Ghoul Problems

by Sarina Dorie

  Principal Gordmayer opened a small book and made a note. “Could this spell have been powerful enough to kill someone?”

  “If I hadn’t stopped her. . . .” Vega shrugged.

  But she had stopped her. Henrietta might not have been the brightest star in the sky, but she was determined. She was resourceful. Like many fire affinities, she had a temper that she would need to learn to control if she was going to survive. Vega couldn’t hold her audacity against her. She had fashioned a brilliant spell.

  Unfortunately, it was entirely possible she could have aimed that animosity toward one of her peers later in the day. For Henrietta’s sake, Vega hoped it was a complete coincidence that a fire spell had been used on Vega and a fire spell had been used on a student that day—a spell that had resulted in death.

  It might have been unrelated that a teenager had died nine years before when Vega had been a student. But Vega didn’t believe in coincidences. Especially not when Malisha stared at her clenched hands, looking guilty.

  * * *

  It didn’t completely surprise Vega that Henrietta Stevens wasn’t at dinner. Nor did it surprise Vega when she heard that Henrietta had been detained in the detention room and would be staying there for the night. Her parents had been summoned to remove her from the school until further investigations could be done, as if this were a simple incident like cheating or fighting.

  Unfortunately, her parents couldn’t be reached by crystal ball, magic mirror, or messenger pigeon, hence the reason Henrietta was stuck in the detention room.

  Henrietta wasn’t the only one who was missing from dinner. Malisha Bane was as well. Vega had dinner duty—one of the torments of her existence. She drew a map of the school on the table with magic and used a locator spell to see if she could find Malisha on school property. She was in the library.

  As soon as dinner duty was over, Vega found her nemesis at the bookcase of forbidden knowledge. Students gave Vega a wide berth, moving to the other side of the library.

  Vega slipped behind a shelf of books, spying on Malisha by making a small section of bookcase invisible. The librarian stamped library books, the steady rhythm of her pace and the ticking grandfather clock in the corner creating a song of tension. Malisha studied copies in the case, though she didn’t check any out. Leah Chamapiwa watched her like a dragon with a hoard of gold that she didn’t want to share.

  When the librarian stepped into her office, Malisha glanced over her shoulder as a sneaky criminal might do. She drew her wand and waved it over the case.

  Vega knew she’d been found out when Malisha did a locator spell of her own—an inferior spell naturally—and green sparkles rose from Malisha and headed toward Vega’s concealed position in the library. Malisha crossed her arms and scowled as she marched toward Vega skulking behind a bookcase. Vega quickly waved her spying spell away and selected a copy of The History of Lady of the Lake School for Girls. She pretended to examine it as though it were the most interesting book in the library.

  Malisha stalked out of the library, her hands empty. Vega supposed she didn’t want to check out any incriminating evidence. Vega examined the bookcase but didn’t see any books labeled “How to Burn Students to a Crisp.” The same dusty tomes with dangerous magic were there just as they’d been when she’d been a student.

  Malisha was obviously trying to be secretive. Vega used a spell to see which books Malisha had touched. It appeared she hadn’t touched any. But there was some kind of magical residue in the air that smelled like the vanilla of fermenting ink and ancient parchment. It was similar to the Celestor spell Vega used to search books by topic and keyword without resorting to the card catalogue.

  The sound of books being stamped ceased. “What are you doing to my books?” the librarian demanded.

  Vega turned. “I’m not touching your books.”

  “Those are limited editions.” Leah Chamapiwa placed her hands on her slender hips. “The pages are brittle. Have a care what kind of magic you use near them.”

  Vega rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt your precious limited editions.” It wasn’t like she was going to set the books on fire with magic.

  That was the kind of thing murderous students would do.

  On the other hand, Vega had feared she might have been suspected of being a murderous student when Jessica died. She’d had the strongest motivation—at least on a surface level. It was possible the librarian suspected her of another student’s death.

