Miss Mabel's School for Girls: The first book in the Network Series

by Katie Cross

  “You ready to go home, B?”

  No I wasn’t ready. There was no home, not at Chatham. If Mama wasn’t there, it would never be home. Just an intimidating, walled prison that guaranteed my proximity next to the High Priestess, when I was bound to murder her whenever Miss Mabel desired. But I couldn’t tell him that.

  “Yes, Papa.”

  I knelt down and picked up two twigs. They braided themselves together and blossomed into two creamy white lilies. I set them on the top of her headstone and straightened up.

  It felt as if I stood on the brink of something grand and horrible, a great chasm yawning on all sides, waiting for me to take one wayward step or to stumble where I stood. No matter where I went, I faced the darkness alone. It wouldn’t be long before I met up with Miss Mabel again. We were caught up in a sick symbiotic relationship that would only end in death.

  All our lives were ticking away now. The High Priestess. My father. Myself. The Central Network.

  “So mote it be,” I whispered.

  And then I walked away, my heart in the ground behind me.

  THE END

  Antebellum Awakening

  Are you ready to read more? I’ve got your back. The opening from the second book in the Network Series, Antebellum Awakening, is ready below.

  In fact, here’s a sneak peak into the first chapter.

  Antebellum Awakening

  Chapter 1

  The carriage rolled away from the graveyard with a clack clack of wheels on the rocky dirt road. I stared out the window, watching the trees of Letum Wood fade by in spears of gray and black, like the shadows in my heart. Low clouds blew over from the south in a blanket of gray foam.

  Mama's gone now. The dark gloom I felt stirred the magic near my heart. It's time to move on. Don't think about her death anymore. Keep the past in the past.

  Sometimes I wished I wasn’t so honest with myself. Perhaps I could pretend that Mama would come back from death, that I could delay going on with my new life without her. But no, I couldn’t. The pain would never let me forget her entirely, though I knew I'd try.

  “Does your father know that Miss Mabel did not remove your Inheritance Curse?” the High Priestess asked, breaking our stony silence with her gravelly voice. She sat across from me, her beady eyes black in the fading daylight, her short gray and white hair swept back from her face in little wisps. The mention of Miss Mabel tightened my stomach.

  “I don't know,” I said. Wrapping up my old life, closing the cottage I’d grown up in, and reeling from the shock of Mama’s death had sapped all of Papa and my strength. I hadn't even thought about the curse that would kill me on my seventeenth birthday just six months away. What did it matter? Mama was dead, and so was my heart. My own death would certainly hurt less than the moment she died in my arms. “I don't think we've talked about it.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “No.”

  The High Priestess fell quiet for so long I thought she'd forgotten the subject. She could have easily used magic to transport back to Chatham Castle and resume her duties as leader of the Central Network, but she stayed with me. I wondered why. I’d chosen the lengthy carriage ride simply because I didn't want to go back to the castle. Without Mama there, it wasn’t home.

  Close the door, Bianca. Stop thinking about her.

  “Would you lie to your father and tell him that Miss Mabel removed the curse if I asked you to?” the High Priestess asked.

  My eyes lifted to hers in surprise.

  “Lie to him?”

  She nodded, as if she asked this kind of thing everyday. I couldn’t believe it. Tell my father a lie? I’d never lied to him before, and couldn’t even fathom how to successfully go about it. He was a master of disguise, a man who lived in the shadows to protect those living in the light. I’d have to live with my falsehood everyday, remember my guilt every time I saw his face.

  “Why would you want that of me?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

  “The Central Network is walking into a war,” she said in her crisp, punctuated inflections. For a woman as powerful as the High Priestess, nothing got in the way of business, not even mourning. “Your father is one of our greatest hopes for getting out of it intact. If he knows that Mabel still has power over you, he'll throw all his attention into stopping the curse, even at the cost of the Network. I can't let that happen.”

  “What about me?” I asked. The High Priestess locked her sharp eyes with mine. “I'm just supposed to let the curse kill me?”

