Sorrow and Joy: Gallows Hill Academy: Year One Page 2

  “I smell fae.” The sound of earthenware grating against wood turned the pit of my stomach to ice. “Why is that, I wonder.”

  Mom could move silently when she wanted to. I heard each footstep clearly. This was a psych-out. My brain knew this fact, sure as water is wet. My body reacted as if she’d read every transgression in the history of my life out of my brain.

  I dropped the beans into the trash, hands shaking. The napkin followed like Vlad the Impaler’s wife diving out of her tower. Mom stepped to my left, peering into my eyes like she’d pluck one of them out and make a trinket from of it.

  “Nervous?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I swallowed, then forced the corners of my mouth up. “First day of school tomorrow.”

  “That’s right.” She nodded, expression flatter than roadkill. “I have an idea about that.”

  “Oh?” I tried to freeze my features, maintain that smiley veneer of benign ignorance.

  My eyebrow betrayed me, hoisting itself like a mainsail.

  “Let’s see how you do over at Gallows Hill after a night sleeping on the streets.”

  “Mom, no.” I blinked.

  “Mavis, yes.” She snapped her fingers.

  I don’t know who caught me under the shoulders and dragged me out the door. I didn’t fight them because I’d seen this happen before. One of my earliest memories was watching Babs do it to Hugh. One sibling or another getting tossed out for a night was a regular occurrence here.

  This was my first time, though.

  It’s possible to learn from someone else’s mistakes. Probable, maybe not. Still, I’d had six examples. That’s why I walked away without looking back. No amount of knocking or even crying at the door would get me back inside. If I tried shifting and flying to my room’s window upstairs, I’d find it locked.

  Salem’s a small town, but the streets were never empty at night from Labor Day until November first. Sure, I was stuck with the clothes I stood in, but I wasn’t entirely without means. Emergency bus fare sat folded in my back pocket.

  I headed to the local pizza place, Engine House. The two slices I got were cheap, hot, and filling but needed a ton of crushed red pepper to taste halfway decent. If I wanted breakfast in the morning, I couldn’t afford a beverage. The water fountain between the bathrooms was good enough to wash my meal down.

  Out on the street, I flitted from one group to another, pretending to belong at their fringes while thinking. It wasn’t easy, considering where to sleep in town. Any of Crow’s old haunts had too many memories attached, things that might break the autopilot triaging all my decisions.

  I had no friends. That’s only partly true, but the two I still had weren’t in town. Bar was in Providence at college orientation. Cadence was on Cape Cod with her roommates playing a Piercing Whispers gig. Kids from middle school only knew me as an odd duck. The ones who hadn’t crossed the street when they saw me in town over the summer weren’t people I knew much about, let alone where they lived and whether they had a couch I could crash on.

  Salem had four influential families. Ours was one and Mom considered the other three enemies. She’d slowly been eroding the Ambersmith’s grip on local businesses, with funds she’d acquired mysteriously the year before. The Micellos got pushed across the bridge to Beverly back before I was born.

  That left the Morgensterns, who were practically untouchable. Also unapproachable now that the younger two were grown and off being their best selves. Still, their entire house including the yard was a no-go zone according to Mom. Maybe I’d pass the night safely in their mulberry tree. Shifted into my bird form, of course.

  I paused on Hawthorne Street, out in front of the psychic parlor and Diego’s house. Which he’d banned me from visiting during our breakup. Even if I’d had the money, I couldn’t have asked for a tarot reading to guide me because of that.

  Hanging my head, I stepped around the corner—and got knocked out of the driveway, back to the sidewalk, and directly on my backside. Luckily, it turned out.

  A car had hit me. A van, to be exact.

  Chapter Two

  The click of gears shifting and an insistent series of bings preceded heavy footsteps crunching on gravel. I peered up into a broad, familiar face, framed by exactly no hair.

  “Mavis?” When he recognized me, his glamour dropped long enough to reveal ruddier skin and a set of coffee-yellowed tusks.

