by Cora May
“With Douglass,” Brin put in. She was starting to understand what he was getting at now.
“Right,” he said. “With Douglass.”
“You think he was given a different type of stone, and that’s why he went crazy.”
“No,” Creggor said. “I know he was given a different type of stone. I’ve seen it in his thoughts. He went crazy for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was definitely the fact that no one understood him. He was alone in his Blessing. To this day, they don’t understand it.”
“What was his Blessing?”
“His Blessing was never given a name,” Creggor said, as if he was puzzled by her question just as much as she was. “You’re a Communicator, he’s a Keeper, I’m a Gypsy,” he continued. Brin tried her best not to hear that last bit—regardless of whether or not she knew, it wasn’t something she wanted confirmed. “But Douglass? He was just Douglass. His stone, though, that part of the story I know. He’s got the Obsidian stone Blessing—whatever it is. Spoiler—that’s what Prisanni thinks your roommate really has.”
Despite what Creggor had told her in the beginning, she was now feeling even less unique than when the conversation had begun. Sure, this would mean she’s still the best Communicator, but now she was a simple girl with a straightforward Blessing that was pretty well understood who happened to be the roommate of a complete mystery. Chanta was apparently so misunderstood that she was given the Celestite stone under a misguided attempt to keep it a secret.
Or was it a misguided attempt? A second student like Douglass would have been tragic for the whole school. Maybe Prisanni was trying to protect Chanta—and the rest of the student body, of course.
“You think too highly of the headmistress,” Creggor informed her.
Brin immediately reddened, her privacy feeling utterly violated. He had clearly heard her thoughts just as well as if she had spoken them out loud.
“Then what do you think she was supposed to do?” Brin jabbed at him. “If what you’re saying is true, what would you have done in her position?”
“I would have given her her true stone, just like she gave Douglass his.”
“But Douglass went crazy.”
“Because he didn’t know how to handle what he had, and no one was helping him.”
Brin could hardly believe it, but she actually sensed empathy in Creggor’s voice. Did he really feel bad for the boy? She didn’t think someone with his bad-boy attitude was capable of that type of empathy.
“She took Chanta out of her former life and pulled her away from her family—and before you say how bad her family was to her,” Creggor said with a lifted finger when Brin was about to argue, “keep in mind where she is now. She’s in a place that was built specifically to help her, devoted only to helping kids understand what the afterlife has gifted them with. Is she any better off here if no one is being honest with her? If she’s just given some random stone and monitored, twenty-four-seven, to make sure she doesn’t lose control of a Blessing she isn’t being taught to control? She’s been given a distraction, and it’s only a matter of time before someone gets hurt because of it.”
He had a point, she realized.
“And what,” she began, though she still wasn’t sure of him, “are you going to do for her that the headmistress isn’t?”
“What I can do for her is between your roommate and myself. I just need you to bring her to me. New students are so hard to get ahold of, you know?” He tsked at her. “So that’s where you come in. Have her meet me tonight. I’ll be in the basement at midnight. If you don’t bring her… Well, then you’re not helping her. And she continues to tick, like a bomb waiting to go off. Question is, what kind of bomb is she? Will she destruct on herself? Or will she destroy everything… everyone… around her…?”
He let his words trail off, his eyes slowly drifting back toward his fingernails as if he was growing bored of the conversation again. Brin gritted her teeth. Her eyes slipped to George, who was looking at her over his shoulder. He hadn’t said a word the entire time, and now she was begging him, a silent plea equally as silent as he was, to tell her what to do. His eyes didn’t answer, though. They slipped back to Creggor, who had started to walk away.
George followed him down the hall without looking back at her.
Brin bit her lip. That’s all she seemed able to do at that moment.
She turned and walked down the hall again.
The basement at midnight. That was the appointment she had been given. Would she keep it, though? Should she? At this point, she wasn’t even sure she should tell Chanta.
She walked away with a small bit of satisfaction in her heart, though. Chanta was not a Communicator, not at all. She was something else entirely, a new breed of Blessing, and one that didn’t seem to be too stable. Brin was still the best Communicator in her class.
The headmistress wanted Chanta, though. Whatever her reasoning was, she felt like it was worth the risk of whatever Blessing the new girl had. That complicated Brin’s satisfaction in a way. Despite the fact that Creggor had used her own eagerness to be unique in the headmistress’s eye, she was still feeling less and less special by the minute. Sure, she was the best Communicator, but she was still one Communicator among many.
Chanta was her own breed, apparently.
She had begrudgingly listened to her mother and followed those boys, falling into their little trap. Now that she was lost in another decision, though, her mother seemed to have disappeared once more. Her mind was empty, the voice she had grown accustomed to hearing gone completely. She tried to call out to her, too, but there was no answer.
She sighed. It was just like her mother to do that. She wasn’t going to find any help with this decision—her mother would force her to decide for herself. Still mothering from the Realm of Light.
