by K M Charron
Langston stood and held out his hand, “My queen." Sydney placed her hand in his, and he kissed it gently. “You look so hot. I’m sorry I ever fought you on this.”
Ava looked Jax up and down. “What are you supposed to be?”
Jax rolled his eyes and groaned. “Seriously?” He showcased the blood all over his face and pilgrim wear.
When Ava’s expression didn’t change, he said, “I’ve clearly been crushed in the pressing test, and all the blood has been squished out of me.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it happened,” Khourt said with a smirk.
With a hand on her hip, Ava said, “The face is an improvement, at least.”
Justin and Langston burst into laughter.
Sydney eyed Justin’s ruffled shirt, breeches, garters, and stockings.“You’ve taken this very seriously,” she declared, smirking. She trailed his tacky costume with her finger. “Good thing you’re cute.”
Justin stuck out his tongue and pushed her hand off of him. “Let’s go already.”
“Someone is in a hurry to socialize,” Ava teased.
True to form, they were fashionably late, the dance having started at seven, and it was already after eight.
The main gym had been transformed into a full replica of what Old Salem Village was thought to look like in the late 1600s complete with papier-mâché trees, a fake courthouse, an area set up as The Gallows, one for Pressing (including a pile of stones), and a mini swimming pool where the Witch Dunking took place. Syd would think it more amusing if it wasn’t so horrific.
Ashcroft went full out and spared no expense. The music was blaring, and a light show played across the ceiling. Syd was almost proud to be a part of it.
“Can you get me some punch?” Sydney yelled into Langston’s ear.
He nodded and took the guys with him.
“He’s so obedient,” Ava said, clearly jealous.
“What can I say, he adores me.”
“Or he’s scared of you,” Khourt added, with a smile inadequate to covering up the comment.
“He’s not scared of me. But even if he was, a healthy dose of fear can be good for a relationship. You girls might know that if you’d ever had one.”
Ava crossed her arms haughtily. “Nobody appeals to me this year. I think I’m over high school boys.”
“So you keep saying,” Khourtney quipped. “We all know you’re into Jason Smith, so just ask him to dance already.”
“I’m not into him, besides he’s a Black magic witch. You know my mother wouldn’t be happy about that.”
“So ridiculous,” Khourtney said. “They’re not evil. Your mom is so old school.”
“This, coming from someone with an ancestry line of pure White magic witches,” Sydney joked, winking at her before scanning the dance floor to see who was in attendance.
“Miss me?” Langston said as he snuck up from behind her. He handed her a plastic punch glass. Leaning in, he whispered, “You’re killing me in that. Want to sneak off for a bit?”
“We just got here. Mingle.”
Justin walked over, and to her irritation, had brought company. Of course. Fire spread through Sydney’s veins, and her teeth clenched as she glared at Ainsley and Harper. Couldn’t she have one night?
Her eyes narrowed on Ainsley’s ridiculous costume. It was a size too big and hung off her like the pile of rags it was. “Ah, you must be the lowest class of puritan. The help, perhaps?”
“Wrong. I’m a witch, obviously. I’d think it would be easy for you to recognize since it takes one to know one.” Ainsley’s tone was playful, but her eyes were full of insult.
If only the little ant knew how accurate she was, Sydney thought, and what could happen to her if she didn’t watch her step. Especially in a dark, crowded room on one of the most heavily charged magical nights of the year. Toying with the possibilities made her insides warm.
Ainsley made a show of inspecting Sydney from head to toe. “Nice crown. Are there costume awards? Are you vying for the title of most utterly ridiculous?”
Without thinking, Sydney summoned her magic into a swirl that she projected inside Ainsley’s middle, muttering a spell under her breath. Ainsley instantly doubled over, grabbing her stomach and crying out in pain.
Sydney couldn’t believe it was working. She hadn’t actually believed it would. Maybe it was because it was Samhain, and the magical energy had doubled. “Oh, are you all right?” Syd asked in an innocent voice, hiding her jubilation.