  He was a faerie of the troll variety, fully tithed. Which meant I’d better not ask him any questions. Three of those in one day to a faerie meant you owed them a favor. Too many favors meant owing your life.

  “Sorry, Mr. Micello.” He didn’t like being called by his courtly rank, which despite his fifty years was only baron but at least better than a mere lord.

  “Don’t apologize.” He helped me up. Stiffly. Rumor had it his knees had no more cartilage after a recent injury in service to the Faerie monarchs. “What are you doing out the night before school starts?”

  “Um, nothing much.” I chuckled, crossing my arms and staring off at the tippy-top of the Morgenstern’s mulberry tree, which I could faintly see over the eaves of their house.

  “Can I drive you home?”

  “Um, no.” I sniffled.

  “Anywhere else, then?”

  I shook my head, knowing full well that if I spoke another word, I’d end up ugly crying right there in the street. Merlinis weren’t supposed to weep in public, let alone in front of the head of a rival family. I was already in heaps of trouble.

  “How about a frosty beverage, then?” He shuffled toward the van’s passenger side, momentarily blocking the bubble-lettered airbrushed words Moonstruck Music on the side. “Least I can do after knocking you over.”

  I was thirsty so I nodded and got in when he opened the door. I’d been in Paolo’s van before, with his nephew Bar driving. The odor of old coffee highlighted by a hint of ozone from the audio equipment in back brought hopeful memories back.

  Ones from last year, when we thought Crow would pull off graduation and getting out. Before the entire weight of escape from Salem rested solely on my shoulders.

  Tears rolled down my face.

  Long years in the nest had given me plenty of time to rehearse a silent weeping routine. Paolo didn’t say a word about my pathetic sniveling. I’d managed to hide it.

  When he pulled up in front of Tropica Mart and handed me a tissue, my delusions fell like a picture window struck by a fastball.

  “I don’t expect you to talk about whatever it is to me, but I hope you find somebody to trust with it soon.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Micello.”

  “Paolo.”

  “Um, Paolo.” The name felt odd, like biting a red gumdrop expecting cherry and getting cinnamon. Not quite right, but still true. I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, Paolo works for now.”

  “Do you want me to bring you something?”

  “Nah. The Mart calms me down. Just let me blow my nose.” I did, then held the damp tissue gingerly as I exited the vehicle. Fortunately, I could deposit it in a wastebasket beside the door before going into the bodega.

  I’d been there before, over the summer while hiding from Piercing Whispers. They practiced in the basement apartment across the street, where most of them lived, including one of those two aforementioned older-than-me friends. I spied on them more often than I liked to admit.

  Speaking to Cadence was forbidden for several reasons. The closest I could get to my old friend was haunting Palmer Street over the summer. So I’d seen the inside of Tropica Mart a time or ten. Thousand. The man behind the counter tolerated me because I helped his dhampyr son stock the shelves without asking for pay. It’d be rude not to greet him.

  “Hi, Mr. DelSangre.” I grinned, hoping he wouldn’t say anything about my puffy eyes, which he’d noticed because he was a vampire.

  “Hello, avita.” He grinned. “Excited for school tomorrow?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I nodded. “I’m just gonna, uh.”

  I jerked a thumb at the row of refrigerated cabinets at the back of the store. He nodded.

  I paced along, gazing almost past the rows of drinks in the coolers, unsure what I wanted. Or even how I’d gotten kicked out of the house in the first place. It didn’t make sense. How did she know where I’d been?

  Shifters had enhanced senses of smell, but I’d stayed in the park long enough for the faerie scents from the sanitarium to wear off. I stood in front of a random glass-fronted case, tugging the locket on its chain around my neck. Still, I couldn’t figure it out. I sighed and shook my head.

  “Try the Snapple. Peach tea. It’s my favorite. Maybe you’ll like it too.”

  I didn’t jump at the unexpected voice despite its newness, mostly out of habit. Acting startled at the nest had consequences and habits carried over like remainders in long division. The speaker took it in stride by tugging on the chrome handle, releasing a cold front over my still tear-sticky face.