  Vega returned to examining the books, keeping her magic to herself. Malisha obviously had been up to no good; Vega just couldn’t figure out what she had done.

  If Malisha was behind this death or any others, Vega would relish the opportunity to prove it. So long as she didn’t incriminate herself or reveal anything she’d done in the past in the process.

  Vega left the library, taking a detour to Ms. Suarez’s classroom on the way to hers. It was locked, but the remedy was an easy spell after Vega’s many years of practice. She aimed her wand at the chandelier, drawing on the strength of the stars to illuminate the room before closing the door behind her.

  She strode into the room, surveying the scene of the crime. From the overturned cauldron, scattered herbs, and the black spot on the ceiling, it wasn’t difficult to tell where the student had died. It looked like the classroom had been abandoned after the accident. Ms. Suarez must have taught the rest of her classes elsewhere for the day.

  She could have used Malisha Bane’s classroom next door for one class during Malisha’s prep period. It was too convenient that Malisha was now one of the potions teachers and an incident had occurred in the classroom next to hers. The same incident that had occurred long ago when she had been a student herself.

  Vega strode closer, noticing the aroma of barbecued flesh. She imagined the savory flavor of decaying human flesh before pushing those thoughts away and chiding herself. Her belly rumbled. At least no one else was present to hear.

  The floor was covered in cinders. Probably most of it was from the girl’s clothes, but some of the greasy smears might have been from her flesh as well. Vega removed a handkerchief from her pocket and scooped up a handful of charred chunks to analyze later—assuming she managed to keep herself from ingesting it. She might be able to determine properties of the fire and whether it was the same spell that had gone wrong when Jessica had died.

  Next, Vega used a spell to detect the residue of curses, hexes, or other spells that could have caused harm to the victim. This spell wasn’t so different from the one she used to examine her food for flesh, though she focused her search on traces of magic, not nonvegan ingredients.

  The cauldron itself blazed with acidic-green light. There were plenty of additional residues that glittered around the room—Vega was at a magical school after all. Other spells were bound to be used in classes. None of them led toward the cauldron to indicate tampering while the spell had been going on.

  Ms. Suarez had said that Henrietta had pointed to Sherry right before the spell had gone off. Since no one had seen Henrietta’s heat spell earlier, one might surmise she could have sneakily used it to make it appear that Sherry’s cauldron had exploded. Though Vega didn’t detect any residue of heat, nor did she feel cold magic that would have been used in an Elementia’s hex.

  Vega pinched a piece of charcoal from the handkerchief and drew a rune in the air with the cinder. This spell rarely worked because the circumstances had to be specific. Death or violence still had to be fresh in the air. Vega breathed in the scent of roasted corpse, suspecting this was fresh enough.

  Using her Celestor affinity, Vega drew in the essence of night and starlight. She exhaled a dirge of despair—after all, it wouldn’t be appropriate to summon visions of death with the liveliness of swing-dance tunes. She chanted the words of a spell in Japanese that were used to divine the last few moments before a traumatic event.

  This wasn’t exactly considered an “ethical” spell by mo
st Witchkin, considering she was using the remnants of a dead body to see that person’s death, and most people looked down on death magic. If Vega was caught, it would be one more tally against her—especially after being caught drooling over a dead body.

  The Japanese incantation roughly translated to: “Show me life. Show me death. Give to me the essence of final moments, if you please.” Vega thought it sounded far more poetic in another language. Like many incantations, it worked best when spoken in the tongue that had created it.

  Her sight blurred. Ghostly images filled the room like a mirage overlaid on top of the existing scene. Sherry stood in front of her cauldron, a book open in her hand as she dropped ingredients into the boiling fluid. Translucent images of other students in the classroom worked on their spells. Ms. Suarez was at her desk, pointing something out to a student at her supply table.

  Two girls next to Sherry had their heads together, whispering. Other students chopped ingredients or stirred their cauldrons. Their mouths moved, but there was no sound.

