Hex Hall Book One

by Rachel Hawkins

  Her words sounded garbled, like she was mumbling around a mouthful of marbles. Then I realized that she was mumbling around a mouthful of fangs.

  Nausicaa had the good sense to look a little scared. She turned to the blue faerie and said, “Come on, Siobhan. Let’s let this animal get control of herself.”

  The two of them rose. They glided past me and down the stairs.

  I looked back at Taylor, who was still panting, her eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, she shuddered, and when she opened her eyes, they were brown again. Then she looked up and saw me standing there.

  “Faeries,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Right,” I said. Like I’d ever seen a faerie before today.

  “This your first day too?” she asked.

  When I nodded, she said, “I’m Taylor. Shifter, obviously.”

  “Sophie. Witch.”

  “Cool.” She knelt on the couch the faeries had vacated, folding her arms on the back and looking at me with those dark eyes.

  “So what did you do to get in here?”

  I glanced around. No one was paying attention to us.

  Still, I kept my voice kind of quiet. “Love spell gone wrong.”

  Taylor nodded. “There’s a bunch of witches in here for stuff like that.”

  “You?” I ventured.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and said, “Pretty much what you just saw. Lost my temper with some girls at marching band practice, lioned out. But that’s nothing compared to the crap some of the kids here have pulled.” She leaned forward and her voice dropped to a near whisper. “This one werewolf, Beth? I hear she actually ate some girl. Still,” she sighed, looking past me toward the stairs, “I’d rather have somebody like that for a roommate than a snotty faerie.”

  She looked back at me. “What are you rooming with?”

  I didn’t like the way she said “What,” so my tone was a little sharp when I said, “Jenna Talbot.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dude. The vamp?” She chuckled. “Forget it. I’ll take a bitchy faerie over that any day.”

  “She’s not so bad,” I said automatically.

  Taylor shrugged and picked up the remote she’d thrown at Nausicaa. “If you say so,” she murmured, turning the TV back on.

  Apparently our conversation was over, so I headed to the second floor. That was Boy World, so I couldn’t really do any exploring. The layout was identical to the third floor, but their lounge area looked even more beat up than ours. Stuffing was leaking out of one of the couches, and a card table leaned crookedly in the corner. There was no one in there, but I did glance down one of the halls. I saw Justin trying to maneuver a huge trunk into what I guessed was his room. He paused, and his shoulders sagged with defeat. I felt a little sorry for him. Watching him try to push around a trunk that was nearly as tall as he was reminded me that, vicious werewolf or not, he was just a little kid. Then he turned, saw me, and, I boy you not, snarled.

  I hurried down the stairs and onto the first floor. It was quiet down there. I only saw a couple of people hanging around, including a tall jock-looking guy all in denim and flannel. I wondered if he was someone’s older brother, since he looked too old to be at Hecate, and he was wearing jeans instead of khakis.

  My footsteps were muffled by a thick oriental rug in swirling shades of red and gold as I turned down one of the hallways off the main foyer.

  I peeked into the first room I came to. It looked like it had once been a dining room, or maybe a large parlor. Directly across from the door, one wall was nothing but windows, finally allowing me a good look at the grounds. This room overlooked a small pond with a pier and a pretty, ramshackle cabin. But what really struck me was all the green. The grass, the trees, the thin coat of algae on the pond, where I really, really hoped we wouldn’t be canoeing or anything . . . all of it was this bright, hurt-your-eyes green that was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Even the heavy clouds that were beginning to swell with the threat of an afternoon thunderstorm seemed lime-tinted.

  The carpet in this room was also green, and it felt soft, almost mushy underfoot, making me think of moss or fungus. Pictures covered the other three walls. Every one showed the same thing: a group of Prodigium gathered on the front porch. I didn’t know if they were witches or shifters, but there were no faeries. A tiny gold plaque at the base of every frame told the year, starting in 1903 and ending with last year’s picture, just to the right of the door.

