Heritage: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Elmwick Academy Book 3)

by Emilia Zeeland

  I’ve never loved her more. She makes a face like she’s just had a spoonful of the imaginary sour yogurt.

  “That must have been it.” I fan myself with one hand. “I had a big bowl of it, and it wants to come back up.”

  The rest of the students swap their expressions of disbelief to ones of disgust as they exchange glances and rehash what they ate.

  “I had it too,” Charity squeaks. “Oh, no, this is horrible.”

  “We’ll need to go see the nurse right now.” Seff’s already pushing Charity toward the door.

  Mrs. Gianni would probably like nothing more than to tell us to shut up and sit down again. Her nostrils flare like a dragon’s, but she grits her teeth. “Everyone who isn’t feeling well may go. Be back as soon as you get some medicine and bring a note from the school nurse.”

  The five of us stumble out while a few others sit, hands on their stomachs as if in expectation of the effects of the spoiled yogurt. As the last one out the door, Seff closes it with a soft click, but before he’s opened his mouth, I head downstairs to the training rooms in the basement.

  “What’s going on?” Seff hisses after me.

  I scold him with a look. I’m not the only one with good hearing, so I only dare to speak once we’re in the corridor leading to the training rooms. “Jean wouldn’t skip class unless she had something on her mind.”

  “Like what?” Charity glances down the corridor.

  The training rooms are empty at this hour since the freshmen and sophomore students haven’t claimed their powers yet. They have no use for the training rooms.

  “You don’t think she’s trying to...” Awan trails off.

  “Get the joint spell object hidden in the cold ones’ room? Yes, I do.” I stomp down the corridor, setting a brisk pace for the others.

  I halt and lick my lips, standing in front of the door with a bleeding heart on its emblem. I’ve never entered this room without a cold one by my side.

  “What can you hear?” Awan whispers behind me.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Cool, cool. Great spot for a tea party.”

  Instead of casting a glance over my shoulder to show him that his sarcasm isn’t appreciated, I push the door open. The training room is even gloomier than I recall. The ornate chandelier that usually bathes the space in faint, yellow light is off, leaving us to see only by the glow of the thick candles on the walls.

  Behind me, Charity gasps and Vanessa curses. The figure of a girl in a blood-red trench coat with a hood draws our attention, though her back is to us.

  “Bryar?” Awan calls.

  She whirls around, rooted in place, but my gaze moves from her face to the chandelier at her feet.

  “We tried my father’s blood on it,” Bryar says. “The chandelier fell and opened this...”

  We huddle over a hatch in the floor, which must have appeared upon impact with the chandelier. It’s creepier than going into the cellar of an old, creaky house when there’s no electricity. Pitch black. Silent. Musty.

  “Yuck.” Vanessa pinches the bridge of her nose. “Smells stuffy and disgusting. I’m not going in there.”

  “None of you are,” Bryar says. “Jean needs to do this on her own.”

  “How would you know? You’re not even a legacy, let alone one in the circle.” Seff’s blue eyes have a ghostly glow in the spooky lighting.

  Bryar exhales sharply and makes a stop gesture, her hand right in his face. “Down boy.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog.”

  “Don’t act like one.” Bryar smirks, but then quickly rolls her eyes. “Can you just chill for a second? This is why we had to sneak away from you to do this.”

  We must all be blinking at her, confused, because Bryar sighs.

  “Jean has a theory that the clues are meant for each legacy to collect on their own, and from what she told me about your exploits in the viper room, I would have to agree. It seems nothing bad happened until Seff jumped into the pit.”

  “Nothing bad?” Charity sounds horrified. “You weren’t there. The salts were falling from the ceiling, locking the pit.”

  “Do I understand correctly that the curse was easy to break from within?” Bryar turns to Vanessa, whose jaw drops.

  “Yes, it was mostly to keep people out.”

  “And the water? Are you going to blame that on me too?” Seff steps up to Bryar, but this time it’s me stopping him with a hand.

  “The water only started once you jumped into the pit,” I murmur.

