I repress a shiver at the casual way with which she says it, as if destroying Fey is as simple as wiping the blackboard clean.
At the table next to ours, Daniel raises his hand enthusiastically. “We’re already done with our potting, Miss,” he says. “So how do we disarm their traps?”
Miss Pelletier glances over at his and Brockton’s pots, then nods satisfactorily. “Very good,” she says. “You two can start on the extraction now. Use the triple closed alembic10 for the first phase. After that, you’ll need the retort11 with tubus12, but wait until I’ve come by before you move on to that step. And please, please, read the instructions carefully. We don’t want anything to explode now, do we?”
“Yes, miss,” Daniel says, before motioning for Brockton to fetch the material.
But in his hurry, Brockton drops one of the glass vials and it shatters on the floor, spraying Daniel’s boots with its contents.
“Oh, brilliant,” Daniel says, smacking Brockton on the back of the head. “It’s certainly not thanks to you we’ll defeat Carman, that’s for sure. Now clean it up!”
The burly boy hurries to follow Daniel’s orders, without a word of complaint, though at a slower pace to avoid any more mishaps.
“Hurry it up, slowpoke,” Daniel says, kicking Brockton in the shin. “I’d like to get this done before the end of this century!”
Brockton’s knee gives out and he collapses against their table with a yelp, nearly bringing down the whole apparatus with him. I look at the teacher in indignation, but though she’s witnessed everything, she remains in her corner, tight-lipped.
“Why doesn’t Miss Pelletier say anything?” I ask. I may not like Brockton, but the part of me that always wants to defend the weak screams for me to help him out.
“It’s up to the knight to teach his own squire as he sees fit,” Jack says. “Some knights may try to intervene but—”
“—but Miss Pelletier isn’t even a knight,” Keva finishes for him offhandedly. “So she can’t say a word.”
“Well that’s total nonsense,” I say, as Daniel gives the whimpering Brockton another kick with his steel-tipped boot.
“It’s the way things are,” Keva says.
“Makes me glad I became an apprentice blacksmith instead,” Jack says.
I flinch as Brockton cracks another dish and watch in horror as Daniel grabs a pair of shears from one of the racks.
“Never seen you quite so eager to learn anything beyond EM, Daniel,” Keva says nonchalantly, patting the earth in her own pot.
“Times are different now,” Daniel retorts, pointing at me with his secateur13, Brockton momentarily forgotten. “We’ve got battles to fight against those of her sort.”
Keva swings her trowel around so fiercely that dirt spatters all the way over to his table. “You’re just jealous Morgan’s got more battle experience than you do, admit it,” she says. “While you were cowering safe behind the school walls, she was out there fighting Carman.”
“Freeing her more like,” Daniel retorts. “I’ve got another theory instead. Wanna hear it? I think she was in league with them all along, a spy like. We all saw how tight she and that Fey guy were.”
I grip my flowering pot at the mention of Dean, remembering his final moments, his last words meant to comfort me even as the earth was eating him alive. But that’s not something I’m ever going to be able to tell any of these guys.
Daniel’s voice grows louder as the rest of the class pauses in their work to listen to him. “The barriers didn’t fall apart on their own, you know. Someone must’ve helped from the inside.”
“Daniel?” Bri’s soft voice cuts over the buzzing murmurs of the class. “Why are you trying to piss her off? We’ve all heard what she did to that guard. Now I don’t think you’d fancy having your brains splattered all over the place, would you?”
The blood drains from my face so quickly I’m afraid I’m going to faint.
“Briana!” Jack exclaims.
“Morgan!” Keva says, at the same moment.
I blink slowly and the room comes back into focus, as are the faces of my classmates, their fearful eyes staring at me in shock. No, not at me, at the table.
I glance down as something smooth and cool brushes over my hand then coils around my wrist. The remains of my shattered pot are lying about my splayed fingers and, poking out of the spilled dirt, is the bluebell bulb, writhing and contorting as long green shoots sprout from it, using my blackened hand for support. Mesmerized, I watch as a bud forms, growing larger and larger until a cobalt blue flower unfurls into a delicate bloom over my elbow.
