“Good. But make sure you’re feeling better in time for my class.”
He bestowed one last smile on me and then turned and walked off.
Once more alone in the hallway, I exhaled, fighting back a wave of nerves. Then with a huge effort of will, I turned and faced the door into the locker room. I took a deep breath, bracing for the stink, and stepped inside.
The smell was even worse than I feared, the BO stench having seeped into the walls themselves. Covering my nose and mouth, I moved quietly down the rows of lockers, searching for the right number. Unlike ordinary high schools, all the lockers at Arkwell were assigned to make sure that each locker suited the needs of whatever kind it belonged to.
Paul’s locker was in the farthest corner and adjacent to the shower area entrance. It looked more or less like my gym locker, and when I opened it with the moonwort key, I was glad to find it wasn’t stinky. Just the opposite, I discovered, as I impulsively leaned toward the shirt hanging from a hook and breathed in. The familiar, pleasant smell filled my nose, the combination of laundry detergent, shampoo, and deodorant that formed Paul’s particular scent. The smell brought back so many memories that I stood there for a second, overwhelmed by them all.
Then I remembered where I was, and I reached into the locker and started rummaging through his backpack. I found the book at once. It was the largest thing in there, resting in between a three-ringed folder and a government textbook. I pulled it out, surprised by how dense it was.
A photograph that must’ve been stuck to the book fluttered to the ground and landed at my feet. I bent and picked it up, turning it over in my hands.
My own face stared back at me. I swallowed as a nameless emotion tightened in my chest. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but something akin to it. I recognized the photo, of course. It was from my freshman-year soccer season. Paul had asked me for a picture when we first started dating, and this was the only one I’d had at the time.
Why had he kept it? And what was he doing carrying it around in his backpack?
The simplest answer was that Lady Elaine had been right—he did have true feelings for me. But things were never simple with Paul. I didn’t know much about black magic, but I knew that a person’s likeness could be used against them in certain spells and curses. The thought sent a shiver slipping over my skin.
Swallowing back the ball of nerves in my throat, I slid the photo into my pocket and returned my attention to the book in my hands. The title on the cover and spine was faded beyond discernment. The leather cover was flexible like a Bible, instead of firm, making it hard to hold.
I turned and set the unwieldy thing down on the nearest bench. Then I flipped over the front cover to the title page. In a fancy, swirling script it read:
Puzzled, I started to leaf through the thin, flimsy pages, being careful not to tear them. Why would Paul want a book on Atlantis? He was a senior, not a sophomore. I couldn’t say for certain, but for the most part it seemed the curriculum at Arkwell varied by grade the same as it did in ordinary schools. And I knew for sure the magickind government regulated what the students were taught. Which meant Paul should’ve studied Atlantis two years before.
Not that I could blame him for his interest in this book. Although there was plenty of text on the pages, there were also dozens of extremely detailed and fascinating illustrations. Some depicted the buildings while others showed genuine Atlanteans who really didn’t look very different from the students and teachers at Arkwell aside from their archaic clothing. But the clothing itself was strange enough for studying. One picture showed a woman wearing a pointy hat nearly as tall as she was. Another was of a man wearing a robe with hanging sleeves so long I had to wonder how exactly he accomplished certain bathroom functions without taking it off.
As I continued to flip through, the illustrations grew broader in topic until I reached a section full of intricate maps. The first few showed the entire city itself while further in they grew more specific, some revealing the layout of important buildings and some looking more like architecture drawings than anything else.
And to think it was all real, and all buried somewhere out in the ocean. The thought made my imagination come alive with possibilities, wonderment like the sudden feel of weightlessness as a roller coaster breasts the first hill.
The loud crash of a nearby door slamming open brought me right back to reality with a sickening plunge. Crap oh crap oh crap. I leaped up, slammed Paul’s locker shut, and then dove for cover behind a nearby towel cart. I would’ve dove into it and hidden beneath the towels—disgusting or not—but this early in the morning it was empty.
