by Ilana Waters
Who knows? I shook my head to clear it. As I turned to go back to House of Air, I spotted the janitor, Rosemary.
“Stayin’ ’ere all by yourself then, love?” Her wet mop stopped circling the floor of its own accord, and she leaned on the handle.
“Afraid so,” I replied. “And you?”
“I’m off to me brother’s right after I finish up ’ere.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “No plans then, eh?”
“Not this year,” I said softly.
“Well, magic’s sure to come your way, in one form or another. ’Appy Solstice, then, love.” She gave me a big smile and took her hand off the mop, which started wiping the floor again.
“Happy Solstice, Rosemary.”
“Careful not to trip on the wet floor, then!” she called after me. I waved in reply, and eventually trudged to the House of Air and up to my room.
Solstice. Like so many holidays that take place in the depths of winter, it celebrated light in darkness. The knowledge that no matter how bleak things seemed, the sun god would return. It was similar to Hanukkah that way, though I’d given up celebrating Jewish holidays after Abigail disappeared. It seemed as if God—all the gods—died with her. Still, I fashioned a makeshift menorah out of nine tapers lined up. The center one rested on a book, higher than the others. I lit the candles in front of the window, murmured the Hebrew prayers. Waited for light to return.
Just for old times’ sake, I told myself. Just in case.
***
Victor rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why we have to add so much bloodmoss to it.”
“Because that’s what magically binds the wound, stupid,” I said through gritted teeth. “Without it, the victim will just keep bleeding. If used on a witch, it could even interfere with their own healing powers. Without the bloodmoss to close the wound, the body wouldn’t know which magic to use—the witch’s or the potion’s. It would keep trying to heal and never finish.”
Professor Burgess looked at me warily as he walked down a row of desks. “That’s . . . absolutely correct.”
We were halfway through potions class, and I thought congratulations were in order for my managing not to kill Victor. And I really thought I should win some sort of Wiccan humanitarian award, since Burgess had paired us as lab partners. Test tubes and beakers bubbled and frothed in front of us. Different-colored liquids emitted smoke and steam of various hues. We sat on creaky wooden stools, bent over mortars and pestles with crushed herbs and other things. Just another high school science experiment; all very mundane to the mortal onlooker. But to those with any knowledge of magic, these were some potent spells indeed.
For instance, today’s lesson was about healing potions. It was necessitated by recent injuries suffered when several students from House of Water got overzealous with a cleansing spell. Apparently, someone forgot to “turn off” the energy supply to the spell. This resulted in a waterfall cascading down the front steps of the house. Between the trips, slips, and one near drowning (Rosemary), much of Equinox’s healing potions had been used up. Now, students and staff were trying to replace them.
The cleansing spell had been for Candlemas—also known as Brigid’s Day, or Imbolc. It was another Wiccan sabbat held the first week of February. Unlike Winter Solstice, everyone stayed at Equinox for this one. But it was still a holiday week: specifically, one to prepare for the coming spring. Witches traditionally did their “spring cleaning” during this time, straightening and organizing things around their homes. In this case, that meant their elemental houses. Many regular classes were canceled to accommodate these activities.
Unfortunately, the one cleaning activity I wanted to do more than anything was over. Colleen and my term-long gym duty had ended, and I missed her just as much as I’d expected. Maybe more. I still saw her, of course, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“Bunch of bollocks, this healing magic,” Victor muttered so that only I could hear. “What makes you think you know so much about this stuff, anyway?” he asked, louder.
“For your information,” I turned to him, “my mother taught me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. The rest of the class tittered.
“Oh, she did, did she?” Victor hooted. “I’m surprised that little kitchen witch knew a spell for boiling water.”
My fingers dug into the edge of the table, the heat from my anger making a sizzling noise. “Kitchen witch? Please,” I hissed. “My mother’s forgotten more magic than you’ll ever know in your life.”
