Hawthorn Academy: Year Three Page 15

  Growth hurts.

  I remembered the summer before my first year when I discovered I'd outgrown my bathing suit. The frantic sense of shame, the almost painful relief when Mom showed up with a new one. And bumping my head, elbows, and knees on everything for eighteen months before getting used to my height. This will be worse. I'm submitting to torture. Then sending out a recording of it.

  Yes. It's the right thing.

  Some people will laugh. Or worse. Say I deserved it.

  Maybe more will rally against such cruelty.

  Maybe I should leave the memory charm under my pillow. Let someone else do this.

  That's your choice, but nobody has so far, not for centuries. Not even dragons, who live for eons.

  I stopped running and leaned over with one hand on my knee and the other on my gut. I struggled to stay on my feet as dry heaves wracked my body. Staggering, I made my way to the bleachers, sat, and sobbed with my head in my hands.

  Nobody came to my rescue. The gym remained empty and silent. The solitude felt like a blessing, time and space to recover from the enormity of what I meant to do. A pause, if not a moment of peace exactly.

  I stood and went upstairs to my room, then the baths. Faith swam, and we greeted each other briefly. Ember played with Seth as I showered and prepared for bed. Back in my room, Grace studied. Our syllabi finally aligned this year, so I took some time to discuss the reading on Faerie courts with her.

  "I get that the Monarchs only reconciled recently, but how did they ever maintain balance between their courts when she had the only navy?" Grace tapped her pencil against her textbook.

  "The King had practically an armada of pirates, mostly trolls. I thought you knew about that since you spent two summers in town and the Pirate Festival happens every August right here on Essex Street."

  "Guess I'm more of a workaholic than you knew, eh?" She grinned. "So, pirates. Were they organized like in mundane Elizabethan times?"

  "Yeah. They have ranks and everything. Az says they were like a militia with ships."

  "Oh! I should pick his brain on this subject over coffee. Maybe in a couple of days. Want to bring Logan and make it a double study date?"

  "Oh, I'm not sure." I turned down my bed, a reasonable excuse to put my back to her. "I have to ask. Don't remember cheer squad's practice schedule."

  "Okay. You okay? This is early for you to turn in."

  "Hard workout at the gym."

  "Okay, I'll finish studying in the lounge." She scooped up her text and notebook and tucked her pencil behind her ear. "See you later."

  "Yeah. Goodnight, Grace."

  After the door closed, I turned out the light and lay in bed trembling. Sleep eluded me until Ember curled up in the crook of my neck and crooned softly in my ear.

  The hardest part wasn't watching Nurse Smith come in and take Ember away to be sedated. It wasn't walking down the hall toward the auditorium. Or remembering to activate the memory charm outside the door. It wasn't even Director-General Rockport standing like a stone as I entered that glass and metal box or hearing his monotone incantation of the elements.

  Leaving my friends in the cafeteria, called on and teleported away by Professor Hawkins was hardest. They all assumed I'd gotten myself into trouble, something I'd kept to myself. The last mind's-eye image of the people I counted on included disbelief, shock, and even suspicion. If Dylan realized what was going on, his face didn't show it.

  That indignity only amplified the entire ordeal because I couldn't lean on remembering Grace's kindness, Faith's resilience, Dorian's sass, or Hal's righteousness. Instead, after the darkness that compelled me to conjure light and the arctic blast that invoked my fire, I had nothing to lean on.

  Oh, but you do. Front and center.

  I looked out and found my candle on the water.

  Logan Pierce sat in the front row. I couldn't tell you who sat beside him because they didn't matter to me. Only he stood out, clutching his notebook to his chest with tears glowing on his cheeks as though he'd conjured instead of shed them. A sharp spike of guilt made me gasp. He'd broken before I had.

  No.

  I looked again and realized my error. Logan wasn't breaking. When he started rocking in his seat, I understood. His tears were a valve, releasing pressure. While the trustees looked at him sideways, especially his father, the rocking helped him cope with what he saw.