Justin, forever the knight in shining armor, rushed to Ainsley's side, his arm around her shoulders. “What is it?” he asked, practically breathless.
Syd fought off gagging sounds.
When Ainsley cried out again, Sydney figured she’d had enough—for now—and released the spell. Finally! It felt amazing to break past whatever magical barrier Ainsley had. Sydney wanted more, wanted to put Ainsley in her place, and make sure she stayed there.
Straightening, Ainsley’s hard eyes slowly softened, and she took in a few slow deep breaths. “I’m okay. That was weird; this sharp pain came out of nowhere.”
“But it’s gone now?” Justin asked. He had a look on his face of suspicion and concern. Didn’t he believe her?
Sydney tried not to scream as Justin tucked a chunk of Ainsley’s hair behind her ear.
Ainsley nodded while Harper handed her a cup of punch. “Here, have a sip.”
“She said she’s fine,” Sydney barked. “Can we move on?” If Sydney had known that her spell would elicit pity for the middling, she wouldn’t have done it in front of an audience.
Langston leaned closer and put his hand near Sydney’s face. She drew away. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve got a bloody nose.”
Just as he said it, she felt the blood reach her lip. Tasting it, she hurried the back of her hand underneath to block it from staining her costume. “Get me a napkin!” she commanded no one in particular.
Khourtney and Langston both passed her a few, and she held them under her nose while pinching the bridge. She’d never had a nose bleed before. Some witches got them when they exerted too much magical energy, but she’d barely used any on Ainsley. Besides, it was just a prank spell.
“Come, sit down,” Langston said and led her to a nearby chair.
Each time she’d had a nasty magical reaction, it had been with Ainsley. The times Ainsley wasn’t immune, Syd also wound up getting sick somehow. She’d been sick to her stomach, and now she had a bloody nose. She knew about magical Repercussion, but this seemed like something else entirely. Nothing had happened when any of them had used this caliber of spells on middlings. Repercussion was for serious magical violations, for when a witch intended great harm to someone. So what the hell was this? Some milder version? Sydney wondered what would happen to her if she tried a seriously damaging spell on Ainsley?
Sydney noticed the group gawking at her as she sat bleeding through her fourth napkin. She motioned for Langston to bend down. “Do a healing spell on me already.” God, did she have to think of everything? “You know I can’t do it myself,” she snapped.
He mouthed the words, and she felt her nose clear.
“There, all better,” Sydney announced, pulling the napkins from her face and standing. If she could succeed with one spell, maybe the additional supernatural energy in the air and emanating off the ley lines would finally allow her to get an accurate reading on Ainsley. It was time to find out exactly what she was dealing with.
Contact with a subject made the connection stronger—more immediate—so she reached out and put a hand on Ainsley’s arm.
Ainsley reeled around. “Don’t touch me.”
Sydney smiled, refusing to let go. “Relax. Since you always seem to be around, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself? We hardly know anything about you.” She tried to control the heat in her cheeks, not wanting her fury to be obvious. “Who is Ainsley Davenport? You’re such a mystery.”
Ainsley
yanked her arm away, breaking the non-existent connection. “There’s not much to tell. And we’re not friends.”
Jax jumped in. “Unless you’re mysterious because you’re hiding a bunch of secrets,” he said and winked.
Justin laughed. “In that case, I’d really like to know.” He glanced toward Harper. “If Ainsley won’t divulge any of her past, then maybe you will. You live with her, you’ve got to know something.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Ainsley shot Harper a don’t-you-dare look and said, “There’s not much to tell. I’m an only child. My mom’s a teacher, and my dad works at a bank. It’s not very exciting.”
“You are boring,” Ava said with a yawn and pretended to look around confused. “Why are we talking to her?”
Ainsley put her hands up in the air, a stupid smile on her face. “As I told you, there are no dirty little secrets. And no one’s making you talk to me. You can leave any time.”
“Ouch,” Ava said and grinned.
