by Megan Linski
I had a clearer head than the rest of them, but not by much. I led the way back up to school and tried not to trip over my own feet as we stumbled up the stairs leading to the dormitories. Alexei fell over, and Theo giggled behind him. Gods, we were so drunk.
Then I smelled it. The blood. It was metallic and tangy, stinging my nose. I threw my arm out to stop the boys behind me. “Wait,” I told them. “Something’s not right. Can you smell that?”
They sniffed the air, and immediately sobered. It wasn’t that late in the evening, just past dinnertime. I bet everyone was still in the cafeteria. The blood was fresh, warm. The smell only got stronger as we came closer to it.
We rounded the corner to the main hallway that led to the dorms. There, in a place where someone would want a body to be found, was Professor Waldron.
But he wasn’t alive. His corpse had been attached to the wall several feet above the ground. A large spear was embedded in his chest, pinning the body in place on the wall. Blood dripped down from the corpse and onto the floor below, creating a thick pool that spread throughout the carpet. His gut had been cut open, and entrails spilled out of it, hanging in a grotesque display.
There beside him on the wall was a message written in his own blood. The Black Claw has found its master. Hail to the dark god Droga. Hail to the Hidden King.
Chapter Twelve
Emma
“But who’s the Hidden King?” I asked.
Ethan gave a long sigh. “I don’t know who the Hidden King is. Nobody does. That’s why everyone is freaking out.”
I put eggs benedict and bacon on my plate, my favorite breakfast of all time. The usually-bustling cafeteria was quiet and somber today… as it had been since Professor Waldron had been murdered a week ago, and that hideous message had appeared on the wall.
Ethan seemed irritated and on edge. I couldn’t blame him. He’d been one of the people to find Professor Waldron’s body, along with Stefan, Alexei, and Theo. It had to be traumatic for all of them.
“But you must have some idea,” I insisted as we sat down at one of the nearest dining tables. Ethan had a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, sausage, ham, and about a million other meats.
Perfect for a wolf, I guessed. I don’t think I’d seen him eat a vegetable since I’d met him.
Ethan shook his head and bit into a strip of bacon with a sullen look. “I don’t. The Black Claw has never had a leader, let alone a king. It’s like they just made it up to scare people.”
“Leaving a body hanging from a spear in the middle of Arcanea University is more than a scare tactic. It’s a clear threat,” I pointed out.
Ethan rubbed his face. “I know, Emma. It’s just weird. A few months ago, people… including me… thought the Black Claw was gone for good. Now since my dad’s been gone, it’s like they’re out in full force all over again.”
A permanent frown was embedded on his face— as if Ethan thought he was the reason for the Black Claw’s return, and blamed himself for Professor Waldron’s death.
I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Hey. It isn’t your fault.”
He gave me a slight grimace. “You’d have a hard time convincing me of that.”
I bumped my foot against his underneath the table. “Maybe I’ll kick it out of you.”
His grin faltered. “It’s just… there’ve never been two kings in Malovia. This… Hidden King has got to be some sort of challenge to the throne,” Ethan said. “They see an opening now that my father’s gone, and want to take it.”
“They can’t overthrow the Malovian monarchy, can they? They’ll never have enough support from the people to back them up,” I said.
He shook his head. “All I know is, the King’s Contest can’t get here quick enough. We need someone to hold the crown. Things are getting darker every day.”
I munched on my eggs. “Are you still thinking of entering that thing?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s my duty.”
“But is it what you want?” I asked.
“Does it matter? Malovia needs me.” Ethan finished wolfing down the rest of his meal, then stood up. “I’ve got class. There’s a sub now for Interspecies Cooperation. Let’s see if he’s worth his weight.”
“I hope things go all right,” I told him. “But don’t go blaming yourself for what happened to Waldron. There was nothing you could do. Even if you guys got to the hallway earlier, there’s no guarantee those Black Claw freaks wouldn’t have killed you, too.”
