“Perfect!” Owen exclaims, already heading back. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s take the shortcut,” Jack says as we step inside.
We head down a narrow hallway and burst out through the opposite door into a vast courtyard. Despite the dim light, I can make out an enormous dark shape in the center, one so large it blots out the other side of the building completely.
“What’s that?” I ask, stopping when I see movement in the hedge that seems to spring out of its trunk like a hairy leg.
“Just an apple tree,” Bri says, pulling on my arm. “Come on, this side. The other’s blocked off.”
“Unless you wanna make out with someone,” Owen snorts.
Bri slaps him across the head. “Don’t be such a ninny!” she says, then adds quietly to me, “Though it is true what he says. That’s a notorious kissing spot.”
We veer left, hop over a low row of shrubs, and peel down the dirt path toward the opposite side. I can’t take my eyes off the tree’s massive shadow as we reach the other end of the inner courtyard. They open another door, and we find ourselves at the tail end of a thinning crowd of students that’s heading past a wide, arched door, through which I can already detect the smell of fried eggs and sausages.
“Just a moment,” Jack says as we’re about to enter the dining room.
“Can’t this wait?” Owen asks. “All the sausages are gonna be gone!”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” Jack retorts.
We move to the side of the corridor where a large board filled with news clippings and regulations takes up a whole span of the wall.
“Anything you like in there?” Owen asks, growling with impatience.
“Nothing we didn’t know before,” Jack says with a sigh. “Nothing more on those kidnappings either.”
“Why anyone would want to go on Island Park beats me,” Bri says, and I remember the news clipping found in my parents’ office.
“Are there aliens too?” I ask, scared of the answer.
“Of course not,” Jack says.
“I’d think we have enough with the Fey,” Bri adds.
Somehow, her answer makes me feel a little better, and I follow her inside.
“Don’t worry,” Owen repeats for the umpteenth time. “We’ve only covered theory, so you’re not that far behind.”
“You shouldn’t dismiss what we’ve learned,” Jack says.
Owen shrugs. “In my humble opinion, practice is the best way to learn.”
“There’s nothing humble about you,” Bri retorts, and her twin answers with a grin.
I nearly collapse into my bowl of oatmeal when something heavy lands on my back.
“My, isn’t this Arthur’s sister?” a loud, deep voice says, nearly ripping my eardrum apart. “Enchanté.”7
The weight lifts from my back, and I find a pair of massive boys making deep curtsies before me. They straighten up gracefully, their smiles bright within their dark faces, and an insane amount of silvery studs adorning their ears. I’d almost think they were twins as well, except where one is broad and completely bald, the other is tall and has a full head of dreadlocks.
“Wonderful performance,” the tall one says, “at church, you know.”
“The best we’ve seen,” the other one adds, “forever and ever.”
“It’s ‘in a long time,’ you sophomoric buffoon,” the tall one says.
The other one frowns. “I don’t like being called a monkey.”
“I said buffoon, not baboon,” the tall one says. He then extends a large hand toward me. “Gauvain, at your service.”
“And Gareth,” says the other, pushing the first one out of the way.
Tentatively, I shake their hands, getting my hands reduced to a pulp in the process.
“I had no idea Arthur was keeping such a pretty sister away from us,” Gauvain says.
I blush and find myself completely tongue-tied, but considering I’m facing a man nearly twice my height and quite evidently all muscle, I feel I’m excused.
“Shut yer big bazoo,” Percy says, playfully punching Gareth in the arm despite barely reaching his navel.
They could easily crush him if they wanted to, but the two boys don’t seem to mind, and instead make more room for him around our table.
“Be sure to ask if you have any problem with lessons,” Gareth says. “I’d be delighted to help you.”
“She’d be better off getting help from a baboon,” Gauvain retorts.
Gareth’s brows lower. “Did you call me a monkey again?”
“No,” Gauvain says. “I said you were worse than one, my—”
He doesn’t get to finish, for Gareth punches him in the stomach, sending the taller boy flying over the table and into the solid wall.
I cringe at the sharp ringing Gauvain makes when he rebounds off the stones, but the moment he hits the ground, he’s back up on his feet again.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he says, flexing his hands, a bluish glow throwing sparks around his knuckles.
“Enough,” Percy says. “Mind the company.”
Gareth and Gauvain weigh each other up for another full second before finally relaxing their stands. With a jerk of his head, Percy gets them to follow him out, stopping by just long enough to talk with two Asian girls at another table.
Moving very slowly, I set my fork back down on the table before I stab someone with it. Next to me, Owen, Jack, and Bri are staring with their mouths agape.
“You-You saw it too, right?” I squeak.
“Aren’t they amazing?” Owen says. “Full KORT members!”
“And they came to you,” Bri adds in awe. “And not just the cousins, but Sir Percy as well!”
“You didn’t…” I sputter. “You seen it, you dididii…”
Giving up on trying to make sense, I gulp my tea down, then gasp as it burns my throat.
“You OK there?” Owen asks, patting my back.
“His hand!” I rasp.
“Yeah, he was about to use an elemental!”
“Which he shouldn’t have,” Jack says, frowning. “It’s dangerous, especially with all these people around.”
