Spellbooks and Stakings

by Lily Webb

  “What is it?” the younger witch asked, clutching her wand and pushing her long brown hair out of her face. A warlock in a black cloak popped into existence beside her.

  “Not now, Jade,” Raina said. “I need you, Cybil, and Torin to sweep the towers for anything suspicious. Be careful.”

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “We have to make sure the school is safe. Whoever did this might still be here, and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Once we’re sure the castle is secure, we’ll send everyone home,” Raina said. “Until then, you both need to get back to class for your safety. Evanesco!”

  The last thing I saw was Raina’s wand whipping through the air before I found myself seated back at my desk beside Mallory in Professor Craft’s room with my ears buzzing and my head spinning.

  Delia was dead, Phoebe was cursed, and I was right smack in the middle of all of it. So much for good luck.

  Chapter Four

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t concentrate at work the next morning. Though I was supposed to be writing a quick and easy story for the Moon Grove Messenger about the opening of a new restaurant, instead I kept refreshing the news wire to see if anything had come through about the incident at Veilside.

  So far, radio silence. Given that a respected teacher had been killed and her assistant had been cursed, I found it hard to believe there wasn’t any interest at all in the story. Not even Channel 666, the local Paravision news network, had picked it up yet.

  The police must’ve been keeping their lips sealed — or maybe they didn’t have anything to report. Either way, it was weird.

  “Hey Zoe,” a gruff voice called, pulling me out of my computer screen. I looked over my shoulder to find Mitch Harris, werewolf and editor-in-chief of the newspaper of the Messenger, lumbering toward me from his office. He swatted away the papers that magically flew around his head like mosquitos as he approached.

  “What’s up?” I asked. Mitch sat on the corner of my desk.

  “I think you already know what I’m gonna ask you about,” Mitch said.

  “The Academy?” I asked.

  “Exactly. What have you found? I know you’re looking,” Mitch said with a smile, barely visible through his wild tangle of a beard.

  “Guilty as charged,” I laughed. “How did you know?”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone’s talking about it today. Even if the school’s administration wanted to keep things hush-hush, with that many students in the place word was bound to get out at some point,” Mitch said.

  “Which makes the fact I can’t find any information on the wire even weirder,” I said.

  “I’m not really surprised. Maybe the wire isn’t the right place to look,” Mitch said.

  “Wait, what are you suggesting…?”

  “You’re technically a student at the Academy now, aren’t you?” Mitch asked.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess. But the school’s closed, or at least I assume it is since no one’s answering the phones at the front desk when I call,” I said.

  “I’m also not surprised by that,” Mitch said. “Even if anyone’s there working, they aren’t going to answer questions anytime soon. Do you have any idea what happened?” Mitch asked.

  I hesitated, the words burning on the tip of my tongue. Telling Mitch what I’d seen — or about the blank book I’d technically stolen from the murder scene — probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “Not really. I was in class when it happened, there was a bunch of racket out in the hallway, and then an announcement came through telling everyone to stay in their rooms until further notice,” I lied.

  My computer dinged, saving me from the hot seat, and I jumped in my chair to check the notification. At the top of the news wire’s page, a headline stared back at me: “Renowned Veilside Professor Killed.” Without thinking, I double-clicked to open the article, and my eyes tore over it.

  “The school’s closed until further notice while the police investigate the murder, and ‘a young assistant’ has been moved to Willowvale to be treated for a memory curse,” I told Mitch.

  “Wow, so it’s true. Do they list any names?” Mitch asked.

  “Not yet. The police aren’t talking, according to the article,” I said.

  “Big surprise. You have any hunches about who was killed and who might’ve wanted to kill them?”

  “A few, but nothing concrete,” I said. Seth’s face flashed in my mind, the hateful words he’d said to Delia burning in my ears as I remembered them.

  “Who?”

  “One of her students,” I said.

  “Her? So you think it was a witch?”