He let out a huff. “Just… be careful, okay?” Ethan warned. “Arcanea University is supposed to be safe, but somehow, the Black Claw broke in and managed to kill Waldron without being seen. Don’t go anywhere unless you have someone with you.”
Usually, I’d protest, because I was a loner who liked my private time, but true worry shone in Ethan’s eyes. He had a good point, too. There were murderers walking around the school. I could be next.
“Okay. I’ll be careful.” I waved a hand in farewell. I watched the rolling of his shoulders as he strode away, until he was out of my sight. An uncomfortable weight settled in my stomach once he vanished from my view… like it always did these days. Whenever Ethan was around, I was at ease, carefree. The second he left me alone again, anxiety rose in my gut. It was like I knew he’d protect me if more shit went down, like it had with the meluza.
As much as Ethan and I argued, he was my friend. I liked him, despite the fact that he could be a total jackass. He was always helping me in Monster Hunting 101. Thanks to him, I was somewhat competent with a weapon that wasn’t my mouth.
And I worried about him, too. The Black Claw was after the throne, and he still wanted to enter the King’s Contest. I bet the local terrorists would love to eliminate a prince from the running for the crown.
I finished off my breakfast and booked it to Introduction to Flight, my mind still on the murder.
I’d gone out several nights looking for the Phantom, but hadn’t seen any sign of him since our last encounter. If anyone could solve this mystery, it was him. I bet he was already on the case.
I pined for him in a way that was embarrassing. I saw him in my dreams almost every night. I approached him slowly, raising my hands to lift the wolf mask off his face so he would reveal himself to me for good. But before I could glimpse his face, the dream ended.
Every. Freaking. Time.
It was maddening. Enough to drive a girl crazy. I knew the Phantom felt a pull to me as I did him. Sooner or later, he had to show up in my life again… and I’d yell at him for staying away for so long. I wanted to get to know him, the true him. The real person behind the mask, instead of the superhero everyone said he was.
I knew he had a dark side and was no saint. He couldn’t fool me. And I had fallen for the dark side of him just as easily as I’d fallen for the hero. I obsessively read every article I could find about the Phantom and all the speculations about who he could be. It was all gossip and hearsay— nothing substantial to go on.
I hoped to the Seven Gods he wasn’t eighty or something. Shit, that’d be my luck. I could deal with ugly, but I didn’t do age gaps well.
I walked into Flight class right on time, which was surprising, because being late was my specialty. Flight class was held in a giant glass bubble in the inner courtyard of the palace grounds, one that was circular shaped and at least a hundred feet tall. It was called the Conservatory, and it was one of the most beautiful places in the school. The temperature in here was controlled at a warm seventy degrees, and inside, a variety of magical plants grew that Marked used in potions. Palm trees that were purple in color and had long, purple fronds that moved like arms sat placed next to ferns that had tentacles for leaves. Signs were put next to Venus flytraps, which were the size of small dragons, warning people not to get too close or risk being being swallowed whole. The greenhouse caretakers fed them steaks daily to keep them happy, and prevent them from actively seeking out students to feast on. Large puff mushrooms g
ot up and hopped around, while toadstools played leapfrog and swam in the green pond. Lily pads whose roots took the shape of women rose out of the water, dancing as we walked by.
Professor Mara was at the center of the Conservatory, surrounded by Marked and Companions alike. This was one of the few classes where boys and girls were put together, as everyone needed to learn how to fly. In the middle of the bubble was a stone fountain with the sculpture of a dragon, alicorn, griffin and wolven woven together. Each of their bodies had wings that melded into one another. It was a gorgeous fountain, at least twenty feet tall, and at the base were all kinds of swirling circular designs, with a Malovian mantra carved into the bottom I couldn’t yet read.
Arcanea were obsessed with circles for some reason. Hell if I could tell you why.
