A horrible chill comes over me.
What if that’s exactly what happened?
I freeze on the green. I’m on the backside of the garden. No one should be here. There’s no one in sight. I can’t even hear the voices of the other students anymore.
Fear grips me. I make a dash for the safety of the school. If there’s someone nearby who can take over my power and twist it on me, I don’t want to meet them when I’m alone.
Classes are already back in session when I reach the halls. I have no intention of sitting through a lecture right now. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
“Ebony.”
It’s Lucien.
This time, I make no attempt to hide the fact that I’m avoiding him. He’s taller and quicker than I am. It takes him no time to fall into stride with me.
“You look like you have seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Lucien.” I try to wave him off but he doesn’t let up.
“Don’t lie. It’s not becoming. We’ve been very worried.” He tries to cut in front of me but I sidestep him. I feel horrible doing it, but I shoot a small blast of ice at the floor. It makes a bigger ice patch than I want it to, but it makes Lucien slow down.
“That’s a dirty trick.” He gives me a look that makes my knees weak. “Under any other circumstances, I’d be very proud of you.”
“I need to be alone right now. Please respect that. Don’t follow me.”
“As you wish.” Lucien makes the ice disappear. He keeps his word. No doubt he’ll go running to the others about what I’ve done. They’ll descend upon me like well-meaning hounds of hell. What I wouldn’t do to make this all stop, just for a moment.
When I get to my room, I lock my door. Whoever stopped my spell can’t get me in here. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
It looks like I’m in for another sleepless night. I’m tempted to ask Seth to stay with me, but I can’t bring myself to reach out to him.
I’m in more danger than I realized. It’s best that I spend my time alone.
9
Kashton
The halls are dark in gathered shadows. Through the long windows that adorn the corridors starlight and a half moon lend a little light. Those dark edges though, they seem to draw in on me.
I’m not afraid of anything—except maybe, killing Ebony—but something in these shadows gives me pause.
It’s almost as if I can hear something in them. As if they are reaching for me. I stop and turn my back on the moonlight, staring defiantly into the shadows.
From a warrior or a wizard’s perspective, there are always dangers lurking in darkness. If it’s an attacker or a spirit, the best thing to do is face it.
Even with the strength of the moon at my back, the shadows seem menacing. Suddenly I feel very small. I don’t like it.
I take a couple of steps back, leaning on the bricks. I’m not going to run from a bunch of spooky shadows. I’m not prepared to turn my back on them, either.
As I look closer and my eyes draw in more of the faint light, I start to discern details in the corners. My pupils widen to use the low illumination, slowly bringing more focus to the hallway.
There is nothing there. No one standing in the corner and no spirit ready to accost the living.
I laugh at myself, just a little, and keep walking. My fears for Snow have crowded into my mind and made me see things, imagine things. The only crowding, menacing shadows are in my mind. Even tough, almost immortal warriors can have their moments I guess, especially if they are under pressure.
I move quietly into my room, letting the shadows seep across me. I don’t fear them; I know they help me hide myself when the mood suits me. Now that I’ve examined the dark and realized its only my state of mind that’s affected, I can take comfort in them concealing me again.
But when I lay down, I can’t sleep.
It’s as if the inside of my skin is hot and itchy. I toss and turn, throwing my blankets around. Frustrated, I get up, untwist them and lay them flat again. I lay down and try to settle my breathing. Every time I think I’m starting to relax I realize I’m fidgeting—picking at my fingernail, rubbing a toe. I’ll never get to sleep if I can’t stop wriggling around!
Breathing deeply, I put my hands by my sides. Starting from my feet I clench my muscles deliberately, one after the other, taking deep breaths and exhaling as I release.
Soft warmth starts to flood up my spine. It trickles across my head, cresting over my face. I crack each finger gently, twisting my head a little to feel the final crack go through my neck.
I focus on my breathing and on my body, knowing it is still and restful.
It happens as it usually does. Between one breath and another I feel a faint humming, a deep tingling through my bones and then I am somewhere else.
I’m walking through a forest with high, thick grass. It comes up to my thighs and is difficult to push through. Ahead, I can see a clearing full of sun. I hurry towards it.
As I stop at the edge of the light, I see Snow sitting under a lone tree in the center. She wears a white dress with tiny red hearts dotted on it. She holds an apple in one hand, about to bite it. The wind stirs her black hair, making it whip around her and hide her from view. As if the darkness is going to claim her.
I run forward, screaming. She pauses and looks at me, puzzled. She looks at the apple then back at me uncertainly.
The distance seems to stretch out before me, getting longer and longer. I’m not in a nice, friendly meadow. I’m on a dirt track that goes on forever and shimmers under a punishing, desert sun.
I run faster, refusing to be slowed down. With an extreme effort I put on the speed. It’s like pushing against a thrashing wave that wants to hammer me into the earth. When I see her raise the apple to her lips, mouth wide, I panic and leap for all I’m worth.
I land on her little checkered picnic blanket. The hellish heat, pressure and howling disappear like I’ve found a haven in hell. I grab her wrist lightly and pull the apple away from her mouth.
“No, no. Ebony. Don’t eat that.”
She smiles strangely, letting me move the apple away but still looking at it like she wants to bite it.
“It’s okay, Kashton. It won’t hurt.”
