‘No way, honey, you can’t wear that,’ I say.
‘I could give it an iron?’
‘No, seriously. I have a ton of dresses here. Just pick one and go wild.’
‘Wait, seriously?’
‘Yeah, of course! What are room-mates for?’
‘Oh my God, thank you so much, Audrey. I just haven’t had the brain space to think about dresses, and this was the only thing I could find that was even vaguely appropriate.’
I grimace. ‘I’m not sure I’d even call it that.’
She leaps forward, instantly gathering up my black, lacy dress in her arms. My heart stops for a moment – I’d really had my heart set on that – but I catch myself. I can wear it anytime, and I have dozens more like it at home – in the UK and in the States. I smile. ‘It’ll look beautiful on you,’ I say.
‘Thanks! Which one are you going to wear?’
My eye falls on the bronze-and-gold one. With the right make-up, it will be a stand-out look for the party. I run my fingers over the slinky material. ‘This one.’
‘Amazing. You’ll look just perfect.’
We change into our dresses, swapping make-up and chatting. It feels so nice to actually have a proper friend again. It’s the kind of boarding-school friendship that people write about in books. Ivy’s so smart and brave. I feel lucky that she sees something in me, and wants to be friends with me too.
Ivy texts Harriet, and soon our room is a hive of activity as she comes to join us and we throw our bedroom door wide open. I share my vast array of make-up with the girls, and it almost feels like things are back to normal. I curl my hair into big bouncy waves, going full Southern gothic belle. Big hair, dark eyes, a dark lip, a black velvet choker and the iridescent dress. I help Ivy with her make-up too, and we settle on a shimmering gold eyeshadow and spider-leg-thin fake eyelashes to show off her hazel eyes.
‘You look amazing. Your skin is incredible.’
‘I have my mum to thank for that,’ she says. ‘She hardly wears any make-up at all.’
‘Lucky. And Harriet, I love the colour of your dress.’
‘Really? I think it makes me look like a chubby sack of potatoes,’ Harriet says.
Ivy tuts. ‘Oi, stop saying you’re chubby. You have an amazing body that I can only ever dream of. Have you seen your arse? Beyoncé must be quaking.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Harriet laughs, doing an expert booty shake.
‘OK, we’d better head downstairs or we’ll miss the kick-off,’ says Ivy, glancing at her phone.
‘But before we do, since it’s a party …’ Harriet opens her purse. With a wicked sideways grin, she pulls out three tiny airplane bottles of vodka.
‘Ooh, naughty!’ I say in my best British accent.
‘If you can’t be naughty around Halloween, when can you?’ Harriet winks.
Ivy grins. ‘Willy Wonka strikes again!’ She takes one of the bottles, untwisting the cap with a practised flick of the wrist. ‘Cheers!’
‘Cheers,’ I reply, clinking my little bottle with hers and Harriet’s and taking a big gulp. I grimace. ‘This tastes like shit. Don’t you have any Fireball around here or something?’
Ivy’s face is also a picture of disgust as she finishes her bottle, and she gives her body a shake. ‘Fireball? What’s that?’
My jaw drops. ‘You haven’t tried it?’
‘Uh, no.’
‘You’re missing out. I’ll bring some from home next time. It’s like … cinnamon whisky.’
‘Sounds disgusting.’
I stick my tongue out at her. ‘It’s freakin’ delicious. As warming as a fire on a winter’s day … not like this stuff. Gross.’
‘Does the trick though,’ says Ivy. ‘Right, are we ready?’
I stand up, towering over my diminutive room-mate. ‘Ready.’
‘Let’s go!’ says Harriet.
We giggle, grab our phones and head out the door.
The school looks absolutely gorgeous. Say what you want about Araminta, but she has party planning in her future if she wants it. The banister of the staircase leading down into the great entrance hall is wrapped in autumn leaves, each stair with its own intricately carved pumpkin. Torches, lit with vibrant flames, flicker along the wall, lighting our way and casting eerie shadows.
