Hexbound

by Chloe Neill

  Veronica stopped, free hand on the doorknob, and looked us over. “What are you doing?”

  We bobbled forward as Scout pulled the door shut behind us and hitched up her messenger bag. “We’re going to find a quiet place to study. What are you doing?”

  Veronica held up the magazines. “Self-explanatory?”

  “Excellent,” Scout said. “Good luck with that.”

  “I know something’s up,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.”

  “Something like how M.K. sneaks out at night to meet her boyfriend, you mean?” I smiled innocently at Veronica.

  She all but growled, but kept her eyes on me. “Are you going to meet Jason?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” I said, but I could feel the blush heating my cheeks. I’d never been a very good liar, and while I’d been mostly honest—we weren’t planning to meet him—who knew what the night would hold?

  “What about John Creed?”

  There it was again. Veronica was clearly obsessed with Creed. Why not just call the boy and ask him out?

  “We’ll be studying,” Scout repeated. She opened her messenger bag to show Veronica her art history book. “You want to join us?”

  Veronica watched us for a minute. “No, thanks,” she said.

  She didn’t say anything else as we headed out the door, but I could feel her eyes on us as we left.

  Lesley led us through the Great Hall and then into the main building. When we got there, she led us down into the basement along the route we used to get to the vault door.

  “It’s down there,” she said, pointing down the stairs.

  “What is?” I asked, nervousness building in my chest.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Do me a favor?” Scout asked. “Could you stay up here?”

  Lesley didn’t answer, but Scout apparently took her silence as agreement, as she pulled my elbow and tugged me down the stairs.

  We found what Lesley had seen when we reached the corridor just ahead of the vault door—a trail of thick, ropey slime that led all the way back to the vault door, which stood wide open. There was no glow from the wards.

  “Oh, crap,” Scout said.

  “You think it’s from—”

  “Where else would it come from?” She frowned and surveyed the goop. “It has to be the creatures. Maybe the wards didn’t hold.”

  “Temperance faded after a while,” I pointed out. “Even with the power boost, the wards might not have held forever. Maybe those Reaper girls broke through them again, and the rat thingies followed them in.”

  “And then the rats ate the girls?” she asked hopefully.

  “Or they’re working together.”

  Scout froze. “That would be very, very bad. Reapers are awful. Reapers with minions are far beyond awful.”

  “What’s the other option?”

  “Maybe they just skipped in after the girls.”

  We both looked up. Lesley stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over her chest.

  Scout gave her a look of disapproval. “We told you to wait upstairs.”

  Lesley lifted her nose, and with a voice I’d never heard her use before, gave that attitude right back to Scout. “I am not a child, so don’t talk to me like that.”

  It took Scout a moment, but she backed off. “You’re right,” Scout said. “I’m sorry—but that doesn’t mean—”

  Lesley cut her off with a hand. “I told you I’d help you,” she said. “And I’m not going to leave just because things get slimy. Literally.”

  It took Scout a moment to respond. I understood why—even after I’d taken firespell, she hesitated to bring me into the fold. She’d worried about my safety; after all, if a Reaper thought I had information about Adepts, they might use me to get to them. It was probably the same fear she had for Mrs. M and for her friend Derek, who worked at a bodega near the school.

  “It’s dangerous,” Scout finally said, “to know too much.”

  Lesley took a step forward. “I know what people think about me. That I’m weird. That I study or practice my cello, but can’t do anything else.” She shook her head. “Just because I’m not a social butterfly doesn’t mean I’m not smart or capable. I am,” she insisted. “And I’m loyal. I just want a chance to be something more than the weird girl, even if you two are the only ones who know it.”

  We stood quietly for a minute. I’m not sure what Scout was thinking, but I was impressed. How many friends did you have who offered themselves up—to danger, to the unknown—because they wanted to help? Not because they wanted anything in return, or because they’d get credentials or fame out of it, but because it was the right thing to do?

  “And the danger?” Scout asked.

  Lesley rolled her eyes. “Take a step back.”

  “What?”

  “Take a step back.”

  We did as she asked, and just in time. Without any more warning, Lesley twisted on one heel and kicked so high she would have knocked the ring out of Scout’s nose if she’d been standing any closer.

  Scout’s jaw dropped; mine did, too.

  “How—where?”

  “I’m a black belt.”

  Scout extended a hand. “You are so in. Welcome to the community.”

  Lesley waved her off. “First things first. What do we do about this—stuff?”

  “The trail ends at the corridor,” I pointed out, “so it looks like they didn’t get any farther than that. Maybe they peeked in, didn’t find what they wanted, and left again.”

  “That’s something,” Scout said. “First of all, let’s get some help.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to tell Daniel what’s up. He’ll have to come through and reward the doors since they found a way to break through our spell. And we’re probably going to have to clean up the slime.”

  Lesley raised her hand. “Could we lead the brat pack down here first?”

  Scout gave her a pat on the back. “You’re good people, Barnaby.”

  Things I didn’t sign up for when I hopped the plane to O’Hare to attend St. Sophia’s School for Girls: firespell; werewolves (but still lucked out there); brat packers; Reapers; snarky Varsity Adepts.