  There were only six adults in the oldest picture, and all of them looked really serious, like they’d probably kicked kittens for fun. Younger Prodigium didn’t start showing up until 1967. I wondered if that was the first year Hecate Hall had become a school. And if so, what was it before then?

  Last year, there were nearly a hundred kids, and everybody looked a lot more relaxed. I spotted Jenna in the front, standing next to a taller girl. They had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and I wondered if this was the mysterious Holly.

  To be honest, I felt a little jealous. I couldn’t imagine ever being close enough to someone to casually put my arm around them in a picture. In all my old school pictures I was always the one standing alone in the back with my hair in my face.

  Was that why Jenna had seemed so weird when I’d mentioned her old roommate? Had they been best buddies, and now I was the interloper trying to take Holly’s place? Great.

  “Sophia?”

  Startled, I turned around.

  The three most beautiful girls I’d ever seen in my life were standing behind me.

  Then I blinked.

  No, they weren’t all drop-dead gorgeous. It was just the one in the middle. She had auburn hair that fell in soft bouncy curls nearly to her waist. She probably didn’t even have to use a diffuser. I bet she woke up with her hair looking like something out of a Pantene commercial while little bluebirds circled around her head, and raccoons brought her breakfast or something.

  I also couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t have any freckles, which was enough to make me hate her instantly.

  The girl to her right was a blonde, and even though she had that whole California girl thing going—stick-straight hair, tan skin, deep blue eyes—her eyes were too close together, and when she smiled at me, I noticed she had a pretty bad overbite.

  Rounding out the trio was an African American girl who was even shorter than I was. She was prettier than the blonde, but nowhere near as lovely the redheaded goddess in the middle. Still, looking at the plainer of the three, it was like my brain wanted them to be beautiful. My eyes wanted to skip over all of their imperfections.

  A glamour. That was the only explanation, but I’d never heard of a witch using one. That was some serious magic.

  I must have been looking at them like I was mentally damaged or something, because the blonde snickered and said, “Sophia Mercer, right?”

  It was about then that I realized my mouth was literally hanging open. I closed it so quickly, it made a clacking sound that was really loud in the quiet room.

  “Yeah, I’m Sophie.”

  “Great!” said the short girl. “We’ve been looking for you. I’m Anna Gilroy. This is Chaston Burnett”—she gestured to the blonde. “And this is Elodie Parris.”

  “Oh,” I said, smiling at the redhead. “That’s pretty. Like ‘Melody’ without the ‘M.’”

  She smirked. “No, like Elodie.”

  “Be nice,” Anna admonished before turning back to me. “Chaston, Elodie, and I are sort of like the welcoming committee for new witches. So . . . welcome!”

  She stuck her hand out, and I briefly wondered if I was supposed to kiss it, before I came to my senses and shook it.

  “You three are witches?”

  “That’s what we just said,” Elodie retorted, earning another sharp look from Anna.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that I’ve never met any other witches before.”

  “Really?” Chaston asked. “Like, never met any witches at
all, or just never met any other dark witches before?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dark witches,” Elodie repeated, giving Nausicaa a run for her money in the Snottiest Tone Ever competition.

  “I . . . um . . . I didn’t know there were types of witches.”

  Now all three of them were looking at me as if I’d just spoken in a foreign language. “Yes, but you are a dark witch?” Anna asked, pulling a piece of paper from her blazer. It was some sort of list, and she scanned it intently. “Let’s see, Lassiter, Mendelson . . . here, Mercer, Sophia. Dark Witch. That’s you.”

  She handed me the list, which was titled “New Students.” There were about thirty names, all with classifications in parentheses. “Shapeshifter,” “Faerie,” and “White Witch.” Mine was the only one that said “Dark Witch.”

  “Dark and white? What, are we like chicken meat?”

  Elodie glared at me.

  “You really don’t know?” Anna asked gently.

  “Really don’t,” I said casually, but inside I was kind of annoyed. I mean, hello, what is the point of having a mom who’s supposed to be some sort of witch expert if she doesn’t know the really important stuff?