CHAPTER TWELVE: ADDELAI
T he Jasper common room was bustling with activity after dinner. Addelai had barely eaten, too distracted by what was to come, so her stomach growled as she walked through the doors. She looked around.
She recognized many of the students in the crowded room. There was something like three hundred Jasper Warriors in the school, and, though Addy didn’t know all three hundred, it seemed like every face there was someone she knew. She wondered who it was that she was supposed to be meeting. There were several students gathered around the two pool tables, laughing as someone missed a shot and someone else spilled their drink. Everyone seemed wholly concentrated on their own conversations there. No one seemed to be looking for her. There were more students crowded around the television, most of them silent as they listened intently to the program that was on. None of them broke their focus from their own activity to mind her. The same seemed true of whatever group she looked at; the ones sitting around a small coffee table enjoying their desserts, the ones gathered out in the open as they practiced new moves on each other, and the ones on the balcony enjoying the night air.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do anymore, so she just walked to the nearest table and looked at the food. The spread was typical of the Jasper Warriors—protein in the form of nuts and meats, with vegetables and cheeses laid out and a spread of fruit. It was what they were expected to eat, but not what most of them ate behind the closed doors of their own dorm rooms. Training was often far too strict for the students to adhere to. Most of the food remained untouched by the students hanging in the common room. Addy herself skipped right over all of it and went straight to the sugary punch bowl at the end of the table.
“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” a voice startled her from behind. “It’s spiked. Or maybe you do want it.”
The boy who stood behind her was taller than her by at least a foot. His bronze skin smelled like pine and citrus, and Addy found herself leaning in to memorize the smell. His green eyes twinkled back at her as he gave her a wicked smile.
“You should get back to your friends,” Addy said, suddenly realizing her mouth wa
s wide open. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh?” he asked. “And who would that be? Give me his name, and maybe I can help you find him.”
“Seriously,” Addy said, trying her best to be annoyed. She turned back to the punch and continued to pour herself a glass. “Leave me alone. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Nessi wouldn’t want you drinking alcohol right before a briefing,” the boy said.
Addy spun back around. Now her annoyance was real.
“You could have just said it was you I was waiting for!” she hissed.
“Where’s the fun in that? I’m Viktor Martens. Everyone is waiting for you, so let’s get a move on.”
Addelai scrunched her face in response to his rude behavior. He turned and walked away. He clearly expected her to follow, but he didn’t turn to make sure she was. Addy sighed and began to chase after him. She had no choice. His legs were long, and his pace was quick, and she had to nearly jog to keep up with him.
He took her through the hallways of the common floor, making his way steadily through the students that were gathered in-between. Several times, Addy stumbled straight into a student that had moved out of Viktor’s way, for which she was given a disgusted look by the student. She tried to pay them no mind as she followed the tall boy to their destination.
He took a turn down an empty hallway. The hall was lined with pictures of the faculty, but nothing more. There were no doors, and the hall just ended in a wall. Viktor walked to the end of that hall and stopped at the wall. That’s when he finally turned to look at Addy, who was hesitating still at the corner. Confusion was written clearly across her face.
“You’re supposed to follow me,” Viktor pointed out.
Addy’s face twisted with sarcasm in response. That was the only response she could think to give, because where was she supposed to follow him to? The hall was a dead end. There would be no place to go once she reached Viktor.
Still, she began to walk forward. This time, though, she went at her own pace and took the time to look at the pictures on the wall.
The portraits were familiar. They were the same ones that hung in every floor of the castle, the same ones that Addy had grown used to seeing. But she noticed that the first faculty member was Professor Nessi and not the headmistress. Odd. Headmistress Prisanni was supposed to be represented as the head in every way, and on every wall, but her face was missing from the wall entirely. In fact, only a select few professors had been pictured.
Next to Nessi, there was Professor Kan Thurien, the Head of House Pyrite, the Burners. Addy had never really talked to him. He had always seemed wild to her. Next to him was Professor Zeya Sen, who Addy knew to be a Healer. Beside her was Professor Loreen Faymar, another Jasper Warrior, and next to her was Professor Leopold Reidl, a Soother. Those were the only five pictures, placed far apart on the wall on either side of the hall. It was such an odd mix and order of professors.
She finally reached the spot where Viktor was standing and waiting for her. He was tapping his toe as she approached, his arms crossed over his chest.
“We really don’t have all day for you to lollygag, you know,” he told her.
How could someone so hot be so impatient? Addy thought to herself.
“Then we better get moving,” she told him, pointing back toward the main walkway. “Should we backtrack?”
He felt around the gray stone wall then, tracing up and down the stones and occasionally knocking on one here or there. Addy’s mouth had slowly fallen open. She could hardly believe what she was about to witness. He was looking for a hidden door, that was obvious.