  And slime. Lots of slime that had to be mopped up by Lesley, Scout, and me. ’Cause what else would a sixteen-year-old girl rather be doing than mopping goo off a basement floor?

  But we had to erase the evidence. Someone else finding the trail would only lead to questions Scout didn’t want to answer. Besides—if we had to come back down to battle anyone, it was a safety hazard. The stuff was really slippery.

  We’d found a rolling bucket and mop in a janitor’s closet a few corridors away and pushed it down to the slimy corridor. Scout and I swabbed down the slime, and Lesley used an old towel to dry down the floor.

  It took twenty minutes to clean it all up, but when we were done you could hardly tell it had been the sight of paranormal activity.

  Scout put her hands on her hips and surveyed our work. “Well, I think it looks pretty fabulous.”

  “At least it doesn’t look like the room got slimed. What’s next?”

  Scout looked at Lesley. “Can you head back upstairs?” Before Lesley could protest at the slight, Scout held up a hand. “I don’t mean back to the suite. I mean stand guard upstairs. It’s unlikely anyone would find their way down here, but stranger things have happened.” When she gave me a pointed look, I stuck my tongue out at her. Not that she was wrong.

  “Can you keep an eye on the basement door and make sure we have time to get it closed down again?”

  With a salute, but without a word, Lesley headed down the corridor.

  Scout watched her walk away. “Okay, is it wrong that I really like the fact that she saluted me?”

  “It probably means that you’re destined to be Varsity so you can have JV Adepts at your beck and call.”

  “Do you really think I’d have them at my beck and call?”

  S
cout had once told me that she wanted to run for office one day. Given the sound of her voice, I had a sense she wanted to head up Enclave Three one day, as well.

  “Well, as much as you’re at Katie’s and Smith’s beck and call.”

  “I’m not at Katie’s and Smith’s anything. Wait—what is a beck and call exactly?”

  “I think that’s when you do their bidding whenever they want.”

  She grimaced. “I guess I am that, then. All for one and one for all, and all that.” Her phone beeped, and Scout pulled it out of her bag again.

  “Daniel’s on his way. Should be here in fifteen.”

  “So we’re camping out in the basement again?”

  She blew out a breath, then crossed her legs and sat down on the stone floor. “I don’t suppose you brought any cards?”

  Daniel’s estimate had been a little low. It actually took him twenty minutes to get to us. He came in through the vault door, huffing like he’d run all the way through the tunnels.

  “Sorry. Got here as fast as I could.” He put his hands on his hips. He wore jeans and a smoky orange T-shirt beneath a thin jacket. He glanced through the corridor. “You got the mess cleaned up.”

  “Indeedy-o.”

  “How much? I mean, how far into the building did they go?”

  Scout showed him where the trail had led. “They didn’t get far,” she concluded. “Although I’m not entirely sure why.”

  Daniel frowned, then paced to the end of the corridor and back again. “First the girls, now the rats and maybe the girls,” he said. “They keep returning to St. Sophia’s. But why?”

  “Same reason they pinched Scout?” I offered. “They want her Grimoire?”

  He seemed to think about that for a minute, then nodded. “That’s the best theory we have right now. Let’s assume that’s true and build our defenses accordingly.” He walked back to the door, then began looking it over. “The wards didn’t hold, huh?”

  Scout shook her head. “Not even. Can you work it so they’re permanent? Like, they’d let Lily and me get through, but not anyone or anything else?”

  Daniel pressed a hand to the door and closed his eyes in concentration. “Yeah, I could probably work that.”

  It looked like he was getting started, but I still had a question. “Aren’t we going to go after them, or at least see how far they got? I mean, we can’t just let the rats run loose in the tunnels.”

  He glanced back, only one eye open. “All the Adepts are accounted for, tucked safe and sound into their beds, with the exception of you two.” He didn’t say “trouble-makers,” but I could hear it in his voice. “So there’s no immediate risk. Not enough that would justify sending you out on a hunting mission.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic.

  While Daniel prepared to fire up his ward, Scout sent a message to Lesley to let her know that her work was done for the night, and that we’d be up as soon as Daniel was done.

  His method of magic was quite a bit different from Scout’s . . . or anything else that I’d seen. She’d said he was a protector. Maybe they had their own special brand of mojo. After he’d communed with the door, he pulled a short, cork-stoppered clear bottle from his jacket pocket and held it up to the light, checking it out. A white cloud swirled inside it, like he’d bottled a tiny tornado.

  Daniel sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the door. He pressed his lips to the bottle’s cork, then pulled out the stopper. The mist rushed out. Daniel closed his eyes, smiling happily as it expanded and circled him, swirling around like a magical version of Saturn’s rings.

  “What is that?” I whispered to Scout.

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  The rings still circling and his eyes still closed, Daniel put hands on his knees and offered his incantation. “Solitude, sacrifice in blackness of night. Visitor—enemy of goodness and light. Hear the plea of this supplicant, protector of right, and quiet the halls of this reverent site.”

  For a second, there was nothing, and then the door flashed with a brilliant, white light that put huge dots in my vision. It took me a few seconds to see through the afterimages. By the time I could focus again, the mist was gone and Daniel had recorked the bottle.