  “Here.” A pallid hand pulled a glass bottle off the shelf and held it out to me.

  “Uh, thanks?” I reached for the beverage and looked up at the same time. I got an eyeful of chestnut brown hair in need of a trim and corrected my gaze’s angle downward a little. “Oh, hi.”

  The guy standing in front of me was short, fine-boned too. Definitely not a shifter either because he smelled almost mundane. His eyes smiled. A glance down told me his mouth wasn’t on board. I’d barely ever seen that, a mismatched expression that meant the opposite of trouble.

  He wore all black, which might’ve made him look smaller than he was. I would have guessed his age younger than mine, but those smiling eyes had depth to them. Maybe he’d seen a thing or three. I got the impression he was older than he looked. Was he a vampire, like Mr. DelSangre?

&nbs
p; My fingertips brushed his and destroyed that idea. His hands were warm, like mine.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not. I mean, don’t be.” I didn’t bother pasting a smile on my lips as I had in the nest earlier. Faking it for someone who seemed this genuine felt wrong. “I’m Mavis.”

  “Ed.” He cocked his head to his left as though listening. “Uh, Redford. From Providence.” He did the listening thing again. “I’m here for school.”

  “Gallows Hill?” I asked, hopeful. Folks from in town knew my infamous last name. Here was someone from away who’d make up their mind based on me, not the Merlinis in general.

  “Messing Academy.” He sighed.

  “Oh.” I sighed too. “Figures.”

  “What?”

  “I’m at Gallows Hill. Sort of hoped I’d met a classmate.”

  “Same.” He grinned, then swept his too-long bangs away from his face. “They don’t have dorms, so I’m staying with the Gallows Hill folk at their new boarding house. My roommate’s one of your classmates.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Cosmo’s a shifter. We grew up together.”

  “And you?”

  “Not a shifter.”

  “No, I know Messing’s for psychics. What’s your talent?”

  “Oh.” He swallowed, then dropped the word like it weighed a metric ton. “Medium.”

  “That’s so cool.” This time, I grinned for real.

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s only the best psychic talent.” My grin turned into a smile before I could stop it.

  “Most people would argue that point.” He shot a dirty look off to his left, which finally made sense. He’d been interacting with a ghost this whole time. “Are you a changeling?”

  “No, just an odd duck.” I chuckled. “Figuratively. I’m a raven stuck in a nest of crows. Anyway, thanks for recommending this.” I jiggled the bottle of tea. “Tell your ghost friend hi for me.”

  “Rob can hear you. He says greetings and salutations back.” Ed smirked, then put on what I could only describe as a hoity-toity accent. “He’s colonial.”

  “Wow.” My face made a genuine smile that time. I swallowed and took a step back, shocked by my expression like a total weirdo.

  “Thanks.” Ed grabbed his bottle of tea like it was no big deal. He’d seen a thing or few, then. “Anyway, I have to get back, so—”

  “You gotta go.” I nodded. “Thanks, Ed.”

  “See you again sometime.” He turned and headed back toward the front of the store.

  “Bye.”

  I took my time making my way through Tropica Mart. I had nowhere to be, for one thing. Also, I didn’t want Ed aware of my entire plight. Weakness happened. I wasn’t supposed to show any. After perusing chicharrones and cans of Café Bustelo, I finally went to the register after he’d left.

  “Is that all?” Paolo asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I passed the bottle to Mr. DelSangre at the register. Paolo paid a dollar, and we stepped out on the sidewalk.

  “What are you doing after you drink that?” His eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his brow.

  “Uh.” I swigged tea to avoid answering.

  He said nothing, just walked toward the van, a cane I hadn’t noticed him leaning on before tapping the pavement at his side. I went along, drinking more peach tea. Ed was right. It was good. I’d try the other three flavors before deciding whether it was my favorite or not, though.