  Which was me, stuck in a cage while it filled with water I couldn't banish or conjure air to counter. I clutched my throat, willing myself not to scream and lose precious air. Or worse, let water into my lungs. The last thing I wanted to do was vomit on film. Or the next best thing.

  The water vanished, replaced by nothing. Not even air. That's when I realized my test was different than Dylan's, more comprehensive. I stood in a vacuum, spots of gray invading my field of vision.

  Good. Let them do their worst for everyone to see.

  They did. I was on my knees, barely able to get back up when I felt my arms and legs displace themselves. Not like dislocation, which I'd done to my shoulder when I was eight and fell out of the mulberry tree in the backyard. They flickered, like Hal's fists when we almost fought over Bishop's Row.

  They're using space on you.

  I screamed, knowing Logan, the faculty, and the trustees couldn't hear. The sensation of flickering in and out of existence was so horrifying I'd nearly forgotten the memory charm. How could Hal stand it?

  Just a moment more.

  The phasing stopped, and I shivered uncontrollably until a disturbingly familiar swooning sensation came over me.

  Poison. You know what to do.

  I burned it out of myself easily, hands flaring with flames as my magic did its work. Now, that grin felt a million times more genuine.

  It vanished a moment later when my head filled with a cacophony of traffic noise, fire alarms, and air raid sirens. I held my hands to my ears, shaking my head, but could find no relief. I didn't understand. Sound manipulation was a psychic power. I almost panicked, thinking they were trying everything on me, beyond the limits of even extramagi.

  It's mind magic.

  I wish I could have relaxed with that knowledge, but too much noise, even inside my head, was impossible to ignore. And it got worse. A voice joined in. An outside one.

  Save the world.

  I did not say that.

  Kill yourself.

  Don't.

  You almost did last year. Don't give up on giving up.

  No!

  I dropped to my knees, screaming, my head feeling like it had been impaled on an iron spike, that it'd split open any moment. With palms to temples, I tried to banish that other harsher voice and the noise that must have let it in.

  Dylan endured. You can too.

  Ram the glass, nose-first.

  Be still.

  And you'll die.

  Live.

  And never have to hear any of this again.

  "Get out of my head!"

  No.

  I was never only in your head. Keep fighting.

  I'd either lost the ability to form words or had nothing left to say, but I listened to the voice. My voice, the one with me through my entire time at Hawthorn. The one that helped me save Logan and Noah. I felt worn out, spread thin, practically flattened. My voice was like a live wire, a conduit, my connection to something bigger.

  Hold on.

  The image of a rope hanging down from a cliff face came unbidden to my mind's eye. I imagined myself grasping it and clinging, but I didn't move up or out of the miasma that filled my senses. Not until I tugged.

  Let go.

  "No. Get out!"

  I kept pulling. That imaginary rock face moved. No, I did. Until it blurred beside me and air moved in the wake of my passage. I opened my eyes to find that nothing like that was actually happening.

  The noise cut off mid-wail.

  Director-General Rockport stood staring at me. One glance at the audience confirmed my suspicions. I'd s
hocked them all, especially Mr. Fairbanks, whose face was an alarming shade of crimson. Except for Logan whose lips tilted up, hinting at a grin. His eyes glanced to one side. I finally recognized where I'd seen that before.

  Azrael's chess set, I thought. He—he was the King. And I—

  The chamber opened behind me, and I passed out.

  "—no idea she—"

  "—as rare as mind—"

  "—couldn't have known—"

  "—could be null instead—"

  I tried banishing those voices like I had the one advocating suicide. It didn't work. Moments later, I understood why. They were in my ears, not my head. My hand didn't move when I tried lifting it because it was tangled up with someone else's.

  My eyes opened on Logan, the light around the back of his head like a halo.

  "Angel." The voice croaked.

  "I'm Logan." He blinked. "You're alive, not in heaven."

  Explaining was impossible until he held a cup of water with a straw in front of my mouth. I sipped, swallowed, repeated.

  "You look like one."

  "Oh." He blushed. "Same. Except you’re, uh, lying down."

