Bernadette follows along as another officer leads Allister to an ambulance and helps him sit on the back while a medic looks at his arm. The medic shakes his head, and Bernadette covers her mouth with her hand and squeezes her eyes shut. Allister merely looks pale and drawn, resigned.
My gaze moves to Tristan, standing off to the side, looking lost and so very alone. His mother won’t look at him, won’t speak to him, and everything around him is moving at double speed while he just stands there. He’s deflated, like everything that kept him upright has been stolen from him. And maybe it has. The steel in his spine, the hardness in his eyes, where did that all come from if not his horrible, awful mother who now looks through him as if he doesn’t exist?
“You should talk to him,” says Isobel’s soft voice from beside me. She’s sitting with her back against the side of the house and her knees drawn up into her chest. The medics looked her over and, besides being a little dehydrated and generally weak, said she’s fine. I’m not so sure. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, and there’s something . . . off.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” I say. “The whole thing with Penny. It’s not what he thinks, but he’s not going to listen to me.” He doesn’t look like he wants to listen to anyone. “Besides, I want to talk to you. What do you remember? Were you in the library when they took you?”
She tilts her head to the side, and her lips part. “I’m not . . . I’m not sure.”
“Well, try to think about it. The officers will want to take a statement or something so charges can be pressed.” I smooth a hand over the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
She bites at her bottom lip, worry pulling her brows together, as she nods absentmindedly.
Thirty minutes pass and the officers haven’t spared me or Isobel a glance. Two of them spent a while talking to Bernadette and another one talked to Allister, but so far no more handcuffs have been pulled out. It’s as if . . . they don’t plan to arrest them at all.
“Wait here,” I say to Isobel. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”
Another absentminded nod.
I flag down the closest officer. “Are you guys going to take statements from us or whatever? I don’t mind waiting, but Isobel’s been through kind of a lot this evening.”
“Statements? For what?” The woman gives me a blank look.
My gaze darts to Bernadette. “So you can press charges . . . for kidnapping. Or, like, attempted murder? I don’t know. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
“You’ve been watching too many human cop shows, kid. We’re not the same thing as the police. We’re only here to investigate and take custody of the rogue shifter.”
“But they . . . she . . .” I gesture toward Bernadette. “She kidnapped my roommate and tried to kill me.”
The officer shrugs. “Not our department.” She leans closer and says in a soft voice, “And even if it was, they’d never give the order to arrest Bernadette St. James. Not on the word of a couple teenagers. Sorry, hon.”
I gape after her as she walks away. Bernadette is going to get away with this? How is that possible? How is that justice?
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not worth arguing with them,” says Tristan as he places a hand on my lower back and guides me toward Isobel. “I’ve spoken with Desmond. We should return to campus.” His voice isn’t hard, it isn’t angry . . . it’s empty.
He takes advantage of my stunned state and leads me and Isobel to his car, opening the door for my roommate and helping her get settled before walking around to get behind the steering wheel. I slide into the passenger seat and watch as the officers speaking with Bernadette and Allister shake their hands and give orders for everyone else to disperse. Tristan pulls away as his mother helps his father into the house, and Isobel is asleep in the back before we reach the end of the driveway.
This situation is just as bad as what the St. James family thinks shifters do to avoid the laws. The witches are no better. What a bunch of hypocrites.
For the first half of the drive, I stare out the window, stewing in my anger and resentment. I want to yell and scream, but not at either of the people in this car, and I’m not even sure who. How is this system so messed up? How did this start? And how do I find a way to fix it? I sigh and shake myself out of the endless circle of questions in my head, asking instead one that I might get an answer for. “What’s going to happen to your father?”
Tristan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, and his knuckles go white. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But what—”
“Let me rephrase, I don’t want to talk to you,” he bites out. “Your rescue mission was a success, and I doubt my mother will bother with you from here on out. We aren’t friends. That hasn’t changed. So, let’s just leave it at that.”
“I’m—”
“Yes, yes, you’re sorry. I get it. I don’t forgive you.” His voice cracks. “Just stay away from me once we get to campus. Okay?”
I bite back my excuses and explanations, ignore the stab of hurt his word cause, and nod. “Fine.”
The rest of the ride is silent. Once he parks, Tristan turns the car off, gets out, and walks away without another word, leaving me to turn around in my seat and gently nudge Isobel awake.
“Hey, we’re back. Do you think you can make it to our room, or should I get someone to help us?” I ask.
“Back?” Her brow creases. “Back from where?”
That’s . . . weird. I get out, open her door, and kneel on the ground by the side of the car so I can get a closer look at her. “The St. James house. They kidnapped you? Remember?”
