Ghoul Problems

by Sarina Dorie

  There was no evidence of anyone being there other than Vega and her magic. Either the culprit had stolen the book so long ago that no trace remained, or they were very thorough at removing all traces of themselves.

  Vega used a spell to be certain she was truly alone. She was. Even so, Vega strengthened her glamour before proceeding to the other trees containing secrets she’d stored from years ago when she’d been a student at the school. It had felt like coming home to her sanctuary when she’d been hired at Lady of the Lake School for Girls as a teacher.

  Bones and magical talismans remained hidden in the hollows of their own trees. Some of Vega’s other items were far more illicit and incriminating than that book. Yet the person who had the book hadn’t taken anything else, implying they didn’t know about the other items.

  Who knew Vega had kept the book? She hadn’t even checked on it in months. More than ever, Vega suspected Malisha was somehow behind this. She had been a student at the school in the past, and she was there now as a teacher—just like Vega. How many other people might have known about that book and had the opportunity to look for it recently? But what motive could Malisha possibly have in killing a student?

  Other than framing Vega to get her position as magical-wards teacher. That might have been motive enough.

  Unfortunately Vega didn’t have time to ponder the danger she might be in. Her watch told her she had seven minutes until lunch ended. If only she were able to use transportation magic within the school grounds, but there were too many wards. As undignified as it was, she ran back to the school so she wouldn’t be late for class.

  * * *

  Vega was five steps away from her classroom when the bell for fifth period rang. She smoothed her short bob into place as she casually sauntered into her classroom. She forced herself to breathe slowly so that the students wouldn’t see she was out of breath. It wouldn’t do for students to think she hadn’t meant to be fashionably late.

  Vega caught the tail end of a conversation as she stepped through the doorway.

  “I was there in the potions classroom when the cauldron exploded on Sherry. It was horrible!” one girl said. “I think I’m going to need counseling.”

  “No way! Sherry Agarwal?” someone else whispered.

  Was she the girl who had died? Vega felt cold all over. Sherry had been in one of Vega’s classes the previous semester.

  The principal hadn’t spoken her name at lunch. Leave it to the students to provide all the juicy details. It was too bad Vega couldn’t get away with letting them gossip all class so she could learn more. They had lessons to learn.

  Besides, dwelling on death and delicious corpses never did anyone good.

  “The stench in that classroom is awful,” Claudia Wadsworth said. “It wouldn’t go away, even with spells. Have you ever smelled burnt hair?”

  Vega clapped her hands. She didn’t even have to command them with words. Students loitering out of their seats and visiting with friends hurriedly rushed to their assigned desks.

  All save for one.

  Siobhan turned from the frog on the desk that she was petting. “Hello, Ms. Bloodmire! The school counselor changed my schedule so I can’t have you second period anymore. I asked if I could stay in your class. I get to have you for first-period homeroom and fifth-period wards. I’m so excited to practice with you again today!”

  The kindest answer Vega could come up with was “That is a healthy enthusiasm.”

  Siobhan’s cheerful personality bubbled over so thoroughly Vega would have doubted she was descended from a banshee if she hadn’t witnessed her earlier transformation. “Where’s my assigned seat? Can I be up front so I can be close to you?”

  “No,” Vega said firmly. “I do not play favorites. Unless someone brings me dairy-free dark chocolate, and you have not.”

  Probably the teen just wanted to be near her frog, not near the teacher. Vega was doing the girl a favor, keeping the other students from knowing her weakness. It was a thankless job.

  Vega examined her seating chart and found an empty seat for Siobhan in the back. She took attendance, started the class on their assignment, and watched them practice with their partners. Siobhan joined a pair who had already started the assignment last week. Mercifully, Vega selected students she thought might not crush Siobhan’s spirit and leave her broken on her first day.

  For being a banshee who foretold death and despair, she tended to smile a lot. Her enthusiasm must have been as contagious as the plague because she even managed to make her partners giggle.

