by Cara Wylde
“Me neither.”
“What happened?”
We sat down, and he looked at me over the considerably wide space separating our desks.
“I look at you and… my heart aches,” he whispered. “Mila, if I knew how to help you, I would.”
“What are you talking about?”
He sighed. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re pale, you’ve got bags under your eyes, and you’ve lost at least five pounds. Are you sleeping okay? Are you sleeping at all?”
I rubbed my temples, ran my hand through my long, blue hair. The roots were starting to show, but I couldn’t give a shit.
“Dreaming. I’m dreaming. Every night.”
“What are you dreaming about?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m there… I’m traveling. Different places, different times. I don’t know what it means or how it’s supposed to help me, but…”
“But what?”
“I’ll find out.”
I spaced out in Psychology more than I should have, paid some attention in Anatomy of Souls because it was my favorite subject, then PE sucked. PE always sucked nowadays. Fewer VDC students ended up in the infirmary, so that was progress. I ran to leave my scythe in my dorm room before lunch, excited to call the bank. Then I reached for the phone I always kept in my uniform blazer and realized it wasn’t there.
“Fuck!”
I plopped on the floor so hard that my butt hurt. My brilliant plan of having Celine send me cash money to buy Crassus off turned out to be fucking stupid. I’d forgotten I didn’t have a phone anymore.
“And even if you had one, Mila, does an Unseelie guard accept American dollars? Maybe they like to be paid in gems.” I felt tears gathering in my eyes. I sniffed loudly and tried to hold them at bay. I was losing it. That was it. Morningstar had finally crushed me. “No phone, no money, no Corri, no friends…” I had plenty of friends, but no access to them. “What the fuck! How did I get here? I was supposed to be…” The tears started running down my cheeks in thick, flowy rivers. I almost imagined myself like an anime character crying her eyes out. “I was supposed to be the one who retired him. I was supposed to be the hero. And now… now everything is falling apart. I’m falling apart.” I let go and allowed myself to break down in one of the worst crying sessions of my life. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alone, lost, confused, and angry at the same time. Maybe when Lorna had smacked me in the face with a piece of roast meat? Maybe when Sariel had tried to kill me the first time? Every single thing that had happened to me since I’d joined Grim Reaper Academy in year one had hurt. Somehow, though, the fact that I was proving to be so useless when everyone needed me to save them from the tyrant that was my father hurt even more.
I spent the whole lunch break on the floor of my stupidly luxurious room, crying. I knew Crassus could hear me from outside, but I didn’t care. I hoped it made him feel uncomfortable. When it was time for History, I dragged myself up, feeling like an old, dirty rag that was good for nothing and should have been thrown in the bin long ago. I pulled at my sleeves to reveal the scars on my wrists. Since everyone knew about them now, I didn’t bother to hide them with my long, goth-looking wristbands anymore. The VDC guys had found out last spring, at practice, then they’d spread the word.
Mila Morningstar, the most gifted student at Grim Reaper Academy and the Headmaster’s daughter, liked to cut herself. When I heard what the four cabals were gossiping about me, I got angry at first, then I wanted to laugh. And I eventually did laugh, because there was no other sane reaction to be had when people started saying that I cut because I believed the pain made me tougher. I was better than them, more talented and more resilient when I was faced with hard cases because I cut and they didn’t. What the fuck? I didn’t contradict them. It wasn’t worth it. I let them talk, deciding that as long as their ridiculous gossip actually made me look cool, it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to know the truth. GC and Pazuzu knew it, and that was enough for me. Francis had probably guessed it, and I didn’t know about Sariel, but for sure, he didn’t believe the stupid theories going around.
I grabbed my History book and my notebook from my desk, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and got out of the room, not even bothering to lock the door. Crassus was standing guard, as usual. I walked up to him and looked him straight in the eyes, knowing full well that my makeup had run down my cheeks and that I probably looked like a clown.
“If I had money to buy you off, would you take it? Would you agree to work for me?”
