These should have been the most amazing classes I’ve ever sat in, but the truth is, it’s hard to be impressed when I live this reality. Not to mention that the focus on extended powers rather than the emotional support the link provides exasperates me.
So, when Seff and Fillan join us, taking the last two free seats on the table, I jump at the chance for a distraction.
“Can we join?” Seff asks with a devilish grin.
“Depends on what you mean,” I reply with a smirk.
He spreads his booklet open and smooths the pages, but his gaze remains on me. “You know what I mean.”
“What’s the point of playing hard to get, banshee?” Fillan cuts in, thankfully in a whisper. “The circle is almost complete. You can’t claim you don’t mean to bind it anymore.”
I pretend to ignore them and return to my reading. It doesn’t help my concentration that the text relates to the same topic.
Usually, the more creatures join the banshee’s side, the wilder their powers become. In 1806, in Massachusetts, a banshee took her own life to break her circle. When the extended powers of those in her circle faded, peace returned to the village once more.
With a tightness in my throat, I push my booklet in front of Seff. “Look. This could happen if I were to go on binding the circle.”
He skims the paragraph and shrugs. “Maybe these are just old tales meant to scare children away from power.”
I fold my arms in front of me. “And I suppose our parents’ circle is also a story meant to scare children?”
From her seat across the table, Charity looks like she’ll climb over and tear Seff to shreds if he says the wrong thing.
“That was messed up,” Seff says in a somber tone. “But it was the hunters’ war that escalated beyond control, not our parents’ powers.”
“How would you know?” Jean huffs.
“Enough,” I say, eyes scanning the tables by the window.
More than a few legacies look our way, trying to overhear our conversation. When everyone zips it, the other students watch us in expectation, but eventually resume their reading.
Once I judge they won’t be paying the same close attention to us, I whisper to Seff, “Perhaps you’re right. We don’t know exactly why the last circle spun out of control. Perhaps it was the hunters or the circumstances.” Then, I grin at him. “Or perhaps there was too much testosterone in Mom’s circle.”
“You can’t mean that!” Seff growls.
I only smile wider. “I mean, look at the four of us. This is a supportive, well-balanced circle, don’t you think? Perhaps the secret to making it work is to avoid binding myself to hotheaded boys.”
Fillan looks like he’s about to wolf out and bite me through the throat.
Seff’s sour expression smooths. “Fine, fine. You’ve proved your point. You’re the boss. But, seriously, you need people from the families of the old circle. It’s only logical.”
“Plus, a few boys won’t break up your Charlie’s Angels dynamic,” Fillan spits out.
I feign a deep pout. “But I quite fancy keeping it an all-girls club. Say, what’s your sister up to these days? Perhaps she’ll want to join? She’s the favorite to become the next alpha, right?”
Charity, Jean, and Vanessa giggle. I may have pushed too far, looking at the twins’ outraged expressions, but I don’t regret it. Seff has been a friend when I needed one, but his incessant demands need to stop.
I glance at him, eyebrows raised to show him I’m no longer joking. “I know you want this, both of you, but you can’t pressure me into it. That’s not how it works.” I get the feeling that the words pouring out of me are guided by a premonition. “When I form a link, mutual understanding and trust must exist between me and the other person. I can’t be bullied into it.”
I think back to each link. With Jean, I let go of my fear and trusted her not to hurt me. With Vanessa, I chose to defend her no matter the cost, and she trusted that I would fight for her. With Charity, I held her as she bared her soul. The link is emotional, rather than an arrangement out of utility or strategy.
And as much as I have appreciated Seff’s help after Jean’s suspension, we’ve never reached that level of trust because of his persistent requests. The more the twins push to be a part of my circle, the less I trust them in my heart. It isn’t enough that they have my back.
“Got it.” Seff’s jaw clenches.
In a heartbeat, the twins stand up and leave. I almost get to my feet to follow, my stomach tight with guilt, but Jean places a hand over mine.
