“Why? I don’t understand.”
“Seeing the lich, my former teacher… brought back the worst memory of my life.” She sniffled, more tears spilling loose. “But what really scares me is that I don’t think it is, you know? It’s just the worst one I can remember, so far.”
Her phrasing gutted Lee, yanking all of the feelings and concern he had for her out through his navel, replacing them with unfocused anger and a powerful sense of futility. Tess had helped him with so many of his petty problems, and he was annoyed at how ineffectual he felt when it came to helping her with this.
“Show me, then,” he said. “It might be your memory, but you don’t have to face it alone if you don’t want to. But it’s up to you. Tess, you aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone again.”
He took her hand in between his and squeezed it, wishing there was more he could do.
“Promise me,” she whispered, “that you won’t let this change anything? Promise me that you won’t decide I’m worthless afterward and throw me aside?”
“Of course I won’t. We already made the pact, remember? You’d just possess my body and make me start cross-dressing if I tried to do that.”
“Lee!” She smiled, despite her tears.
“I promise,” he said. “We all have things that are better left in the past.”
Despite his reassurances, Tess still hesitated, seeming to spend a moment summoning her courage. She took deep breaths, wiping away tears and smudging ethereal makeup that Lee hadn’t realized she’d been wearing. She looked him in the eyes when she’d finally regained her composure, bringing her hand up to the side of his head.
“It didn’t hurt last time, did it?” she asked.
“Not in the way I think you mean,” he said. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”
***
“By invoking Vexxianna’s name, the tribal shaman multiplies the power of both blood and hair, turning the doll into a true analogue,” read Theresa. “The potential of such a technique is nearly limitless, though given how long it took for Mostazi to speak of the method, it is not lost on its tribal practitioners.”
“Interesting,” muttered Instructor Lewis. “Please, Tess. Keep going. This is very helpful.”
Theresa gingerly turned to the next page, watching in muted astonishment as more words seemed to blot into being across the blank parchment. Words that only she could read. She licked her lips, feeling an odd pride in the way the tome had chosen her. It was easier to focus on that, rather than the hunger in Instructor Lewis’s eyes and how uncomfortable it felt to be the object of his intense attention.
“Mostazi shared a cave mural with me yesterday,” read Theresa. “The composition was simple, but the implications are anything but. It was of a man who he referred to as the word for ‘greater,’ or perhaps the ‘ultimate.’ I believe ‘lich’ would be the most accurate translation.
“I queried Mostazi for more information on the life of the lich. Vexxianna’s name entered the conversation once more. It seems as though there is a method, through invoking her name and power, of creating a type of phylactery which would allow the one bonded to it to escape from the normal confines of mortality…”
“What else does it say?” asked Lewis. “The next page, Tess. Read the next page!”
“I…” Theresa frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know if I should. The paragraphs are crossed out, like he decided that this section was especially dangerous, and—”
“It doesn’t matter what he decided!” snapped Lewis. “Hornbell is dead, Tess. His wishes have no hold over the world any longer.”
His voice was so sharp and angry that for a moment, Theresa couldn’t have read further into the ensorcelled tome if she’d tried. She watched as Lewis took a breath, his expression flipping on a dime back to the calm, analytical instructor she knew and respected.
“My apologies,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gotten short with you. You’re a proper lady, you deserve a softer touch than that. What I meant was that the topic of research that these pages in particular relate to could bring about a renaissance within the magical world. Using a phylactery to escape death? Think of the lives that could be saved and extended through such a technique!”
“I suppose that’s true,” she whispered. “But so much of it just… feels wrong. Making a doll from someone’s hair or blood? What would the Order think of that?”
Lewis nodded slowly. He opened a drawer of his desk and began rifling through it, eventually bringing his hand up with a clump of fresh wax.
“We could always try it, if you’re so unsure,” he said. “It might help put your mind at ease.”
He started forming the wax into a shape, at first akin to a five-pointed star before doubling down on the features and giving it the appearance of a person. Theresa was already shaking her head, her heart beating at an anxious double.
“What’s wrong?” Lewis flashed a reassuring grin. “Oh, heavens! I don’t mean to upset you, Tess. Here, how about you take it? I had a small demonstration in mind, but I’ll skip straight to my point. Power is a neutral force. Its morality is simply defined by how we choose to use it. You wouldn’t disagree with that, would you?”
“I… suppose not,” said Theresa.
“Here.” Lewis slid the wax doll over to her across his desk. “Why don’t you hold onto this? I want to prove a point to you.”
“No, I don’t think I should.”
“You also don’t think that you should read any more of Hornbell’s Report,” said Lewis. “Trust me on this. Power without intention isn’t power, it’s simply knowledge, or potential. You can hold onto the doll without worry, Tess, just as surely as you can read from my old teacher’s musings.”
***
Theresa heard their laughter before she saw them, as was so often the case. She hurried, standing up from the steam bath and trying to make it to where she’d left her clothes. Her effort only resulted in her being upright and that much more exposed when Robert, Jane, and Mavis entered the bathing chambers.
“Don’t look at her, Robert!” said Jane. “She’ll try to seduce you again.”
