by Emery Belle
Andrei got to his feet. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he said, cupping my shoulder. Then he strode from the room, leaving me alone with my guilt and terror, with the pounding of my heart in my ears and the thrumming of my blood in my veins. My fault.
I threw myself down against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the swirling pattern of the white paint with my gaze, trying not to listen to the commotion still going on outside the room. A wand blast shattered the air, followed by a cry of, “Again!”
The second blast sent me cowering under the covers, my entire body trembling. “I’m getting something!” someone else shouted, and the space beneath my room door lit up with blinding white light that dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. Hurried footsteps followed, the voices getting quieter and quieter as Cole’s entourage moved further down the hallway.
And then… silence. Blistering, breath-quickening silence.
Sometime later—it could have been seconds, it could have been days; there was no way to tell in my own personal hell—the knob turned and Andrei poked his head into the room.
“Wren?” he called softly, padding over to the bed. He pulled down the covers to reveal my face, and his gaze softened. I sat up, brushing my tear-damp hair from my eyes, and looked at him, my heart in my throat.
Finally, he nodded. “They think he’s going to be okay. It was a close call, though.”
My breath rushed out, and I jumped from the bed and threw my arms around Andrei’s neck, half-laughing, half-sobbing. I could feel him tensing for a moment before he returned the hug, albeit briefly, and then gently disentangled himself from me.
“I’m glad things are going to work out,” he said, then glanced at his watch. “But we’re running behind. Why don’t you start with room eleven, and then work your way up the right side of the hallway? You can finish the rest tomorrow.”
I stared at him for a moment, bewildered, then remembered where I was, and what I was supposed to be doing. “Oh, right.” I raked my hair into a ponytail and caught a glimpse of my blotchy, swollen face in the mirror as I followed Andrei out of the room. He showed me to the utility closet, and I set to work gathering rags, a mop, and a bucket of cleaning potion before heading to room eleven.
There, a shrunken, graying centaur lay curled up on the bed, his hooves twitching as he slept, a deep wound slashing from neck to knee. I thought briefly of Orion, the centaur who’d been murdered in ward twelve, and glanced out the window toward the setting sun, hoping that somewhere, in the land beyond the horizon, he and his daughter were happy once more. Then I set to work, and my mind became blissfully empty as I swirled the mop around the floor and brought in fresh sheets for the bed, then repeated the mundane tasks again and again as I worked my way down one side of the long hospital corridor.
By the time the dinner cart arrived, pushed by a cheerful zombie woman who gave me a bloodstained grin—I supposed ward three was appealing to more than just vampires—my feet were aching, my hands were blistered from gripping the mop, and the knot of guilt in my stomach had loosened a little. After all, Cole was going to be okay, and that was all that mattered. I had almost managed to convince myself of that by the time I stowed away the mop and now-empty bucket of cleaning solution, washed my hands, and removed my housekeeping smock as I hurried down the mostly silent hallway.
Darkness had set in, and most of the patients were asleep, their doors closed tight as the nurses huddled at their station, whispering to each other. When I passed by, their heads turned toward me, their gazes filled with pity. It seemed word of the little scene I’d caused over Cole had made the gossip rounds.
“It’s okay, honey,” a grandmotherly fairy said, stretching her silver-white wings as she stood from her chair. She fluttered through the air toward me, landing beside me and pulling me into a long hug that had tears stinging my eyes again. “We’ve all been there,” the fairy whispered, clearly under the impression that Cole was my… something.
Standing there, lost in grief and fear, I felt like a fraud. I, of all people, had no right to be upset. Cole and I weren’t married, or dating. We were barely even friends, if that’s what you could call our relationship. But from the first time I’d locked eyes with him, he made my heart soar and my knees go weak, and despite the months I’d spent trying to deny it, that meant something. He meant something.