  Vega should have been focusing on correcting student spells of protection, but all she could think about was the missing book. She understood the method behind the death. A fire exploding from a cauldron in a potions classroom had caused both. Someone—probably Malisha—had murdered a student. She must have used the spell from the book or gotten Sherry to use it.

  But why? Sherry had been one of the few students Vega hadn’t found utterly annoying and entitled. As a Celestor, she had possessed a genuine interest in learning. She hadn’t seemed catty or mean like Jessica had. She hadn’t seemed like the sort who would blackmail peers—or teachers.

  Of course, looks could be deceiving.

  What reason could Malisha Bane possibly have had to murder a student? Then again, it might not have been any different from the reason she might have murdered Jessica. Malisha had secrets, though the ones Vega knew of weren’t quite as damning as her own.

  It was too bad Vega couldn’t just hang out at the student table during dinner and listen to their gossip to figure out what dirt they might know about Malisha or Sherry that Vega didn’t.

  Siobhan giggled from where she’d managed to make a tangle of her wards.

  Then again, perhaps Vega didn’t have to eavesdrop or force herself to put up with the presence of students during her off hours.

  Vega gestured to the girl. “Siobhan MacDonough, a word with you out in the hallway.”

  “Sure thing!” Siobhan leapt to her feet eagerly.

  Siobhan’s group partners exchanged pensive glances. Vega strode out the door and closed it behind them.

  “Is this about Prince Charming? I filled out the application for familiars at lunch, but the secretary said the principal is pretty busy today.”

  “A dead student tends to do that,” Vega said.

  Siobhan went on before she could say more. “I was thinking that for tonight, maybe I should leave Prince Charming on your desk, if you’re okay with that. I can feed him some insects at dinner, but it probably isn’t appropriate to bring him to the girls’ dorm. Teenagers always get the wrong idea and try to kiss him—which he doesn’t like. He’s my true love, you know. My da told me so.”

  “Did he?” Vega wondered what was wrong with this girl’s father.

  “Yeah, Da introduced us—back before he died. We were going to marry someday, Prince Charming and me. But then my true love had to get himself cursed. It really is tragic.” She sighed, looking like most forlorn teenagers. “It’s probably best I don’t take him with me to the girls’ dorm until I know he’s safe from . . . certain teachers.”

  “That is a prudent idea.” Vega leaned in closer, understanding the angle she could work. “As you’ve already seen, not all teachers are as kind and generous as I am.”

  A vapid smile full of misplaced trust and unwarranted adoration crept over Siobhan’s face. “Like I said before, I’m so lucky that I have you as a teacher.”

  “I agree. I have been thinking upon our agreement. You owe me a favor. I have decided what I need from you.” Vega offered her best attempt at a compassionate smile, though that wasn’t an expression she typically practiced. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I have selected something small for you to perform for me.”

  Siobhan tugged at her pleated skirt, her gesture suddenly nervous. “Just so you know, I’m still learning magic. I can’t perform complicated spells.”

  �
�That is perfectly fine. The task I need from you requires no magic. I need you to find out some information for me.” Vega honed her ultimate weapon—applying to this girl’s sympathy. “As you’ve already realized, not all teachers at this school are as . . . merciful as I am.”

  Siobhan glanced down the hallway as if she feared Malisha Bane might pop around the corner.

  Vega placed a hand on Siobhan’s shoulder as she might with a confidante. “I need you to be my eyes and ears while you are around your peers. You must learn about the girl who died, if she had any enemies and if she angered any particular teachers of late. . . .”

  Siobhan’s eyes went wide. “You mean—Oh no! You think she made someone angry, and that’s why . . . ? So you don’t think this was an accident?”

  “It’s a possibility.” Vega leaned down closer to the girl’s height so that she was level with Siobhan’s green eyes. “I know I can count on you to help me with this task so that we can ensure all students at this school—and their familiars—stay safe.”

  Siobhan nodded. “Of course. I’m glad to help. Anything for you, Ms. Bloodmire!”

