We climb over the wrought-iron gate, but once we’re on the other side of it, Zach doesn’t head to the Elmwick Academy entrance. Instead, he leads us through the bushes under the classroom windows. “Ever pried open a window?”
“There’s always a first time,” I say.
He smirks, teeth sparkling white against the darkness. “That’s the spirit.”
Zach pulls out a metal rod he uses as a lever to jar open the window. On the third try, it works. That’s not surprising. Elmwick Academy is a creaky old building, and with the charm in place, the legacies couldn’t be too bothered about further measures of safety.
Zach pulls himself up and tumbles inside the dark classroom. After throwing one glance around at the spooky, empty yard, I follow.
The classroom isn’t the one we camped in when the blizzard hit, but it is similar. A few more desks are cluttered inside, and it has the same fireplace. No blackboard or projector in sight. It barely looks like a school, not that this should surprise me.
The door creaks when we leave the classroom, but I only press my lips together. The crawling sensation over my skin is a reflex. There should be no one at Elmwick Academy tonight.
Zach checks the rest of the corridor, a few more doors creak, then he returns to me with a whisper, “These are all classrooms. Let’s check upstairs.”
We climb up the creaking stairs, which seem to protest against our presence in the building. With a sign in cursive, the first door on the second floor catches my attention. The sign reads, ’Library.’
Zach pushes the door gently. “We’ll need some light,” he whispers as he peeks inside the room.
I take out my phone, shining the screen in front of us. Zach pulls out his phone as well, but warns, “Don’t use the flashlight. It’s too bright.”
We sneak inside the legacies’ library under the faint blue light from our phones. It looks like a cozy space—long lines of shelves stretch from side to side, and twin seats are positioned at equal distance in front of the windows. Not a terrible place to spend some time reading, I must admit.
Unimpressed, Zach has already started studying the titles on the nearest shelf. He hisses in irritation almost at once. “There’s a trillion of those little booklets and journals in here. This will take forever.”
“I thought you’d know what to look for,” I say lazily. Zach works so hard to act all smooth. It’s nice to see him out of his element for once.
He doesn’t seem to appreciate the comment. “Mate, get on with the task, would you? This is our only chance to find the booklet, and I’m not about to blow it.”
I take a stroll down the next aisle to get a feeling of how this place is organized. Sadly, it’s not by type of legacy or topic, but by year. A nice front if the school is ever searched. No human will be able to tell there’s anything magical going on here.
When I return to the spot where I left Zach, he’s browsing the second row of that same shelf. We’re looking for a needle in a haystack, apparently. That means we can look harder or search smarter.
The bigger desk by the entrance bears a sign “Librarian”. I get behind it and go through the drawers. There are manually maintained ledgers for book lending. How dated.
“Say,” I call out to Zach, then catch myself and lower my voice. “This journal we’re after, who would be reading it?”
Zach lifts his gaze from the row of books he’s studying. “Only the most advanced students, I suppose. Or they might not even teach it.”
I browse through the folders in the bottom drawer until I find one that’s labeled “Advanced Legacy Powers.” It’s a dusty folder. I only scan it quickly and still catch at least a dozen references to the banshee’s circle.
“What was it meant to be called again?” I ask Zach in a whisper.
He’s further down the same aisle, a finger gliding on the spines of the thin booklets, tightly packed on the bottom shelf.
“The joint spell,” he says.
I spend another few minutes browsing through that folder but spot no mention of it. When I push the folder back, my knuckles bump against the back wall of the drawer. I freeze, then repeat the small knock. It sounds hollow.
“Get over here,” I call for Zach.
This time, he abandons his endless search and walks over. “What is it?”
“A hidden compartment.”
I gather the folders to one side with one hand, then reach out to feel the back wall for any hidden latches or buttons. The puncture wound on my thumb still prickles as I slide my fingers against the wood.
A click makes our eyes meet, then focus on the drawer. It pushes further out to help us see the hidden compartment at the end, which now yawns open. A single journal, as small as my palm, peeks from inside the hidden compartment.
I snatch it, and when I do, the compartment seals itself again, the back of the drawer as smooth as before. Under the light of both our phones, we study the booklet. There’s no cover, just a blank page, wrinkled and covered in yellow smears.
I open it on the handwritten title page, “The forgotten joint spell”.
“I think we’ve got it,” Zach says, suddenly all chipper, and reaches for it, but I snatch the booklet up to my chest.
“I want to read it first.”
It’s hard to make out Zach’s expression by the meager light of our phones alone, but I sense him tense up. “Not here.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” I say. “We’ll read it here or I’m not giving it to you.”
He clucks his tongue and throws a look over his shoulder at the entrance to the library. We left it open so we could hear any footsteps approaching us. When he seems satisfied with the quiet that reigns outside, he nods.
We angle our phones for light as I flip through the notebook’s rough pages. After the title, there’s a page with a saying in cursive.
To want most is to lose everything.
How very uplifting.
I flip onto the next page. The story reads like a fairy tale.