“Line up, class,” Professor Mara said. “Today, I’ll be demonstrating the basics of flight, as well as techniques you can use to bring out your own wings. I know many of you are freshmen, and that some wolvens and Marked among you do not yet have their wings.”
Her face remained impassive. “However, if I deem that by the end of this semester you have not made significant progress in at least finding your wings, rest assured that you will be back in this class next semester. I do not award points to people who do not try.”
I felt a paralyzing fear flood through me. We’d been mostly studying flight in the classroom. I didn’t know we’d actually have to fly to pass this class. I was still doubting I had wings at all. Okay, sure, I could do magic, big whoop. This lady was going to have to do a lot of convincing to make me believe I had giant hidden wings on my back.
I joined the long line that surrounded the stone fountain. Professor Mara stood in front of us. “Watch closely.”
She spread her arms. Yellow wings, like those of dragonflies, appeared behind Mara’s back. The class oohed in appreciation. She raised her arms higher, and her wings fluttered, lifting her upward until she was flying easy circles around the fountain.
“The trick is to treat your wings like any other limb,” Mara called down to us from above. “Trust that they know what to do and how to carry you, and you will not fall. It takes practice using your wings, like building up a muscle. Imagine yourself light as a feather, able to be carried away by the slightest breeze. But if you doubt yourself in any way, know that you will never get off the ground.”
Professor Mara landed. “One last note. Be sure not to look down— it’s the most certain way to fall. To fly, you must always look up. I don’t wish to be scraping anyone off the ground today.”
A couple of people chuckled, but I felt nauseous. She was kinda serious.
Professor Mara clapped her hands. “Right. Those of you who can fly, I’d like to see what you can do. Up, up! The ones left on the ground, I’d like you to try summoning your wings. It isn’t as hard as you think it is, girls— and boys, for those who are wolvens. You just have to believe, for whatever you truly believe in will become your reality. Everyone’s wings are different. They take on different appearances due to your personality, and are truly unique to you. Once you have a clear understanding of who you are, they will emerge beautifully.”
Believe, believe. It was like a mantra here at Arcanea University. I never used to think that you could believe yourself into a new reality until I got here. I should’ve believed I’d win the lottery back home and I’d be a gazillionaire right now.
In minutes, dragons, griffins, and alicorns were flying around the Conservatory like this was just a blow-off class to them. If it was any consolation, most of the Marked were still left on the ground, though a couple of them had managed to bring their wings out. Companions came down and flew by their side, coaching them as they rose higher.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. I tried to make big-ass, badass wings come out of my back so I could show everyone I was cool, too, but when I was sure I felt fluttering, I reached behind me and brushed nothing. I jumped into the air a couple of times to experiment, but it felt more like warming up for the ice. This was getting nowhere. My wings just wouldn’t come.
Gabby was smirking at me from the other side of the room. She could tell I was having trouble. When I finally got tired of her obvious staring and went to send a sneer her way, she took it as an opportunity to show off. Great, translucent wings like those of a bat’s, blood-red in color, emerged from her back. She rose into the air with a smile so huge I longed to slap it off her face.
The only small joy I got from watching Gabby buzz around the room was that she was pretty shaky, and she couldn’t go very high. I bet she’d just gotten her wings yesterday. Beside her, Morgan sprouted wings that looked like a Monarch butterfly’s, and rose to flutter beside Gabby. She shot me a smug look and spread her wings wider, like she thought that would impress me. Melissa stayed on the ground and made faces as she struggled to conjure her own wings.
I forced myself to turn away from her and the twins and try again. My concentration was broken by a couple of wolven boys who were wrestling and laughing nearby. It was clear they didn’t give a shit about flying. They wouldn’t pass this class.
It was disheartening to watch more and more people get their wings as the class went on. Marked grew beautiful wings of gossamer, wings that sparkled and shone rainbow colors. They seemed to come in every shade and shape.
