Beside the family, there seemed to be an empty space, one reserved for Rowan, who was absent.
A sob stuck in my throat. I bit the inside of my cheek. Disha interlaced her fingers with mine and squeezed, reminding me I wasn’t alone. I squeezed back, wondering what I would do without her. For one, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have found the courage to show my face. How they must blame me for their loss.
When the coffin disappeared entirely from view, people began to leave, slowly, quietly. Not many walked up to the Underwoods to offer their condolences. Maybe the family had asked for privacy, or they saw the fury on the boys’ faces and the utter grief on Bonnie’s and decided it was best to let them grieve in peace.
Disha said there would be a small reception in their home later, but I wasn’t going. I would ride back to the Academy with Dean McIntosh instead.
The Dean had informed me I would be spending the summer with her and not with Irmagard on her beet farm. I was looking forward to that. I wanted to make it up to the Dean. She’d welcome me into the Academy and all I’d done was cause trouble.
Every day, I suspected she was unable to expel me because of the cuffs. They were too powerful and likely dangerous under the care of someone like me. So she’d opted for keeping me near and treating me with respect, even if I didn’t deserve it.
As if I’d conjured her, the Dean walked up to Bonnie and spoke quietly with her and her sons. Disha and I stood by a tree on the other side of the hollowed-out grave with Macgregor’s coffin inside of it. The smell of freshly uncovered dirt was cloying, and I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from here as I could.
Disha tugged on my hand. “Let’s go talk to Bonnie,” she said.
I shook my head. “You go. I’ll stay here.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure I should have come, but I was sure I had no business trying to talk to them.
Disha went, her black dress flowing in the breeze, a hand on her hat to keep it from blowing away. When she got there, she hugged Rowan’s mother tightly. As Bonnie returned the hug, her gaze drifted in my direction. I wanted the earth to split open and swallow me.
Her eyes were full of sadness, but there was no accusation in them. Did she not know what I’d done? There were many versions of what had happened circulating around the Academy—not all of them accurate.
Not all of them putting the blame where it belonged.
I’d thought Rowan’s mother would have gotten the right version but had she? Maybe not. Not if she was looking at me this way.
She should hate me. I hated me.
Unable to hold her gaze, I looked away, past the sculpture of a sleeping lion, past a short iron fence. I wanted to disappear the way Rowan had.
In the warehouse on Hilton Head Island, after I’d passed out next to Disha, she’d awakened to witness the tragedy our recklessness had caused. She’d called for help, and Dean McIntosh and Fedorov had come to retrieve us, collect Macgregor’s body, and clean up the mess.
It had taken me nearly a week to recover, which I’d spent in the infirmary under Nurse Taishi’s care. I’d only left the infirmary to attend the Dean’s funeral.
Despite the Academy being in mourning, Dean McIntosh made sure the semester came to a conclusion. Everyone finished their classes. Seniors graduated at an early, subdued ceremony, and life went on as usual, just the way Dean Underwood would have wanted—at least that was what everyone said. Disha and I were excused from exams but would be given a chance to take them later.
There had been a big investigation. As a matter of fact, it was still ongoing. Disha and I had been key witnesses. Tempest was still at large, but Magical Law Enforcement was on her trail. It turned out, she was a known criminal who they’d been trying to arrest for a long time.
Macgregor Underwood’s death had been attributed to Bash Mink. When the Dean had lobbied for non-wizards to be allowed into the Academy, Mink had seen that as a big affront to his beliefs and principles and, apparently, had sworn revenge on Macgregor in front of a few people who had been more than happy to testify against the vampire hunter. Mink had seen Rowan as Macgregor’s biggest weakness, so he had targeted the son to get to the father. It was discovered that he had been responsible for placing the compass in the lake, starting rumors about it, and placing a spell in the device that caused Rowan’s heart to beat.
For his part, Dean Macgregor Underwood had died a hero, defending his son and his classmates. The Academy found him irreplaceable and had no immediate plans of filling his position.
As for Bash Mink’s death… Rowan had been charged with his murder. Called a maniacal vampire, he was also in hiding and a reward was being offered for tips on his whereabouts. Sure, some agreed with what he did, including his two brothers who were very vocal that Mink got exactly what he deserved, but the rest of the wizarding community was torn. Magical Law Enforcement saw the brutality Rowan had used and decided to charge him despite cries of outrage to the contrary.
By many powerful Supernaturals and most Regulars, Rowan was considered dangerous, bloodthirsty and out-of-control. His picture had even been on the national news.
I ran trembling fingers through my hair, wishing to be back at the infirmary where Nurse Taishi could give me something that would put me to sleep. Except I was supposed to move on, supposed to carry on with my life such as it was.
How? After all I’d witnessed.
The cemetery had emptied quickly. People had floated away like ghosts, the same way they had arrived. I was about to do the same when I felt a tug behind my breast bone. My eyes filtered up to the trees that surrounded the cemetery. One person alone seemed to remain.
He was standing a distance away, partly hidden by a tree. His frozen gaze was directed toward the grave.
It was Rowan.