  Something soft that vibrated rubbed against my hand. I glanced down to see Doris, tail slightly twitching as she purred on my stomach. I looked around for Ember and saw her asleep in a basket on the bedside table, her side rising and falling in time with her tiny snores.

  "What happened?" I glanced at my other side and saw the headmaster sitting there with Nurse Smith.

  "The official answer is fire, solar, and an as yet unknown ability. Inconclusive." He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you can tell me."

  "I don't know." I groaned. "I'm exhausted."

  "It'll be at least a week before she fully recovers, sir." Nurse Smith took my wrist in his hand, checking my pulse. "Maybe two."

  "You'll have to figure it out by All Saint's Day and have proof you're telling the truth." The headmaster's lips pressed together in a bloodless line. "Or go through a second round of testing next month."

  My eyes teared up immediately, and I wept. I'd never experienced such a hat-drop emotional reaction before in my life. But then, I'd never been through anything as harrowing as that last round of the test.

  "Hiram! How could you?"

  I blinked and looked around. The owner of the distinctly feminine voice wasn't in the room. Hal stood in the doorway, looking about as confused and worn out as I felt. Faith stood on his other side, her arm out in case he needed it. On her other, Seth and Nin rode in a tote bag.

  "Grandpa. You're too harsh." He shuffled over and sat on the bed across from mine.

  "It is, however unfortunately, true." He sniffed. "You shouldn't be here, Harold."

  "Infusion time, Gramps." Hal smirked. "By appointment. Check the schedule."

  "Miss Morgenstern, you know what I require." The headmaster straightened his tie. "Report to my office with it on November first." He turned and left the room.

  All three of us waited until the tap of leather-soled shoes on tile faded away. Faith sat in the chair at Hal's bedside while Nurse Smith started the IV line leading from the wall. Once he finished, he closed the door as he left to give us all privacy.

  "You didn't start up last winter's exercise regimen again, Aliyah?" Faith raised an eyebrow. "You look like—well. Like you tangled with my sister again."

  "No." I patted my shirt just over the breastbone and found the memory charm still there. The next time I went home, it'd be going in the postage-paid box back to Blaine and Kim in Rhode Island, where they'd extract the psychic impressions. "I can't say exactly, but you'll find out soon."

  "Okay?" Faith blinked.

  "She tangled all right." Hal shook his head. "Alone but with an audience, somehow. I can't figure out how or why, though."

  "You used your magic to spy on us?" Logan's nostrils flared.

  "I've known something was up for a week now." Hal sighed. "The same thing that I couldn't figure out last fall with Dylan."

  "Why?" I cleared my throat. "I mean, why go to all that trouble, checking on me?"

  "We're friends, aren't we?"

  "Plus, he's nosy." Faith snorted. "Always has been."

  "You love me anyway." He grinned.

  "You might not be perfect." She took his hand in both of hers. "But you're perfect for me."

  Someone knocked on the door. Seth barked and wagged his tail. Logan grinned at the sha.

  "It's Dylan. Do you guys want him here?"

  We all nodded, and Logan let him in.

  "Hey." His hands were full with a tray of beverages so Logan closed the door behind him. "Smoothies don't fix everything, but they definitely help. So I figured I'd bring some."

  "Thanks." I looked him in the eyes as he handed me a purple concoction. "Is this what you drank?"

  "Last year, yeah." He nodded. "Ginger and elderberry for you. Hal's is orange coconut." Each cup was marked with a name in silver sharpie, but not Dylan’s handwriting.

  "How did you know what I drink on infusion day?" Hal asked after a sip of his orange-tinted smoothie. "Did you make these?"

  "No." Dylan had his back to us, trying to coax Gale away from Ember's basket. He was trying to get in with her, but there wasn't much room. "I went to order something, and they were already there."

  "Let him stay," Logan said. "She's still zonked from the sleeping draught."

  "Yeah." Dylan let the dragonets be and paced the room. "It took Gale over an hour to wake up from that."

  "So the same thing did happen last year." Hal sighed. "I knew it."