  “Most likely. How many professors at Veilside aren’t witches?” I asked.

  “Fair enough,” Mitch said. “I want you to stay on top of this story.”

  “Really? After all the grief I gave you with the last murder investigation I got myself involved in?” I asked. Mitch chuckled, his beard ruffling.

  “That’s exactly why I want you to stay on it. You’ve got a knack for this stuff, and I’m sure your mind reading is a big part of it,” Mitch said, and I almost jumped out of my chair as an idea struck me.

  “That’s it!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the table. Mitch looked at me like I was crazy.

  “What is?”

  “Mind reading. What if I can get inside the thoughts of the assistant who was cursed? It’s possible they could still remember something, even if their memory’s been altered magically,” I said.

  “Brilliant, but good luck getting access to them now while they’re in the hospital. The cops and the staff both are going to be on high alert,” Mitch said. “Whoever cast that curse might come back to finish the job if the victim really knows something.”

  “Hm, good point,” I said. I had to get access to Phoebe, but how? Her room was sure to be guarded night and day, inside and out, at least until the police could track down whoever they thought might be responsible — and I didn’t doubt it was Seth they were pursuing.

  “All I can do is try,” I said. “If I tell them I’m visiting her as a student, maybe that’ll give me some sympathy points.”

  “Please, Zoe, everyone in that hospital’s going to know who you are,” Mitch said.

  “Maybe that could work in my favor,” I said.

  “Hm, maybe. I guess there’s really only one way to find out,” Mitch said. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you. Let me know what happens when you get back.”

  “You mean you want me to go now?” I asked.

  “Every second you aren’t chasing this story, someone else is,” Mitch said.

  “Got it,” I said, scooping my bag up off my desk and heading for the door.

  “Be careful!” Mitch called after me, and I waved to show him I’d heard. Outside, the sun was still high in the sky, its rays bouncing off the cobblestone surface of Luna Street, the second busiest in town.

  I hoofed it two blocks west to the intersection of Luna and Crescent Street and hung a right toward Veilside on the northernmost edge of town — even from this far away the castle’s imposing peak was hard to miss.

  Based on the small amount of research I’d done on Willowvale on Parapedia, Moon Grove’s online encyclopedia, the hospital was, for all intents and purposes, an extension of the Academy. It was staffed almost exclusively by Veilside interns and alumni — and I hoped that would help me.

  I reached the hospital with a stitch screaming in my right side from running the whole way, so I stopped to take a breath. I’d never been inside so I had no idea what to expect, or if I’d even be allowed to enter. No one came in or out of the hospital while I stood trying to get myself together, which didn’t bode well.

  When I could breathe again, I walked toward the comparatively ordinary office building that was Willowvale Hospital, which looked out of place seated next to the castle of Veilside. Glass double doors slid open as I approached and I passed through another set on the inside.
r />   The hospital’s lobby looked like any other I’d seen, complete with chairs for visitors to wait in and a receptionist’s desk behind thick glass — the only thing that gave it away as a magical establishment was the black pointed hat on the head of the young witch who smiled and waved at me through the glass.

  “Hi, welcome to Willowvale. Can I help you?” the witch asked. The name tag pinned to her robes said “Robin.”

  “Yes, hi, I’m here to visit someone,” I said. “Phoebe Thornton?”

  “Okay, give me just a second to look her up,” Robin said as she scrolled her mouse across a list of some sort on her computer screen. “Hm, unfortunately, Miss Thornton isn’t accepting visitors right now.”

  “I was afraid of that,” I said. “Do you have any idea when or if she’ll be able to see anyone?”

  “I don’t, I’m sorry. I can take your name and number and have Miss Thornton give you a call when she’s available,” Robin said.

  “Sure, why not?” I asked, knowing full well I’d never hear from Phoebe or anyone else at the hospital.

  “Great, and what’s your name, dear?” Robin asked with her fingers on her keyboard.

  “Er, Zoe Clarke,” I mumbled. Robin started typing but froze.