I tried and tried, but still struggled to get the hang of this class. I shouldn’t have felt left out— half the class was still wingless, like I was— but I did. I felt like a loser.
After an hour of practicing, Professor Mara clapped her hands. “That’s enough. It was a valiant effort for today. Most of you—” she glanced at the wolven boys, “—did well. We’ll resume again next week.”
I was fuming as I left the Conservatory. What gives? I flew every day on the ice. I performed death-defying jumps during practice that most people would be terrified to attempt. I soared through the air on a daily basis, just on blades instead of wings. How was that any different? If anything, this should be easy for me.
Gabby glided by me, hitting me on the shoulder as she passed. I had the urge to pluck a stink-bomb from one of the magical plants that grew them nearby and fling it at her head, but she had flown away before I could do so.
Why was she so threatened by me? It was really kind of pathetic. There were a million other people in this school she could pick on, yet her targets were set on me.
I guess it was kind of a compliment. As the outcast, I should’ve been the weakest threat. But I’d only been here a month and a half, and I was making Gabby shake in her skates. I was already showing her up at practice. She might have an edge on me in magic, but I matched her on the ice. It wouldn’t be long before I caught up in the Arcanea world, too. Then I’d show her what was up.
If I ever got my wings, that was.
Ugh. I was glad the week was over. I went back to my dorm, threw my bag on the floor and changed out of my uniform as quickly as possible.
I was mentally and physically exhausted. And it wasn’t just from class. My body felt weak and tired— like I was totally drained, and was in need of a battery charge. My limbs shook, and a wave of nausea hit. I felt like I was going to collapse any moment.
Knew what that meant. Time for a treatment. I went to my mini-fridge and got out a glass bottle of refrigerated human plasma. I had four bottles in there, a month’s supply, along with a new box of medical supplies sitting in the corner of my dorm room. All my medication was being shipped to the school’s medical ward by the Malovian government, which I could pick up every month so I’d always have a steady supply.
I changed into a baggy shirt and loose yoga pants, then took two pain relievers and an allergy pill before I got to work.
I drew the clear plasma out of the glass bottle with two plastic syringes, then screwed four strands of long, thin and clear tubing onto the syringes. The tubing ended in tiny needles smaller than the tip of my finger. I pushed the syringe so that the plasma flowed through the tubing,
until it was primed through the needles at the end.
This was the hard part. I tied my shirt around my middle using a scrunchie, then wiped my stomach clean with alcohol pads. I began inserting the needles, one by one in various places around my stomach.
I nearly fainted the first time I did this. I’d never poked myself with a needle before, but it was either that, or deal with going to the hospital every week to have someone do it for me, and no way was that going to happen. I could take this.
Three of the needles went in easily and painlessly, and I secured them with transparent, square dressings that would stick to my skin and ensure the needles didn’t slip.
I pushed in the last needle. It was blunt, and caught on my skin. I couldn’t bring the needle back out and try again due to risk of infection, so I was forced to stab it on through. I hissed. Black dots swarmed my vision, and I gritted my teeth. I pounded my fist against the desk. Who knew a little needle could hurt so much?
But whatever. They were in. I secured the last needle with the tape, then put the first syringe into a small machine— an infusion pump. It was plastic, smaller than my forearm, and easily transportable. I turned the pump on, and it started pushing the plasma into my system.
I put the infusion pump into a small tote bag that had gray foxes on it, and slung it over my shoulder so I could walk around. I grabbed the TV remote and a blanket as I settled on my bed to watch some movies.
The plasma itched as it went in, causing a red rash to spread across my stomach. The doctors said that was normal, but I wasn’t supposed to scratch at it. It killed me. I put on a heating pad to get some relief, and focused my attention on the show in front of me.
But it was hard. My body felt achy and worn out as the plasma continued to do its work. I struggled to keep my eyes open as my favorite show kept playing. It was like my brain was out there floating, and my body was full of rocks, still stuck on the ground.