“You did the right thing,” she says. “There’s no need to rush this, and they definitely don’t get to be a part of the circle just because they want to.”
I fix her with a piercing look. “You just don’t want any wolves in the circle.”
Jean rolls her eyes, but her nose scrunches, betraying her. “I mean, yes, but even so, the argument is valid.”
“It is,” I say, though I glance over my shoulder at the library door slamming shut after the twins.
WE GET TO OUR LEGACY Powers class in silence and take our usual seats in the classroom, not to draw any further attention to our group.
Mrs. Gianni’s plan for today’s lesson is an interactive session about the extended powers the charmers and lions have in a circle. I look over my shoulder to exchange a quick smile with Charity but otherwise take copious notes on the powers of the lions. That’s not something I can guess at from my experience in the circle.
“For the lions, healing other people with the protector is a purely mental exercise,” Mrs. Gianni says. “The same is true for the extended powers of the legacies we already discussed in previous classes: the cold ones’ ability to compel those of their own kind, the wolves’ ability to shift without a full moon, and the vipers’ ability to worg into multiple snakes.”
I never thought of it in this way, but as I take notes, I nod in agreement.
Mrs. Gianni’s voice rings clear as she continues the lesson. “The mental exercise is even more obvious in the case of the charmers with extended powers. To assign various attributes to their shields, they hone the power of their concentration and imagination.”
Charity clears her throat and raises a hand. “Do we know the full extent of the shields charmers could produce in the circle?”
“Circles are so rare and so fleeting in their existence that I doubt anyone ever found this out,” Mrs. Gianni says. “But what we do know is that the longer the shield needs to be maintained, the more concentration the spell requires. Even the best-made charm will fall in time.”
Charity gasps behind me. I bet we’re thinking the same. How long before the pink mirror stops working?
Mrs. Gianni steers the discussion back to her well-practiced script. “All extended powers start with determination and a strong desire to be free of the restraints the legacies’ nature imposes on us.”
Her words make me think of the scene I watched between Mrs. Gianni and Jean. That was a mental exercise on my part. Even though I was sleeping, my subconscience was reaching out, pushing the limits of what I thought I could do with the legacy powers I’ve inherited.
So if our powers are all rooted in mental effort, why is the banshee different when it comes to the circle?
Sunk in thought, I’m not listening to Mrs. Gianni’s next explanations. My banshee intuition screams at me that I’ve stumbled onto something. My hand shoots up into the air before I’ve really thought this through.
“Yes, Camelia,” Mrs. Gianni says with slight surprise. I’ve interrupted her mid-sentence.
“I’m just wondering...” I clear my throat. “Why is the banshee the only one who can bind a circle? You just said it yourself—the rest of the legacies exercise mental strength with their abilities, too. Why can’t they all create links as well?”
The entire class strains and focuses on me. Notes are no longer being taken. All eyes are on me, then on Mrs. Gianni in anticipation of her reply.
; She furrows a blond eyebrow at me in suspicion, but her forehead smooths when she answers. “There are ancient tales that suggest it was once possible for any legacy to form a link to another legacy.”
“How would that even work?” Charity asks, then raises a hand to correct her mistake.
“We can’t be certain,” Mrs. Gianni says. “But if the ancient text is to be believed, the link was once accessible to all legacies in a manner that allowed many different circles to be formed. There could be a circle of wolves, or charmers, or vipers. If the information in the text is correct, cross-legacy links used to be unusual as the legacies lived with their own kind and rarely mixed.”
My jaw drops. “Can we study that text?”
“It’s a rare, ancient record kept in a secure location. It has museum value for our kind,” Mrs. Gianni cuts me off. “And it dates back hundreds of years. It wouldn’t be safe in the hands of students.”
Jean and I share a look that makes me think she wants to get her apparently untrustworthy student hands on that record as much as I do.