“Oh, come on,” Owen retorts. “Percy stopped them. Besides, they know what they’re doing. They’re KORT members!”
“See?” Bri says. “It’s a good thing to be related to the president. Then everyone likes you.”
“Well, not everyone,” Jack says, pointing to the other end of the dining hall.
Still fanning my tongue, I look over my shoulder and find myself locking gazes with the haughty Jennifer, who appears to have been ditched by my brother.
“Beautiful people don’t like it when others become the center of attention,” Jack whispers.
“Not Jennifer,” Owen retorts. “She’s a true angel!”
As I watch the blonde girl strut out of the room, I have a feeling that Owen may be delusional.
Classes starting at seven, we leave the dining hall the moment we hear the church bells ring the hour. I relegate the fight to the deepest recesses of my mind, willing the whole incident never to have occurred—if only to keep my sanity for a while longer.
As we make our way up another narrow staircase, the sunlight filters through the slitted windows, crisscrossing the steps like a bar code.
“I still can’t believe you know so many people from KORT!” Owen says, jumping up a couple of steps. “I mean, even regular knights don’t usually bother with us, unless it’s for chores.”
“Morgan!”
We all pause to find my roommate, Keva, descending the steps toward us. Panting, she stops a step above me and hands me a bag.
“Your books,” she says. “You forgot to bring them with you.”
Staring incredulously at her, I grab the heavy bag and hoist it onto my back. “Uh…thanks?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t shut her up in the dark, she wouldn’t have forgotten,” Bri says.
The two girls stare at each other for a
long moment, and I worry they’re going to go for each other’s throats, when Keva smiles.
“That was an accident,” she says, and she pushes Bri away to stand next to me.
As we make our way down the third floor, I notice people stop in their tracks to stare at me and whisper behind their hands. I feel myself turn crimson, and I accelerate my pace.
We find the rest of the class already seated, though no teacher in sight.
“What happened to Boris?” Keva calls out, dumping her books on the first desk next to the windows.
“How should I know?” a portly boy with a big nose retorts. “Hey, who’s the tall girl with you? Is she some half giant you’ve brought for a presentation?”
The boy and his two friends snort out in laughter.
“Daniel, if you can’t come up with better insults, you may as well shut up. Besides,” Keva adds as I find a seat near the back, “she’s Arthur’s sister, so you better keep your tongue extra civil.”
“Oh yeah?” Daniel says, turning in his seat so he can see me. “How come I’ve never heard of her? Maybe she’s so dumb her family was afraid to show her in public!”
I ignore the jab and pretend to be looking through my books.
“Of course that’s not why,” Keva says, complacent. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have been allowed here. Right, Morgan?”
I sink lower into my seat, wishing she wouldn’t involve me. What am I supposed to say? That they only brought me in after I was accused of killing one of my old classmates?
“I’m just his half sister,” I say instead.
Smiling, Keva draws closer to me, a well-worn notepad open in her hands. “So tell me, what toothpaste does he use? And what’s his soap brand? Does he wear slippers or go barefoot? And what about bedtime?”
“What about bedtime?” I ask.
“Well, what does he wear?” Keva asks, sitting on top of my desk. “Pajamas or the more common shorts and T-shirt? Or better yet”— she lowers her voice to a loud whisper—“does he sleep in the nude?”
“How should I know?” I say, pulling away. “It’s not like I sleep with him.”
“But you live with him,” Keva says.
“As of yesterday,” I retort. “Until then, I was away in Europe.”
Keva’s hand falls limp in her lap. “Yes, but there were summer vacations, and Christmas holidays,” she continues with dogged determination. “I mean, surely you must know something! Did he ever wear braces? Did he get grounded often when he was little?”
“I think I need some fresh air,” I say, rushing outside.
Thankfully, she doesn’t follow me, and I manage to have a respite from the onslaught of questions. Closing my eyes, I lean against the wall and take a shuddering breath.
Surely you’re not having another panic attack because of some crazy fangirl?
“Shut up,” I say. “I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”
But I can’t deny my guardian angel’s right: her probing shows that my family only sent me away to forget all about my existence, and letting others know would be like accepting it, and that would hurt too much.
When I feel I’ve regained some composure, I open my eyes again and see, like a vision from Hell, a large shadow fast approaching, dead silent along the cobbled walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. The half-man, half-animal shape, the long, double-pointed beard, the sniffling and grunting…there’s no doubt about it.
I shriek, and dash back inside the classroom.
“Demon!” I yell. “In the hallway!”
Keva and Owen rush over to poke their heads out the door. “Where?” they ask.
“It was this close to me,” I say, bringing my thumb and forefinger together until they almost touch. “And it was making weird noises, and it had horns, and—”
A shiver courses through me as a light clippity-clop reverberates down the corridor. Every cell in my body’s poised for flight, but I can’t make myself leave my new friends behind, defenseless.
I try to pull Keva and Owen away from the door and the danger lurking outside. “We need to get out of here!”
Owen bursts out laughing. “You mean Puck?” He’s so incapacitated by his chortling that he has to hold on to a desk not to fall.