  “So, you got kicked out.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He sighed. “You’re Morgan Merlini’s daughter.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Listen, I have an idea—”

  “No.” I stopped walking. He stopped with his back to me, head tilted. “It’s my fault I’m in trouble. You shouldn’t clean up the mess I made.”

  Paolo surprised me by throwing his head back and laughing, full from the gut, rich as ninety-two percent chocolate. He leaned on the van with one hand, made a shuffling turn, and faced me, grinning.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Sorry.” He reached up with one substantial hand and wiped his eye. “Seems like yesterday I heard the same thing from another bird shifter down on her luck. Anyway, you can spend the night in a tree or avoid this situation altogether in the future.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Not with my connections.” He shook his head. “Would a shared roof and three squares four blocks from campus make a difference?”

  “If you burn a connection, I’m in debt, questions or no.” I put my hands on my hips, sloshing a drop of tea on my shoe. “And in even more trouble. Merlinis and Micellos might as well be Capulets and Montagues.”

  “Helping you means losing a favor, yes. It also lets me pay somebody else back. It’s a wash.”

  “You’ll have to promise I won’t owe.”

  “I swear by the Goblin King, my help with your living arrangements won’t put you in my debt, extrahuman or otherwise. I swear it twice. And thrice.”

  I swallowed. That promise was serious business. The monarchs were the be-all-end-all for Fae.

  “Lead on, Paolo.”

  We got back in the van to save his knees, he said. A few minutes later, he stopped it in front of an old brick building. It had four steps in front and a red door framed by Doric columns. In the orange glow of the street light and the shadow of the van, one looked crimson and the other indigo. Upon closer inspection, I discovered both coated with a thick layer of white paint.

  The door opened before we could knock on it. The light inside made the person holding it seem like a cardboard cut-out. I let Paolo go ahead, glancing to my right at our greeter as I walked by.

  I knew her. Not personally, but I’d seen her at Crow’s ball games, and her face was all over the brochures for Gallows Hill School. The name that went with the pictures the year Crow started there tumbled from my mouth.

  “Principal Hawkins?”

  “Formerly.” She tilted her head, appraising me as she shut the door behind me. “It’s Klein now. You’re Mavis Merlini. Apologies in advance for the coming outburst.”

  Chapter Three

  She turned, pursing crimson lips and narrowing amber eyes at Paolo. Then, she planted her feet and put her hands on her hips, nostrils flaring. Flour streaked the blue apron she wore over her knee-length floral dress.

  “This had better be good, Uncle P.” The tip of one brown patent Mary Jane shoe tapped the foyer’s marble floor. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming here while I’m trying to get the boarders settled in.”

  “I’ve got one more.”

  “Please. I wasn’t born yesterday.” She rolled her eyes. “Mavis lives in town.”

  “All the same, she needs a place to stay. By my last count, there’s room for one more freshman. With a full house, you can petition the Harcourts for another grant.”

  “True.” The principal nodded. “I’ll need a reason I can put on paper.”

  “I found your locally registered student here on the street. Unstable living situation, family history of same.”

  He seemed to be trying awfully hard to convince her to take me in. If she was the person he owed, I’d kiss a gnome.

  She turned that gaze on me, raising an eyebrow. It softened unexpectedly. Her eyes wandered over my wardrobe of threadbare unisex hand-me-downs, streaked with dirt where I’d fallen. And my lack of luggage. By the time her eyes met mine again, her foot had stopped tapping.

  “Is this true?”

  Principal Klein was a dhampyr. Which meant her powers included an air of goodwill and trustworthiness. After the night I had and the chance she offered, those made little difference.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She opened the door, letting us into a small foyer with benched coat trees on either side. The double doors into the gleaming hallway beyond stood propped open with rubber wedges.

  “It’s Matron in this building.” Her hands fell from her hips like leaves in October. “Principal on campus. You’ll need bed linens. And something to wear while I have Sid launder your clothes. I hope spare gym uniforms will do. Size small?”

  “Medium, actually.” I let out a too high-pitched chuckle. “Uh, I’m not really—”