Victor snorted and leaned back, as if speaking to the whole class. “Yeah. If I came from a long line of nobodies, like you, I’d want to forget it, too. At least my parents had the decency to amount to something before they had kids. Though your dad managed to knock off quite a few blokes. I’m sure he considers that an accomplishment.” There were a few whispers. Students elbowed each other and pointed at Victor and me.
Now, the heat from my fingers was making dents in the slate as if it were putty. Of course, this didn’t put Victor off at all. He just smiled smugly and kept staring at me, daring me to lose my cool. It was a dare I was about ready to accept.
“Victor, you are so small-minded.” I spoke slowly, trying to dampen my rising fury. “It’s a miracle your head doesn’t implode.” I get it, you stupid twat, I thought to myself. My dad’s a badass vampire. My mom’s almost human. Will there ever be a day I’m not defined by either of them?
“Gentlemen!” Burgess conjured a sharp, rapping noise on the desk opposite us. It caused Sanders, who’d nodded off, to abruptly wake up. “Must I remind you that this is a classroom, not a spitting contest? Mr. Wright, please refrain from comments about other students’ families, no matter how accurate they might be. Mr. Alderman, do you wish to make another visit to the headmaster’s office?”
“It’s where I seem to be spending the majority of my time.” Tiny tendrils of smoke rose from the desk when I lifted my fingers from it. “Perhaps I should set up a cot.”
I gave Victor a side glance, expecting him to make another gibe. But he didn’t. Something in the textbook open before him had caught his eye. His face suddenly became very serious, and he stared intently at the book.
“Professor,” he said, “it says here that drinking tea made of ground oak root can add strength to spells. Make them last longer and so forth. Is that true?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Burgess walked to our desk and put his great froggy face between us, leaning over Victor to peer at the book. “But ground oak root can be vile-tasting stuff. Best to add some form of sweetener to it.” He made a face and shuddered. “And even then, it can be hard to get down.”
Victor seemed undeterred. “How much would one have to drink in order for it to be effective?” he asked, his eyes still on the book. Burgess made no further mention of sending me to Specs’s office. In fact, both he and Victor seemed to have forgotten I was there.
“Hmmm . . . one cup of tea to one ounce of ground root should suffice,” Burgess said. “But the strength would only go into the next spell performed, unless one drank another cup. So don’t go thinking you can cheat on your exams that way. Not unless you want to be running to the loo between every class,” he chuckled. Everyone except me laughed.
Victor closed the cover of the book. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sweetly. “I’d only like to try and increase my concentration and focus so that I can study longer. I know how important it is to do things the right way.” He looked straight at me when he said it.
I need to think of something that will stop me from strangling him. I tried to focus on how devastated Colleen would be when the High Council executed me for Victor’s murder.
Burgess gave Victor a nod of approval. “Glad to see someone here is serious about their schooling.” He returned Victor’s smile before looking sternly at me and walking back to the front of the class.
But I knew better. Victor wasn’t serious about hi
s schooling.
Victor was up to something.
***
Things were fairly quiet for the next six weeks or so. I tried to find more time to spend with Colleen. But a great many hours were occupied practicing for air’s play-off against water in less than a month. At least Victor and his lot hadn’t been as obnoxious as usual. In fact, the biggest thing to happen was the spring equinox half-term holiday, where almost all students would once again go home for two weeks. All except me.
Spring equinox, also called Ostara, is considered a time of rebirth and renewal for witches. It is the only other time of year besides Mabon when the day and night are of equal length. Winter officially ends, leading the way for ever-increasing daylight until Summer Solstice. Many mortals do not know Ostara is the origin of their beloved Easter. However, instead of eating chocolate bunnies and finding hidden eggs, Equinox’s students planted new gardens around the grounds. They rose at dawn to light ceremonial fires. Yes, it had been peaceful and quiet, all right. But this was Equinox Academy.
I should’ve known things wouldn’t stay quiet for long.
I had trouble with a shaving spell that morning, and arrived late to breakfast. Still rubbing my chaffed chin and jaw, I noticed there was something different about the atmosphere in the dining hall. It really was too quiet. Even at this hour, there were always a few early birds laughing and chattering away. But not today. I saw my usual group huddled together around a table, speaking in low tones. They stopped abruptly when I sat down with my tray.