She shakes her head slowly. “No . . . I . . .”
“What is the last thing you remember? The library?”
“The library?” Her eyes are unfocused.
“You left me a note? To meet you at the library because you’d figured out something important?”
There’s no spark of recognition, only confusion. “What are you talking about? What note?”
“The note you left in our room tonight.”
“Tonight?” Her face is blank. “What day is it?”
I run a hand over her head, no bumps, no bruises. There’s not a mark on her, but this confusion isn’t normal. “It’s Thursday. The end of midterm week?”
She presses her forehead into her palm. “I don’t know. Why can’t I remember?”
I gently squeeze her shoulder. “You might have gotten hit in the head. It’ll be okay. Why don’t I take you to Director Burke, and he can take a look?”
Her frightened eyes meet mine, and she nods. I help her to her feet and link arms with her. Since Tristan spoke with Burke, I can only assume he’s still in his office, so that’s where I take her.
Burke raises a brow when I enter and sends me a wry look. “Had you listened to me earlier, this situation may have turned out better.”
I scoff. “Are you telling me if we’d waited and gone through the proper channels or whatever, they’d have arrested Bernadette tonight?”
He averts his eye
s. “No. I can’t say that.”
“Then I did the right thing.”
He coughs.
“Sorry about the whole blasting you with magic part of it, though.” I usher Isobel forward and into one of the chairs. “There’s something wrong. I think she hit her head or they did something to her . . . She doesn’t remember anything.”
“Doesn’t remember?” He jumps to his feet and comes over to lean down in front of Isobel. He studies her face, looking closely at her eyes, and then glances up at me. “Use the phone on my desk. Dial extension 921. That’s Basil’s quarters. Tell him I need him down here.”
This is sounding worse and worse.
I follow Burke’s instructions, and ten minutes later, Basil comes rushing in dressed in flannel pajamas covered in dancing cows. Like Burke, Basil carefully studies Isobel’s face, paying particular attention to her eyes. He whispers a few words under his breath, and a ball of light appears in his hand. He stretches the light into a rod shape and uses it like a flashlight, shining it in Isobel’s eyes and moving it from side to side.
“I don’t see evidence of any spellwork, so it must be a memory potion,” he says. “I don’t know which one for sure.”
“Memory potion? You mean they wiped her memory? Exactly how much of it?”
Basil shakes his head. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen one in some time. They’re quite difficult to make and highly illegal.” He shares a look with Burke. “Do you want me to try to trace it?”
Burke gives him a stiff nod. “Of course. If you can.”
“What do you mean by trace it?” I ask.
“Basil can use a spell to find the origin of the potion, trace it back to the witch whose magic activated it. It is not a well-known spell, and there are only a few witches who can perform it,” explains Burke. “It’s also not an exact science, and it only works a quarter of the time, but it’s worth a shot.”
Basil makes the necessary preparations to perform the spell and gets to work. He places a small black stone in a circle of candles and begins lighting them one by one.
Bernadette would know about tracing. She’s not stupid enough to use an illegal potion that might be traced back to her. So where did the potion come from?
A chill travels down my spine. Penny. A second-year student who specializes in potions.
Basil waves his hand with a flourish, letting out a stream of foreign words. Greek I think. The black stone brightens, glowing with harsh silver light. It pulses once, twice, three times, and then goes dark. Basil shakes his head.
“No luck,” he says.
But I’m pretty sure I don’t need the tracing spell to tell me who activated the potion: Me.
Penny would also know about the possibility of tracing and would take precautions. Like having a witch ignorant about almost everything activate the potion for her.
I study my roommate. Is it possible she figured out Penny’s secret and that’s why Penny dosed her? But I’ve known Penny’s secret for a while, so why would Isobel figuring it out trigger such a drastic action? Or was it something else? There were more than a few times Penny started to say things and stopped herself. She alluded to things ‘they’ told her on more than one occasion. What could that have been about? Assuming I’m right and this memory potion is Penny’s doing, what secret could Isobel have possibly uncovered that would make Penny resort to something like this?
And how will I get to Penny to ask?
“I’ll have Selene take you to the infirmary for now,” says Burke as he crouches down to Isobel’s eye level. “The confusion is a common side effect of memory potions and should clear in the next day or so, and then we can figure out when you were given the potion and how much of your memory is missing. I expect the gap in your memory will be anywhere from three days to two weeks depending on the strength of the potion.” He pauses and squeezes Isobel’s hand. “You may or may not ever be able to regain the lost time. It’s why the potions are illegal.”
Isobel nods, her eyes going glassy. “What about my midterms? The ranks? It’s almost the end of the quarter, isn’t it?”