I look back outside to find the owner of that terrifying shadow appear around the corner, its beady eyes staring me down beneath a pair of small horns. It lurches toward us on a set of hairy hooves, its fists swinging from side to side with every step.
My hands unclench as the strange creature reaches the level of our class. Belying his gargantuan silhouette, it barely manages to reach my knees, and I do feel somewhat foolish at my initial reaction.
“Puck?” I say.
The creature looks around at the mention of his name, but otherwise doesn’t stop.
“Our resident hobgoblin,” Bri says, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Hobgoblin?” I repeat feebly.
“Another Fey type,” Owen says. “Kinda like elementals.”
Keva tsks. “Daniel, I must apologize to you,” she says. “You were right. She is just a backwater dimwit who’s been held back. There’s no other explanation for it.”
Breathe, just breathe, I remind myself.
“You really don’t look too good,” Bri says when I sit next to her.
Eyes closed, I rest my head on my books. “I’m OK,” I say, more for my sake than hers.
“It’s really not that bad,” she says.
“So you keep saying.” I straighten up. “But I thought angels had”—I flutter my hands about my sides—“wings, you know?”
Bri cocks her head. “Well, some do, of course. Just like some of them look like us, but there are some who look… different.”
“And don’t forget about those who can change shapes,” Jack says, sitting before her.
“But then, how can you tell them apart from us?” I exclaim.
I hear Daniel snort on the other side of the room. “I would think it’s rather obvious, wouldn’t you?” he says, and his two friends snicker. “Puck doesn’t exactly look human.”
“Obviously!” I snap, then point at Bri accusingly. “But she said they could look like us!”
I bite on my lip to stop myself, but I know it’s too late when I see the hurt look on Bri’s face. Cheeks burning, I turn away. No matter my best intentions, I always end up ruining everything I touch, one of the reasons I never keep any friends.
A tall, burly man enters the room, the light from the chandeliers reflecting off his shining pate. He eyes us, his long mustache hanging severely low like the tusks of a walrus.
“All rise,” says a surly girl at the front. “And bow.”
At once, the class obeys and says, loud and clear, “Good morning, Sir Boris.”
The teacher’s gait is slow and uneven as he makes his way to the lectern, his clothes clanking and clinking with every step.
“I don’t like how you talk to my sister,” Owen whispers to me over his shoulder. I try to ignore him as he turns around. “And for your information, she did say Fey didn’t all look like us.”
Sir Boris clears his throat. “Mr. Vaughan,” he says, setting a large book down on his desk.
Owen spins around.
“Considering class has started, you may share what you have to say with the rest of us.”
“I was just telling her some Fey look like us,” Owen says, sheepish. “Sir.”
“So they can,” the teacher says, nodding so his mustache comes to rest on his large stomach. “So how can you distinguish them from us?”
“Uh…pointy ears?” Owen ventures.
The class bursts out laughing. “Always ready to entertain, aren’t you, Mr. Vaughan,” Sir Boris says. “But perhaps your neighbor will once again enlighten you?”
“The Fey don’t like iron, sir,” Jack answers automatically, and I see Owen slap his hand to his forehead. “So anyone who wears it is human. It’s also how we identify ourselves.”
�
��Right,” Sir Boris says. “Now everyone sit and put your books away. We’re having a quiz.”
A collective groan rises from the seats, but the teacher makes his slow way from desk to desk unfazed, distributing his sheets.
When he arrives besides me, he hands me a test as well, but adds, “No need to worry, Pendragon. This time I’ll let you find the answers in your book.”
“Thank you, Professor,” I say.
“It’s ‘sir,’” the large man says, moving on to the next desk.
While everyone’s writing away madly under the pressure of a ticking grandfather clock, I open the book in question: A Field Guide to Elementals.
With trembling fingers, I flip the pages to the introduction and start reading.
Many believe that, being the simplest form of elvins one can find, elementals are also the easiest to tame, but that is not so. This field guide was created with the intent to discuss the four major families and their sixteen genera, their strengths and weaknesses, and the best methods to subdue them. This edition also has an extra section on the maintenance of the creatures once captured.
I pause, take a deep breath, then turn the page. The first chapter talks about the classification of various elementals with four main branches linked to the four elements: gnomes for earth, undines or nymphs for water, sylphs for air, and salamanders for fire. I pause at the last illustration—a drawing of the incandescent lizard that lit up my dorm room! And now I wish my high-tech nuclear version was correct.
I hide my face in my book, on the verge of tears again. What have I done to deserve this? This, there’s no doubt about it, is a book of witchcraft. And the Bible’s clear on its stance on anything related to sorcery—it’s the same as transacting with the Devil himself! I cross myself at the thought, but…
Surely having a quick look isn’t going to be enough to send me to Hell, is it? And, unable to resist my curiosity, I resume my reading.
This is, by far, the strangest class I’ve ever taken, and the more I read, the more I realize the world is a lot more vast and unfathomable than I’ve ever realized. Which I find both terrifying and…a little exciting. Sister Marie-Clémence wouldn’t have recognized me if she’d seen the avidity with which I peruse the book, or the keen interest I take in the lecture that follows the quiz.
Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) Page 5