Killing November

by Adriana Mather

  We walk past a row of tall bookshelves and climb a spiral staircase to the second floor. The library is virtually empty, not that I think everyone would be racing to get here on a Sunday, but then again, who can really tell with a school like this? We make our way to the rounded back left corner of the second floor and Layla stops.

  “Pay attention,” she says as she checks the surroundings to make sure no one is looking, even though we are entirely shielded by a bookcase. She pulls two bluish books from the third shelf, a thick torn brown one from the fourth shelf, and a faded red one from the fifth. Then she pushes the center of a carved leaf on the dark wood molding and the bookcase pops open to form a door.

  My eyes widen. “That was so freaking cool,” I whisper.

  I make a mental note of the books she used and which leaf she pressed. Layla holds the bookcase door open for me, and I enter to discover a cozy little room with a rug and two armchairs around a table stacked with books.

  “What is this place?” I ask in awe. A secret room behind a bookcase? Emily would die of excitement over this. She’s not only a book lover, but was also the type of kid who would talk to an odd-shaped hole in a tree, convinced that fairies were hiding in it.

  “Our private study,” Layla says. “Each dorm room is assigned one.” She grabs a box of matches off the table. “They’re scattered all over the library. Of course, you would never leave anything secret here. They’re clearly not impossible to break into. But we mostly leave each other’s spaces alone to avoid retaliation.” Layla lights the candles in the wall sconce, brightening the little study. “Besides, they give you a place to think without someone reading your facial expressions every two seconds.”

  “Not to mention the stone walls make them virtually soundproof,” Ash says, sliding through the door right before Layla closes it. He must have been following us, and the fact that I didn’t notice worries me; I wonder what else I’m not noticing.

  Layla scowls at him, which only makes him put on his most innocent expression.

  “Aw, don’t be mad, Lay,” he coos.

  “I most certainly will be mad.” Her look is icy. “That was a sneaky, horrible trick, sending us to the parlor. You could have come up with another way to get the information you were after.”

  Ash slides up to her. “You would never have agreed. And you have to admit that if I had been there, the interactions wouldn’t have been as revealing.”

  She pushes his hand off her elbow. “I really don’t care, Ashai.”

  “You do care. You also know that sending November by herself wouldn’t have had the same effect,” he says.

  “But if it did, you’d have been happy to let me take the heat? Gee, thanks,” I say.

  “Apparently he’ll do anything that benefits his strategy,” Layla says. “He’s practically Machiavellian these days.”

  “Don’t be cruel, Layla. I said I was sorry. Look, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “And how do you plan to make up for the fact that Nyx said I seem less neutral every day?” Layla asks, and Ash’s face falls.

  All of his earlier playfulness disappears. “Hang on. Back up.”

  “You heard me,” Layla says, and I desperately want to ask about these political divisions, but I know this isn’t the time.

  “Luckily, November shifted the conversation and it ended,” Layla says, and Ash looks at me, not like he’s grateful but like I’m the root of the problem.

  “Okay, Layla. We’ll fix this,” he says in a reassuring voice. “But in the meantime, let me try to make it up to you. Anything you want.”

  Her stubborn expression wavers slightly. “Anything?”

  “Yes,” he says, and with some dramatic resignation, he adds, “Even my sword trick.”

  Some of the tension in her face disappears. There is a long moment where they just look at each other, at the end of which he grins.

  “Oh, shut up,” Layla says. “The least you can do is not gloat about it.” And I realize they just had an entire exchange using nothing but facial expressions, which I only caught a sliver of.

  Ash grabs two pillows from the armchairs and hands them to us. Layla sits down on the rug near the wall and places her pillow behind her back. I do the same thing opposite her, and Ash plops down lazily in the middle of the floor, leaning against one of the cushy chairs.

  Layla levels her gaze at me. “We need to discuss what happened last night, but first we need to set some ground rules. I know all about that agreement you both made without me, and I have to say that you’re not only reckless, but I honestly don’t know which one of you gets carried away with ridiculous notions faster. Just the same, it’s done. And whether I like it or not, we’ve each covered for one another somehow, so we’re in this situation together. November, you were right to ask that we tell you things in return for your personal information. Secrets should always be traded at equal value. Fair is fair. But don’t think for a second that the trust we’re establishing is unbreakable. If you betray us in any way, you will regret it way more than we will.”

  I glance at Ash and back to Layla. I don’t doubt that for a second. “I understand.”

  “And the tutoring you asked for,” she continues. “I’ll help. Ash and I have different strengths in analysis and you would benefit from learning from both of us. Besides, asking for tutoring when you need it isn’t shameful; it’s smart.”

  I breathe deeply. “Please. I’ll take all the help I can get. The last thing I need is to pick a fight and then embarrass myself in class.”

  “You embarrassing yourself might be unavoidable,” Layla says, and Ash chuckles. She gives him a warning look. “Your training in a few areas clearly needs work. But we can’t afford for people to think you have weaknesses, either. They will attack them. Or exploit them like some people.”