A few seconds later, more than a dozen boys crowded into the locker room, all of them sweaty, loud, and alarmingly male. But the swearing and shouts didn’t bother me nearly as much as some of the topics of conversation. My ears burned so hot I feared they would shrivel up and fall off. If I listened too long, I would be scarred for life. Even though the bin hid all of me except for my feet and ankles, I felt completely exposed and vulnerable.
I squatted down with my back leaning against the wall and positioned my face so I could stare out through one of the grommets in the rough woven fabric that formed the towel bin. From this vantage point I had a clear shot of Paul as he entered the locker bay. I held my breath, mentally kicking myself for being so stupid. The Atlantean Chronicle felt like a giant rock in my hands. Why hadn’t I put it back? Paul was bound to notice it missing the second he picked up his backpack.
As he started to undress—giving me a flash of glistening, sweat-drenched skin over hard muscle—I turned away, a blush heating my body from head to toe. Stupid move, Dusty. Really stupid.
Fortunately when I peeked out a few moments later, it was to watch him walk off with his shower caddy in hand and a fresh white towel wrapped around his waist. I raised my head high enough to glance over the top of the bin. With any luck most of the boys would be in the shower, and I could make a break for it.
Crap. Frank Rizzo, one of the few senior boys I knew by sight, was standing in front of his locker only half-undressed. He was a Mors demon, the kind that feed on death magic, with a reputation for being nasty. Still, he was the only person around at the moment.
Acting quick before my nerves talked me out of it, I raised my hand toward the ceiling and cast a darkness spell. The spell was one of the first ones I’d ever learned, a necessary survival skill for Nightmares. For once my magic worked perfectly. All the lights in the room went out, the darkness like thick, black drapes being drawn over my eyes.
Shouts echoed down the way toward me. I blinked a couple of times, willing my eyes to adjust faster. Fortunately, my half-Nightmare side let me see well in the dark. Not perfectly, the way a full-blooded Nightmare could, but enough that I was able to dart out from behind the towel bin and start running for the door without fear of running into anything.
Only, I hadn’t accounted for the book, so big and awkward. I rounded a corner too tight, striking the locker with the top of the book. It tumbled out of my hands, struck the ground, and scooted several feet, disappearing beneath a bench. I dove for it, heart ramming against my rib cage.
I couldn’t find it at first and started to panic. Any moment now someone would figure out what was going on and utter the counter spell to turn the lights back on. Finally, my hands closed around it, and I lurched to my feet. I clutched the book to my chest like something that would break if I dropped it again then darted for the exit.
Just as I reached it, a hand closed around my arm, fingers pinching. I shrieked at the same time as a familiar voice spoke my name.
“Hypno-soma,” I said automatically. A bright burst of magic exploded from my fingertips, highlighting Paul’s stunned face as the spell struck him in the chest. He stumbled backward, his grip on my arm slackening.
I turned and bolted through the door, and I didn’t stop running for a long, long time.
15
A Crow’s Feast
I hid The At
lantean Chronicle on the top of a storage shelf inside one of the secret passageways of Vatticut Hall. Only Ms. Hardwick ever used the passage, and she was several inches shorter than me, guaranteeing she wouldn’t see it unless she went climbing—not very likely given her plumpness.
Keeping the book with me was a bad idea. It was evidence that I had been in the locker room, and I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that Paul wouldn’t come looking for it, looking for me.
Damn. Why does everything always have to go so wrong?
There was no answer to my silent question as I made my way to spell-casting class. I’d briefly considered going to the infirmary for real, but Miss Norton had written down the time on the note excusing me, and I was well beyond it. I figured it better to try my luck with Mr. Carbuncle than attempting to account for my whereabouts for the duration of the last class period to the infirmary nurses.