  “Wait, did you say Zoe—”

  “Yup, sure did,” I interrupted, hoping no one else heard.

  The witch locked eyes with me, a devious smirk on her face. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was around to overhear and leaned closer to the glass, motioning for me to get closer too.

  “Can I ask why you’re here? Is it for the Messenger?” Robin asked.

  “No, I’m not here for work,” I lied, hoping it was convincing. “I’m just concerned about Phoebe after what happened at Veilside last night.”

  “I’m sure this is a huge breach of PIPPA, but she’s okay,” Robin said. Well, at least I didn’t have to try to pop into Robin’s thoughts to get that out of her.

  “PIPPA?”

  “The Paranormal Information Privacy and Protection Act,” Robin explained.

  “Oh, right, duh,” I laughed like I had any idea that was a thing.

  “The weird thing is, even the most senior Healers don’t seem to know what’s wrong with her,” Robin said. “She’s been talking non-stop since she got here last night, but the words she’s saying aren’t in any language any of us understand.”

  That lined up with what I’d seen at the Academy.

  “Poor thing,” I said.

  “Right? I can’t even imagine what she must’ve seen,” Robin said. That made two of us.

  “So the doctors don’t have any idea what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Not a clue. It looks like someone tried to blow up her memory, but it seems to have gone wrong somehow,” Robin said.

  “Yikes,” I said.

  “Hey, wait a second… You’re a mind reader, aren’t you?” Robin asked. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

  “Yeah, sorta,” I said, shrugging.

  “What if you could help?” Robin asked. “I mean, if the Healers are okay with it, would you want to try?”

  “Of course,” I said, pleasantly surprised Robin had gone the direction I’d hoped she would once she realized who I was. “If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.”

  “Okay, great. Let me call up to her Healers and see what they say,” Robin said, already reaching for the phone on her desk. I smiled and nodded while she punched numbers on the pad so quickly I couldn’t follow, then sat back in her chair as she waited for someone to answer.

  “Yeah, hey, it’s Robin at the front desk. Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I have Zoe Clarke here in the lobby,” Robin said. A few seconds passed while the person on the other line spoke.

  “Yup, that Zoe Clarke,” Robin laughed. “She wants to try to help, see if she can get anything out of Phoebe’s mind.”

  With my hands tucked into my pockets so no one else could see, I crossed my fingers. If the Healers really didn’t know what was wrong with Phoebe, they just might be desperate enough to let me take a look into her mind, but it was risky.

  “Outstanding, I’ll send her up,” Robin said, beaming as she hung up the phone. It took everything I had not to jump and pump my fist in the air.

  “All right, they gave the approval so you can go on back. Phoebe’s in room 603, right around the corner from the elevator,” Robin told me. She picked her wand up off her desk and waved it, and the broad set of double doors beside the glass flung open.

  “Thank you so much, Robin,” I said.

  “Of course. Anything for the hometown hero,” Robin said, making me blush. When was my wave of publicity going to end? With a nod, I walked through the doors and stopped to push the button for the elevator. It appeared an instant later, and I took it to the sixth floor, my heart hammering.

  When the elevator dinged to announce my arrival, the doors opened, and a fat, bald warlock in white robes embroidered with a red cross stood waiting for me.

  “Hello, you must be Zoe,” the warlock said as he offered a hand for me to shake. “I’m Forrest Killian, the Senior Healer in charge of Miss Thornton’s care.”

  “Nice to meet you, Healer Killian,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Please, call me Forrest. This way, I’ll take you to Miss Thornton’s room,” Forrest said, gesturing ahead of himself. We walked past several empty rooms until we came to number 603. The door was closed, and Forrest paused with his hand on the handle.

  “I must warn you, Miss Thornton won’t be anything like you remember her,” Forrest said — but he didn’t need to tell me that. I’d already seen Phoebe’s condition.

  “I understand,” I said.