  Vega pointed a finger in stern warning at Siobhan. “Try not to look so pleased. I have a reputation to uphold as a wicked witch.”

  Siobhan nodded again. “I understand.”

  She didn’t look any less enthusiastic.

  Vega opened the door to her classroom. “Back to your seat, before I decide to give you a year’s worth of detentions.”

  Students stared with wide eyes.

  Siobhan at least attempted to trudge back to her seat. She petted the frog as she passed the desk and returned to her practice.

  The first stage of Vega’s investigation was set into motion. She had her own personal spy. Now she had to figure out what Malisha had done with the book and what the dirty secret was that Jessica and Sherry had both discovered.

  * * *

  After school, there was an emergency staff meeting, not untypical after any incident out of the ordinary. Teachers assembled at tables in the school library, which was temporarily closed to students. Ms. Leah Chamapiwa, the librarian, continued to check in the mountain of books on her counter, ignoring the teachers waiting for the principal to arrive. When the murmur of teachers grew too loud, she glared at them, skewering them with her best librarian evil eye.

  “Excuse me,” she said in a cool British accent. “This is a library.”

  Teachers quieted down, though no students were present studying.

  From what Vega could see with her Celestor abilities, Ms. Leah Chamapiwa’s smooth ebony skin was more glamour than naturally wrinkle-free. Leah didn’t dye or camouflage her snowy-white curls.

  Malisha wandered over to the glass case of books with dangerous spells that Vega had always lusted for in her youth. The librarian’s gaze followed Malisha, as if she, too, were suspicious of her intentions. Technically teachers were allowed to check out those books and give students the privilege to do so when they thought it was prudent, but the librarian didn’t seem to like it. Vega kept Malisha in her peripheral vision so that she would know if her enemy removed a book that she would use to curse Vega later.

  Those dusty tomes had seemed particularly alluring as a teenager. Now as an adult, Vega was fairly certain she had read far more dangerous spells in her grandmother’s cottage.

  More teachers trickled in. Mr. Reade took a seat next to Vega.

  The principal arrived at exactly 3:15 p.m. before two dozen assembled teachers, her expression somber as she spoke more about the tragedy. The librarian ceased to stamp books and folded her hands in front of her on the counter.

  It was there in the staff meeting that Vega officially heard from administration who had died that afternoon, as opposed to student gossip.

  “We will be meeting with Sherry Agarwal’s parents this evening. They have asked us to make funeral arrangements here so that her friends have an opportunity to say goodbye to her.” Principal Gordmayer continued on about the details.

  When Sherry had been in Vega’s classes first semester, she was an A student. From the way teachers spoke about Sherry with praise, Vega presumed she had been a good student in all her classes. She had been competent and a hard worker. Vega didn’t think she was the sort of student who would accidentally summon fire. Of course, Vega already suspected this wasn’t an accident. She crossed her arms and glanced at Malisha Bane.

  As if on cue, Malisha raised her hand, looking like a prim and proper teacher—but only because she’d glamoured her horns away. “What about the circumstances of the death?” She glanced at Vega and then quickly looked away.

  Vega kept her eyes locked on Malisha, noticing the way she squirmed. She needed to know what her nemesis had done to feel guilty about.

  Principal Allegra Gordmayer frowned. “We have looked into the matter and ruled it as . . . an accident.”

  It was the way the principal’s breath caught in her throat before she said the word “accident” that drew Vega’s attention away from Malisha. Mrs. Gordmayer’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as her gaze fell on Vega. She didn’t like the way the principal looked at her, like she was some dirty graverobbing ghoul—which she was.

  “But what about that fire affinity?” Ms. Suarez said.

  Mrs. Gordmayer turned her attention to the elderly potions teacher.

  Ms. Suarez went on. “Hazel told me a new student, some juvenile delinquent, tried to attack her earlier. Two fires in one day isn’t an accident.”