Ainsley’s smile was utterly fake. Sydney could see a small vein pulsating at her temple. If she pushed, maybe the middling would crack. “So why Ashcroft for your sophomore year?”
Ainsley slid the bonnet off her head. “Why so many questions? Why do you go here, Sydney?” she bit back.
“It’s my family’s alma mater. Did your parents attend Ashcroft?” Sydney blinked innocently at her. She wanted to rattle this girl.
“No.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Justin stepped between them, turning his back to Sydney, and holding his hand out to Ainsley. “Care to dance or watch a stupid re-enactment of witch-hunting tests?”
She took his hand, and they strolled off.
Sydney shifted her focus to the other middling. “You can leave now, Harper.”
Harper seemed startled somehow—as if she’d ever been welcome. Syd shooed her away and had the pleasure of watching as the gangly nerd sulk off.
“Finally,” Syd groaned. “God, since when do we entertain middlings? One of you needs to remind our friend over there that we don’t consort with them for a reason. Justin is putting all of us in danger.”
Ava stormed in front of her. “If anyone’s putting us in danger, it’s you. What’s with you? I know you gave Ainsley those stomach pains. Are you trying to get us caught by using magic on a middling like that, and in public?”
Khourtney seemed to consider this, narrowing her eyes in thought. “There are hundreds of people here, Sydney. Anyone might have seen. Not to mention that Ainsley could’ve heard you herself.” Her tone was a step beyond irritated.
“Oh relax, what are they going to see? Me whispering? There’s nothing that can be proven, besides no one is going to suspect magic as the reason for a little bellyache.”
“You talk big about keeping us a secret, but all I’ve noticed lately is you taking risk after risk. You’re the one who’s going to expose us,” Ava snapped, her face so tense that fine lines appeared around her mouth and forehead. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re becoming even bitchier than normal.”
Sydney’s fists clenched at her sides, and she squared her shoulders in front of her friends. “If you honestly believe she’s innocent and sweet, then you’re both stupider than I ever gave you credit for. She’s full of secrets, and if you don’t think I’m trying to protect you, then you can both fuck off!”
“Syd!” Langston gasped, grasping her by the shoulders.
She pulled free. “Don’t. I’m fine.” She saw Jax watching out of the corner of her eye. He’d better not say anything about what he knew.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Ava announced with a vindictive tone, “I think I’m going to go fuck off over there by the food table. What to come, Khourt?”
“Love to.”
Langston tried to get Sydney to look at him. “What do you mean by secrets?”
She kept watch over Langston’s shoulder, catching Justin laughing with Ainsley and holding her tight on the dance floor. “Nothing. Just forget I said anything.”
“Syd, you can’t do everything alone. You need to tell someone what you’re hiding. I know you, and you’ve been off.”
Knowing the words would hurt him, Sydney said, “Someone already knows.” She continued to stare at the dance floor and noticed one of her least favorite juniors, Max Crowley, attempting to dance with Lindsay Preston. Ugh, he was such a predator.
“What do you mean?” Langston’s voice sounded raw. She glanced back to him, noting the bewilderment in his eyes. “Who would you tell your secrets to besides me?” he asked.
Keeping her face emotionless, she casually let it drop, “Jax knows.”
Langston backed up, his face crumbling. He straightened, looked to Jax, and nodded before storming off in the other direction.
But Sydney didn’t follow him. Her focus remained on Max, who was somehow now on the other side of the dance floor. He just stood there, staring. A chill ran through her. Max’s eyes were unblinking, his face like a statue. He looked possessed. How did he go from all but molesting Lindsay to striking a zombie pose across the gym floor, and why? When she glanced back to see if Lindsay was still dancing, she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
Max was right next to Lindsey, still dancing with her.
How could that be? Syd did a double-take, and when nothing changed, she blinked as if that would clear up this bizarre phenomenon.
Jax’s angry voice cut through her jumbled thoughts. “Why did you have to involve me? Now Langston is going to be pissed at me, and I had nothing to do with your argument.”