  A ghostly blue version of Henrietta rose from her chair. She pointed at Sherry just as Ms. Suarez had said she’d done. Henrietta’s face flushed with heat, and she looked like she dropped a few swear words into whatever curse she was speaking.

  Vega couldn’t read lips, but she thought Henrietta said, “Give it back.”

  Sherry didn’t even look at Henrietta. She peered into her cauldron. A second later the cauldron exploded. Vega watched for the second time in her life as a teenage girl was consumed by fire. It only made the situation slightly less horrific that Vega had nothing to do with it. The vision faded.

  The way the flames exploded from the cauldron and licked at the ceiling appeared to be the same potion that had killed Jessica. Seeing this death was like reliving her teenage years, leaving Vega unsettled.

  With a shaky hand, Vega took another bit of cinder and drew the rune again. She incanted the spell and found a different viewpoint to watch from. This time, the ghostly vision of the past was fainter, as there was less death magic in the air to draw from.

  Vega focused on Henrietta, trying to determine whether she had cast any kind of spell at all. She certainly was pointing at Sherry, and she was angry.

  After the ice spell Vega had used on Henrietta, it was unlikely she would have been able to use her affinity for much. She might be able to use a potion because most of the power came from the ingredients and the incantation rather than her affinity. Or Henrietta could have recharged herself with heat like a fire—assuming she could find one. It seemed unlikely.

  Vega used the spell to reenact the scene again. This time the mirage of students was fainter and more translucent. Probably this was the last time the magic was going to allow her to be a voyeur into the past. On her fourth casting of the spell, Vega tried another point of view, standing next to Ms. Suarez. The teacher looked up from the student she was helping when Henrietta stood pointing. Ms. Suarez shook her head, looking like she was scolding Henrietta. The old teacher flinched back when the flames engulphed Sherry.

  Genuine horror etched itself over the potions teacher’s features. Vega would have thought that as old as Ms. Suarez was, she would have been used to death and destruction brought on by reckless teenagers by now. Vega had hoped that time would lessen the blow of death as one aged, but perhaps not.

  Unable to perform the spell again, Vega examined one of the abandoned notebooks on the table beside the overturned cauldron. It wasn’t charred. This one belonged to Demeter Winters. Her name was written inside the cover. Vega scooped up several more and inspected them, finding their last journal entries to be nearly identical.

  Apparently, the class had been working on potions to remove warts.

  Vega perused another notebook and returned it to the table beside Sherry’s station. Vega noticed the shredded bat wings, suggesting it had been the same spell Jessica had used all those years ago. On one of the chairs nearby, Vega found a charred book with a black leather cover open and facedown. The book had been warped by fire and possibly by water damage. Vega flipped it open, freezing when she noticed the handwriting of the last spell.

  This was Jessica’s book. Somehow, someone had gotten it—stolen it—from Vega. Her heart thundered as she dropped it on a table, fearing this was a trap.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  What the Hex?

  Vega backed away from the book, waiting for Malisha to jump out of the shadows with the principal and point to her accusingly. But no one leapt out and charged her with a crime.

  It was an irrational fear, she told herself. No one suspected her of this student’s death. Nor had anyone connected her with Jessica’s.

  She picked up the book and stared at the chicken-scratch handwriting in the damaged notebook. It was just as she remembered, close to illegible, full of misspellings, and peppered with backward letters. This was impossible, yet here it was. After all these years, Jessica’s notebook with this unfortunate spell had popped up again.

  “Ms. Bloodmire, what are you doing?” someone demanded.

  Vega whirled. Ms. Suarez stood in the open doorway of her classroom.

  “What are you doing? Returning to the scene of a crime?” Vega lifted her chin, attempting to conceal her guilt with feigned contempt.

  “This is my classroom. I have every right to be here.” Ms. Suarez’s tan skin grew splotchy red. She turned her silver eye on Vega as if she could see inside her soul with that icy gaze.