  I get that it’s not really her fault, and that most modern witchcraft information is highly secretive since they’re so freaked out about being discovered . . . but damn, this was getting embarrassing.

  “White witches—” Anna began, but Elodie cut her off.

  “White witches do weenie spells. Love spells, fortune reading, locator spells, and . . . I don’t know, making bunnies and kittens and rainbows appear out of thin air or whatever,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

  “Oh,” I said, thinking of Felicia and Kevin. “Yeah. Weenie spells.”

  “Dark witches do the bigger things,” Chaston offered. “And our powers are a hell of a lot stronger. We can make barrier spells, and if we’re really good, control the weather. We’re also necromancers if—”

  “Whoa!” I held up my hand. “Necromancers? Like, power over dead things?”

  All three girls nodded eagerly, like I’d just suggested going to the mall instead of raising zombies.

  “Ew!” I exclaimed without thinking.

  Mistake. Simultaneously, their smiles disappeared, and a distinct chill came over the room.

  “Ew?” Elodie sneered. “God, how old are you?Power over the dead is the most coveted power there is, and you’re grossed out by it? I swear,” she said, turning back to the other two, “are you serious about wanting her for the coven?”

  I’d heard of covens, but Mom always said they’d fallen out of favor in the last fifty years or so. These days, it was more like every witch for herself.

  “Hold up,” I started, but Anna cut in like I hadn’t even spoken.

  “She’s the only other dark witch here, and you know we need four.”

  “And I have the power of invisibility, apparently,” I muttered, but they all ignored me.

  “She’s worse than Holly,” Elodie said. “And Holly was the most pathetic excuse for a dark witch ever.”

  “Elodie!” Chaston hissed.

  “Holly?” I asked. “Like, Holly who used to room with Jenna Talbot?”

  Anna, Chaston, and Elodie managed a three-way glance, which is no easy feat.

  “Yes,” Anna said guardedly. “How do you know about Holly?”

  “I’m rooming with Jenna, and she mentioned her. So she’s a dark witch too? Did she graduate or something, or just move out?”

  Now all three of them looked genuinely freaked out. Even Elodie’s perma-sneer was replaced by a look of shock.

  “You’re rooming with Jenna Talbot?” she asked.

  “That’s what I just said,” I snapped, but Elodie seemed totally unfazed by my attempt at bitchiness.

  “Listen,” she said, taking my arm. “Holly didn’t graduate or leave. She died.”

  Anna moved in on the other side of me, her eyes wide and frightened. “And Jenna Talbot killed her.”

  CHAPTER 5

  When someone tells you somebody’s been murdered, laughing is probably not the best response. You know, for future reference.

  But laughing is exactly what I did.

  “Jenna? Jenna Talbot killed her? What did she do, smother her with pink glitter or something?”

  “You think this is funny?” Anna asked with a slight scowl.

  Chaston and Elodie were glaring at me, and I figured my temporary membership into their club was about to be revoked.

  “Well, yeah, kind of. I mean,” I amended quickly, afraid smoke might actually start pouring out of Elodie’s ears, “not that someone died. That’s awful, ’cause . . . you know, death—”

  “Yeah, we know. ‘Ew,’” Elodie said, rolling her eyes.

  “But the idea that Jenna could kill anyone is just . . . funny,” I finished lamely.

  Again with the three-way glance. Seriously, did they practice in front of a mirror?

  “She’s a vampire,” Chaston insisted. “Can you think of any other way Holly ended up with two holes in her neck?”

  All three of them had gathered around me now, like we were in a huddle. Outside, the late afternoon sun had finally disappeared behind heavy clouds, making the room feel even gloomier and more claustrophobic. Thunder had started rumbling, and I could smell that faint metallic scent that always comes before a storm.

  “When Holly started two years ago, we formed a coven,” Anna began. “The four of us were the only dark witches here, and you need four people for a really strong coven, so it seemed natural that we would become friends. But then Jenna Talbot showed up at the beginning of last year, and she and Holly became roommates.”