“Morning, all,” I yawned. “Morning, Leenie.” I smiled broadly, but Colleen just gave me a worried look in return. I waited for someone to ask why the lower half of my face was red. Instead, they glanced at each other, then at me. No one had eaten much of their breakfast. Even Miles’s usual mound of sausages lay cold and untouched in front of him.
“What?” I asked, thinking I still had bits of toilet paper on my cheeks from trying to staunch the bleeding. I put my hand to my face. Nothing.
“Didn’t you hear?” Colleen asked.
“Hear what?” I dug around my tray for a spoon and found it hiding beneath my napkin. “I had trouble shav—with a spell. I just got up.”
“It’s Rosemary.” Pen bit her lip.
“She’s been hurt,” said Miles.
Chapter 17
On account of the holiday, ordinary classes had been canceled, and students had several free periods back to back. Once Colleen and the rest confirmed Rosemary was in the infirmary, I immediately suggested we use our free periods to check on her.
“I still don’t understand.” I walked so quickly down the halls that the others had trouble keeping up with me. “What do you mean hurt? Hurt how?”
“I told you,” Miles puffed. “Around midnight last night. Broke her left arm and leg falling down the stairs.”
“But she’s going to be all right, isn’t she?” I pressed.
“Professors Stone and Burgess are there with her now, working a healing spell.” Colleen came up on my right side. “They expect her to make a full recovery. But she’ll be out of commission for quite a while.”
“This is bizarre.” I turned onto another corridor so fast, my duster billowed out behind me. “It’s not like Rosemary to be clumsy.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the group exchange looks. I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around.
“What?”
“It may have been more than clumsiness, mate.” Miles looked sheepish. “They think someone might have pushed Rosemary down the stairs on purpose.”
“On purpose?” I repeated. “But why? Who’d want to hurt Rosemary?”
“We’re not sure,” Pen said. “But obviously, you know that some witches aren’t fond of mixed-blood types. What they call, um . . .” She looked at the ground.
“Half-breeds,” I finished. “Like me.”
“Right,” Pen said. “I mean, wrong. I mean, I’m not like that, but some others—”
“Like Victor,” said Imogen.
“Right.” Pen exhaled loudly. “Like Victor and Mason and Dirk.”
“And Nadine and Roger and Geoffrey,” added Suyin.
“They . . . well, they think differently,” Pen said.
I rolled my eyes. “When they think at all.”
“But those six were all in their house at the time of the accident.” Colleen rubbed the back of her neck. “All of us from fire were. Our weekly meeting ran till almost one.”
“Erm, that’s not the only problem.” Pen waved her hand. “Tell them, Suyin.”
“There’s more?” I said.
Suyin nodded. “I overheard the laundry staff on my way to breakfast this morning. Rosemary said she swore she saw someone at the top of the steps. But when she went to grab them, they vanished. That’s why she tripped going down the stairs.”
“Vanished?” echoed Miles. “Maybe she’s gone round the bend. Did she hit her head when she fell?”
“Come on.” I grabbed Miles by the sleeve. “Let’s find out for ourselves.”
Equinox’s infirmary was a sparse place, and for good reason: it was rarely used. As you know by now, dear reader, witches aren’t as susceptible to illness and injury as mortals are. However, you have also seen that there are exceptions. Not to mention the odd spell or potion that goes awry.
We entered the high-ceilinged, sunlit room. Rosemary was lying on a metal-framed twin bed with a curtain rail above it. Her face looked ashen, curly hair damp on the pillow beneath her head. Her left arm and leg were in casts, and parts of her right arm and face were black-and-blue. As a “half witch,” Rosemary didn’t heal as quickly as full-blooded ones. It was the same reason she almost drowned when House of Water’s cleansing spell went sideways. I only hoped she wasn’t in too much pain. Standing by her bedside were Professors Stone and Burgess. Burgess made a face when he saw me. Specs was there, too, his expression blank.