The corner of his lips twitched.
“Say I gave you double what the Headmaster is giving you now…”
He remained silent.
I sighed, shook my head, and started down the corridor toward the stairs. It was no use. Not that I had the money, but I was curious to know if my plan could have worked, had I had the possibility to put it into action. Crassus fell in step with me.
“It wouldn’t have to be double,” he said in a serious, business-like voice. “Just more than I’m paid now. Yes, I’d take it, and I’d serve you for as long as you’d pay me better than him. It’s the way of the Unseelie. But it would have to be your money.”
I smiled, satisfied. “I have money.”
“No, you don’t understand me. You are who you are, you have an entire floor to yourself, so of course you have money. But is it your money? Did you earn it?”
I blinked. Oh, I was starting to get what he was saying. I laughed bitterly.
“Incredible! So, I’m even more trapped than I thought I was. I have money, but it’s my father’s money, so it doesn’t count. Brilliant!” I picked up the pace, suddenly annoyed with the conversation I had started. “Forget about it. I wasn’t going to hire you anyway.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Headmaster Morningstar said the field trip to the Unseelie Court was going to be the last one this year. And the only reason why he allowed it was because half a dozen guards were going to accompany us. Just to make sure we behaved. Naturally, the Violent Death Cabal had the privilege to go first.
“But Headmaster, the students have to see the land of the goblins, the land of the giants, and the Carnelian City, at the very least,” Professor Maat had protested. “How else will the new Grim Reapers find their way once they graduate?”
“Professor, these are difficult times. The decision has been made, and you have to trust that I know what’s best for them.”
“What difficult times?!”
She sounded equally dumbfounded and outraged. And for good reason. The “difficult times” Morningstar was talking about had nothing to do with the supernatural world, and everything to do with him. He couldn’t kill me. So, the next best thing was to have me in his sights at all times. Also, he knew all the student body was against him. Isolating everyone from the outside world was either a power move, or a desperate move. I was inclined to go with the last.
Since the Unseelie were a military nation, we were allowed to take our scythes with us. Which suited me just fine, because on my way down, I was planning a detour.
“I have to check something in my old room,” I told Crassus, even though I didn’t have to explain anything to him.
I walked past Pazuzu and GC, and they both looked at me curiously. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell them about my dream. I was about to verify if I had, indeed, seen the past. I stopped before the door to my old dorm-room, hesitating for a minute. My life hadn’t been easy back when I slept here, and I probably had a bit of PTSD. I looked down the dark hallway, with its flickering, broken lights. What a world of difference between the corridor in my dream and this one. I touched the wall and noticed that the white paint was peeling, revealing a washed-out shade of blue underneath. Blue? It was green in my dream… They must have repainted many times in the past two hundred years. Taking a deep breath in, I finally unlocked the door and went inside. I still had the key, but no one cared. Because why woul
d the rich girl now living in her rich room ever go back to this old, dirty closet?
I looked at the windows that had once been tall and beautifully arched. Rectangular and boring now. Or maybe the dream was just a figment of my imagination and I didn’t see the past at all. I closed the door behind me, leaving Crassus outside. As long as GC or Pazuzu weren’t in the room with me, he didn’t care. I knelt by the bed, where I’d seen young Valentine kneel, and brushed the thick dust off the wooden floor. I felt around with my fingers, trying to find a crack in the floorboard. Nothing. I straightened my back, huffed in frustration, looked around, and thought for a second. He’d used the sharp edge of his scythe. I grabbed mine and touched the tip of the blade to the floor. Instantly, as if by magic, a silver light marked the invisible places where a rectangular piece of the floorboard could be lifted. I dug my nails in the small cracks and opened Valentine Morningstar’s secret hiding place.
“Huh?”
There was one notebook in there. Just one.
“Maybe he took the rest.”
I grabbed it, stuffed it in my backpack along with the snacks and the bottle of water for the field trip, fixed the piece of wood where it belonged, and got out of there with my head held high and a smile playing on my lips.