“I–I never…” Tess blushed and made an effort to cover her body. “No! Those are my clothes!”
There was nothing she could other than to watch, hair and body still dripping with water, as her three tormentors took not just her clothing, but all the towels within reach. Tess hesitated, feeling sorry for herself for a moment, then decided to act anyway.
She sprinted after them, keeping one arm over her breasts, despite how ridiculous it felt to cling to modesty, given the circumstances. The way they laughed was worse than any verbal insult. They were beyond amused, thrilled by the torture they were subjecting her to, like children dissecting an ugly captured insect.
She followed them out into the hallway, even though the idea of exposing herself to more of the Primhaven populace made her face heat up more than the steam bath had. Robert seemed to relent a little, slowing down and balling up her dress.
“I suppose we should play nice,” he said, with a shrug. He tossed Theresa’s dress through an open doorway to the left. She followed after it, her embarrassment making the decision before she could fully comprehend the situation.
The door slammed shut as soon as she stepped beyond it. She was in one of the Ewix Center’s small broom closets, one with a smell that was outsized compared to the scents of wicker and dust she’d been expecting.
“She fell for it!” laughed Jane. “Oh my, how perfect!”
“I hope you have a high tolerance for the smell of Robert’s excrement,” called Mavis. “He and the other boys have been using the bucket inside that closet as a toilet for the past few days. The one by the men’s steam baths is broken, you see.”
Theresa let out a shout and slammed her fists against the door. It didn’t budge, and the handle didn’t turn. The lock wasn’t even on the side of it that she had access to.
“Let me out!” she shouted. “You’re all so mean! Let me out
!”
She banged on the door again, giving in to the growing sense of panic and claustrophobia. The stuffy closet was like a primer for old fears, the darkness reminding her of childhood nightmares, the enclosed space stirring a raw sense of abandonment.
“Please!” she shouted. “Why?”
“You’re just too tasty, Theresa,” said Jane, in a matter-of-fact voice. “If we let you out, you’d kiss all our boyfriends.”
“Probably against their will,” said Robert. “That’s how it felt to me.”
“Liar!” screamed Theresa. “You dirty, rotten liar!”
“It’s just a prank, Theresa,” said Mavis. “Relax. Everyone enjoys a good prank.”
The trio broke into laughter, staying where they were as Theresa continued to bang on the door. She heard their footsteps fading into the distance as she began to lose strength. She shouted after them. She threatened them. It didn’t matter. They didn’t care.
The smell was so much worse than she’d originally realized. She slowly sank to the floor, feeling around for her dress. She found the edge of it, but it wasn’t until she pulled it toward her that she realized that it had landed in the latrine bucket and was now completely soiled.
Hot tears began to stream down her cheeks and face, each one feeling like a deeply personal betrayal of the resolve that being bullied had forced her to cultivate. She hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t so much as kissed a boy in her time at Primhaven, let alone done any of the things her tormentors were accusing her of.
But even still, the thoughts running through her head felt every bit as traitorous as her unnecessary tears. Were they right about her? Maybe not in what they were accusing her of, but in how they treated her? What reason would they have to take their harassment so far if she wasn’t in some way broken, or irredeemably flawed? Worthless.
The dress had been one of the ones her mum had sewn for her before she’d left Chesterton. She still remembered picking the fabric out at the market. The pattern had been a favorite, and she’d promised to only wear it on special occasions and keep it free of stains.
Theresa banged her head against the back of the door and screamed. She started wiping her dress off, unconcerned by the muck that transferred onto her hands, or the fact that it was an impossible task to even attempt in the dark.
She felt a lump under one of the sleeves. Her dress didn’t have pockets, so the wax doll she found bunched in the fabric must have fallen out of her bag while her things were jumbled in Robert’s arms. It already had a hair stuck to it, too, as though she needed any more of a sign of what she should do next. The hair was too short to be one of hers and visibly pale in color, even in the dark.
“Vexxianna,” she whispered, forcing the syllables out before she could think better of it. “I invoke your name!”
A small force of will. A push from her arcane essence. Light flashed as whatever power she’d just tapped into responded to her call. She took the wax dummy by the arm and twisted downward with a hard, jerking motion.
She’d assumed that Robert and the others had already fled the scene completely. The shrill, ear-splitting scream that sounded from around the hallway corner confirmed otherwise. The screaming didn’t stop, and in fact, other voices joined in.
Theresa pulled her dress on, ignoring the filth coating the lower half. She started banging on the door again, and this time, it opened. One of the instructors stood on the other side, but she only glanced Theresa over before hurrying past her, toward the screaming.
Theresa followed, hiding the wax dummy in her sleeve. She stared in disbelief at the scene that greeted her as she rounded the corner. Mavis was on the floor, face contorted in pain, arm bent at a horrific angle. The bone of her elbow had broken through the skin, a grisly mixture of pale white and blood red.
Theresa turned and ran down the hallway, putting as much distance between herself and the evidence of her guilt as she possibly could.
***
“There’s nothing wrong with what you did, Tess,” said Instructor Lewis. “I know it must be hard to objectively consider how they treated you to instigate your reaction, but they deserved what you did to them.”