What Ivy said about this once being a religious event suddenly begins to ring true; it feels sacred, even now. Although we’re dressed up, there isn’t a traditional party mood. Instead, there’s an almost sombre feeling in the air, a quiet reverence.
‘Someone’s waiting for you,’ Ivy says, nudging my arm.
I see Teddy at the top of the stairs. He looks smokin’ hot in a black velvet blazer, dark shirt and slacks. He has a leaf pin on his jacket, with gold curls of vine leaves creeping down his lapel.
I don’t need Ivy’s approval, but when I look over at her she’s grinning, and I smile back. Teddy extends his arm, and I take it – and he leads me down the stairs towards the crowd.
There’s a clap of thunder sound effect and flashes of lightning. ‘Wow, Araminta’s gone all out with this fake storm. Really adds to the atmosphere.’ Teddy’s voice is low in my ear.
‘Right? It reminds me of being back home. We can have some wild storms – nothing fake about those.’
‘I’d like to go to Georgia. Sounds like a cool place.’
‘It is, although …’ I look up, once again feeling awed by the vaulted ceiling and enormous paintings hanging all around. With the addition of the Samhain decorations – the elaborate displays of autumnal leaves, harvest foods, candles, torches and wreaths – it looks more ancient and medieval than ever. I can’t imagine any place being ‘cooler’ than this.
‘I know. We do go a little over the top here, don’t we? I’ll go and get us a drink.’ He leaves my side, meandering over to the cauldrons bubbling away in the corner, manned by one of the younger fledglings.
Ivy whispers in my ear from behind. ‘Don’t worry, the non-alcoholic mulled cider is pretty nice.’
‘And I can always spice it up for you,’ says Harriet, waggling her eyebrows.
‘Is it always like this? So very … extra?’
‘I think our Minty feels she has something to prove …’
‘I’ll say.’
Max and Tom find us through the crowds, Teddy returns with the drinks and, as we all stand around, sipping cider, I realize this is the first time I’ve felt properly happy and relaxed in a long time. I lean into Teddy’s arm and he smiles at me. Ivy is laughing and chatting with Harriet, and I feel a warm rush of feeling run around my body that I think has more to do with friendship than vodka.
Abruptly, the music and sound effects stop, and we all turn as one towards a plinth set up in front of the double doors. Araminta and Xander are standing on top of it, both looking absolutely gorgeous. Araminta is wearing a gold sequinned dress that wouldn’t look out of place at the Oscars and Xander looks sharp in a fancy-patterned purple-and-gold tuxedo, his normally spiked hair now slicked back and shiny.
‘Welcome, fellow students, teachers and staff of Illumen Hall, to our annual Samhain party! Samhain is a solemn tradition, and we pay tribute to Lord Brathebone, whose interest in Druid and pagan rituals inspired the very first Samhain party. Although, in keeping with Illumen Hall rules, we have divested from our religious roots in all capacities, that doesn’t mean that we can’t take a moment to appreciate the turn of the season, the bounty of the harvest and the rich colours of nature.’
‘Wow, could she sound any more pompous if she tried?’ Ivy whispers to me, and I giggle.
‘And now, everyone gather –’ starts Xander, but there’s a rustle of movement from behind him, and he stumbles over his words, not nearly as confident and smooth as Araminta.
Araminta glances back, confusion on her face. The torches all around us flicker ominously, and there’s another huge clap of thunder inside. Some students scream. There’s a commotion by the stage, and a dark figure jumps
up in between the head girl and head boy. The figure spreads its arms – encased in an enormous set of wings with huge, oily black feathers that shimmer purple, green and blue. The figure has a grotesque mask on with a long, curved beak – more like one of those Venetian plague doctor’s masks than the head of a bird. It opens its mouth and lets out a fearsome shriek, then jumps down into the crowd. Just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.
It’s not alone. There’s a whirlwind of feathered figures dancing and spinning around us, separating Ivy and me, cawing in my face and chanting. I’m so confused, so desperate not to get caught up in some kind of frenzied stampede, that I can’t make out what they’re saying.