“What are you?” Keva breathes next to me.
“A-a demon,” Daniel says, his voice subdued.
I hear the distinct ring of metal being drawn and a long, serrated knife buries itself in the table, cutting the plant’s stem neatly in two. I gulp, unable to tear my eyes away from the gleaming blade sticking a nail’s breadth from my hand.
“She’s a Fey,” Bri says before pulling the knife free and returning to her potting.
“Don’t you worry so much,” Keva says. “Everyone’s got a demon or two inside. Just look at Bri going all Jekyll and Hyde on us.”
I rub my arm, unable to dispel the sensation of the plant curling around it. “That…that wasn’t me,” I say. “It couldn’t have… it just happened.”
“Things don’t just happen, Morgan,” Jack says. “For every reaction there’s an action.”
“I know physics too, you know,” I say sullenly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m the one behind the action.” Or does it?
We wind our way down the corridors in silence, keeping well behind Bri as she marches head down through the thickening crowd of students on their way to the cafeteria. Spurred by the heavenly scents wafting over to us, my stomach rumbles loudly.
“Say, did you notice something special about our teacher today?” Keva asks, catching up with Bri who’s suddenly stopped at the edge of an uncommonly large throng gathered before the dining hall doors.
“Must’ve made something special for today’s lunch,” Jack says, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “They’ve been doing that more often lately, to keep people’s spirits up. Last time it was a chocolate fountain for dessert.”
Already salivating, we both push forward, eager to get in. Only Bri isn’t budging, as if rooted to her spot by some invisible force, despite Keva trying to get her to move.
“Don’t you think Miss Pelletier took your knife throwing extremely calmly?” Keva asks Bri, pulling on her arm to get a reaction out of her. “And I know exactly why that is.”
“What did you do?” Jack asks suspiciously, as we backtrack towards them.
“Nothing,” Keva says, her wide eyes full of innocence. Which of course means she’s absolutely, irrevocably guilty. She pats Bri on the shoulder, smiling widely. “Bri’s brother, on the other hand….”
“Remember that you’re his squire,” Jack says reprovingly. “You’re not supposed to make his life harder.”
“I’m making it easier, thank you very much,” Keva retorts. “And rose colored.” She smiles cheekily. “I wrote a letter to Miss Pelletier, signed by him, and now he’s using any far-fetched bio project as an excuse to go make goo-goo eyes at her all day long!”
But despite her taunting, Bri remains unresponsive, and Keva’s wide smile turns into a scowl.
“Well someone will be doing lots of things to Hadrian soon,” Keva huffs, finally letting go of Bri’s arm. “And he won’t mind it one bit!”
Without another look at her, Keva marches into the cafeteria. But Jack and I hang back. Most of the crowd has funneled through the doors by now, leaving Bri standing in the middle of the hallway with an inscrutable look on her face.
“What’s the matter?” Jack asks her.
But her eyes remain riveted to some point over his shoulder, and we trace her gaze back towards the news board.
Front and center is a newly pinned article th
at makes my blood run cold:
DISASTER HITS SOUTHEAST ASIA, CAUSING UNPRECEDENTED DESTRUCTION
Indonesia is left in chaos after the violent, double explosion of the Mount Tambora and Mount Krakatoa volcanoes destroyed parts of their islands, killing thousands of people. Clouds of ashes have spread out over the entire island of Jakarta and neighboring countries, keeping them in continuous twilight.
Temperatures have dropped ten to fifteen degrees and they keep going down, leaving governments scrambling to prepare for a volcanic winter that is bound to affect the whole world.
But that is not the worst of it. Scientists have now picked up on seismic readings that show irregular activity around Lake Toba, and have issued a warning that the supervolcano under it could erupt as well, with an estimated VEI14 of 7 to 8—enough force to wipe out Indonesia’s population. The last Toba eruption occurred some 70,000 years ago and it has been hypothesized that the volcanic winter that resulted from it lasted from six to ten years, followed by a general cooling of the Earth that did not end until a thousand years later.