“No,” whispered Theresa. “Even if they deserved it, it was still wrong.”
“Well, you are of course allowed to have your own perspective,” said Instructor Lewis. “Are you ready to read more from Hornbell’s Report?”
Theresa shook her head. Instructor Lewis’s gaze narrowed. He looked past her, toward his closed office door, then steepled his fingers atop his desk.
“Tess,” he said. “Be a proper lady and take the book out. We don’t have as much time as we normally do, so we really must work in haste today.”
“I got rid of the book,” she said. “There’s a reason why there was that warning in the beginning, Instructor. We shouldn’t be—”
“Shouldn’t be?” Lewis slapped his hand down hard. “Tess, you mean to say we shouldn’t have. You’ve used what we’ve learned. So have I.”
He reached his hand into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a small, clear vial filled with crimson blood. The liquid seemed to churn, despite being at room temperature, small bubbles incessantly breaking the surface.
“That’s… a phylactery,” muttered Theresa.
“Yes.” Lewis closed his eyes, and as he reopened them, his irises were the same crimson red as the contents of the vial. “I have done it, Tess. I didn’t just invoke Vexxianna’s name. I gave her part of my soul.”
Theresa gasped. She turned and tried to make it back to the door. Her body went completely stiff mid-motion. She heard Lewis’s footsteps as he walked around to stand in front of her, and then saw the new wax doll in his hands, one with strands of her own hair attached to it.
“We have so very much work to do,” whispered Instructor Lewis. “Even if you won’t tell me where the book is, I’m sure I’ll find other ways in which you can be of use.”
CHAPTER 23
The common room was still and silent when the memory ended, and Lee returned to what was left in its wake. Tess was on the couch next to him, though it was clear from the way she hugged her knees to her chest that just sharing her past with him hadn’t been enough.
“You didn’t deserve any of that,” said Lee. “Not the bullying, and not the manipulation from that bastard instructor.”
“What if I did?” whispered Tess. “Even just what I’ve remembered so far has changed who I thought I was. What if the next thing I remember is—?”
“No,” he said. “Regardless of what you remember, it won’t change anything. Not for you and not for me.”
He held her tight, as though his physical body could be a shield for her ethereal one, a shield from the plague of the demons of her past.
“You can say that,” she whispered. “But I’m so scared. What happened to make the specters that you fight against the way that they are?”
He didn’t answer her, not wanting to put even a single word in the wrong place with the knowledge of where her thoughts currently were. He’d banished enough specters and seen enough glimpses of their memories to know that most were genuinely hideous people during life, but a few died in ways that twisted them so irreversibly that they had no real choice in turning violent.
“What happens if I become a specter, Lee?” she asked. Her voice was scared, and Lee was afraid that if he spoke, his would be too.
“You won’t turn into a specter,” he said. “I won’t let you.”
What did he even mean by that? Was it a consolation, or was it a threat? He felt so goddamn helpless. He pulled Tess tighter against him, leaning his head down against her hair so she couldn’t see the pain and the doubt in his expression.
***
They spoke a few words more, mostly on practical concerns. Despite how much she’d remembered, Tess still wasn’t sure what she’d eventually done with Hornbell’s Report. Lee put a decent probability on the book being the reason for the lich’s return, thoug
h there was also the phylactery that Instructor Lewis had been handling during the memory, which Tess also didn’t know the location of.
He fell asleep with her in his arms, waiting until he heard her breath slow to an even pace before closing his own eyes. Tess was gone when he woke up the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for her to sneak off during the night, but it still planted an anxious seed in Lee’s stomach as he showered and pulled his clothes on.
His concern proved unfounded. He arrived at the dining hall for breakfast to find that not only had Toma and Eliza found a table, but so had Tess. She was sitting in the empty seat next to Eliza, eating food off the other girl’s plate and sharing her notebook, which he guessed they were using to pass messages back and forth, out of Toma’s sight.
“Good morning,” said Lee, once he’d gotten his own tray.
“Hey Lee,” said Eliza. “How did you sleep?”
“Not badly, once I got to bed.”
He smiled, but his attention was mostly occupied by Tess. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts again, along with a tight pair of jeans and a cloth choker that made an ambitious fashion statement. She smiled back at him, her face reflecting none of the strife she’d been through the night before.
“I had a great sleep,” said Toma. “Alone, in my dorm. Clutching the fragments of my shattered heart. Debating whether this façade I call life is worth continuing.”
“Ah,” said Lee. “Well, that explains why Jenna isn’t sitting with us.”
“I’ve already explained to Toma why it’s ridiculous to force a breakup over his jealousy issues,” said Eliza. “Especially because they’re related to Kei, his brother and an instructor at our school. I can’t imagine an instructor at Primhaven would ever risk their career by fooling around with a student.”
Lee cleared his throat. Judging from Eliza’s tone, he guessed that Tess hadn’t revealed his one-time tryst with Harper, though from the way Tess was currently giggling, he wasn’t about to put money on her lips staying sealed into the indefinite future.
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