  With a somber smile, Forrest opened the door and entered first. Phoebe sat on a hospital bed with her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She rocked back and forth so rapidly the bed shook and creaked, and though I couldn’t see her mouth, I heard her mumbling.

  “Miss Thornton, you have a visitor,” Forrest called to Phoebe, who didn’t seem to notice. “Zoe Clarke’s here to see you.”

  “Hi, Phoebe,” I said, waving. Phoebe kept on rocking and talking. Her eyes darted around in their sockets like she couldn’t control them. I had no idea whether or not I’d be able to access her mind, but I had to try. Carefully, I walked to her bedside and lowered myself down on the mattress. She still smelled like burnt hair.

  “What do you think happened to her?” I asked.

  “It’s nearly impossible to say,” Forrest said. “We’ve run every magical test we know of, and everything’s come back negative. It’s clear she’s been cursed somehow, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “Be careful, Miss Clarke,” Forrest said. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you might find in her memories.”

  “I will,” I said as I reached to rest my hand on Phoebe’s. Though she jumped at the touch, she didn’t stop rocking or talking to herself.

  “Hi, Phoebe. It’s me, Zoe. I’m here to help you, okay? I’m just going to take a quick peek into your thoughts, so don’t be scared,” I said, but the words didn’t seem to register.

  Sighing, I took a deep breath and concentrated, listening for Phoebe’s brainwaves since I couldn’t access her thoughts through her eyes. Echoing thoughts ran through my ears as if they were coming from down the hall, but I couldn’t make out the words, so I pushed harder, straining to hear.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, Phoebe’s monotonous voice rambled in my head, and I latched on to the words to keep from losing the connection. No, no, no, no, no, no, she continued.

  Phoebe, it’s me, Zoe. Can you hear me? I projected, and Phoebe abruptly stopped rocking. You can, can’t you? Blink three times if so, I continued, my eyes fluttering open to check, but Phoebe stared straight ahead without once closing her eyelids.

  What are you afraid of, Phoebe? What did you see? You can
tell me, I projected.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, Phoebe said.

  No what? I asked.

  No, Aurelia, no, no, no, no, no, no, Phoebe’s words echoed in my head, and I jolted.

  Did Aurelia have something to do with Delia’s death? I asked.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, Phoebe said and started rocking again, harder.

  “Is she okay?” Forrest asked, tearing me out of Phoebe’s thoughts. “What did you hear?”

  “Nothing. It’s like she’s not really there,” I said. “All I can hear is her saying ‘No’ over and over again.”

  “Well, that’s a start. At least we know she’s still conscious at some level,” Forrest said.

  “What do you mean, still conscious?”

  “There are dark curses that can obliterate a person’s sense of self, Miss Clarke,” Forrest said, his brows furrowed. “And I’m beginning to suspect that’s what we’re dealing with in this case. Someone tried to erase Miss Thornton’s very sense of identity and failed. She’s lucky in that regard.”

  I’d hardly call Phoebe’s state lucky, but Forrest was right — at least Phoebe had her wits in some capacity. But why had Aurelia’s name, of all people, come to her? Was Aurelia involved, or was her name the only one Phoebe was capable of remembering?

  If Phoebe’s memory really had been altered, it was entirely possible she could’ve had names and faces scrambled — and it was just as possible Aurelia was the one who’d done the scrambling. After the way I’d seen her pull her wand on Seth and his friends, and given her allegedly advanced level of magic, it wasn’t inconceivable — but why would she want to kill Delia and curse Phoebe?

  “I appreciate you giving me a chance, Forrest, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” I said. Forrest frowned and nodded.

  “As I feared. Thank you for trying,” he said. “You’re welcome to come back later if you think of something else or if you’d like to give it another go.”

  “Great, thank you again. I’ll see myself out,” I said as I stood from the bed and walked past him toward the elevator. There was only one person I wanted to talk to: Aurelia Riddle.

  I just had to find her first.