I took a deep breath and held it. My eyes darted toward his family. What would they do if they saw him? Would they be glad? Would they blame him? I thought I knew what his brothers would do, but I also knew he wasn’t here for them.
He was here for his mother.
Almost against his will, Rowan’s gaze met mine. For a long moment, we watched each other. There was such pain in his expression, such loneliness that my heart ached for him, for the person he used to be.
I felt so much for him, a big jumble of emotions that I wanted out, evicted, yanked out—the way I’d been yanked out of that old building Trey and I had shared.
Rowan was bad for me. I lost sight of everything when he was near. He was like a huge forest that blotted out all the trees. I’d done enough trying to help him.
It was time to let him go—even if his eyes were crying out for help, for understanding, even if every inch of me wanted to run over to him and drag him into my arms. Even if he had no one else in the world to rely on. I had to let him go.
Goodbye, Rowan.
I tore my eyes from his, the link that bonded us tugging at my heart. I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to try to forget him.
Chapter Thirty-One
SPRING SEMESTER
EARLY APRIL
Now, that I had endured one funeral, I realized there was another one I had yet to attend.
It took me some time to detach myself from the crowd at the cemetery and get back to the dean who waited for me beside her car. It seemed she wanted to get back to the school to attend to any grieving students and help out her sister who she’d left with the task.
Disha had offered to come along to help me pack my room but understood when I told her I was fine with the dean. She went on to the reception at the Underwoods’, something I couldn’t bring myself to do.
Breaking all ties to your fugitive ex-boyfriend after attending his father’s funeral—the father you felt responsible for killing, no less—that allowed you some leeway.
Dean McIntosh and I rode in silence for a while, her sedan humming quietly down the highway. I was grateful she didn’t pepper me with questions. My t
hroat felt raw and no amount of words could explain all that tumbled inside me. But, just before we were about to take the exit that would lead to the Academy, her eyes darted my way.
“You were brave today,” she said.
I gave a wry laugh. “Hardly.”
Her mouth screwed to the side, highlighting soft wrinkles that showed her age. “Many would not have attended the funeral. Not after the rumors circulating around. It took guts to show your face. Brass balls, as my father would say, gods rest his soul.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t feel brave. I feel stupid. Awful.”
“I’m sure you do, but I hope, Charlie, that you will stop blaming yourself. The path that Macgregor and Rowan were on was never an easy one and then, when that scoundrel Mink got involved… You’ll excuse me for speaking ill of the dead, but he was an ass. Did you know he was responsible for the death of his own son?”
“Yeah, he told me.”
The Dean shook her head in disgust. “How a father could do that… Regardless, you were dragged along into a very dangerous and confusing situation. One could say an impossible situation.”
I bit my lip.
She reached across the car and gripped the hand I had balled up on my knee. “Charlie, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Okay,” I whispered, not sure if I believed it.
“I don’t really say this enough. Often, I find it difficult to express emotions. I leave that to my sister, but I want to tell you now.” She glanced at me as she drove. “I’m proud of you, Charlie. You’re turning into a fine young lady.”
I met her gaze with tears in my eyes. “Thank you.”
She patted my hand, looking quite sad. “I wish things could’ve been easier on you. I wish they would be going forward.”
I gave her hand a squeeze. She was my dean, but at that moment she felt like more, like someone I could depend on, a shelter in the storm that swirled around me.
She dropped me at my dorm, giving me a last smile and a wave. I waved back, grateful but still sad.
Then I turned to my task.
In my room, I glanced at the open duffel bag on my bed. I was supposed to start filling it with everything I owned, but instead, I grabbed the one item I’d come here for, tucked it into my backpack, and headed out across campus. Packing could wait.
The brisk walk did me some good, pumping blood through my body and distracting my mind from my torturous thoughts. A sunny spring day wrapped warm arms around me as I clipped over the grassy lawns and dodged around a small group of students who threw suspicious glances my way.
My classmates had even more ammunition against me now. Not only was I partially responsible for Henderson’s death and Answorth’s banishment, but I’d also been there when Dean Underwood died. Very likely, more than one of those staring girls thought I was a murderer.
I wasn’t sure I disagreed.
Heading east, I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with anyone who passed. Lucky for me, most were still at the Underwoods’ and I had a few hours before anyone returned.
When I found the Spells Cave entrance empty, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I descended the stairs at a fast clip. My heart hammered from exertion and from all the doubt and worry still swirling around my brain. The future was a lead yoke around my neck. That was why I had finally decided I needed to make peace with my past. Maybe then I could move forward.
When I got down to the grotto at the base of the stairs, I stopped. A figure sat beside the reflecting pool, the very place I’d intended to go. Should I turn around? Rethink my plan?
The person turned and I recognized Bridget, sitting just as she had the night we met her to summon the truth demon, her bare feet in the water. She gestured for me to come over.
Shrugging my backpack up, I walked toward the pool. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to hear some weird story about the Queen of England’s corgi dogs pooping on the rug or a tip on how a tickle spell could be a real turn-on, but she’d already spotted me and it would be rude to leave. Instead, I sat beside her, determined to stay only a minute and rethink my plans.