  “Exactly,” Bryar says triumphantly. “So, you see, the rooms only attack other legacies, not their legacy. Not with anything they wouldn’t be able to handle, anyway.”

  “But why?” As much as this new theory makes sense, it also doesn’t add up. “Elmwick Academy is home to all legacies.”

  Vanessa lets out a mirthless laugh in disbelief. “Clever. Since no one knows enough about the hidden legacies to link a curse to them, they cursed the rooms to protect themselves from all legacies who don’t train in there.”

  Awan moves his frown from the left corner of his mouth to the right and back. “That means...”

  “It means whoever hid the clues to undoing the joint spell wanted to protect the objects from the hidden legacies,” Charity says. “But they also made it possible for the five legacies to get their clues if needed.”

  The sound of a crash from below the secret hatch makes us all jump in place.

  “Jean?” I call out, but Bryar shushes me.

  “Don’t distract her.”

  “And what if you’re wrong?” Charity says, suddenly sounding braver, her chin up. “She’s alone down there with no one to help her!”

  “I should go.” Awan takes off his backpack and jacket, at the ready, but before he pushes past Bryar, another crash sounds from below, this time closer.

  “Jean?”

  I infuse my call with the low vibrations that will hopefully echo inside the hidden chamber underneath us and help her hear me. My ears strain like antennae for the slightest noise from below. I hear clicking, like the mechanism of an ancient, giant clock.

  “I’m going down after her.” I’m aware I have no idea what to expect, but I need to help her somehow.

  That’s when Jean’s voice sounds from below, directly under the opening in the floor. “Don’t.”

  We all freeze, staring at the unbreakable darkness that reigns below. It might just be my imagination, but I think I spot two red slits glinting in the blackness for a second before they disappear. This is not going well if Jean is exhausted enough for her eyes to turn red. It means she needs blood to recover.

  Jean pants and grunts—muffled sounds I can’t be sure register with the others. Her shoes scrape against the floor and then, with another grunt, she jumps up from the darkness. She grasps the edges of the opening in the floor with one hand and pulls herself up. Bryar and Awan help her out of the opening before I can reach her.

  As soon as Jean is out of the opening and rolling on one side to push herself into a sitting position, the hatch closes, clicking into the floor and leaving no trace of where it has been hiding for years. The chandelier rises back to the ceiling, pulled by the dusty rope that has always held it in place. When the chandelier clicks into position on the ceiling, the gas lighter at the top lights the candles, and the room glows in its usual yellow light.

  As if nothing happened.

  We all turn to look at Jean. Her face is swollen and bruised, her bottom lip cut, and her clothes dusty, like someone used her to clean a cobwebbed corner. But what we all gape at is the metallic box she clutches under her arm.

  It’s identical to the one Vanessa recovered in the viper room.

  Chapter 6. Cami

  “So? Open the box. Let’s see what’s in it.” Any worry that might have found its way into Vanessa’s expression is now gone. She’s amused.

  “Let her catch her breath,” Awan cuts her off, irritated. He reaches out to place a hand on
Jean’s forehead, but she slaps it away.

  “You can’t heal my every scratch.” Her split lip oozes blood, but she presses onto it with her thumb. “I’m a cold one. I’ll heal on my own. Plus, if you keep doing that, you’ll end up being the one we should worry about.”

  Awan raises his perfectly shaped dark eyebrows as if to say, “What’s your problem?” but backs off.

  My banshee intuition tells me snappy retorts like this one are more dangerous for the unity of the circle than one might think, but I swallow down my concerns in light of the circumstances. “What happened down there? Are you all right?”

  Jean flinches from her split lip again, but her gaze finds Bryar. “We were right. The obstacles were meant for a cold one. No other legacy would have passed the test.”

  We glance around at each other then back to her, so Jean explains, “It was an obstacle course, like the mechanism of a giant clock. Wheels with sharp teeth turning in all directions, ready to snap you in half if you stay at the wrong place a second too long.”

  “I could have used my instincts to go through it,” Seff interjects.