The fairy inclined her head toward a room to our left, the door slightly ajar. “It’s after visiting hours, but why don’t you pop in and see him for a minute? I won’t tell if you won’t.” She winked and patted me on the back, then strode down the hall, humming a bittersweet tune under her breath.
I approached Cole’s room and pressed my fingers against the door, frozen with indecision. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed it open just enough to slip inside. The room was dim, and slightly cool, and I padded over to the bed to raise the covers up to his chin. He was still unconscious, though he looked as though he were merely sleeping. I stared down at him, tracing the jagged scar on his face with my eyes, longing to caress the deep worry lines etched into his forehead. But I didn’t dare touch him; it wasn’t my right.
Instead, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his ear. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I let the words linger in the air for a few moments, willing him to hear them, somehow. He let out a soft moan that had my heart in my throat, and even though I stood over him for a long time after that, barely allowing myself to breathe, he remained as motionless as ever. Finally, I left the room, closing the door softly behind me, and headed back down to the housekeeping department to gather up my belongings and start the long walk home.
As I grabbed my purse and stuffed my smock into my locker, I caught a glimpse of Gerald in the breakroom, fast asleep, his forehead pressed against the table, his mouth open as his shoulders rose and fell in time with his deep, even breathing. I suddenly felt overwhelmed with exhaustion, and the thought of walking back to my dorm felt like an insurmountable task. So, as quietly as possible so as not to wake the gnome, I tiptoed into the breakroom and slid into the chair beside him, then dropped my head into my arms and promptly fell into a black, dreamless sleep.
I was rudely awoken the next morning by a yeti baby slapping my back as hard as he could, sending me flying face-first into the table. “Sorry,” his mother said anxiously, gathering the tot in her arms. “The sitter canceled for the day and I had no choice but to bring him. Mortimer, apologize to the nice lady.” He grinned and blew me a big fat raspberry, and she let out a soft sigh of defeat.
I blinked hard, trying to remember where I was, and zeroed in on her cleaning smock.
Had I…?
I glanced around frantically. I had! I’d spent the entire night zonked out in the housekeeping breakroom at the hospital, and the sun was already high in the sky outside the window. Gerald was gone, and several members of the housekeeping crew were chatting around the table in the next room, munching on sandwiches and, in the case of a brawny werewolf, a slab of raw meat.
My eyes were still bleary, and so it took several seconds for them to focus on the wall clock across the room. When the numbers finally came into view, I did a double-take, then jumped up from the table so hard I knocked my chair down with a loud clatter, causing the baby yeti to begin bawling and tearing at his mother’s skin with his claws as he tried to clamber up her neck. Then I dashed from the room, not stopping as I burst through the hospital doors, out into the sunshine, and all the way to the academy until…
“You’re late.”
Lady Winthrop’s eyes slid my way, and she crossed her arms over her thin chest. Garnet and Hunter, both seated at their desks, peered around her, and Garnet wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Where were you last night? she mouthed, and I tried unsuccessfully to hold in a snort of laughter at the implication, especially since Gerald the gnome had been my unwitting sleeping buddy.
Lady Winthrop’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Did I say something to amuse you,
Miss Winters?” I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Good. Then if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you, please take your seat alongside the others so we can get on with the lesson.”
I slid into the seat beside Garnet, who continued shooting me sly looks, and removed my duct-taped wand from my pocket. It shuddered in my hands, and I held my breath, waiting to see what it would do. Luckily, though, the tape was still preventing it from wreaking any more havoc, and the wand lay on the desk, innocent and docile. I gave it a filthy look. It wasn’t fooling me. I knew better.
“Miss Winters.” If Lady Winthrop’s eyes got any narrower, she would no longer be able to see. “I thought we discussed this at our last lesson. Please remove that ridiculous contraption from your wand.”
I hesitated. Had she forgotten that the last time we’d met, I’d done exactly that, to disastrous consequences? Hunter’s hand hadn’t healed yet, and if anyone looked close enough, they would be able to detect a fading yellow bruise under Lady Winthrop’s left eye, which... Yep. It was still twitching.