  "You're not supposed to know." Dylan handed Logan a vanilla smoothie and took the green tea one for himself. "Nobody but us chickens." He gestured at Logan and me with his beverage.

  "It's got to be because you're both extramagi, but I can't figure Logan's part in it." Hal glanced at each of us in turn.

  We sat silently.

  "Look, somebody important gave me an ominous warning recently." Logan leaned back in his seat. He pointed at the wall, then his ears.

  "Let's go out this weekend." Faith nodded. "It's been a while since we all hung out in town, and Halloween stuff is everywhere right now. It'll be fun."

  "I've got a gig on Friday night," Dylan said.

  "That's good." I grinned. "It'll be nice to see everyone. Where are you playing?"

  "Out on the Common. Part of Haunted Happenings, thanks to our Ambersmith connections. We're going to want food afterward. Engine House?"

  "I'd like someplace quieter. Um." I cleared my throat and made a show of rubbing my temples. "In case this headache isn't totally gone."

  "I'll talk to the band. We'll figure it out." Dylan nodded.

  "Peep?" Ember lifted her head and bumped it against Gale's.

  "Broo?" Gale thumped his tail against the outside of the basket and put a wing over her.

  "Peep." She settled back down.

  We all did too, drinking our smoothies and letting Faith point the conversation at cheer squad and Bishop's Row. We'd discuss the serious business over the weekend.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Piercing Whispers played mostly covers, classic spooky numbers like This Is Halloween and Strange Magic. However, they closed out their set with their hyped-up version of Groovy Kind of Love. They'd turned it into Spooky Kind Of Love and doubled the pace. The crowd loved it. After the opening number, I wasn't part of the throng that made me feel claustrophobic despite the outdoor venue. Hal sat with me on the swings at the playground in the far corner of the small park.

  "I don't have the spoons for that." He gestured.

  "Spoons?"

  "Sorry. I learned it a while back, but it hasn't slipped out around you all until now. It's a way to measure energy. How much you have left to use once whatever ailment takes its share."

  "How does that work?"

  "Well, think of it this way. When you wake up in the morning, you're pretty much rested. For people like me, that's not a sure thing."

  "So i
t's like choosing your battles?"

  "I wish." Hal sighed. "More like choosing whether to go all the way to the bathroom to wash my face or use the grooming station in my room."

  "It's that bad?"

  "It was worse last year than it is now, but not way worse." He hung his head. "Faith grooms Nin every week now because I never have the spoons."

  "How can I help?"

  "Well, there's one thing." He looked up. "I invented a device that'd help me, but I'll never get it done alone."

  "Whatever you need for that, consider it done." I grinned. "Even if it's other people enchanting things. I'll herd those cats."

  "Thanks. I'm making myself a magipsychic moving chair. One that fits on the stairs." He chuckled. "Match my rhyming if you dare."

  "Strong enough to lift a bear?" I snickered. "Perhaps a pair?"

  We sat there rocking in the swings and laughing so hard I feared we'd fall out of them. Almost.

  "Are you done?"

  I stood immediately and turned as Hal tried to catch his breath. My hands held out in front of me, dukes up, glowed enough to reveal the speaker's identity.

  "Crow?"

  "Get out of here." Something sharp gleamed in his hand and he took a step toward me.

  "This is a public place."

  "It's also my turf, and I've got business here. Scram." He held the object up, leaving no doubt it was a knife. A punch dagger, to be specific, a nasty sort of weapon. I'd seen Bubbe care for critters wounded by those.

  "He needs a minute." I jerked my chin at Hal, not daring to lower my hands.

  "He's got ten seconds."

  "Or you'll do what?" My hands glowed brighter. "Make me melt that blade?"

  "Think you can flame hot enough to melt Damascus, extranutcase?"

  "If that's Damascus, I'm the Goblin King." Hal snorted. "Anyway, we're gone. Come on, Aliyah. He's not worth it."

  I saw him stumble and almost turned away from the knife-brandishing shifter to catch him. However, someone else did—a girl, short but strong enough to support Hal's new and improved bulk alone. With one arm, I noticed as she gave me a thumbs up with the other.