Gottcha. Whatever you’ve been hiding, it’s mine now.
I had no doubt that what was written in that notebook would push me closer to retiring the most powerful Grim Reaper alive for good.
* * *
The second I stepped through the portal, I realized why they said the Seelie and the Unseelie were complete opposites. It wasn’t just that it was cold and snowing lightly, but the buildings and the way their city was built and organized made me wonder if the Unseelie even were fays. I’d always had this idea that all fays were supposed to be in touch with nature, but it had clearly been a misconception acquired over a lifetime of consuming cheap fantasy books and TV shows. The city of the Unseelie was highly technologized.
Clean streets, cars neatly parked on the sides, little vegetation, skyscrapers that blocked the horizon. Their court wasn’t exactly a court, and their castle wasn’t a castle at all. King Silas lived in the largest office building in the city, surrounded by trusted advisors, and soldiers armed to the teeth.
“It might sound shocking, but they’re not armed because they expect to be attacked. They see weapons as part of their uniforms,” Professor Maat explained as we entered the main building to see the king.
“Like accessories?” Francis asked.
“Yes. Something like that.”
He was waiting for us in an office that covered the entire top floor. Nothing about him was in accordance with what a king was supposed to look like. He was dressed like a businessman, and he behaved like one. Everyone addressed him with Your Majesty, so we all did the same when Mrs. Maat introduced us. He was a man of few words, and while Queen Lilla had been excited about our visit, he showed no such emotion. The meeting was dry and utterly uninteresting. The best part was that it was also short. Unseelie soldiers escorted us outside, and we spent the rest of our trip visiting a park, a military museum, and a training facility.
We learned about so many types of combat that my mind hurt. The Unseelie soldier who was acting as our guide took us from one room to another, one field to the next, and let us observe for a few minutes how their men and women trained. Some were using swords, others were shooting at targets, and then there were those who fought with… scythes. That certainly drew my attention.
“Don’t worry, they’re not Grim Reaper scythes,” laughed the guide when he saw our faces. “They’re imitations.”
“But why?” I dared to ask.
“Because there’s no weapon in this world that we don’t know how to use.” He grabbed a scythe from a nearby pile and angled it so that the blade caught the sun shining through the tall glass ceiling. “These scythes can’t separate souls from bodies, but they can cut pretty deep wounds.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “The Unseelie must be very skilled with them…”
The guide swung the scythe a few times, watching the sun rays dance on the shiny blade.
“It’s actually my weapon of choice.”
Now that I knew this detail about him, I thought he was worth a closer look. I’d pretty much ignored him when he’d introduced himself, too tired after the visit to the museum. I hated museums. They were all so damn boring!
His name was Furio, if I remembered well. He had olive skin, wide shoulders, strong limbs, and was almost as tall and scary as Crassus. His black hair was tied up high on his head, in a tight bum that, unfortunately, didn’t exactly compliment his harsh features. When he played with the scythe, however, a smile tugged at his lips, and his face muscles relaxed.
“Would you mind showing me some moves?” I asked bravely, dragging my scythe on the floor and holding it firmly before me. “I’d like to see how the Unseelie fight. We’ve been practicing in PE, but I feel like I could do better.”
“Mila,” Professor Maat hissed at me. She turned to Furio. “I’m so sorry. She didn’t mean to offend.”
“Oh, not at all.” He smiled broadly. “It would be my honor to show a future Grim Reaper some Unseelie tactics. Please, Miss. Let’s take our positions.”
I followed him to the center of the room. The two pairs of young soldiers who’d been practicing stopped and stepped aside. The Violent Death Cabal gathered around me and Furio, with GC, Paz, and Francis in front. Francis had his arms crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed. He knew what I was up to. GC and Paz were both worried and proud of me. I was a decent fighter when it came to it, but we all knew the Unseelie wasn’t going to treat me differently just because I was a woman or a beginner. It was their way. They took every fight just as seriously as they took their money and their contracts. A fascinating species, for sure.
