My weather app says thunderstorms should continue through the night, but there’s no tornado warning or anything. Do they even get tornadoes in New England? I don’t bother checking, but I do breathe a little easier. I lean my head against the wall, but any tiredness has fled me.
It had taken me forever to fall asleep, and now I’m wide awake. I was feeling...guilty, I suppose, over the idea of giving up on finding Giselle’s killer. I mean, when I was talking to Ms. Brewster, it seemed like the right decision at the time. But now that I’m once again in my empty room, Giselle’s bed only feet from me, I’m not sure if I can give up.
If some witch here at the school really did kill Giselle, wouldn’t everyone want me to find out who did it, and how? If someone has broken the laws of Hecate, or found a loophole, all our lives could be in danger. Is that what Giselle meant when she told me to “help them?” Did she mean “help all of them?”
I’m looking across the room, at Giselle’s bed, when another flash of lightning illuminates a figure sitting on her bed. I yelp, but then the room is dark again.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Of course she would choose to haunt me during a thunderstorm. The light for the room and the two lamps on the desks flicker as well, and I suddenly know why ghosts love thunderstorms: it’s the lightning. The electricity in the air. It must give them power. Strength.
I turn on the flashlight on my phone and shine it across the room. There, sitting on the bed, in a more corporeal than ghastly form, is Giselle. She holds up her hand to block the light from her eyes. I angle the flashlight so it isn’t pointing right at her.
“Sorry,” I say. “I…”
I’m not sure what else to say to a ghost. She doesn’t look well. When I saw her before, she looked the same as she had in life. But now, she’s pale, her cheeks gaunt, eyes bloodshot and eyelids drooping. I wonder if she’s fading away in this realm. The place she isn’t supposed to be.
“What’s happening to you?” I finally ask.
“Avenge...me…” she e rasps. “Help...them…”
“How?” I ask. “Who killed you? Why? How can I help them?”
She raises a thin arm and points to my desk. I can see her notebook and my papers lying out. They weren’t there before. I always make sure to lock anything related to Giselle or the statues away.
I get out of the bed and go to the desk. The notebook is open, and there are some words written next to some of the symbols. The words are written shakily, as though the person who wrote them was struggling to hold the pen. Which, if Giselle’s appearance is any indication of her lack of strength, she must have been.
“You started translating it,” I say, looking back at her.
She nods.
“This is still going to take me forever to figure out.”
The lightning strikes again, and Giselle appears right next to me.
I yelp again. “Geez! Don’t do that!”
“Avenge me,” she says. “Help them.”
“Who?” I ask.
Giselle looks to the window, and it busts open, letting in the rain and wind, the curtain flapping so hard it knocks Giselle’s lamp over.
“Crap!” I run to the window to close it. After I do, I look around the room, but Giselle is gone. “What the heck was that about?”
The worst of the storm seems to have passed. No more lightning. The rain is coming down in sheets now, though, and I suspect it will continue for some time.
After fixing Giselle’s lamp, I turn on my own desk lamp and sit down to get to work translating the strange runic symbols. The few words Giselle managed to translate are keywords it seems—things like “statue,”— as well as more frequently used words, like “and” and “the.”
One word that is odd to me is “soule.” It doesn’t seem likely that a word like that should appear so often in her work, and why the archaic spelling? I chalk it up to a mistake and change it to soul.
When I stop to stretch and check my progress, it’s nearly four in the morning. The rain is falling just as hard as ever.
“Got to love a New England spring,” I mumble. I stand up to get dressed, planning to make my way down to the dining room to look for some instant coffee, but something out the window catches my eye.
The statues.
The statues are...moving...
Slowly, as if they are trudging through thick mud, the statues reach toward the hedgerow.
“What the…” I press my face to the glass to get a better look, but the water streaming down is obscuring my vision. I open the window and lean out, water drenching my head, but I can’t deny what I’m seeing. The statues are definitely moving.
I grab my phone to try and get a video, but between the rain, the dark, and the distance, nothing shows up. I leave it on the desk, slip my feet into a pair of sneakers, and bolt down the hall and then the stairs. I was sleeping in a pair of loose boxer-style shorts and an old cheer T-shirt, but I’m not wearing a bra, so I hope I don’t run into anyone.
I have to get a better look at what’s going on.
Help them.
Giselle’s words echo in my head as I throw the front door open and run out into the rain, slipping on the wet grass, pushing myself back to my feet as I head for the side of the yard that my room faces.
When I see the statues, I stop short. They no longer appear to be moving...but they do look different.
I hold my arms around myself as I walk closer. The first statue I approach is still in the same clawing stance, reaching for the hedgerow, but she’s in a different spot. I’m sure of it. I’ve been staring out my window at this statue and a few others for weeks, and I know she’s closer to the hedge than she was before.
I look down behind her and see muddy scuff marks, as if the woman was dragging her feet forward.
“Who are you?” I ask, stepping in front of her. Then I realize my question is stupid because her name is written below.
Prudence Ansel.
“What are you?” I ask. “Why did you stop moving? Why are you made of stone?”