Seff raises a hand next. “But that can’t really be true, can it? Why don’t we have the power to link among ourselves now?”
Mrs. Gianni takes a moment to scan the room, but all eyes are still on her, so she indulges us with an answer. “According to the text, there was a bloody, fiery war, which ended with a powerful joint spell. All legacies agreed to use the spell to suppress certain powers. It is said that the banshees were the only legacies who refused to go through with the joint spell. Therefore, they did not lose the ability to link themselves to others.”
Despite the warm, late-spring breeze that flows in through the window, my teeth chatter. “You’re saying that if there were other banshees around, I would be able to link myself to them?”
“We may never know,” is the only response I get.
“What was the war that led to this?” Charity says.
“Can this joint spell be undone?” Seff adds.
“Enough.” Mrs. Gianni’s voice turns shrill and final. “This is a complex, very old legend which we only teach to our students in their senior year. You need to understand that old tales have often been retold so many times that the message becomes diluted by irrelevant or wrong information. Expert historians among the legacies haven’t been able to confirm the validity of this ancient record, and therefore, we shall take it as a myth—a possibility that it may be true, or that it could be nothing but fiction.”
I stare at the headmistress, my expression frozen. I don’t buy it.
Mrs. Gianni clears her throat. “Now, back to today’s lesson.”
I zone out as soon as she’s said it, engulfed in thoughts about the joint spell. Maybe that’s the reason all circles eventually grow unstable. If the original circles were bound only between legacies of the same kind, then a cross-legacy circle would be unnatural...
I shudder at the thought, wishing for it to be wrong.
“Psst,” Charity whispers behind me, so low I’m the only one that catches it.
I lean back in my chair until I feel her hand on my shoulder. She still bears the burn marks from the witch hazel net the hunters threw on her after my Claiming. The guilt cuts into me every time I see her scarred hands—her punishment for helping me escape.
But then my eyes are drawn to a white piece of paper between her fingers. I snatch it and unfold it under my desk. I’d recognize Seff’s chunky letters anywhere.
I’m sorry, okay? Turning into a wolf every full moon hurts. I’d like to avoid it, if at all possible. And I’d like to be able to turn on my own. To protect my family. The legacies. Our town. You.
Forgive me?
I’ll never bring this up again.
I can’t help a smile as I write back a response.
If you promise, then yes, you’re forgiven.
I hand the note back to Charity. Seff’s reply comes in a minute.
Phew. You made me sweat for it.
Now that that’s behind us... Got a date for the spring fair this weekend?
My insides twitch with discomfort. An image flashes in my mind’s eye—that of Mason as my date for the spring fair. If only we could do stupid date stuff, not having to hide that we’re together...
But I shake off that thought as fast as I can. If I’m to keep Mason safe after his confrontation with the hunters, this has to remain a dream. Plus, I could use Seff by my side if the hunters take another shot at my circle. He was more than helpful at Vanessa’s event.
Hoping I’ll get a chance to explain all this to Mason, I scribble a reply.
I think I do now.
Chapter 26. Mason
BRYAR FALLS APART WHEN we get home from the quinceañera. She collapses on the couch in the study, make-up smeared on her face. Father takes one look at me, and my grim nod is enough of a confirmation.
He holds her through her tears until Bryar calms down enough to get some sleep. Father takes on the bulk of the awkward tasks, such as informing Mom of what happened. They agree that it might be best for Bryar to get out of town for a while, so instead of Mom coming over as planned, Father and Bryar will visit her.
They agree on leaving the next morning.
Father doesn’t invite me along with Bryar and him until the last moment when he’s loading their luggage into the car. He must have known I’d refuse to go, even though I want to be there for Bryar.
“I need to know what the new hunters are up to next,” I say. “I can’t disappear now. It would look suspicious.”
Father slams the trunk shut. “Agreed.”