I feel Teddy’s strong hand grab mine. He drags me to the edge of the room, where we press our backs to the wall. Dozens of people dressed all in black, their arms and backs covered in feathers, their faces covered by masks, fill the room. Now that I see it from here, there does seem to be some sort of choreography to their movements, as they move as a group from one end of the room to the other. I see terror on Ivy’s face and I push my way back towards her. Some of the teachers are trying to grab and unmask the strange bird-people, and Araminta is shrieking above them all, ‘Stop them! This isn’t supposed to happen!’ But the fake thunder seems timed to drown her out.
All around us, they’re simply chanting one phrase: ‘One for sorrow, one for sorrow, one for sorrow.’
49
Ivy
I look around at the faces of other students for reassurance. Most are laughing, some are whooping and clapping and others are more confused. It’s hard to know if this is something Araminta has orchestrated or this flash mob is separate from the Samhain celebrations. If this is some kind of Halloween party trick, it’s certainly strange.
From the sound of Araminta’s screeching, I don’t think she’s behind it. My throat starts to close and I can feel the blood pumping through my body. I notice I’m panting and Audrey’s lace dress suddenly feels two sizes too small.
Audrey catches my eye, and it’s as if she’s having the exact same thoughts. Fear and dread are plastered across her face. I notice she’s clutching Teddy’s hand and, in that very moment, I want to clutch it too.
‘Something about this feels wrong!’ I try to shout over the noise. But my voice cracks and the two of us look at one another while the room fills with laughter and screams. Laughter and screams that are getting louder and more manic by the second.
‘Are they part of the Magpie Society? Why do I feel like we’re the only ones not in on all this?’ Audrey mouths back. She may have said it out loud, but all I can hear is the buzz in the room and that incessant chanting. I focus so hard on Audrey’s lips, but it feels as though she’s moving them in slow motion. Just as I feel like bolting from the hall, one of the masked figures swoops past us and, as they do, they lock eyes with me. Their eyes are so dark I can’t see the iris from the pupil. My entire body fills with panic. We both freeze and time feels like it’s stopping as the figure dances past in the strobe lights. Beneath the mask, I see a sinister smirk.
‘Who was that?’ Audrey yells above the noise. As I go to speak, my mouth doesn’t move and my vision starts to blur. I need to get out. I start running, but I’m not sure where the exit is. Another masked figure swoops in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. I halt abruptly and change direction. I look around for my friends, but I can’t see them anywhere. I can’t see where the door is, so I start running in the opposite direction, pushing past other students – I can vaguely hear Audrey shouting my name behind me, but I have to keep moving forward … I have to get out.
But I can’t. Somehow I’ve walked right into the magpie flash mob. Suddenly I’m being pushed until I’m right up against a wall, unable to move, surrounded by a sea of feathers.
There’s a terrible crack from above me and I look up. An antique mirror is teetering on its fixtures, shuddering under the weight of the autumnal decorations wrapped round its gilt frame. I know I should move, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot. I close my eyes and brace myself as everyone around me shrieks and squeals in horror, watching the mirror above my head as it starts to fall away from the wall. I feel the air change and little bits of debris begin to rain down on my body. I still can’t move. I hear more screaming and can’t tell if it’s me or someone else in the room.
Out of nowhere, Audrey grabs my arm and pulls me sideways with such force that I fall to the ground, centimetres from where the mirror shatters on to the floor, creating the most insane disco-ball effect round the room. The frame is smashed to pieces, denting the floor with the force of its weight. I look down at my hands and notice they’re bleeding. The music and thunder has stopped and the eerie quiet of the room is filled with the faint sounds of people gasping and running, and the growing voice of Mrs Abbott shouting from a distance. I try to move, but shattered glass crunches under me. Audrey’s dress is ruined, I think. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it.
Audrey pulls me into a hug so tight my ribs almost crack. But all I can see is the reflection of the final magpie to leave the room – his beaked face reflected back a thousand times in the splinters of glass.
50
Audrey
‘That could have killed me!’