  “Of course not. If you lie to your father, I will promise to personally find a resolution to your Inheritance Curse. You will not die at seventeen.”

  “You can't promise anything when it comes to Miss Mabel,” I said in a bitter whisper. Just saying that name sent a tremor through my heart, like a lion waking with an indignant bellow.

  “There are ways around your curse, I think. In fact, I’m confident enough that I’ll take a vow,” she said, her eyes as serious as they’d ever been. Surely she wasn’t considering such a thing! Could anyone stop a witch as cunning and powerful as Miss Mabel? The longer I studied the High Priestess, the more convinced I became. If anyone could defeat my old teacher, it was the High Priestess. I may not understood her, but I respected and trusted her.

  “A vow?”

  “Yes. I'll take a vow—this moment—to resolve your Inheritance Curse before you turn seventeen.”

  The vow would seal her to the promise. Not with her life, like a binding, but with a part of her magic. If she didn't complete the vow, a portion of her power would wither away inside her. For a witch with responsibilities like the High Priestess, an unfulfilled vow could be devastating.

  But lie to Papa? Just thinking about it made my heart ache, even if I couldn’t deny the truth of her words. He'd throw his life into saving me, perhaps try to find a way to offer himself up as an exchange. Miss Mabel would grasp at such an opportunity.

  I sucked in a sharp breath at the thought.

  Offer himself as an exchange for my life. That's exactly what he'd do. He'd hunt down Miss Mabel and give himself for my freedom. I’d lose the last of family. My own resolve hardened in a flash, thick as a stone. I wouldn't fail another parent.

  “Yes,” I said, resolute. “I'll lie to Papa.”

  She nodded once, and I saw a flicker of relief pass through her eyes.

  “Do not speak of this without my express permission. There are ears at Chatham Castle that are not friendly to us. Of the ten Council Members, I only trust a few.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  She leaned forward and extended her right arm. I lifted my hand and gripped her forearm; she held onto mine.

  “I vow to resolve your Inheritance Curse by your seventeenth birthday,” she said. Magic, flowing from the place her skin touched my fingertips, zipped through my fingers and arm, into my shoulder. It settled in my heart and my head. Both of our arms glowed with a warm, yellow light.

  “I accept.”

  The magic swirled and then settled in my heart with a calm little sigh. Satisfied, the High Priestess released me and leaned back against her seat. The carriage rolled on, carrying us through foggy Letum Wood, and onto my new life.

  I swallowed back the tears.

  Time to start over and forget the past.

  Two months later.

  I didn’t know grief lingered in the sunlight.

  It would sweep all the caverns of my heart with the power of heat and fire, reminding me of Mama and all I’d lost. Her face lingered in the back of my mind even though I tried not to acknowledge her. When the worst of the melancholy moments took over me, not even the blue spring sky or the fluffy clouds piled high like wisps of cotton could remove the darkness inside. Grief was my new companion, the wraith that haunted my heart. I hated it, and clung to it at the same time.

  “Why aren’t there Guardians patrolling the gardens?” my best friend Camille asked with an annoyed sigh. “Aren’t they supposed to be protecting the ca
stle grounds?”

  A light, cool spring breeze accompanied us around the gardens of Chatham Castle, which loomed high in the distance behind us, soaring with turrets and stone. A crimson and gold flag flapped from the second highest tower in the same wind that brushed my hair off my shoulders. Gardens lay in lazy grandeur around the fortress like a long skirt of pastel flowers. Behind the flower beds and lawns was Letum Wood, the great forest of imposing trees and rolling hills, puffed out in new buds of green. We passed a small mound of pink spring flowers, and I trailed the tip of my finger along a teardrop petal. It felt soft and silky.

  I cast Camille a questioning glance.

  “Is that why you wanted to go on a walk? To talk to Guardians?”

  The quick rise of color to her apple cheeks gave her away. She looked straight ahead and tried to force a nonchalant voice.