“You should take off your shoes,” she said, swirling her bare feet in the shimmering liquid that glowed pink at the moment. The waterfall that normally flowed down the rocks wasn’t working, leaving the rock wall dry and the cave in near silence. The pool was as still as I’d ever seen it, rippling only when Bridget stirred it.
I stared into the water, looking for those little fish devils that had been in there the last time, but saw nothing.
“Where are the kelpies?” I asked.
“In mourning,” she said without looking up. She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world for a tiny fish creature to care about the death of a school dean. I thought she might be joking, but her face was deadly serious. No jokes or tickle spells today, apparently. It was as if the light had extinguished from her eyes.
I took off my shoes and swirled my toes in the water. She was right, it was the perfect temperature, bathwater warm.
“I didn’t know the kelpies knew Dean Underwood,” I said, as an offhand comment, but she answered me.
“All the creatures here are tied to the Academy. With a great loss like this, they’re all in mourning.” She pointed up to the ceiling.
I glanced up, thinking I would see the little floating lights dancing above, but they were gone, too, or rather, when I looked harder, I noticed them clustered in a clump at the skylight with their bioluminescence dimmed almost to nothing. I didn’t know why, but seeing them that way made me feel extremely sad.
I put my head in my hands, fighting back tears that I had managed to keep at bay. How could I even have any moisture left in my body after all the crying I’d already done in private?
Bridget put a hand on my back. “I know it isn’t your fault.”
“Hmm?” I said, turning to her.
“I know you didn’t have anything to do with Dean Underwood’s death. Sebastian Mink was a horrible man. He wanted Bobby dead. I bet he sent that awful Ava Marie to stab my brother. Rowan is a hero for killing him.”
I sniffed. “You’re probably the only one who thinks so.” The images of what Rowan had done do Mink floated up in my mind’s eye, but I banished the thought and sucked in a shaky breath.
She shook her head. “The whole Lesser community thinks so. They are calling Rowan a savior, though doing it quietly as you can imagine.”
“I can imagine.” I twiddled my toes for a while before asking, “How is Bobby?”
Bridget swirled one heel in a slow circle. “He’s alive, but we’re not sure if he’ll ever be the same. The wound… it just won’t heal properly. And he’s… different.”
“I’m sorry, Bridget.”
She shook her head, eyes turned down as her voice grew angry. “I thought Ava Marie was my friend. I told her secrets, things my parents would be mortified I shared.” A tear glistened in her eye and she batted it away. “If I see her again…” A little stuttering cry shook Bridget’s chest.
It was my turn to offer comfort. I put my hand on her shoulder. “She fooled me, too. Fooled me so bad I led my friends into a trap, the one that killed Macgregor Underwood. If anyone’s the fool, it’s me.”
Bridget scrubbed her face. “We can’t just sit here feeling sorry for ourselves. We have to get even.”
“How?” I asked.
“Go after Ava Marie! Kill her.” Bridget kicked the water, sending out a wave that rippled the calm pond.
“I know how you feel, Bridget, but I’m done with chasing revenge and running after harebrained ideas. Too many people have been hurt.”
Bridget screwed her mouth to the side. “Then what? What do we do?”
Drawing the urn out of my bag, I held it up to her. “We try to say goodbye and move on.”
Bridget’s eyebrows folded down. “What is that?”
“Who is that,” I corrected, hefting the small urn. “This is my friend, Trey. He was killed by a
werewolf right before I came to the Academy.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Bridget touched the urn with a light fingertip. “What do you want to do with him?”
I studied the metal urn, tilting it this way and that. I’d had Trey’s ashes on my night table for nearly two years, clinging to them as if they were him. But they weren’t. He was gone, and if he was anywhere at all, it was in my heart, not this urn. I’d been using him as a crutch, an excuse not to grow older and take responsibility. Guilt wracked me for everything I’d done during my time here, also guilt over how Trey had died, and even over how he’d lived. He never got his salon or fulfilled any of his dreams. He never even got to sleep in a proper bed again.
But none of that guilt could bring him back or change anything, and keeping him on my night table was no way to treat my friend. It was time to set him free.
“I thought I might… I don’t know... spread his ashes here.” I gestured to the pond. “But now, saying it out loud, that idea sounds stupid.”
Bridget put her hand on my arm, her face animating. “No, no, it’s great, actually. This is a very spiritual place. Did you know Druids used to come and worship here every equinox?”
I shook my head.
“There was a religious service here during the convention.” She stared at me, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, wondering how I could’ve missed it.
“I was a bit busy that day,” I replied.
“Well, anyway, word has it that this stream flows straight to an underground lake, one that stretches farther than anyone has been able to explore. That’s why there are kelpies and the wisps above. They’re drawn here. It’s powerful.”
“Oh. I just thought it was a cool place.”
“It is,” Bridget said, smiling. “It’s the best place to give your friend a send-off.”
She watched as I unscrewed the lid and stared down at the ashes that used to make up my best friend.
Supernatural Academy: Sophomore Witch Page 22