  Ash makes a face like “Who? Me?” which Layla pays no attention to.

  “So then where should we start? You guys know better than me who might have motives,” I say.

  “Yes,” Layla agrees. “We’ll tell you what we know. But we also need to talk through the sequence of events surrounding the murder. Lots of people could potentially have motives, but only some will make sense in context.”

  “Stefano’s murder happened right after you got in that fight with Matteo,” Ash says.

  I nod. “Right. I was thinking about that, too. Do you think the murder is somehow connected to Matteo?”

  “Yes, in a way,” Layla says. “Matteo and Stefano are from the same Family, they were roommates, and they spent most of their time together. Whatever punishment Blackwood gave Matteo because of your fight has kept him out of classes. So it’s possible that someone knew Matteo would be occupied and saw it as a good time to strike.”

  “I see,” I say. “If they were always together, getting Stefano alone was an unusual opportunity?”

  “Exactly,” Layla says.

  “It’s interesting that someone would try to frame you for killing another Bear, though,” Ash says. “Your Family tends to stick together—through love, hate, infighting. They don’t usually kill one of their own unless it was ordered and agreed upon.” He looks at me in a strange way and it dawns on me what he’s asking.

  “Oh god, no. Definitely no. I was not sent to kill Stefano.” Asking someone to assassinate someone else in your Family is a thing? I want to laugh, it’s so ridiculous, except that apparently, I’m part of a Family that has been known to commit contract killings and I feel sickened by it.

  “We know you weren’t,” Layla says, and rolls her eyes at Ash, “otherwise we wouldn’t be helping you.”

  “My point is,” Ash says, “that whoever did this might have reason to think they could make Matteo believe that you would kill Stefano.”

  I push my hair back from my forehead, not because I need to, but just to clear my
thoughts. I went from living in a town where I know way too much about everyone to being in a castle where I don’t even know who I am. It’s like trying to figure out the rules of football when you’re already on the field with the ball in your hand and have twenty players running at you. “Okay, I see what you’re saying. Someone thinks my family and Matteo’s have some kind of long-standing grudge or grievance—potentially explaining why he punched me, and also making it believable that I might retaliate by killing his friend. Except, if there’s a problem between our immediate families, I don’t know anything about it.”

  Layla looks at me oddly, like she’s not sure what to think. “Well, it’s likely that whoever set you up is aware of some sort of issue. It’s just hard to believe something so serious would have been kept from you.”

  I’m starting to think that everything serious has been kept from me my entire life. “So then we start by looking at people who might know something about me? Honestly, I’m not sure who that would be besides…”

  “Matteo?” Ash says, finishing my thought.

  I hesitate. If I tell them Matteo thinks I look like someone, and that the only person I’ve ever looked like is my mother, I’ll be revealing practically all I know. On the other hand, keeping his observation to myself probably isn’t going to help me survive this. “He said I look like one of my family members, a dead one.”

  “Huh,” Layla says.

  “What?” I say, watching her reason through something.

  “Matteo is the firstborn in the Bear Family and is in line to lead it one day,” she says slowly, like she’s still putting the pieces together. “But you, you don’t recognize any of the other students, which, combined with your American accent, means you probably grew up largely outside of Strategia society. It’s just odd that the future leader of the Bear Family would feel he knows you well enough to come after you, while you’re totally unaware of who he is.”

  “However,” Ash continues, “if Matteo recognized the resemblance to your relative, then other students and teachers might, too. More people here might know you than you realize.”

  I know Ash said that I’m part of the Bear Family, and as difficult as that is to believe, I can only assume there must be some truth to it, given that I was admitted to this school. But until this moment, the possibility of being one of them—a Strategia—always felt like some far-removed idea that didn’t really have anything to do with me. “Okay, well, if you’re right, and someone other than Matteo recognizes me, who would benefit from pitting me against him?”

  “The Lions,” Ash says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Even living in America, you must know how much your Families hate each other.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, even though I have no clue what he’s talking about. But if the Lions and the Bears are known enemies, then my interactions with Brendan are starting to make a lot more sense. “I was asking who specifically from the Lions. Do you think Brendan killed Stefano and set me up?”

  “Brendan could have a motive,” Layla says. “But, with so many other Families falling over themselves to please the Lions, it’s hard to tell what Brendan does himself and what he manages to get others to do for him—Charles, Nyx, and a whole list of students could owe the Lions favors or be in debt to them in some way that allows Brendan to manipulate them.”

  “What is the deal with Charles and Nyx?” I say, purposefully leaving the question open-ended.

  “As I told you,” Layla says, running her fingertips over the edge of the rug, “they’re both in line to lead their Families one day, and therefore pretty secure in their own right. Still, both of their Families depend heavily on alliances with the Lions. Especially Charles’s. His Family’s ties to the Lions don’t go back as far as Nyx’s do, so taking down key members in the Bear Family would definitely serve him.”

  Ash looks from me to his sister, and there is something in his expression that makes me think he’s not totally comfortable with Layla giving me all this information.