Furio attacked, and I blocked. He was fast on his feet, while I barely moved. Mrs. Charon hadn’t exactly taught us what to do with our feet in a fight. I’d heard her say countless times that the whole thing was ridiculous, and she had no intention of preparing us for ring fights, or whatever. While she was right when it came to all the other students regardless of their cabals, my situation was different. I was supposed to take out Morningstar one day, so maybe someone should have taught me how to fight a good match from beginning to end.
I gathered my courage and attacked Furio, but he moved out of the way like it was nothing. We danced around each other for a while, neither of us able to score a single hit. Despite the chilly air in the practice room, I was sweating visibly.
“You’re good,” he said. “You didn’t manage much, but at least I didn’t nick you.”
“Did you go easy on me?”
“Not at all. When it comes to self-defense, you’ve got skills. But it’s like defense is all you’re focused on, and when you have to attack, you do it half-heartedly.” He walked up to me. “If I may…”
“Sure.”
He stepped behind me and adjusted my position. What followed was twenty minutes of him showing me how to move my feet, keep my shoulders relaxed, and hold the scythe in a way that gave me more flexibility. He taught me how to maneuver the handle with my fingers, twirl it around, and throw it effortlessly from one hand to another.
“This way, your opponent won’t guess if you’re going right or left.”
Oddly enough, the other VDC students watched the whole thing with interest. It was different from what Mrs. Charon had taught us, and anything that could put them at an advantage was welcome. Even with Headmaster Morningstar fucking up the curriculum, they were still keen on learning.
“Thank you so much, Furio. This was amazing.”
We shook hands, then he returned to his tour guide duties and showed us out of the training facility.
“You looked badass in there,” Paz whispered as he walked past me, pretending he wanted to catch up with some guy.
“Word.” GC pulled
off the same move. Nowadays, with Crassus watching me like an eagle, this was the only interaction we got. “Like a warrior goddess.”
I smiled, feeling pretty good about myself. I had Valentine’s notebook, I’d just learned some cool tricks from an Unseelie soldier, and we were heading to the Academy already. The visit had been short, which suited me just fine. All I wanted was to grab dinner, then lock myself in my room and dive into young Morningstar’s secrets.
Who knows… Maybe this notebook will tell me how to retire you. Was it too much to hope for?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It turned out… it was. It was way too much to hope for.
The damn thing was a dream journal. A. Dream. Journal.
“The fuck am I supposed to do with this? Ugh!” I threw the notebook across the room. It opened to a random page. I eyed it for a moment, then got up and decided the page it had opened to must have a clue for me. It didn’t. It was some dream about looking through a window and seeing a bunch of wild horses playing in a field.
“Useless,” I muttered.
I placed the notebook on my nightstand. Corri’s bell caught my attention. With a sigh, I rang it three times, hoping my pixie would show up. I missed her so much! Today, her one-week sentence in the Blank expired, but I’d totally forgotten the exact hour, minute, and second Morningstar had banished her, so I’d been ringing the damn bell all evening. I plopped on the bed, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then sat back up and grabbed the notebook again.
“There has to be something in here.” I couldn’t accept defeat. I couldn’t accept that I was isolated from my friends, my lovers, from my parents, and Corri, that I was all alone trying to solve this, and that the only clue I’d found was no clue at all. “I’m just going to read it over and over until I figure it out.”
One thing that was clear was that Valentine Morningstar could lucid dream, just like me. He’d categorized his dreams according to what he believed they were. He called some of them lucid, others out-of-body experiences, a few were under the tag “regurgitated thoughts” (I had a pretty good idea about what that meant, but still… ugh! that name!), and then there were the dreams categorized as PU. What the hell does PU stand for? Of course, there was no glossary, because why would there be one? He certainly didn’t expect his dream journal to be found and read. I thought these were the most interesting ones, and not because they were marked with an abbreviation I would probably never decipher.