Mr. Carbuncle was in a generous mood, and I got off with only a verbal reprimand for my tardiness. But despite my good fortune, I was a nervous wreck when I left the classroom to head to third period. I expected Paul to ambush me around every corner. And whenever I spotted the red and black uniform of a Will Guard, I braced for them to stop me. The darkness spell wasn’t exactly illegal, not for Nightmares, but casting it during school hours—and in the boy’s locker room, no less—surely was.
But for whatever reason, everything went smoothly. That was, until lunchtime. Eli had stopped off at his locker before heading to the cafeteria, and one look at his face as he arrived told me he had heard the rumor about the locker room prank and had figured out what I’d really been up to during English class.
“You said you were going to look around Britney’s locker,” he said, holding out his hand for the moonwort key.
I couldn’t bring myself to look in his eyes as I gave it to him. “I did. Like I said, it was empty.”
“Right. But you failed to mention you were checking Paul’s locker, too.”
I began to fidget with my napkin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be worried.”
He slid the key into his pocket. “So you were just trying to protect me, huh?”
“Yes.” I dared to meet his gaze.
“I’m not the one in need of protection.” I started to argue but he cut me off. “I understand why you did it, and I also realize that you’re too stubborn to drop this crap with Paul, so I’ll make you a deal. I won’t fight you on it anymore if you promise to be honest about what you’re doing and to let me help.”
I stared at him, unsure how to respond.
“I just want to keep you safe,” Eli said. Then without waiting for my answer, he turned and walked off.
The subject didn’t come up again throughout the rest of the day or at dinner that night, but only because Eli had gone out to dinner once more, this time with his grandma.
“I wonder what Paul wants with that book,” Selene said for at least the tenth time as we ate. I’d told her about the photograph, too, but she’d dismissed it as unimportant by comparison. I didn’t quite believe her, but then again, it wasn’t like she could know his motivations for having it anyway.
I shrugged. “Beats me. But I’m going to go over every inch of it before I put it back in his locker.”
Selene nodded. “And I would like to try the detection spell on it. But we need to do it fast. If Mr. Corvus finds out you stole the book, there’s no telling what kind of trouble you might be in.”
I swallowed, remembering the torturous hours I’d spent deciphering that ancient text. “Good point. I’ll sneak it out on my way home from my dream session with Eli tonight.”
The next few hours after dinner passed maddeningly slow. I spent the time in the dorm with Selene, doing my best to resist the urge to head down to Vatticut Hall and fetch The Atlantean Chronicle. But it was too risky. Until curfew, Paul could be anywhere. He could be out after curfew, too, I knew, but I figured it was a lot less likely.
Absolutely refusing to do homework on a Friday night, I wasted time on the computer, checking and rechecking all my favorite websites and reading through my Spellbook feed. As usual of late, Selene wasn’t proving to be much of a distraction. She was working on some sewing project for the home economics class she was taking this semester. The very idea of such a course made my skin crawl, but she seemed to be enjoying it.
“What are you working on?” I asked, eyeing the black coat draped over her lap and the needle and thread in her hands. The thread was strange. It was silvery in color and oddly textured, flimsy and light like gossamer. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought it was spider’s silk.
Selene glanced up. “Just a costume project.”
I frowned, taking a longer look at the garment. She seemed to be making some kind of alteration to the back of it. “For what?”
This time she didn’t look up. “Um, the drama club is putting on a play.”
“Fun,” I said, returning my attention to the computer screen.
Finally, the time came for me to leave. I slipped on my black leather moccasins, said good-bye to Selene, who was in the bedroom changing for bed, and then left the dorm. Eli was sitting at his desk in front of the computer when I arrived, the screen opened to a Spellbook page.
“Hey,” he said, not looking up as I walked in.
“Hey.” I sat down on the sofa, keenly aware of the lingering tension between us. I cleared my throat. “What are you looking at?”
Eli glanced over his shoulder, his smile clearing the air a little. “I’m trying to figure out what this Terra Tribe is all about.”