Ivy is shaking all over as I finally release her from my arms and help her to stand. The sleeve of my black lace dress has been ripped off, her hair is dishevelled and her face is blotchy red. I can barely look at the blood all over her arms and legs without wanting to throw up. She came so close to being seriously, seriously hurt.
‘Oh my God, Ivy, are you OK?’ Araminta has rushed over to Ivy’s side.
‘All right, stand back – give her some space.’ Mrs Abbott directs everyone away from the site of the mirror crash, and reluctantly people move away. I can see a dozen phones pointing at us. There were no rules banning recording at this party. ‘Put those away, please. It was just an accident,’ says Mrs Abbott, her tone brooking no argument. Reluctantly, students turn away.
The magpies are gone. Someone turns the music back on and a janitor appears with a broom, and within a few minutes the students have started to get back into the swing of the party.
Everyone except us, of course.
‘How could this happen?’ I ask. I stare up at the wall, where part of the plaster that held up the mirror has been torn away. ‘Is all this building falling to pieces?’
‘Now let’s not jump to conclusions about the state of the building,’ says Mrs Abbott nervously.
‘No, it’s not the school’s fault,’ Ivy says, and the headmistress looks relieved. ‘Look at this,’ she continues, lifting the chain that held up the decorations-covered mirror. One of the links has been opened, as if with pliers. With the right amount of force, it would separate from its neighbour and cause the whole mirror to come tumbling down.
‘Who put the decorations round the mirror?’ I ask Araminta.
‘Oh my God.’ Her hands fly to her mouth. ‘I know who did it.’ Tears spring up into her eyes.
‘For God’s sake, Araminta, just tell us!’ says Ivy.
‘Clover. She volunteered to help me today. Said it was to show that she’d put everything behind us and that she was sorry for … for accusing me. That things had got out of hand. I was suspicious, but I wanted to be the bigger person. I let her. In fact … you were supervising, Mrs Abbott, weren’t you? Because she had to go up on the ladder and that required adult supervision.’
Mrs Abbott nods. ‘I was. I didn’t see anything suspicious of course …’
‘I should’ve guessed – after she warned that something was going to happen at the party. She wanted to ruin it! To ruin me!’ cries Araminta. She’s pulling at her cheeks, her face a picture of horror.
‘Um, Minty, I’m pretty sure you’re not the one who almost died here,’ says Ivy.
‘Oh my God, guys. Look at this,’ says Harriet.
‘It’s on my phone too.’
I scrabble in my purse f
or my phone. I turn it over and I see that there’s a notification from hours before – I hadn’t noticed amid all the party prep. Clover’s released another podcast.
THE WKL? PODCAST TRANSCRIPT
EPISODE FIVE
Sound of feedback from a microphone and rapid breathing.
CLOVER
I really wish that I could say this was one of my normal podcasts, but it’s not.
If you’re at Illumen Hall, you’re in danger.
Do not go to the Samhain party. Something terrible is going to happen.
I’m terrified. I wasn’t joking when I said that I thought Lola’s killer was still out there. And now I realize that I haven’t been able to find the truth fast enough. I really thought that I could get to the bottom of it in time.
I’m afraid that not only am I in danger, but the whole school is. I’m terrified that the killer will stop at nothing to keep their identity a secret.
Maybe you’ll think I’ve gone mad, but the Magpie Society is real. Only they weren’t trying to hurt Lola. They were trying to protect her.
And now they want to protect me too.
I only hope this has gone out before someone else gets hur–
The sound cuts off.
51
Ivy
‘I’ve got to go,’ says Mrs Abbott, after we’ve all listened.
‘Wait, miss!’ I cry out after her, but she tucks her phone away, muttering to herself.
Araminta lets out a long moan. ‘This can’t still be happening.’
I grab her by the hand. ‘We need to find out who’s behind the flash mob. Gather everyone outside at the bonfire, then we can see who’s missing.’
‘OK,’ says Araminta through her sniffles. She pulls herself up to her full height and walks away, clapping her hands together, her voice carrying loudly over the music. ‘Attention, everyone! Let’s go outside for the annual lighting of the bonfire!’
The Magpie Society One for Sorrow Page 23