His voice barely registered.
Sydney checked the dance floor and saw Max still all over Lindsay, but when she looked back to the opposite side of the room, the other Max was gone. She gripped Jax’s arm with all her strength.
“Ow,” he yelped, jerking away. “What the hell?”
“Max. There were two of him.” Her voice faded out with the resounding shock. “But that’s not possible.” Max was a middling, and even if he were a witch, he couldn’t be in two places at once.
“What? You’re acting crazier than usual.”
A series of shrill screams echoed above the music and chatter in the gym. Sydney and Jax jerked their heads toward the sounds. She tried to discern what the commotion was. A small group was already gathering, and it was getting bigger by the second. Racing over, Syd prayed to the ancestors that whatever was happening was unrelated to that underground room.
Chapter 9
Ainsley
Ainsley searched the room for the cause of the mayhem. A cluster of costumed students gathered around the pressing exhibit about ten feet away. Without even thinking, she ran over.
Jax and Ava were already at the center of the mob. Ainsley pushed her way past a crowd that was expanding by the second. The music continued to blare, and the disco lights flickered, making it all the more difficult to discern what she was looking at. Yanking Ava by the arm, she yelled over the commotion, “What happened?”
Ava stood stoically, barely a trace of emotion or panic. She pointed toward the ground where a stuffed dummy lay under a piece of plywood, a hefty amount of large garden rocks piled on top. It was one of the more gruesome parts of the decorations, but Ainsley couldn’t see what the fuss was about. The whole gym was decorated from top to bottom in torture and gore.
And then she heard a girl shriek, “He’s dead! Oh, God, he’s dead!”
Ainsley followed the voice to a girl with black hair and dark skin. “Who’s dead?”
The girl pointed to the dummy, her arm swaying as if under a huge weight. She looked ready to collapse at any moment, and Ainsley wondered if she should help steady her.
Then a panic unlike anything she’d ever experienced hit Ainsley. That dummy is a student. A tidal wave of wooziness made her vision dim as she tried to make sense of the form buried under the weight of so many rocks. Something pushed her closer.
“Don’t go over there?” Justin called after her.
<
br /> Forcing her way through the human wall, Ainsley crouched in front of the display. The arm protruding from under the plywood slab was swollen and discolored, a wide, purplish-red splotch on the underside of the forearm. Her gaze followed the arm to the rest of the body. The width of the wrist and the clothing suggested it was a guy. One side of his torso was visible in the space. Blood had soaked through his white shirt.
There was so much blood.
Ainsley shook, her breathing labored, but she made herself look at the face. A seam of red ran down the center of his distorted but familiar face. It hit her, nearly bringing her to her knees.
Darren Angelo was dead, crushed under the Press. A rush of nausea threatened to overtake her.
“Get back! Back, all of you, now!” Professors Holmes and Wheatley appeared, acting as impromptu crowd control.
Hands guided her up and pulled her away from Darren’s body while her mind spun.
How did this happen? Darren wasn’t stupid.
“Help remove the rocks!” Professor Wheatley commanded, and a group of the Junior and Senior football players watching sprung into action along side a group of other students.
The rocks were real, and the students struggled to lift them off, but the group couldn’t clear them fast enough. Who knew how long Darren lay suffocating under them. Ainsley’s throat tightened, anxiety surging through her. Could he still be alive under that load?
More teachers arrived. The music died, and the overhead lights flashed on, causing everyone to shield their eyes from the sudden brightness.
Ainsley searched between the rescuers’ legs into the shadowed space under the plywood, but she saw no movement—not even a flicker of life. The rocks had been built up in a pyramid over his chest. Was that why no one had heard his screams? Had all the air been forced from his lungs?
God, where’s the ambulance?
Ainsley watched in horror as the plywood was lifted and understood immediately that they wouldn’t need one. Gasps and sobs reverberated throughout the room. Ainsley realized that some were coming from her.