  Vega doubted she could fool the old crone under a mask of superiority. She’d always had a feeling her old teacher could see through her lies and penetrate her darkest secrets with special powers from that eye.

  “I was just passing by.” Vega waved a hand at the charred mark on the ceiling. “I wanted to see if I sensed the machinations of a murderer in your room.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

  Ms. Suarez crossed her arms. “This is no laughing matter. A student died today.”

  “Do you hear me laughing?” Vega tucked the notebook under her arm casually, as if it belonged to her—which it did.

  The key to not looking guilty was not acting guilty. Vega held her head high and sauntered out.

  The entire time her heart slammed against her rib cage. She didn’t know what to do with this book. Surely it couldn’t be the same one she’d written Jessica’s homework in. And yet, she recognized the handwriting. She couldn’t wait to return to her room to see if she recognized her own penmanship farther back in the book.

  Then again, Vega knew she wouldn’t have the liberty of examining it in her own room—not with her roommate, Ms. Karen Kazmere, sticking her pig nose into Vega’s business. It truly was a wonder that the music teacher didn’t use magic on her own face, but Vega supposed there were worse problems than having a homely appearance.

  Namely, not being alive was worse.

  Vega had the book back, and though she longed to study the pages, there were other matters of business to attend to. She didn’t know how long Henrietta would be detained. At any moment, the girl’s parents might arrive to pick her up. When that happened, it wouldn’t be as easy for Vega to question her.

  Besides that, Vega might be able to use this book to her advantage and see if it was the item Henrietta had demanded for Sherry to give back to her. Vega’s reserves of magic were lower than normal after using so much during the day, but she trusted she was still stronger than the student she’d depleted earlier.

  It didn’t surprise Vega that the principal had locked a student in the detention room, alone and unsupervised. It also didn’t surprise Vega to find the little pyromaniac playing with a book of matches.

  Did the principal want this girl to burn down the entire school? Vega sighed. Sometimes she thought she was the only intelligent person in the Unseen Realm.

  Immediately Henrietta extinguished the flames. Vega used her wand to light the room.

  Henrietta sat up from where she lay on the hard floor with her blanket. Ve
ga supposed it had gotten late. It probably was past student curfew by this point.

  “Oh no! Not you!” Henrietta groaned. “Are you here to reprimand me too?”

  “No. I’m certain you’ve been reprimanded enough for one day.” Vega sat down on a desk, letting her eyes relax as she gazed at Henrietta with her Witchkin sight. “I’m here to congratulate you.”

  Henrietta snorted. She didn’t even glance at the book under Vega’s arm. Either she had no connection to the book, or she was well-practiced at appearing innocent.

  Vega smoothed her fingers over the warped cover, but Henrietta’s gaze didn’t leave her face. “Why were you pointing at Sherry just before she died?”

  “I wasn’t pointing at her. I already told Ms. Suarez and Principal Gordmayer I was pointing at Demeter Winters. I didn’t do anything to that other girl. I didn’t even know Sharity Agarwal.”

  “Sherry,” Vega corrected.

  Vega tapped her foot, waiting to see if Henrietta cracked under her gaze. Many a student had spilled far more than they intended without any magical persuasion. All Vega had done was stare at them in stony silence. Sometimes the ramblings were admissions of guilt. Sometimes they were incoherent stories of contradictory lies that told Vega as much as the truth.

  Henrietta was smarter than Vega had first suspected. She kept her mouth closed.

  “What did Demeter Winters have that belonged to you?” Vega asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Vega tapped her heel against the floor, the metronome increasing, growing louder, the sound like a ticking clock about to explode. It sounded appropriately menacing, even to Vega’s own ears.

  “It was an amulet.” The words rushed out of Henrietta. “My brother gave it to me. Demeter said it was fake earlier, but then she took it in class when I wasn’t looking.”

  Vega kept tapping her heel. “What does it do?”

  “It allows me to see through glamours—but only if I put it on. You can only wear it for a few minutes at a time or else it gets depleted, and you have to wait days before using it again.”