I eye the street, empty so early on Sunday morning. “Don’t come back until I give you a signal that it’s safe. At least, don’t bring Bryar back until they’re gone.”
Father nods. “Keeping her away from Vaughn is one of the few things your mother and I agree on.”
Bryar comes out of the house, red-eyed and puffy, with a duffel bag in hand. She hands it over to Father and pulls me aside.
“Listen, I appreciate you keeping an eye out on the new hunters to protect me, but now that the truth is out in the open, you should come with us to see Mom.”
I look away, my eyes falling on Cami’s hedge, which has turned fresh green with the advance of springtime. I don’t want to admit to Bryar that there’s a good reason for me to stay. I may be the only one who can protect Cami. Of course, I’d have to get back into the hunters’ good graces first, but even so, I’m the only double agent we’ve got.
“I have to stay,” I tell my sister.
“I don’t get it,” Bryar says, stubborn as usual. “Come with us. If this isn’t a family issue, I don’t know what is.”
“There’s nothing for me to discuss. You’re my sister, and you always will be. But I need to find out what the hunters are up to. I’m the only one who can.”
Hopefully, I still can, I think to myself bitterly.
“You’re doing it for Cami, aren’t you?”
Lips pressed into a frown, I don’t reply.
“Well, she’s lucky to have you.” Bryar shrugs. “Just be careful, okay? I know I’m supposed to want to get to know them... Vaughn and Zach, but there’s a weird vibe about them. They’ve got more secrets buried under the finery.”
I nod, not once doubting that, and give my sister a bear hug.
“Take care of Jean for me, would you?”
I let out a shaky laugh. That’s so Bryar. Worrying about her older, supernaturally fast, blood-drinking girlfriend as if Jean were a harmless puppy.
“I’ll do my best.”
Bryar sweeps her hair over one shoulder. It gleams red in the sunshine. Father calls for her, so my sister flings herself into my arms once more before she gets in the front passenger seat.
I watch the car leave our driveway in the dewy dawn with the sinking realization that I’m alone in a proper mess now.
DURING THE NEXT WEEK, I skip all hunter meetings apart from Andreev’s early sessions with the elites. Despite the bridge I�
�ve burnt by shouting at Vaughn, I still need Andreev as an ally. He doesn’t confront me about what happened at The Ravenna, which makes me hopeful he might still trust me.
Thankfully, Zach is silent and stays out of my way. There’s still something about him that makes me hope I can trust him. So if he wanted answers, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up the pretense any longer. And then I could be in real trouble.
On Saturday morning, I don’t catch up on sleep. Being alone in this enormous house for the past week has me weirded out, though I wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Maybe I’m just blaming the house as an excuse for wanting company, especially the company I crave.
Cami.
I scan the street for any hunters, lurking in the shadows, then jump over the fence to Cami’s backyard.
Risking I’ll wake her up, I text her to come meet me. I hang about for a few minutes, perfectly aware that I’ll have hell to explain if I run into her father instead.
Luckily, when the backdoor cracks open, Cami’s head pokes out.
Her curls are in disarray and her face is a little puffy, but it only makes her seem more kissable.
“What’s wrong?” She wears a tee-and-shorts PJ set. When she sits on the top step, she hugs her knees to her chest.
I throw a last look left and right to check for prying eyes before I climb up the stairs to sit next to her. “Sorry for waking you.”
“That’s all right. I’ve got a ton of homework I should get started on, anyway.” The sound dies on her lips. “How’s Bryar?”
“Confused,” I say. “She and Father left to visit Mom and get some closure on the whole thing. Not that I think it’s going to be that easy. She might not want to get to know her other blood relatives, but until she does, she won’t ever be sure what she thinks of them.”
“I bet she wishes it weren’t the Hastings.”
“As do I.”
Cami slips her hand into mine. Our fingers interlace as if on instinct.
She sucks in a breath, then blurts out, “I’m going to the town fair with Seff.”
Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2) Page 17