“Oh, yeah, that. I forgot to tell you in all the excitement of finding the joker card, but I know a little more about it.”
“Yeah?” Eli swung his chair around to face me.
I nodded, less than enthused by the idea of reliving the scene with Oliver Cork. But it was too late to stop now. I gave Eli the short version, leaving out the aftermath and how I’d gotten hit by the baseball bat inside the Gauntlet. I would go to my grave without telling him about that one. Fortunately, the story stung less than I thought it would, but it still left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.
By the end of it, Eli was scowling. “You’ve got to be kidding? Arkwell really allows that kind of stuff to go on?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Apparently. Selene says stuff like that has been happening for ages.”
Eli grunted and ran a hand through his hair. “No wonder I haven’t gotten a response to my request to join.”
I sat forward on the sofa. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s why I haven’t gotten one either. Talk about adding insult to injury.”
“For real.” Eli turned back to the computer and started clicking the mouse. “And it definitely paints the group in a different light.”
“You mean sinister?” I stood and walked over, coming to a stop behind his chair. He’d navigated to the Terra Tribe’s Spellbook page, but when he clicked on the friends’ list all he got was a message stating membership to the group was private and that his request to join was still pending.
Eli drummed his fingers on the desk. “What we need is someone who belongs to the group who’s willing to talk to us.”
“Yeah, but who?” I bit my lip. “Are you friends with Oliver on here? We might be able to find the members that way.”
Eli shook his head. “Nope. I’m not even friends with Britney. I don’t really friend people unless they ask me to. Too much hassle.”
I made a noncommittal “mmmm,” although the childish, prone-to-be-jealous part of me was secretly glad Britney hadn’t friended him.
“Actually, I think the only naturekind I’m friends with is Irene Stark,” Eli said, his fingers striking the keys as he entered a search.
I rolled my eyes at the back of his head. Britney would’ve been far preferable to Irene.
In seconds, Eli had pulled up Irene’s wall. He clicked on her info, and we both saw the Terra Tribe listed as one of her groups.
“Bingo,” Eli sa
id.
I caught myself grinding my teeth and stopped. “What makes you think she’ll talk to you about it?”
“I don’t know if she will or not, but I’m going to give it a go.”
Perfect.
“Are Oliver’s friends hidden or can you see them?” I asked, bending toward the desk.
“No idea.” Eli searched for Oliver and clicked on the link.
We could see the list all right. And it was long. Half of the people I didn’t recognize, many of them adults. I suspected quite a few might be Arkwell graduates. There were a number of photos of people wearing jerseys from the various international magickind universities.
Eli scrolled slowly through the first hundred or so then started moving through the rest more quickly. I recognized a couple of people but none that I knew well enough to try and get them to spill the beans on the Terra Tribe’s inner secrets.
That was until a familiar face caught my eye.
“Wait a minute.” I touched Eli’s shoulder, hyperaware of how warm he was and how close. “Go back up.”
Eli did as I asked, and he stopped in the right place without any prompting from me. He knew exactly which person I’d recognized. He beamed up at me. “Perfect. You can get her to talk for sure. She owes you big time.”
I nodded. Melanie Remillard did owe me, a little anyway. She had asked me to discover her best friend’s murderer, a task that eventually led to the showdown with Marrow. Still, I wasn’t wild about the idea of asking her about the Terra Tribe. She seemed nice enough, but after the way Oliver had behaved, I wasn’t sure I could count on her to help. Nevertheless I said, “I’ll ask her about it as soon I can. I’ll get Selene to come with me. She knows Melanie better.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Eli tapped his wand ring against the desk. “She might not be willing to tell us much about the group, but she should at least be able to shed some light on Britney’s activities that night. And it’s not like we have any reason to believe there’s a connection between the Terra Tribe and what happened to her.”
The Nightmare Dilemma (Arkwell Academy) Page 13