  “N-no! I just wanted to enjoy the lovely spring air. It is a bit chilly though.” She pulled her light blue cape farther over her shoulders when another soft gust of wind brushed against us. A moment later she pointed to a small queue of maids and butlers a few paces away. “Oh, look! They’re setting up for the spring luncheon with the High Priestess. I’d love to eat with her. I have loads of questions I want to ask. Who d’you think does her hair? Does she pick out her own dresses? They’re horrid sometimes, aren’t they?”

  I followed her gaze. The High Priestess was meeting with the southern Coven Leaders at noon. If the gossip I listened to in the castle meant anything, she wanted to address the rumors that the Southern Network had called their army to assemble near the sprawling stone wall that separated us, which meant that our lower covens could be in danger from an attack. I had little hope that good news would come from the meeting.

  Servants bustled around in black uniforms with gold and red embroidering, carrying platters of food and pitchers of apple cider. They put together several long wooden tables adorned with vases of spring flowers and the finest bone china. Silver spoons and forks glittered in the sunlight. A white canopy hung overhead, suspended by no ropes or twine, but the magic of the butlers held them up. The canopies protected the tables from the warm sunshine, which seemed such a waste to me. Why eat outside if they wouldn’t enjoy the gentle heat?

  “The luncheon should be starting soon,” I said, eager to get away from what would be a collecting crowd. Although informative, most of the talk would be political arguments, and as riveting as watching grass grow. It was something my friend Leda would swoon over. “Let’s go this way.”

  Camille followed as we turned and headed across the spongy grass, towards Letum Wood’s shadows. Sprawling gardens, gazebos, and flower-laden trellises still separated us from Letum’s dark trees and tall awning, but even so, I felt a small tug of comfort just knowing I was going to be near the wild forest. I’d grown up under the murky trees and my heart longed for it with a homesick little pang.

  No, I firmly reminded myself. That's part of your old life, not your new life. Stay away from Letum Wood.

  The trapped magic in my heart swirled restlessly at the thought of never going back to the gloomy canopy. The closer we meandered to the thick foliage, the more the back of my throat ached.

  “Let’s talk about the Anniversary Ball!” Camille said with a spring in her step that made her dishwater blonde curls bounce. “Henrietta and I picked out the perfect material for my dress! I know the ball is still four months away, but that will give her plenty of time to work on it. The design is exquisite, Bianca!”

  “Oh?” I feigned interest, my eyes trained on the forest. A rustle of leaves towards the upper canopy caught my attention in a windless moment. What could be moving that high? “What color?”

  Happy to find someone who showed the slightest regard, Camille prattled on about lace and ribbons and the perfect material. My eyes locked back onto Letum Wood and wouldn’t let go. The movement of leaves rippled through the foliage, moving across the forest. A bird, perhaps? No, it would have to be quite large. I steered us slightly to the left, towards the break in the hedge that would let me see what animal lurked so close to the castle.

  “Then I told Luther that I wouldn’t go with him,” Camille said with a little sigh, speaking of one of the many Guardians enamored with her. “There are too many Guardians I’d want to say yes to, and not enough time. I’ll have to dance with all of them, I guess. Oh! We better turn back. We’re at the back hedge now.”

  Indeed, we stood at a hedge several feet taller than us and as wide as I was tall, the last protection between the dangers of Letum Wood and the castle grounds. Occasional breaks in the hedge allowed movement to the forest. We lingered at one such spot, peering down the rolling, grassy knoll that led right into Letum Wood.

  “Can we stay just a second?” I asked, meeting her eyes. I'd hate myself later for letting myself remember all the old times, but being this close weakened my resolve. I won't go in. I'll just try to see the animal that’s scurrying around. “I want to look at it, that's all.”

  She hesitated, then nodded once. Camille seemed to understand my random needs and tumultuous bouts of emotions since Mama died better than anyone. She lost her parents at a much younger age. Knowing she’d made it through gave me hope on some of the darkest days.