Is this what’s in store for us as well?
“Carman,” I say, my mouth gone dry.
“A-and her s-sons,” someone adds beside me.
I find Elias frowning at the board, his usually pensive face now intensely concentrating on the article.
“Sons?” I ask, exchanging puzzled looks with Jack who shrugs at me.
“I-I was there at your t-trial,” Elias says. “You said that lawyer was C-Carman’s son. S-So I did some reading and…d-do you know what h-his real name was?”
“Dain,” I whisper after a momentary hesitation, remembering Carman saying it right before she tried to kill Lance and Arthur.
“V-Violence,” Elias says with a nod, his voice dropping even lower. “S-So that leaves Dub and D-Dother. D-darkness and Evil.”
“What makes you so sure it’s them?” Jack asks. “On the last count, they were supposed to be dead.”
“Gone, not dead,” Elias says, getting so excited his usually stooped shoulders straighten up and his stammer disappears. “Remember those black-veined murders? They involve a lot more power than any elemental could conjure, so it has to be a higher-ranked Fey. And then, there was that attack on Jennifer that happened on school ground. There’s no way a lower-ranked Fey could have breached our school’s defenses without actually taking our wards down. I mean, just that proves it was stronger than even the one who placed the wards there to begin with!”
“Unless he had help from the inside,” I say sullenly.
“But don’t you see?” Elias says. “If he’d had help the first time, why then would the Fomori need help taking down the wards? They could have gone through without notice too, killing everyone around before anyone realized what was happening!”
“And Dean did meet with someone else while he was down here,” I say, warming up to this new theory—anything to keep people from lumping me in with the rest of the deadly crew. “Maybe that other son slipped in through the wards to deactivate them and let the Fomori in. How come no one ever told me Carman had more sons? This makes so much sense!”
“Don’t you start with that Myrdwinn Junior business again,” Bri says, startling me. “No one’s found any evidence of this guy you claim to have seen. And everyone knows the old kook’s got no one in his life except for Lady Vivian, least of all someone related to Carman. Besides, if it weren’t for him, our Order would never have survived down here as long as it has, because it’s thanks to him our school’s protected!
“As for you, Elias,” she adds, “you should stop spouting nonsense and concentrate instead on your combat training. I’ve seen you fumble enough times at practice to know I wouldn’t dare trust you with a butter knife.”
Stunned, we watch Bri’s eyes go vacant again before she walks off into a side hallway and disappears around a corner.
“T-that’s the most I’ve h-heard her say s-since the battle,” Elias says, stooping over once more.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jack says quietly with an apologetic smile. “She must’ve seen that list, and in her already unstable emotional state….”
With a tired sigh, he points at a long piece of paper filled with names pinned next to the article we’ve just read.
“Bri, wait up!” Jack shouts, leaving us behind to run after her. “You’ve forgotten to have lunch again!”
“What is it?” I ask, drawing closer to the stapled page.
“Everyone who’s been k-killed in action or gone m-missing since the war s-started,” Elias says.
I quickly scan the names, then my eyes widen as I read the last entry:
VAUGHAN, OWEN (†)
I’m still reeling from the shock of seeing Owen’s name on the list when I find Keva in our usual spot behind the KORT section, munching furiously on her salad like an angry goat.
“I’m so done with that girl,” she says, stabbing a piece of tomato with her fork so viciously it sprays juice across the table top. “In fact, I’m done with the whole Vaughan family.”
“Yeah, well, if you find a way to quit your job, please let me know,” I say, sitting down to eat.
“Not quit,” Keva says, “just jump ships.” She points towards the doors with her fork as Lance walks in. “Wouldn’t mind asking him if he’d take me on. I mean, he’s never had a squire, surely I can show him what he’s missing.”
“I’m sure he’s fine without having someone drooling over him every second,” I say. That and he probably doesn’t want a witness to his secret love affair with his best friend’s girl. “But if he’s interested, let me know, anyone’s better than Arthur.”