Reading my thoughts, Lady Winthrop sighed. “I told you, Miss Winters, that this nonsense with your wand not working simply boils down to a lack of confidence.” When I started to protest, she cut me off with a swift look. “Some of the most talented witches and wizards on the island—all the way up to Lord Macon himself, if you will recall—have inspected your wand and found it in perfect working order.” Her stern gaze softened a fraction. “Have you put any more thought into the recommendation I gave you?”
Hunter and Garnet shot me curious looks as I responded with a curt shake of the head. This wasn’t the first time Lady Winthrop had not so subtly suggested I needed help in the form of Homer Vale, a mind-healing elf, and each occasion she brought it up, I tried not to feel insulted. There was nothing wrong with my mind, thank you very much. Sure, I’d been involved in four murder cases in practically as many months, and okay, there was that whole business about finding out Lord Macon was my grandfather and my mother was executed for bringing me into the world, but hey, everyone had problems, right? Some more than others.
She sighed. “I wish you would consider it, but you are, after all, a free-thinking adult, which I suppose gives you license to ignore good sense.” Then she raised her hand, palm up, and my wand responded, soaring through the air toward the front of the classroom, where she caught it easily. After unwinding the tape, she handed it back to me, and as soon as the wand touched my skin, it began sparking.
Ignoring my yelp of alarm, Lady Winthrop removed her own wand from the pocket of her brown robes. “Now that you have all been able to acquaint yourselves with your wands and no longer have to rely on training wands to perform magic, we can begin moving into more complex, but still basic, spells. You have all mastered the vanishing spell—well, almost all of you,” she added, raising her eyebrows in my direction. “And so now we can begin conjuring spells.”
Hunter and Garnet both sat up straighter in their chairs, their heads cocked eagerly in Lady Winthrop’s direction, but I slumped down in mine and tried to suppress a moan. Vanishing spells had been a total disaster, culminating in a flock of pigeons the size of penguins attacking everyone in the room, and their sister spell promised to be just as disastrous.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Garnet whispered, giving me an encouraging smile, though behind her, Hunter looked less optimistic.
“Now, for a demonstration.” Lady Winthrop aimed her wand at the center of the room and said, “Sie.” A table and four chairs with four place settings and a vase of fresh daisies sprang into existence and arranged themselves at the front of the room as Garnet and Hunter clapped enthusiastically.
“Thank you, students.” Lady Winthrop gave them a small smile, then added, “Of course, as level one witches and wizards, you will start with objects that are much smaller and far less complicated. A button, perhaps, or a pen. And you will also begin by conjuring objects that already exist—conjuring objects from nothing is a skill not learned until later on in your studies.”
She tapped the side of her head. “So envision a very clear image of the object you would like to appear in this room, and focus all of your concentration on that object as you perform the spell. Otherwise, if you become distracted, the object may get lost in the void, never to be seen again.”
“So no pressure,” I muttered to myself as I dragged myself up from my chair and stomped after Hunter and Garnet, who were positioning themselves beside our instructor. Lady Winthrop’s head snapped my way, and she studied my face for several uncomfortable moments before looking away.
Inwardly, I sighed with relief. The last thing I felt like doing was spending another afternoon copying lines. Lately, my temper really did seem to be getting the better of me; in fairness, the past several months had caused me more stress than most people encountered in their lifetime.
“Miss Moon, why don’t you try first?” Lady Winthrop gave Garnet an encouraging smile as she stepped forward nervously. Until receiving a wand of her own, Garnet had been at the bottom of the class—a distinction I now held. Since then, she’d grown in ability and confidence, often mastering spells with little practice, to the great delight of her family, who came from a long line of distinguished witches and wizards and counted the island’s earliest settlers among their ancestors.