  “Just for a minute,” I promised, scanning the green depths. For a moment I could smell the fresh pine, hear the chitter of a squirrel, and feel the rush of blood moving past my ears as I ran down a cool dirt trail. How I missed it!

  The movement in the leaves had ceased and didn’t seem to come again. Just when the longing to return to the cool, misty forest nearly overwhelmed me, when I was ready to turn away and put it behind me for good this time, the deep foliage of the forest stirred and shifted. I grabbed Camille’s arm.

  “Did you see that?” I asked, breathless. To see a creature in Letum Wood in the light of day was a rare occurrence. It could be nothing more than a game of chase among a few large rodents, but Letum often hid far greater things. “Something is moving in the trees. Something big.”

  “Don't say that,” she muttered, shifting her shoulders as if something cold hung there. “You have the worst kind of luck lately. What if it’s a lion? They sense beauty—I’m sure of it—which means I’ll be the first to be eaten.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lions don’t come out during the day. Look! It can’t be the wind. It’s moving again.”

  The leaves shifted anew, accompanied by a low snort that sent clouds of steam billowing into the clearing. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Perhaps lingering hadn’t been such a good idea.

  “Uh, Bianca?” Camille whispered, “W-what is that growling sound?”

  A massive shape with a long, supple neck and shiny scales that gleamed a blue-black in the sunlight slipped into sight. The graceful creature hung back, barely discernible, until a long tail with two sharp spikes flickered out of the trees like a whip. When a pair of yellow eyes peered out from the darkness, I sucked in a deep breath and shoved Camille behind me.

  “A forest dragon,” I whispered.

  “Then look away!” she screeched, whirling around and pressing her hands to her eyes. “If it looks you in the eyes it will paralyze you and eat you for lunch!”

  The eyes blinked once, then retreated into the forest, while the ebony tail, flecked with sapphire, twitched but remained visible. He was shifting positions.

  “His eyes are gone,” I said.

  “Did he leave?”

  “No.” Forest dragons were surly and prone to anger, usually catching their prey in the dead of night by sneaking up with panther-like precision, or so the legends said. I felt less-than comfortable finding one in full daylight. They hadn’t even been seen in centuries, at least not by anyone who lived to tell the tale. Some witches questioned whether the legends surrounding them had ever been real. So why would a forest dragon come out in the daylight now?

  “Okay,” Camille whispered, panic edging into her voice. “Okay, okay, okay. We just need to get out of her
e, that’s all. Will it come after us if I start running? What if I scream?”

  The lemon-colored eyes reappeared from the dark depths, staring right at me. A little shiver skimmed my spine, but I didn’t look away. I felt no spell, no desire to move towards it, as the stories claimed. Instead, I felt unusually calm.

  “Don’t scream,” I whispered, listening to the little instinct inside. “I don’t think it wants to hurt us, and I’m not sure it’s seen you. Back up to the other side of the hedge.”

  The dragon stepped forward, moving out of the tree line and into the sun with a lazy grandeur. His chest alone was three times taller than my height, with a willowy tail and long wings that folded onto his expansive back like sheets of leather. I squinted against the bright reflection off his glittery scales. I needed a plan. Focusing on action would help me work through the instinct to run.

  As soon as Camille is safe, I thought, distract the dragon so he doesn’t fly after her, then transport to Chatham.

  “Go find a Guardian and tell him what’s going on, Camille,” I said, keeping my gaze locked on the dragons queer eyes. Now that he stood in the sunlight, they had faded to a shade of burnt orange. “Can you do that?”

  “Y-yes,” Camille whispered. “Right. Calm. Calm. Calm. I'm calm. I'm calm. Can’t you just transport us out of here?”

  Camille hadn’t learned transportation yet, so she didn’t know I couldn’t take another witch with me. “Transportation doesn’t work when two witches are touching. Just run back to Chatham. As soon as you’re safe, I’ll transport over and meet you near the back door.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “O-okay.”