Burke straightens and goes to his desk, a strained look on his face. “I have the final rankings here ready to post in the morning.” He pulls out a tablet and sighs, his hand over the screen. “I haven’t looked at them yet.”
He walks over to hand the tablet to me. I start scrolling.
1- Jason Barrington
2- Tristan St. James
3- Sasha Kensington
More scrolling . . .
81- Adrian Dumont
More . . .
201- Selene Andras
More . . .
232- Isobel Cardosa* (Incomplete Midterms)
Isobel loses even more color from her face. “Incomplete? But . . .”
Burke shakes his head. “You had three midterms today. You only showed up for one.”
“But she was kidnapped,” I argue. “Can’t she take a make-up test or something?”
“The two midterms she missed were this afternoon, hours before the kidnapping,” says Burke.
Hours before the kidnapping? That means Isobel skipped two midterms.
“But where . . . Why? . . .” There’s a whimper in her voice, her expression lost and scared.
“We’re okay,” I say to Isobel, grabbing her hand. “And I promise you we’ll get you back up to the top where you belong. I’m not going to let the St. James family keep us down. Even if it means I have to use every tool at my disposal to do so.”
Tomorrow, I’m calling my grandparents. I wouldn’t do it for myself, but I’ll be damned if I let Isobel lose her place at Ravencrest. If anyone deserves a place at the top of that list, it’s her.
Selene's story continues in Spell Linked, available for preorder now!
Looking for a completed series to binge? Check out my Broken Skies series. Filled with action, adventure, aliens, and romance, it’s perfect for fans of the Lux series, Under Different Stars, and The Fifth Wave.
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ALSO BY THERESA KAY
Broken Skies Series (Completed)
Broken Skies
Fractured Suns
Shattered Stars
Jax will do anything to save her twin . . . even team up with a teenage alien left behind by the same ship that took her brother.
She agrees to help the alien get back home, and in return, he agrees to sneak her into the alien city to find her sibling.
Too bad it's not that simple.
Jax soon finds that she's drawn to the alien boy with bright green hair and jewel-like scales on his back and he's equally affected by her, the courageous redhead with haunted eyes. But she doesn't know the alien's true motives, and he has no idea that she is much more than she seems.
Worse, the connection forming between them has unknown consequences.
The humans and the aliens are both hiding deadly secrets and the forbidden bond linking the two teens threatens to reveal everything. What started as an uneasy alliance and a seemingly straightforward rescue mission could spark an inter-species war.
★★★★★ "A fast-paced and action-packed start to a series that will leave you reeling as you scramble for the sequel." - Kelly St Clare, USA Today Bestselling Author.
★★★★ "Broken Skies is a captivating read, and its appeal crosses genres. Whether you like sci-fi, dystopian, paranormal, or just anything with a hint of romance, check it out; it's got something for everyone."- FicCentral
★★★★★ "I don't want to give too much away but take an alien/human love story, set it in a post apocalyptic type society, feature a strong but damaged heroine, sprinkle in a compassionate but se
cretive male lead, add in suspense, drama, shake and you have the wildly entertaining Broken Skies."-Shannon from Book Crushin
ANTHOLOGIES
“Stability” a short story included in The Telepath Chronicles
Cora has spent most of her life in a clandestine medical facility, isolated from the world and content to submit to tests and experiments at the request of her keepers. Content, that is, until the day she discovers their end goal: breeding her to create a more stable telepath. So when an attack on the facility gives Cora her chance at escape, she seizes it. But as she gets closer to freedom and learns more about the world outside, Cora finds she doesn’t know whether she’d rather be outside or in—or whom she can trust.
“Six Days” a short story included in The Z Chronicles
The longest anyone has survived a zombie bite before succumbing to the madness is six days. That means, if she’s lucky, Sarah has four more days before she goes full-on flesh eater and she needs every single one of them. The life of her infant son depends on her finding an uninfected person willing to take him before she loses her mind. Her husband is dead, her son is depending on her, and the countdown is on.
“Protocol A235” a short story included in Dark Beyond the Stars
Beth is a maintenance tech on the Genesis, the spaceship that will carry her, along with fifty thousand other passengers, to a new home in deep space. But when she comes out of cryosleep to serve her thirty-day solo shift, she finds the ship in disarray, its systems malfunctioning. Worse yet, a previously undisclosed protocol has been put into effect. Protocol A235. And now Beth finds herself facing much more responsibility than she signed up for.
“Services Rendered” a short story included in Beyond the Star: A Planet Too Far
Li’hanna, a member of the prized and elusive Kotkaa race, is prepared to do anything to keep the secrets of her clan out of the hands of the evil imperial fleet.