  “No, you couldn’t have, wolf boy.” Jean’s glare is venomous. “You would have sensed the danger coming, but you wouldn’t have been fast enough to outrun it. Only a cold one could do this.”

  “I think you’re underestimating—”

  But Jean cuts Seff off mid-sentence. “This proves you triggered the viper room’s defenses when you jumped into the pit.”

  “But the salt circle was already falling from the ceiling when he jumped.” Charity’s voice is calm but rings clear and confident.

  “Okay, we’re not doing this again,” Bryar chirps, which only seems to aggravate Seff more. “I’m sorry, but we were right.”

  Awan steps in front of Seff to hold him back while Jean jumps on her feet. Even banged up by that dungeon obstacle course, she’s still tougher than any of us.

  “Seff, please, stop. The water started once you jumped in,” I murmur, fighting the overwhelming sense that Jean’s theory is right. “It wasn’t your fault alone. We all made it worse by trying to help.”

  The others fall silent after that heavy realization. Until now, we’ve always been stronger together. I was so sure that’s how we could solve any problem, but it’s as if the joint spell is trying to pull us apart before we’ve even attempted to break it.

  In the painful silence, Jean pries the box open. It’s lined with blue velvet like the one Vanessa recovered. Inside is a single scroll of age-stained paper. Jean unrolls it and reads it to herself, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she’s decoding the dated words.

  “It’s the cold one’s piece of the joint spell—the exact words that can undo the compulsion.”

  “Great.” Bryar claps her hands, mustering more enthusiasm than the rest of us can at this moment. “Two down, three to go. Might I suggest you all take a trip into your training rooms and emerge with your clues? Then, we’ll be off to get Mason back.”

  More than one set of eyes narrow at her in irritation.

  “Hold on,” I say, still trying to process the idea that my friends might each have to face their obstacle course alone. “Maybe you should prepare for the tests somehow?”

  “Seems like an unnecessary delay. You’re doing great so far,” Bryar says, but the scalding response comes from Jean.

  “Seems like you can’t leave town fast enough.”

  A dead beat of silence makes me divert my gaze from them, pursing my lips.

  “You’ve been pushing us to progress on the joint spell when we don’t even know where Mason is or if he’ll deign to let us bring forth his true nature.” Jean’s voice fluctuates in anger. “What’s your hurry?”

  Bryar only stares back, her enigmatic green eyes wide with guilt.

  “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” Jean croaks, as if the words are hurting her throat.

  Bryar nods slowly. “I’m sorry. Mom would never let the family stay in Elmwick with Cami’s new rules. Dad and I managed to convince her to let us come to pack our belongings and say goodbye to old friends. I have a few more days before we’re gone forever. I need to find a way to help Mason now.”

  “Even though we might never use it?” It’s my turn to provoke her. The darkness clouds my brain, making it impossible to feel anything but the drowning bitterness that Mason left in his wake. “In case you haven’t noticed, these obstacle courses are dangerous, even for the legacy of the training room.” My voice raises an octave. “The joint spell is pulling this circle apart when we’ve done so much to keep it together. And the worst is yet to come.”

  I can’t find the words to explain, but acid pools in my stomach when I remember the vision I had after Vanessa recovered her box. The joint spell will lead us into danger; I know it will. And even though, logically, it’s the answer to all our problems, I can’t help but ask myself... At what price?

  “You’re just getting spooked,” Vanessa says brightly.

  “Easy for you to say, you already got your box,” Charity chimes in.

  I can’t handle another fight, so I stomp over to the nearest candle perched on the wall for light. I brace myself for the impact of another vision, but if the joint spell is placing us in danger, I need to know.

  My gaze locks on the flickering flame, and I feel the familiar pull of a dreadful future, begging for me to watch what I might not be able to accept.

  Jean’s face is sunken, hollow, and deathly pale. Her eyes are so intensely red that she looks rabid like an animal, completely unable to hold onto her humanity. She’s starved. Starving. Dying.

  Bryar reaches for her, but Jean grabs Bryar’s wrist and slams her into the wall.