“That ought to do it for now.” Professor Stone patted Rosemary’s good hand before placing it down next to her. “You just get some rest, and we’ll be back tomorrow to see how the spell’s progressing.”
“And you can always call Nurse Garcia when you need anything,” added Professor Burgess. A slim woman in a nurse’s uniform next to him nodded. She floated a bell in the air, letting it hover above Rosemary’s good hand.
“Oh, but who’s gonna mop them ’allways?” Rosemary moaned. “And wax them floors? You know they get scuffed up and dulled something awful.”
“Please don’t concern yourself with that right now.” Specs pushed his glasses up further on his nose. “Are you certain you can remember nothing more about the events of last night?”
“I . . . I dunno.” Rosemary put her good hand to her forehead, then winced in pain. “It’s all so fuzzy somehow.” I and the others stood off to one side. Now that I was here in the infirmary, I wasn’t sure it was the best time for a visit.
“It . . . it was dark,” Rosemary breathed, “even with me light spell. I was just finishin’ waxing the floors, usin’ the last o’ me magic to hang caution signs in the air. I thought I saw someone standing at the top of the steps. But I know no one’s supposed to be there after lights-out. I calls to ’im, ‘Oy, love, careful on those steps. I just finished waxing ’em. They’ll be fine by tomorrow morning, but they’s slippery now. And you’d best get back to your ’ouse. What are you doin’ ’ere this time o’ night?’ But ’e don’t even listen to me, don’t even turn around. So I calls out again. ‘Oy!’ I say. ‘Didn’t you ’ear me? You should be in bed, and them steps is dangerous. Don’t go down there. OY!’
“It still don’t work, see, and I think ’e’s about to go down the stairs. So I try to grab ’im, but—’onest-to-goddess, gents—my ’and goes right through ’im! Anyways, that’s when I fell. And you see what became of me after that.” She jutted her chin at her casts, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Nurse Garcia wiped Rosemary’s cheek with a handkerchief, t
hen sat down on the bed and patted her hand.
“Can you tell us anything about this mystery student?” Specs asked. “Male? Female? Short? Tall? Anything?”
Rosemary sniffed and thanked Nurse Garcia for the handkerchief. “Well, ’e was rather tall-like. Definitely a boy, and skinny, too. And ’e must’ve ’ad dark ’air, cos all I could see in that dim light was the side of ’is face. A pale un.” She caught sight of me and narrowed her eyes. “In fact, ’e looked a bit like that fella over there!” Everyone turned as Rosemary pointed in my direction.
“Rosemary, it’s me,” I said in disbelief. “Joshua Alderman.” I walked to her bedside so she could get a closer look. Colleen and the rest followed. Burgess and Stone eyed me warily. “You know me.”
“Oh! It is you, Joshua.” Rosemary’s face relaxed in recognition, only to immediately scrunch up again. “What was you doin’ on the stairs at that late ’our? And why didn’t you answer when I called? Look what it did to me!”
“It wasn’t me, Rosemary,” I said. “I swear.” I glanced up at my friends and Colleen, but they looked just as worried as before. Specs did not look pleased at all. “You said you only saw the outline of this person’s face, yeah?”
“Yeah, that’s right. It . . . oh, I don’t know anymore.” Her head plopped back on the pillow. “It’s all gone wobbly.”
“I think we’ve monopolized enough of Rosemary’s time,” Burgess said. But he was glaring only at me when he said it.
“Yes, let’s head back to my office,” Specs said, “and let our patient here get some rest.” Nurse Garcia shooed everyone out of the room and drew the curtain around Rosemary’s bed. As we exited, I could see Victor coming down one end of the hall. He was flanked by Mason and Dirk. At the other end, Nadine, Roger, and Geoffrey were rounding the corner.
Perfect, I groaned in my head. We’re the meat in a bully sandwich.
Take it easy, thought Colleen. They’re not going to try anything with the professors and Specs here.