Nothing. It’s like I’m talking to a statue. Ugh, I mean, yeah, but now I know there is more to Prudence Ansel than meets the eye.
There’s a low rumble as the storm moves off and the rain lightens up. I’m soaked through and try to rub warmth into my arms to no avail. I don’t want to be caught outside, but I need to check the other statues.
I walk around the others I saw from my window and see similar signs of movement. They are all slightly closer to the hedgerow, their body positions slightly shifted and streaks of mud behind them. I try talking to each one, letting them know I’m a friend and was a friend of Giselle, and that they can talk to me. That I want to help them. But there is no response.
I really am starting to wonder if I’m going crazy.
I’m out in the rain in the middle of the night talking to statues after seeing a ghost. But this time I have physical evidence. The muddy trails are something everyone will be able to see. I’ll have to show my friends. Get pictures.
I’m about to go inside when I remember one other statue I should check. I couldn’t see him moving from my window since his place is in the hidden grotto, but...I’ve felt the weird sensation that he has moved before. My fingers tingle at the memory of him holding my hand.
I walk quickly but carefully to the grotto so I don’t slip on the wet grass. I almost sigh in disappointment as I enter the grotto and don’t see any noticeable changes in the statue’s position...until I see a slip of paper on the floor.
I wait a moment for my hands to dry before picking it up. When I unfold it, I see that it’s written in the strange rune language. But after studying the cipher Giselle left me and working on the translation in my room, this already makes sense to me.
Accidental murder.
“What… What does that mean?” I turn back to face the statue, but his face is impassive, revealing nothing.
“I know you can move,” I say. “I saw the others in th
e yard. Are you...alive?”
The statue stares at me. I hold up the paper.
“Why are you writing in code? Are you testing me? Giselle told me to help you. I’m here now. Tell me what I need to know. What does accidental murder mean?”
I gasp as it dawns on me.
Beau’s death was an accident.
I killed him. I broke the law of Hecate. But it was an accident.
Did the same thing happen to Giselle? But if it was an accident, then why would she want me to avenge her?
Sunlight starts to illuminate the grotto. I have no idea what time it is since I left my phone inside, but I need to get back in and dry off, then find my friends to tell them what happened. And I need to get pictures.
When I rush back to the front door, Ms. Brewster is standing there, her robe clutched tightly around her.
“Madison!” she exclaims. “What are you doing out there? You’ll catch your death!”
I crumple the paper and shove my hands under my arms. “I...I thought I saw something...someone out in the storm. I went to see what it was, but it was gone. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“The house is warded, obviously,” Ms. Brewster says, motioning me inside. “We don’t want anyone sneaking in or out at night.”
“Makes sense,” I say. Even more sense now than before… Does she know about the moving statues? “Sorry again.”
“No matter,” she says. “Get upstairs and take a hot shower.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I go straight to my room. When I close my bedroom door behind me, I open the note and see that it got wet from my shirt and the writing has smudged. It’s nearly illegible.
I cuss and toss it into my desk drawer, along with the other papers. I take a shower and use my powers to dry my hair as quickly as possible. Once I’m dressed, I grab my phone and run back downstairs. I message Krista, Ivy, and Jaxon, telling them to meet me outside by Prudence as soon as possible. It’s still early, only a little after six, so I don’t expect them to answer anytime soon. Still, I can collect as many pictures as possible.
But as I go out the front door and circle around the building, I spot Ms. Brewster and Jaxon’s mom, Ms. Lauren Kane, heading toward me. They seemed to be speaking heatedly, but stop as soon as they see me.
“Madison,” Ms. Brewster says, a note of surprise in her voice. “What are you doing back out here? You should head to the dining room. Some warm oatmeal is just what you need.”
“I just wanted to look around some more. I was thinking that whatever I saw might have gotten stuck in the hedge. I’d feel really bad if I left a poor cat or dog trapped in there.”
Ms. Kane laughs. “Well, if the creature was foolish enough to wander into the hedge, the beasties will make quick work of it.”
I nod and give an uneasy smile, recalling how Jaxon said that the hedge beasts weren’t dangerous. I always doubted his summation of them, and his mom seems to confirm my suspicions. Maybe since Jaxon is an earth witch, the hedge beasts aren’t dangerous to him, but for the rest of us...
“Yes, well,” Ms. Brewster says, clearing her throat. “Come along, Madison.”
“I’ll only be a minute,” I say as I head toward the hedge, not waiting to be discouraged from my outing again.
I can’t help but sense there is something they don’t want me to see. Or do. Something they are keeping me away from. But I don’t look back. I don’t want them to think I suspect them of something. I walk past the statue of Prudence and make my way to the hedgerow.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” I say to keep up appearances.
A low growling emanates from inside the hedge, and I take a step back. I walk along until I reach one of the other statues that I am sure moved in the night. As I approach it, I pull out my camera.
But when I get there, there is nothing to photograph.
The muddy drag marks have been grown over with fresh grass.
Chapter 23
I cuss to myself. How could the grass have grown back that quickly?
I walk to the other statues and see that none of them have drag marks behind them. The grass doesn’t exactly look new, either. It’s not uneven like it was just planted, nor is it bright green like new growth. It looks just like the rest of the lawn’s grass.