  “When I first met Blackwood,” I say, “she told me that there had been a few deaths here recently.”

  Layla sighs. “It’s no secret that the Lions have been killing off the very best and most skilled members of Families who won’t bow to them.”

  I immediately think of Ines and how everyone says she’s one of the most skilled in our class. Maybe she has more reason to be standoffish than I originally thought. Layla, too.

  “In recent years it’s spilled into this school—some students have been killed off before they even graduate,” Layla continues. “This place was always respected by all the Families as a safe space. Sure, there were deaths now and again, but nothing like this.”

  “So if everyone suspects the Lions are behind the student deaths, why isn’t anyone doing anything about it?” I ask, which wins me another smile from Layla.

  “Who’s going to stop them?” Ash says.

  “Well, I…I don’t know,” I say.

  “Exactly,” he says, and we’re all silent for a second.

  “What about Aarya?” I say. “How’s she involved? I mean besides that stunt in the parlor last night, she also announced to everyone in the caf—dining hall that Ash stole her knife last week.”

  Layla turns to her brother in horror. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t,” he says, and they stare at each other until she’s convinced he’s telling the truth. Strange that he didn’t tell her that. I thought they told each other everything.

  “But from what I hear, November flipped it on her by announcing the knife to everyone last night in the parlor,” Ash says. “Brilliant, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and smile. “So then you think Aarya could be part of it or have a motive?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ash says. “But she’s at least partially in the know, which makes her suspicious.”

  “What about Felix?” I ask. “He’s a Lion, right?”

  Layla nods. “If Aarya’s involved, then Felix is,” she says. “For now, I think we should pull on that thread and see where it leads, since getting near Aarya and Felix is exponentially easier than getting near Brendan, Charles, and Nyx.”

  “By pull on that thread, what do you mean exactly?” I ask.

  “That we follow her,” Ash says. “Try to find out what she knows.”

  My pulse quickens. “We?”

  Ash smirks. “You and I.”

  “What about Layla?” I say, and I can hear the nervousness in my voice. Following Aarya does not sound easier than following Brendan.

  “Afraid you can’t handle all that time with me?” Ash says, clearly finding the whole thing way too amusing.

  I scoff. “More like I can’t handle your ego.”

  He smirks. “Humility isn’t a virtue.”

  “Neither is self-adoration,” I say.

  “It must be an odd feeling for you, Ash,” Layla interrupts, “not having a girl fall all over you in two seconds. I think I’m going to enjoy this. And to answer your question, November, I’ll be working another angle. I’m much better at research than Ash is.”

  “By better, she means more patient,” Ash says.

  “By better, I mean better,” Layla says, and Ash grins at her. If they were typical siblings, I could see him bribing her to help him with his homework and her asking him to teach her how to flirt. But there is nothing typical about them.

  I GLANCE FROM Brendan, Charles, and Nyx on my left to Aarya, Felix, and Ines on my right, wondering if one of them murdered Stefano and figured they could blame it on me. Layla gives me a look that tells me I need to stop staring, and I lean back in my chair.

  Professor Kartal spins an ancient-looking globe in a wooden stand. Her shoulders are pulled back and her chin is held high, giving her a commanding presence. She watches the globe and not us. Kartal…her name
means “eagle” in Turkish.

  “Strange things happen by accident every day…every single day,” Kartal says, and sighs. “King Umberto the First of Italy once ate in a restaurant where he discovered that the owner was born the same day he was and in the very same town. What is further puzzling is that they both married women named Margherita. Then in July of 1900, King Umberto learned that the restaurant owner had been shot and killed in the street. Later that same day, the king was assassinated.”

  I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but so far, this isn’t like any history class I’ve ever had.

  Kartal looks up at us, still spinning the globe under her fingertips. “And during World War One, the British army turned the passenger ship RMS Carmania into a battleship. They then disguised the Carmania as the German passenger ship SMS Cap Trafalgar. Are you following? This is all about to come back around. In 1914, this disguised British ship sank a German ship. That ship was in fact the real Cap Trafalgar”—she laughs—“which the Germans had disguised to look like the British Carmania.”

  A laugh bubbles out of me and a couple of people look my way. Apparently I’m the only one other than Kartal who enjoyed the story.

  Kartal takes her fingers off the globe and tucks a stray piece of her black hair into the braid that wraps around her head. “And have you read Edgar Allan Poe’s only novel? The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, it’s called. It tells of an ill-fated Antarctic voyage where four shipwrecked survivors wind up adrift on a raft and, of all things, decide to eat the cabin boy, named Richard Parker. Well, in 1884, the ship Mignonette sank, leaving four survivors. They, too, decided to eat the cabin boy to survive. And what do you suppose his name was? Richard Parker. I can’t help but wonder if they were Poe fans.”

  I’ve never really been one for history, and I was kind of dreading this class because of my meeting with Conner, but I think I’ve just changed my mind. Maybe that tutoring from Ash and Layla won’t be so bad.