  “Next thing we know,” Chaston interjected, “Holly won’t hang out with us anymore. She starts spending all her time with Jenna, totally blowing us off. When we asked her why, all she would say was that Jenna was fun. Like, more fun than us.”

  She gave me a look that clearly said anyone being more fun than the three of them was impossible.

  “Wow,” I said faintly.

  “Then one day in March, I find Holly in the library crying,” Elodie said. “All she would tell me was that it was about Jenna, but she wouldn’t tell me what.”

  “Two days later, Holly was dead,” Chaston said, her voice dark and somber. I waited for another crack of thunder, thinking one surely had to follow a statement like that. But the only sound was the soft shushing of the rain.

  “They found her in the upstairs bathroom.” Elodie’s voice was almost a whisper. “She was in a tub, with two holes in her neck, and almost no blood left in her body.”

  By now my stomach was somewhere south of my knees, and I could actually feel my heart pounding in my ears. No wonder Jenna had freaked when I’d mentioned her roommate. “That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah. It was.” Chaston nodded.

  “But—”

  “But what?” Elodie’s eyes narrowed.

  “If everyone’s so sure it was Jenna, why is she still here? Wouldn’t the Council have staked her or something?”

  “They did send someone,” Chaston said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But the guy said Holly’s wounds couldn’t have been made by fangs. They were too . . . neat.”

  I swallowed. “Neat?”

  “Vampires are messy eaters,” Anna replied.

  I tried really hard to keep my face blank as I said, “Well, if the Council said it wasn’t Jenna, then it wasn’t her. Pretty sure those guys wouldn’t let a rabid vampire go to school with Prodigium kids.”

  Elodie was the only one of the three who would meet my eyes. “The Council was wrong,” she said flatly. “Holly was living with a vampire and she was killed by someone draining her blood through her neck. What else could have happened?”

  Chaston and Anna still weren’t looking at me. Something was definitely off here. I wasn’t sure why these girl were so determined make me believe Jenna was a killer, but I wasn’t buying it. Be
sides, the last thing I wanted to do on my first day was get wrapped up in some sort of witch/vamp gang war.

  “Look, I still have some unpacking to do—” I started to say, but Anna decided to change tactics.

  “Forget about the vamp for just a second, Sophie. Hear us out.” Her voice slid into a whine. “We really need a fourth for our coven.”

  “Yeah,” Chaston added. “And we could teach you so much about being a dark witch. No offense, but you seem like you could use the help.”

  “I’ll, uh, think about it, okay?”

  I turned to leave, but the door slammed shut inches from my face. Suddenly a wind seemed to blow through the room and the pictures on the walls rattled. When I turned back to the girls, all three of them were smiling at me, their hair rippling around their faces like they were underwater.

  The one lamp in the room flickered and went out. I could just make out silvery traces of light passing under the girls’ skin, like mercury. Even their eyes were glowing. They began to levitate, the tips of their Hecate-issue loafers barely brushing the mossy carpet. Now they weren’t homecoming queens or supermodels—they were witches, and very dangerous ones at that.

  Even as I fought the urge to fall to my knees and throw my hands over my head, I was wondering, was this what I was capable of? If I hadn’t been busy doing “weenie spells” like Felicia’s, would I have looked like this, my skin lit up with silver and my eyes on fire? The power I sensed surging up through them made me feel like I was in the room with a tornado, like I was about to be blown out of that wall of windows and into that scummy pond. As it was, the energy was enough to send the glass splintering out of three of the framed photographs. One thin sliver sliced my forearm, but I hardly felt it.

  Then, as quickly as it had started, the wind died down and the pictures stilled. The three girls in front of me no longer looked like primeval goddesses. They were just normal, if stunning, teenagers again.

  “See?” Anna said eagerly. “That’s what we can do with only three. Imagine what we could accomplish with four.”