Since the beginning of time, special individuals have walked among us. Some called them the powered, others the blessed, but to those afraid of the heritage, they were known as witches and beasts.
The powered could mate with humans, and if so, their progeny inherited the special abilities. This was the most common way for the powered to strengthen their numbers. Because the threat from vicious humans, uneducated in nature’s true balance, was always present.
The powered weren’t all the same. In fact, they lived in isolated clans and trusted those with the same affinity as themselves, only tolerating the rest of the powered they encountered. Inside their homogeneous groups, they formed bonds that ran deeper than friendship and fiercer than love.
And so it sometimes came to clashes between the different clans of powered ones. The war they all must remember started when one clan grew too strong, much stronger than the rest. Because each link magnified the abilities of the powered ones linked, the bigger the linked circle, the harder it was to beat it.
In a clash with the humans, that circle left bodies for miles. Burnt, speared through, bloodied, and torn.
It was then that a young banshee went from clan to clan to propose the unthinkable—a link between different kinds of powered ones, the creation of a circle that transcended the clans the powered ones usually clung to. She linked herself to the phantoms, to the howling beasts, to the creatures of the night, to the slithering sisters, and to the charming protectors.
With the power of the six clans at her side, she led the battle against the clan so powerful it was spinning out of control. But as well intended as the banshee’s circle was, it was incomplete, unstable, broken by design.
As the battle went on, the members of the circle lost more and more of their self-control. Their very sanity. The banshee’s circle blew through the defenses of their enemies, but when they had rounded up the last of the rebellious clan and made their king kneel, the last semblance of control slipped through their fingers.
The slithering sisters hissed a curse to bind the shield, independent of any anchor.
The creatures of the night spoke their compelling commands to make the rebels forget who they were.
The howling beasts bit into the rebels, poisoning their blood.
The phantoms healed the bite, transforming the poison to a trace that would forever mark each generation of the rebels.
In their rage, the five kinds bound a joint spell, pouring their abilities into one to erase the rebels from existence.
Only the banshee watched in terror and screamed for the others to stop. But the cruelty of her incomplete circle knew no bounds. The circle went against nature, against life, against decency.
The banshee screamed, aiming to shatter the barrier around the rebels before it enveloped them forever. The joint spell was too strong for her to break through, but she pushed with all her heart, until, combined with the effort of the clan being restrained, a piece of the slithering sisters’ curse ricocheted.
The joint spell took.
Those in the rebel clan woke up with no memory of who they were or of the powers they’d lost.
They went back to life as humans, never knowing they were once much more. Still, they were always drawn to the powered ones, seeking them out on instinct. That was the heritage they were left with.
And the rest of the powered ones? They inherited something as well, from the part of the curse that ricocheted. Since the day of the joint spell, they could never link with those of their own kind.
Only the banshee, the one who fought against the joint spell, inherited the gift to form the link. Not a link with her own, but with one individual from the other five kinds.
And she lived with the pain of knowing that, even if she used this ability, every circle of six would be doomed like that first one. So the banshee and her descendants swore to never let another circle form, because it could be even more destructive than the first.
I flip onto the next page, but it’s blank. The next few as well. My heart is booming in my chest. The powered rebels... Their instincts sound unnervingly familiar.
In the quiet, the rustling of pages and our labored breaths is the only sound.
“That’s super weird,” I conclude.
“Agreed,” Zach whispers.
“Agreed,” a voice sounds by the door.
Zach and I whip our heads around to find Awan, leaning against the door frame, eyes ablaze in that odd bronze glow that lets me know his protector is out and about.
Chapter 31. Cami
WITH ONLY A WEEK LEFT before spring break, Friday night should be quiet as students focus on cramming for their midterms. Well, all students apart from the six of us.
It’s hard to find clothing equally suitable for trespassing and cocktail night. In the end, I settle on a pair of ballet flats and skinny jeans—a look made dressier with a sequin top.
Seff, Awan, and I walk to The Ravenna together, doing our best to look casual, like we’re out for a drink, although that makes little sense in the middle of exam period. As we walk, I test my flats against the pavement, growing more and more certain the soles don’t provide enough grip for what awaits me later.
Before we enter The Ravenna’s garden, I spot Charity—a shadowy figure bent over as if to tie her shoe. Hopefully, she’s almost done setting up the herb points needed for the charm. We enter without drawing attention to her.
The lobby is bathed in faint, cozy light, and quiet lounge music plays in the background.
The clerk at the welcome desk looks at us with faintly veiled curiosity through his glasses. We give him our most innocent smiles and ask if we can have a few drinks, non-alcoholic of course, here in the lobby.
The Ravenna staff is known for their professionalism. Even though they probably never see teens in here for a fancy drink, the clerk calls the kitchen for us and invites us to take a seat in the designer chairs. Mine is a half dome I sink into. I keep leaning in, elbows on my knees, so I can steal glances at the elevator.
Once the Hastings leave, we’ll go in.
Nervously, I check my phone for a status from Charity, Jean, and Vanessa. The circle’s group chat is traitorously empty, making me tap my foot.