Garnet scrunched up her brow in concentration—beside her, I noticed Hunter lean in ever so slightly closer and inhale a whiff of her flowery perfume with a wistful look—and repeated the spell. Then she looked around eagerly, her face falling when the room appeared exactly the same as it had before. “It didn’t work,” she said glumly.
“I would have been astounded if it had.” Lady Winthrop nodded toward the newly conjured table and chairs. “It takes a great deal of hard work to accomplish such difficult magic, even for the most talented among us. Now concentrate harder on the object you wish to call forth and try again.”
This time, Garnet’s spell was successful… mostly. A bottle of purple nail polish appeared on the table, though the left side had been sheared off, leaving a gaping hole through which the polish poured onto the table. Garnet performed a perfect cleaning spell to siphon it off, then stepped back into line, looking reasonably proud of herself.
“Good work.” Lady Winthrop inclined her head, then turned to me. “Miss Winters?”
Hunter gave me a thumbs-up as I stepped forward, though his dubious expression worked wonders at vanishing the rest of my self-confidence. I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured the gold coin I’d left lying on the desk in my dorm room; if by some miracle my spell worked, I planned to use that coin to treat myself to a double scoop of mint chocolate chip at Sugar & Spells, the island’s popular yeti-run ice cream shop.
Focusing on the coin with all my might, I lifted my wand arm and said, “Sie” into the expectant silence that had fallen over the room.
A pop preceded a small shriek, and my eyes flew open to find Lady Winthrop rearing back, her hand over her chest as she stared wide-eyed at something just out of my line of sight. “My goodness,” she said, clutching at her heart. “What is that thing?”
I turned around, fearing the worst, as Garnet collapsed into giggles. That thing was Monty, the shrunken head I’d saved from guard duty at a joke shop and who now lived in my dorm room, where he enjoyed gobbling up as much food as he could fit down his gullet; mercilessly teasing Pierre, my poor, unwitting familiar; and generally trying my patience.
“A rude welcome, my fair lady,” Monty said haughtily, swinging around on his chain to eye Lady Winthrop. “Apparently, no one has taught you the importance of good manners. Or good taste in clothing.”
He wrinkled his nose at her brown robes. “That outfit is quite unbecoming, and does nothing to offset the distinct yellow shade of your teeth.” He inclined his head—which was really his whole body—graciously. “Unless, of course, you were going for the sexless, old-hag look, in which case, job well done.”
Lady Winthrop’s face
purpled, and my mouth dropped open in horror. “Monty,” I hissed. “Apologize. Now.” Hunter and Garnet, who were more than acquainted with his antics, looked on, aghast, as Monty swung around on his chain gleefully, stopping only once to wink at me as I stared him down, my eyes blazing with fury.
“Well then.” Lady Winthrop cleared her throat. Her face was only slightly less purple, and she kept her lips pressed together as she spoke, clearly trying to hide her teeth. “I think that’s enough of that.”
She brandished her wand, and with a bang, Monty disappeared, back to the deepest level of Hades from whence he came… or so one could hope. An embarrassed silence filled the room as the three of us tried to avoid our instructor’s gaze, broken only by the sound of the wall clock ticking down to the end of the lesson, which was, mercifully, only a few minutes away.
Rather than continue with the conjuring spell—Hunter did his best to hide his disappointment at not getting a turn—Lady Winthrop busied herself at her desk, straightening piles of paper and sweeping broken pieces of chalk into the trash can, all without saying a word. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of our collective embarrassment, she swept from the room before the three of us could even stand up from our desks.
“That went well,” I said sarcastically as we gathered our spellbooks and headed for the door. “Think Lady Winthrop is going to deduct even more points from my grade for accidentally conjuring a bad-tempered head into the middle of her classroom?” I smacked my face with my palm. “Monty is going to be the death of me yet.”
“You really have to do something about him,” Garnet mused as we stepped outside into the sunshine. Midnight, her nightswallow, came careening down from his perch on a nearby tree branch at the sight of her and began poking his nose into her pockets, looking for treats. “That head is completely out of control.”