Viktor pushed backward to reveal a part of the castle that Addy had never dreamed would exist. He waved her forward, motioning that she should go first. She looked into the dark, poorly lit area behind the hallway and swallowed hard.
Addy walked a few steps into the place, slowly and fearfully, and tried to peer around. The light was too dim to truly see what was around, but she could make out unlit torches along the wall and wondered if Viktor might allow them some light.
Suddenly, she heard a soft click from behind, and with a sharp gasp, she spun around. She had been tricked, she was sure. There would be no light because Viktor had locked her in this small room with no escape. She threw herself against the place where she thought the door should be, having to guess in the pitch black. She banged her fists against the stone and began to yell.
“Help me!” she said. “Come back! What are you doing? You can’t leave me here by myself! Viktor! Anybody! Come back!”
Panic was rising in her voice, along with her volume. But her voice was the only thing that echoed off the walls.
Until, that was, a small snicker came from beside her and she heard the familiar flick of a lighter. She turned to see Viktor standing there, a torch in his hand and a smirk lit up by the small flame of the lighter. He lit the torch, and the room was immediately illuminated to reveal another small hallway that ended in a semi-circle. This one was not a dead end, though. It was lined with doors.
“Don’t be such a baby,” he scolded her.
“Don’t be such an ass,” she scolded right back, her face heated with embarrassment. “You did that on purpose. You meant for me to think you had left.”
Viktor shrugged.
“Maybe I did,” he told her, “and maybe I didn’t. That’s not really the issue at hand, though. Come on.”
Addy huffed, but let him lead her down the hall and to the doors. His pace was much slower, and he took the time to start explaining things to her, for which she was grateful.
“This is our meeting place,” he told her. “So whenever you receive a message telling you that you’re needed, this is where you will go. Now, there are five doors here, and you may be called to a specific one or another, but if no one specifies, you go straight to the middle one. Do not go into any door that you are not asked to be in. That’s a good way to get yourself a treason charge.”
“A treason charge? What?”
“We may not be official to the world,” he said, “or even to the school, but Nessi takes this very seriously. She says she fights for the Reaper of the Dead. No one is really sure what that means, but… Some of us have theories.”
Viktor had stopped in front of the doors. His voice had become less demeaning and more welcoming as he began to talk about the mystery of Nessi.
“She told me that, too,” Addy offered, pausing at the door with him. She wanted to get as much information from him as she could before she entered the room. “What are your theories?”
Viktor’s brow scrunched in concentration as he looked around the room. It was almost as if he thought he could find the words written on the walls somewhere as he contemplated what he should tell her.
“Some of us believe that… and don’t think we’re just a bunch of crazies—don’t think I’m a crazy—but… Well, we believe that she knows him.”
“Knows him? Like… Studies the legend or more like she has afternoon tea with him?”
“More like afternoon tea.”
“That’s not even possible,” Addy said with an eye roll. “He’s ruler of the Province of the Dead. As in… not part of this world. And, according to any legend I’ve heard, he never was part of this world. So how could she know him?”
“I don’t know,” his hands raised in surrender. “Look, I told you I’m not crazy. But the way she talks about him… Well, it’s like the way my girlfriend last year was obsessed with me. It’s creepy, you know? It’s more than someone obsessed with a legend; it’s someone that’s obsessed with a lover.”
“So he’s her lover, then?” Addy smirked.
Viktor sighed.
“You’ll find out for yourself. But we need to get in there.”
“Wait,” Addy grabbed his hand to stop it from reaching the door. His skin was so smooth and warm—she immediately cringed at how much she liked the feel of his hand in hers and pulled away. “What is this about? What have I gotten m
yself into?”
“You’ve been drafted into the war,” he told her point-blank.
“What war?”
He looked at her sideways.
“She’s really getting vague with her recruitment, isn’t she?” he asked.
“She threatened me. It was this or expulsion.”
“Oh,” he piped. “A bad girl, then, huh?”
“Hardly.”
“The war takes place in the Province of the Dead,” he told her, dropping his tone to a more serious one. “It’s been waging since Vissula started this school, decades ago when the Anam of her mother died.”
“Her mother died, but that’s not a war,” Addy argued. “That’s a tragedy, but it doesn’t happen every day.”
“On the contrary,” Viktor argued. “The day the Anam of her mother died was only the beginning of a tragedy. It was that day that the source of all of the Reaper’s power in life and death, his scythe, broke.”
Addy gaped.
“I thought that was just a scary bedtime story.”
“I wish that were the case.”
“So why isn’t it taught more in training classes? We learn European history, Mongolian history, whatever else we learn. That all seems so pointless. The Reaper’s history should be given its own class. That’s the important history.”
“It should be that way,” Viktor agreed. “But not everyone in this school is fighting on our side. So if you arm the good students with that knowledge, you’re involuntarily arming the bad ones, too. Nessi is certain that we are living amongst Anam Hunters.”
Addy gulped involuntarily.