  “Let me help you,” Bryar makes a desperate plea, but Jean is so far gone, she doesn’t even recognize her.

  She pins Bryar to the wall. Then Jean raises her forearm right to Bryar’s throat and starts pushing. Bryar’s eyes widen, and her skin reddens as she fights for breath. She can’t even beg. Can’t even speak. And has no way of getting free.

  Wherever I’m watching this play out from, I’m unable to help.

  I pull myself out of the vision, gasping. It is so much worse than I anticipated. Even though I know the future is inevitable, I can’t knowingly wade into it. I can’t help it along.

  I finally steel my voice enough to speak. “The joint spell is going to put us all in terrible danger. We can’t rush this. The clues to undoing it are kept hidden for a reason.”

  “So that’s it?” Jean steps up to me, her gray eyes cold like granite. “You tell us what to do and we obey? Like good little doggies? You may be the one who bound us into a circle, but you don’t call the shots. You’re too easily manipulated by the fears your visions breathe into you, too freaked out to do what needs to be done.”

  The accusation sears through me, and even though I fight to swallow it down, it fuels the black anger swirling inside me.

  But it appears Jean is not yet done. “Face it, Bryar and I did better today than you did guiding the circle back in the viper room.”

  That does it. Rage storms inside me, blotting out every last trace of control.

  “You, of all people, should not want to go ahead with this.” As soon as I spit out the statement, I know I should have kept my mouth shut, but the darkness inside me pushes ahead with full force. My gaze finds Bryar’s green eyes, shining cat-like in the semi-darkness. “You’ll be lucky if Jean doesn’t choke you to death when we undo the spell.”

  THE EFFECT OF THAT venomous exchange chills the entire circle instantaneously. We each hurry to our training rooms for self-paced powers training without saying anything else. Naturally, Jean doesn’t come with me to the banshee training room, so I’m left alone stalking down the hall of mirrors, not bothering to even work on my sonic waves.

  I want to forget that outburst, both Jean’s and mine. They both hurt. But my mind is replaying it, together with the new vision. It flashes inside my head like a wa
rning siren. I exhale slowly, feeling lost.

  It’s going to happen, just like every other vision I’ve ever had. No matter how much it scares me, no matter if I tell the others what I’ve seen, it’s going to happen all the same. I can’t stop us from undoing the joint spell, and I can’t protect us from the price we’ll have to pay for it either.

  I can only herald the horrors that are to come, like a good banshee.

  It takes me a second to realize I’ve come to a halt, digging in my heels. My banshee intuition flares up inside me, despite the darkness relentlessly trying to crowd it out. I cast a sideways glance left and right. The right wall is the one that seems to call to me. I take a few steps closer to the mirrored wall, one hand raised tentatively as if to touch the exact place where the secret lies.

  This feels familiar—like that moment when I was staring down into the viper pit, mesmerized. Five legacies co-created the joint spell, so we’re after five clues. But the banshee fought against the joint spell. Doesn’t that mean she would be much more motivated to undo it than the other five legacies? What if she knew something they didn’t? What if she hid a clue of her own?

  I rub the fingers of my outstretched hand together, then bring it back to my chest as if the wall of mirrors might bite me. Something is hidden here...

  Heavy footsteps make me whirl around to face the door before I hear a knock and Seff’s cautious voice, “Cami?”

  “Come in,” I say.

  The door creaks open to let him in. I sneak a peek at the wall of mirrors that has been calling to me, but quickly decide to leave it for now and go back to the entrance of the room where all the glasses and beakers are piled up on a wooden table.

  “Look,” Seff sighs, “I know this must be scariest of all for you since you see into the future, but doesn’t the fact that you see us breaking the joint spell mean that we have to keep finding the boxes?”

  He’s right of course, but my throat closes as I stubbornly refuse to make a sound.

  “I don’t like Jean’s behavior any more than you do, but even I have to admit she got her box without putting anyone else in danger...” He lets the statement hang heavy in the air between us, then nervously rakes a hand through his messy blond hair. “I’m not going to do this without your approval, but I have an idea about what to do in the wolves’ training room.”