Keva tsks. “Not likely to happen,” she says. “You’re lucky anyone even wanted you. Why do you hate Arthur so much anyway?”
“Many reasons,” I say, quickly losing my appetite. “Did you know he still won’t tell me anything about my father? Every time I ask him, he’s got something more urgent to do first. It’s like he’s avoiding me or something.”
“Maybe you just don’t know how to handle him,” Keva says with a shrug. “Use your feminine charms on him and you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky. It shouldn’t be that hard, especially since he already cares so much about you.”
I choke on my iced tea, sloshing it down the front of my uniform. “I shudder to think about how he treats those he doesn’t care about then,” I say, mopping myself up with my napkin.
“I’m serious,” Keva says. “It’s just that he has to hide it”—she lowers her voice—“because of who he’s currently engaged to, you know. Wouldn’t do to make an enemy of her when her father’s so powerful, would it?”
My eyes automatically focus on a blonde head a few tables down. I watch Jennifer as she lets out a tinkling laugh, displaying her perfectly-aligned white teeth and the gracile curve of her alabaster neck.
A few rows behind her, I spot Lance, stopped dead in his tracks as if struck down by the sight of her. I shake my head, unable to comprehend how a guy as good and honest as Lance could ever fall for such a devious girl as Jennifer.
“I just don’t get it,” I mutter to myself.
“Wow, you know really nothing about boys, do you?” Keva says, misinterpreting my words. “I mean, hello? Arthur liking you is, like, so obvious! Just look at how he keeps running to your rescue! He definitely has the prince charming syndrome down as far as you’re concerned. I’m telling you, if you handled him a little differently, you’d be able to get anything out of him. Want me to help?”
“Help?” I repeat, not a little afraid at Keva’s sudden fanatical tone.
“We’ll start with the tried and true first,” Keva says. “I’ve recently become quite an adept at writing fake love letters. Yours could start with: Dearest Arthur, I’m sorry I seem so grouchy around you all the time these days, but I don’t know how else to hide my growing feelings for—”
“Are you insane?” I cry out.
Keva’s grin widens. “Trust me, it
’ll work,” she says. “All he needs is a little push.”
I blush despite myself and glance quickly across the way to the KORT zone, but thankfully nobody seems to have heard her. The last thing I need is for more tasteless rumors to start circulating about me, especially with such a wicked, possessive harpy like Jennifer around.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Jennifer turns slightly in her seat to look at me, her previous mirth obliterated.
“Morgan?” a deep voice says.
Startled, I look up to find Lance has stopped at our table. Even from this close he looks perfect, no blackheads or pimple scars to mar his smooth skin, and I have to force myself to look away from his sapphire-blue eyes. Keva, on the other hand, appears to have looked straight at a basilisk and turned to stone, mouth still wide open.
I let out a sigh, dropping my silverware back onto the table, my plate barely touched.
“What did I do this time?” I ask sulkily.
Lance’s usually expressionless face cracks into a tiny smile, just long enough to show his dimples, and I hear Keva suck in her breath.
“Nothing,” he says. “Yet. And that’s why I’m here. Arthur needs to see you.”
“I already helped with the repairs this morning,” I say moodily. “His door is back in working order.”
“He wants you to go to the library,” Lance says. “Now.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” I say, annoyed. But when I see the scowl on Lance’s face, I add, “Fine. I didn’t want to go to practice anyway.”
“Now means now, Morgan,” Lance says. “Not in an hour’s time.”
“I realize that,” I say, “but I’m in the middle of lunch here. And though I may be part Fey, I still need food to survive.” I punctuate my last words by sawing a large piece of steak and stuffing it in my mouth.
“You really shouldn’t be like that, Morgan,” Lance says, shaking his head as I nearly choke on the piece of meat. “These are tough times we’re in, and we’ve suffered quite a number of casualties. Everyone needs to chip in as they can, yourself included.”
“He handled himself quite well without a squire before,” I retort, taking a big gulp of my drink to wash the piece of steak down. But Lance’s words have had their desired effect on me, and I look away in guilt.
Rise of the Fey Page 9