  Scout squeezed her eyes closed. “Little warning about the flash next time, Daniel?”

  He stood up and put the bottle back into his pocket. The door’s glow faded back to normalcy. No buzzing, no pulsing, no vibrating rivets.

  “That should hold,” he said, “at least until they find a work-around. As Adepts, you’ll be able to come and go at will. It’ll only keep out Reapers—and whatever else they try to drag in here.” He pointed toward the other end of the corridor. “That the way back to St. Sophia’s?”

  Scout nodded, and we all headed off in that direction.

  “What was in the bottle?” she asked as we took the stairs to the second floor.

  Daniel slid her a glance. “You’ve never seen sylphs before?”

  Scout pointed at his jacket. “That was a sylph?”

  Surprisingly, I actually knew what a sylph was—or what it was supposed to be. My parents had given me a book of fairy tales when I was younger. There was a fable about three sylphs—winged fairies—who’d tricked proud villagers into giving the sylphs all of their youth and beauty. I think “Vanity gets you in trouble” was supposed to be the moral of the story. I always got the sense they looked basically like smallish people—not clouds of mist.

  As if in answer to Scout’s question, Daniel’s pocket vibrated a little. “That was many sylphs,” he said, “and since I can still feel them rattling around, I think you offended them.”

  They must have been snowflake-small to fit into that tiny bottle, I thought, wondering what else the underground had in store. What other creatures were hiding in plain sight, living among Chicagoans even though they had no idea?

  “Sorry, sylphs,” Scout half shouted. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You probably don’t need to yell.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not the one who offended the sylphs, are you? One can never be too careful.”

  “I’d agree with that if I didn’t think you were being crazy sarcastic. I’m assuming you’re actually leading me out of this building?”

  “Of course,” Scout said. “We’re taking the bad-girl exit.”

  Daniel lifted his eyebrows. “The ‘bad-girl exit’?”

  “Walk and talk, people. Walk and talk.”

  Lesley was gone when we emerged upstairs, and the main building was quiet. Scout silenced Daniel with a finger to her mouth, and we tiptoed across to the administrative wing where the offices—including Foley’s—were located. “We’re taking the secret exit without the alarm. This is how some of St. Sophia’s busier girls, if you know what I mean, sneak in and out at night.”

  “No way,” Daniel said.

  Scout nodded. “Welcome to the glamorous world of boarding school. Where the things that go bump in the night are either horrific creatures—”

  “Or equally horrific teenagers,” I finished.

  We followed Scout through the main administrative hallway and into a narrower corridor that led from it. The offices looked dark . . .

  “Students,” a voice said suddenly behind us.

  We froze, then turned around. Foley stood in her open doorway, a candle in one of those old-fashioned brass holders in her hand.

  “I believe it’s past curfew.” She slid her gaze to Daniel. “Mr. Sterling.” It took me a moment to remember Foley knew Daniel because he was our studio TA.

  “Sorry for marching through your territory,” he apologetically said, “but we were on a bit of a mission.”

  “A mission?”

  “Interlopers,” Scout said. “There were Reapers at the gates, so to speak. Daniel here warded the door, and now we’re escorting him out.”

  We stood in the corridor silently for a moment, Foley probably debating whether to let us go. Since she di
dn’t rush to call the cops about the man standing in the middle of her girls’ school in the middle of the night, I assumed she knew about Daniel’s magical tendencies.

  Her voice softened. “You’re being careful?”

  “As much as we can, ma’am,” Daniel said. “And—I was sorry to hear about your daughter. She was a good friend—and a good Adept.”

  I snapped my gaze back to Foley and the grief in her expression. She’d had a daughter who was an Adept? And she’d lost her?

  Foley actually seemed to make more sense now. But before I could say anything, her expression went bossy again. She nodded at Daniel, then turned and walked away. “Get back to bed,” we heard.

  We were quiet for a moment until I looked at Scout. “Did you know?”

  She shook her head. “I mean, I suspected, given the fact that she was in the community, but I didn’t know she’d had a kid—or lost her.”

  We both looked at Daniel. His brow was furrowed. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. Her name was Emily. She was a green thumb Adept—she could grow trees and vines that practically encapsulated buildings.” He paused. “We think it was a Reaper attack.”

  “I had no idea,” Scout quietly said.

  Guilt settled heavy in my stomach. “I didn’t either. And I was pretty hard on her earlier today.”

  “We do the best we can with the information we have,” Daniel said. “For now, let’s focus on the things we can change. Such as getting me out of here.”

  Scout nodded, then gestured down the hall. “This way,” she said. We continued the walk in silence, and didn’t speak again until Scout paused in front of an old wooden door.

  She jimmied the ancient crystal knob. “There’s no light in here, but you can use flashlights when the door’s shut.”

  We stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled out our flashlights. The room was big and mostly empty, and the ceiling arched above it. The floors were made up of old wooden boards, and along one side was a fireplace that took up almost the entire wall. It was made of rough, pale stones that were still stained with soot. A simple wooden chair, the kind with rails across the back, sat beside the fireplace.