  “Actually—” Hazel started. “That student didn’t attack me. And she didn’t succeed in starting a fire. She tried to attack Ms. Bloodmire when she came in to—”

  Vega flicked a small spell, the size of a speck of dust into Hazel’s throat. The other teacher immediately coughed, not finishing her sentence. Vega glared at Hazel, hoping she’d get the hint to shut her trap. It was bad enough Hazel was directing attention toward Vega, but she was also highlighting that Vega had left her classroom that day—something the principal was already on her case about.

  “See! It wasn’t an accident!” Mr. Ibn Shanjul said.

  “It was an accident. No one here is to say otherwise,” the principal said firmly. “Do you want parents pulling their students out because they think we permit dangerous Witchkin in our school?”

  Now Vega was certain the principal knew it hadn’t been an accident.

  Mrs. Yvonne Thalia mopped at her watery blue eyes with a handkerchief. “Sherry was such a nice girl. So studious. She had really turned her grades around this year.” Her dark hair fell into her face, obscuring her sallow features. “I can’t understand how she could have made a mistake like this.”

  No, Vega couldn’t either. Sherry had been one of the students with potential. Vega crossed her arms, considering what she would like to do with a murdering scumbag who hurt her students. She glanced at Malisha and thought about her behavior toward Siobhan earlier.

  “We truly should be looking into the cauldrons to see if there’s any tampering,” Mr. Reade interrupted.

  The principal spoke coolly and dispassionately, as if students died all the time. “We will look into the matter and question the students after Sherry’s family has been . . . handled.”

  “And you’ll be questioning Ms. Bloodmire?” Ms. Suarez asked.

  Vega adopted an aloof expression, trying not to look like someone worth questioning about anything—including the reason she had been in the crypt. “I’m certain I have better things to do with my time.”

  Ms. Suarez’s puckered lips turned downward. “We need to see if there’s a connection between the student who attacked you and the supposed accident in my class. I saw Henrietta pointing at Sherry right before the cauldron exploded with fire. She probably sabotaged the spell and caused the accident.”

  “Henrietta Stevens? She’s that transfer student, isn’t she?” Mr. Gregory Christis squinted at the other teachers from eyes surrounded by a weathered map
of wrinkles.

  “Is this true, Vega?” Mrs. Karen Kazmere, the music teacher, turned her face toward Vega. “Henrietta attacked you?”

  Vega avoided looking at Karen’s pig snout. “Attempted,” Vega said.

  She ran her hands over her skirt, making it look casual, not like her hands were clammy. Vega watched Malisha out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what was going through her mind. Malisha sat in her chair, her back rigid and her expression haggard. Vega wasn’t the only one watching Malisha. The librarian kept staring at her as well.

  Mrs. Gordmayer turned to Vega. “I haven’t seen a referral about this incident everyone is talking about.”

  Vega hated filling out referral forms. She lounged back in her chair. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I was busy doing that thing teachers do all day. Teaching.”

  “It’s important to create a paper trail for incidents so that we can document student behavior and see patterns.” The principal reached into the breast pocket of her coat, handing a form to Vega. “Fill this out after the meeting.”

  “Why? What happened?” Mrs. Thalia asked. “Why do you think Henrietta is behind this?”

  The principal sighed in exasperation as the teachers derailed what she had promised would only be a ten-minute meeting. Vega wanted to leave as soon as possible so that she could get back to grading papers—and focus on other, important matters.

  Like finding the true culprit, especially if that turned out to be Malisha. Vega remained silent.

  Hazel supplied the answer for Vega. “Ms. Bloodmire poked inside my classroom today to scold some students. Henrietta got mad and cast a spell on Ms. Bloodmire when her back was turned. It was some kind of cold fire. I thought someone was going to get hurt, but everything turned out all right.”

  “It wasn’t cold fire.” Vega sighed in disgust. They were focusing on the wrong details. Was she the only intelligent person in this room? “Henrietta is a fire affinity but probably an untrained one. She sucked the heat out of the room to fuel her spell. The magic was nearly invisible except to a highly trained eye. Had the fire landed, I can assure you it wouldn’t have been cold.”