Still, I take out my phone and snap a few pics of the statues. I can see slight differences in their postures and facial expressions, but I’m not sure the changes are enough that other people will really notice. Disappointed, I head back toward the front door just as I see Jaxon and Ivy walking toward the statue of Prudence.
“Madison,” Ivy says. “What are you doing out here so early?”
“You texted us at like dawn,” Jaxon adds. “What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t sleep. The storm… Giselle…” I glance around to make sure no one else is watching us. “The statues…” My voice is so low I’m not sure they can hear me, so I step closer to them. “The statues were moving.”
“What?” they say in unison, not lowering their voices.
“Shh! I… I don’t know what happened. Or what to think. Just...come on.”
I lead them over to the statue of Prudence, but I don’t look at her, instead staring at the hedge. I hate to say it, but I feel we are being watched. I don’t know who it is, but just in case it’s Ms. Brewster, I keep my eyes toward the hedge.
“See my window?” I whisper, and they mumble in acknowledgment. “In the rain, I was looking out the window, and I saw the statues move."
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see they are examining Prudence, then they look at each other.
“I can’t tell,” Ivy says. “She looks the same as ever to me.”
Jaxon frowns as he nods. “Yeah, sorry.”
“There were marks on the ground. Mud tracks. Like she had been dragging her feet. But they’re gone now.”
Ivy looks back up at my room. “The rain was really driving last night. It woke me up. I saw it streaming down the windows. It would have been impossible to see anything clearly from all the way up there.”
“I know what I saw,” I say too defensively, and I curse myself. If I get too emotional about this, they are going to think I’m crazy. But I know I saw them moving. “Sorry. I hardly slept.”
“It’s okay,” Ivy mumbles.
“Hey, babes,” Krista says as she reaches us. “What’s going on?”
“Madison…” Jaxon starts. He cuts me an uncertain glance. “She says she saw the statues moving last night in the rain.”
“What?” she says. “No way! You know, I always thought these things were creepy. I mean, who would carve a hundred statues in that same clawing, haunted pose? It’s like they are running from the devil himself.”
“A hundred?” I ask. But I suppose she could be right. There are a lot, though I haven’t bothered to count.
“They’re everywhere,” Krista says, waving her arm out to indicate the campus all around us. “Each side of the house, in the hedgerow, some are broken or have fallen over. It’s unsettling. I don’t know why Ms. Brewster doesn’t do something about them.”
“Like what?” I ask.
Krista shrugs. “Get rid of them. Or honor them. Like, if we are going to keep the bloody things, we should know more about them, right? There are no books about them. I don’t even know who the sculptor was. Can you imagine devoting your life creating such things and then be completely forgotten?”
“He had to have been a witch,” Jaxon says. “Maybe it’s in one of the biographies.”
“He?” Ivy crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow. “Maybe the sculptor was a woman.”
“Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I was just speaking in general.”
“So, you’ve looked too,” I say to Krista. “Because I’ve asked Mr. Hamilton for books on the statues, and he said there weren’t any.”
Krista nods. “When I first arrived, they terrified me. Gave me nightmares. Gran said they have always been here. I thought learn
ing more about them would help me. But I couldn’t find anything. I guess I just got used to them and forgot how bloody weird they are.”
“Did Aunt Nellie say anything else about them? Any rumors or anything? Has anyone else ever seen them moving?”
“I can’t remember,” Krista says. “I can ask her, though.”
“Please do. I think…” I glance at Jaxon, and then come clean to the girls. “I think Giselle’s death is connected to the statues.”
Krista frowns and shrugs. “We know.”
“You...you do?”
“What, you think we don’t talk when you aren’t around?”
“You talk about me behind my back?” I ask, unable to mask the hurt in my voice.
Ivy steps closer, as if to stop Krista from continuing on too bluntly. “Not like that,” Ivy says. “We just...talk. Compare notes, you know? We’re all friends. We’re in this together.”
I try not to feel hurt. I mean, I get it. Beau and I would talk about Julieta. And Julieta and I would talk about Beau. They probably talked about me, too. It’s normal. Still, I guess I thought I was still going through this alone and when they weren’t with me, my new friends were just going on with their “normal” lives. I guess I’m still in denial that I have friends here.
“Well, do you know about Giselle?” I ask finally. “How she keeps appearing to me?”
All three of my friends shift uncomfortably.
“I think we all suspected it,” Ivy says. “But we didn’t want to assume anything."
Krista nods. “I mean, it kind of tosses everything we ever knew about witchcraft out the window.”
“It’s dangerous,” Jaxon adds. “It has to be a demon.”
“It’s not. I know it isn’t. She apologized to me for how she treated me in life. She appeared to me last night. The lightning seemed to give her strength, but I think her hold on this world is growing weaker. She told me to ‘avenge her’ and to ‘help them.’”
“Help who?” Ivy asks.
I glance at Prudence. “I think she means them. The statues. It was after Giselle appeared last night that I saw them moving.”
Curse of Stone (Academy of the Damned Book 1) Page 21