“Could you at least try to seem relaxed?” Seff asks, noticing my nervous tick.
“Sorry.” I cross my legs, hoping that will chase away the urge to continue my tapping.
“We should have come alone.” Seff glares at Awan but then takes in my exasperated expression. “I’m just saying, three’s a crowd. We’d be much more convincing as a pair of teens on their first date. As a cover, of course.” His voice turns cool, making my stomach tighten.
Throughout the week of planning tonight’s heist, we haven’t talked about the kiss, but when I feel his electric-blue eyes on me, my skin crawls with the guilt of that moment.
There’s too much at stake tonight to let in that distraction, though.
The elevator beeps, and I sink back in my chair just in time to hide from Vaughn and his wife. They’re too dressed-up for any place in Elmwick. Awan, Seff, and I remain quiet, counting the seconds until they leave. It doesn’t seem like they spotted us. So far, so good.
Now we just have to wait for Zach to leave. I drink my mocktail way too quickly while we wait.
Then, finally, the first piece falls into place. Jean texts in the chat.
The staff are all compelled. I’m in position to defer humans from entering the hotel. Good luck.
I turn the screen for Seff and Awan to read her status report and get a brief nod from both boys.
The doors of the lobby open, letting a breeze roll in. I turn in my chair expecting it to be Charity, bringing bad news. The charm is bound to be tricky.
Instead, my eyes land on Mason. He stops abruptly, his gaze moving from me to Seff and then finally to Awan.
They gape at each other, Awan trailing off with a slow, “Err...”
I push up from my chair and rush over to Mason. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What are you doing here? With them? Is Awan also...?”
His eyebrows furrow at me, so I hurry to say, “Linked? No, he isn’t.” But that’s not what I want to talk about. The memory of the fair steals my attention. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened at the fair.” His expression softens a little, giving me hope. “Please don’t let that push you over to their side. I meant it when I said that the circle doesn’t have to lead to war.”
Before Mason can reply, the elevator beeps to let out Zach. He looks as dashing as he did at Vanessa’s event.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” I snap at him, possibly triggered by the reminder.
A meaningful look passes between them, then Zach says, “I’ll be waiting in the limo.”
Mason waits for Zach to leave, then leans in, speaking softly. “Cami, I can’t explain, but I need you to trust me. I have to keep up with the hunters, especially since you’ve bound the circle.”
“Don’t you mean, especially since they know I’ve bound some of the circle?” I can’t help the snark.
“Look, I can understand some links happened without you meaning them to, but you need to promise me you won’t complete the circle. It’s the only thing keeping us from an outright war.”
I shake my head, the words flowing out of me in a hissed whisper, “But maybe the last circle was misunderstood or grew unstable for another reason.”
His gaze drifts to Seff and Awan. “Cami, that’s wishful thinking. You said so to Seff yourself. The circle could be dangerous.”
“I know, and I am terrified every time I think of all the examples pointing to that conclusion, but I can’t help how I feel in the circle. It’s only brought us friendship.” I need him to know, to see there might be another way.
“Only friendship?” His tone changes into that of accusation.
“Don’t...” I warn. “It isn’
t like that with Seff.”
“Sure looked like it when he kissed you.” His murmur turns into a growl. “We’re getting nowhere, and Zach’s waiting.”
“Let’s talk tomorrow, then?” I slip my hand into his, interlacing our fingers. “I hate leaving things like this.”
“Me too.” My heart leaps when Mason leans in. “But we can’t do this right now.”
I hate the distance between us, every centimeter brings agony. “I’m not sure I care who sees anymore. I’ve had enough of hiding and running.”
I reach for him on tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips. He responds at once, despite his previously sour mood. Mason is a block of ice only I can melt. As we deepen the kiss, my insides writhe. This is but a fleeting moment before my circle and I quite possibly ruin everything.
After all, if we succeed, Bryar’s biological father will wake up in a cell.
Mason pulls away, studying my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t be around here tonight, please.” It’s the only warning I can issue. I owe him that much.
His eyes find Awan again. “I’ve somewhere else to be, anyway.”
I’m so relieved I don’t even ask where. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
With a nod, Mason exits The Ravenna. I feel the pull to go after him but stop myself.
Awan comes up to me, his expression tense. “What are they up to?”
“No idea.” I turn back to signal Seff over. He pays the bill and joins us.
Once we leave the hotel, we don’t exit through the main gate but turn a corner to the hotel parking lot. There, between two black cars, we find Vanessa, milky eyed and mentally far away.
“You all right, V?” I crouch next to her.
“Fine,” she says, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. “There are two guards in the hall, but none in the bedrooms. Sneaking a peek into the study now. The door is locked. Two windows overlook the backyard. I don’t see any cameras or alchemist contraptions securing the windows. Should be a clean entrance.”
I heave a breath. “Okay.” The moment for action came too fast. I test my shoes again, convinced I’ll surely slip when we’re up there.
Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2) Page 21