“That’s not the point. You can’t eat the apple. You can’t eat the…” Something that had apples in it. Something that almost killed her. Why can’t I remember it?
She smiles, laughing with a carefree ease.
“It’s okay.” She pulls the apple closer. “Everything will be fine.”
“No!” I rip the apple from her hand and hurl it away. It disappears into the field. She pouts a little.
“I needed that apple.” She says forlornly. “It was going to help me become who I’m meant to be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No.” she says sadly, shaking her head and looking at the ground. “You wouldn’t.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I’m tempted to grab her, to shake her and get her to speak straight to me. This is weird—it’s all just too weird.
She turns her eyes up to me again, starting to smile even though her eyes are very serious. As I meet her gaze, I feel like her eyes are not real somehow. Like someone substituted huge, shiny buttons for pupils.
She smiles and it is a terrible thing, her face twisting out of shape. To my horror, the little hearts on the dress have started to bleed, making trails of red all over her. She looks down at the dress and laughs, rubbing streams of blood through her hands.
“Don’t you know who I am?” She cackles. “Don’t you have any idea?”
I start to shuffle backwards but I don’t look behind me. I keep my eyes fixed on her. I don’t know what she’s going to do.
My hands suddenly grip on to nothing and I fall. One moment, sitting in the sun in the grass, the next, falling down a dark, freezing cold shaft.
For a few seconds I’m in the halls again
. The moonlight is chasing the shadows and I’m running to stay ahead of both of them. I can’t pump my legs fast enough and the shadows have come alive with the hammering of a million scuttling feet.
Without warning I fall, screaming as the hard, stone walkway vanishes beneath my feet. The drop is a long one.
The impact bruises me inside and out. I’m not seriously hurt but I do feel tenderized by the slam against the cold stone.
I can hear a trickling sound, like I might be in an underground cave with a stream nearby. I try to absorb the light like I did in the hallway, but there is none. None at all.
I hear a series of clicking, slithering sounds. I sit bolt upright, listening as hard as I can. I can’t see.
“Kashton.” The voice is low and soothing, a relaxing purr. I reach for it; I bond to it. I ache for something to make sense and this voice speaks with so much care. I want to hear it.
“You know, they know, don’t you?”
“What, who?”
“The others. They know about her, and they know about you.”
“What do they know?”
The shuffling, sharp clicking, shimmers around me and the voice comes from a different direction.
“One is hiding something. You know that, don’t you?”
I try to resist, to think my way out of this. I already know my fears got the better of me once tonight. I can see through this.
But when I try to think about it, I see Lucien. Withdrawn, quiet, expression as dark as a sudden summer storm.
Definitely hiding something.
I can’t deny the truth of the voice.
“He does.” I breathe it into the air. “He does have a secret.”
“Yes.” Her voice is a little urgent, a hiss, like I should do something. “He does. Don’t trust him. Don’t trust her.”
For a moment I struggle forcefully against the feelings inside me. I’m so full of conflict I can’t move. I want to trust Ebony and the others. I don’t want to give into my fears.
But what if it’s not fear. What if it’s real?
I can’t take that chance.
I feel a tug inside, as if I’m being called. I pick myself up off the floor, painfully. I still feel bruised from the inside out. I take a few steps, the stone cold under my feet.
I hear the shirring surrounding me, moving so fast it seems to form a ring around me. It doesn’t close in or make me feel trapped. It feels comforting as if it coming between me and a terrible fate.
“Come, Kashton.” The voice whispers. I hear the rattling of those very pointy, hard feet and I turn towards it, putting one foot in front of the other.
From somewhere far away, I hear cruel laughter ringing against the stone at the pitch of breaking glass. It disturbs me but the trance that wraps my mind is full of comfort and peace. I can’t struggle against it. I won’t.
I let it overtake me and move away from the ringing laughter towards the warmth and truth I can sense in the dark.
I was wrong. There was something in the shadows.
But it wasn’t my doom. It was my salvation.
10
Ebony
I look at the handful of biscuits in my hand without enthusiasm. A few minutes ago, in class, I couldn’t wait to get out on a break. A nice handful of chocolate chip cookies and a cocoa sounded like the best thing in the world.
But now that I’m sitting under a tree with Ivora, my stomach is leaping around, and I think I’ve still got those butterflies trapped in my throat. I can’t imagine eating on a stomach like this.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I can’t sleep properly. I’m just irritable all the time. Even though the dorm is always quiet and dark, spaced with the comforting sounds of others relaxed and in repose, I can’t settle there. It’s as if dark dreams crowd at me, before I even get to sleep. Then, I’m afraid to try, thinking that the dreams will only be waiting for me on the other side of my eyelids.
Ivora’s chattering is so incessant I think it’s contributing to my loss of appetite. She looks around brightly, taking in the students moving past and not pausing in her comments.
“So, did you hear Dorothea and Stefan are together? It’s such a scandal because he was with Electra before and—”
“Ivora. Why should I care? Do I even know Dorothea?”
“Sure, you do. Remember that party where you guys met and talked about a book you had read. I forget the name.”
“Well, I’ve forgotten to entire incident.”
She frowns. “We once bitched about her green nail polish. I mean, dark, glittering, poison green. That’s a nail polish. Bright, glowing lime green? No. Unacceptable.”
I hold in a sigh with extreme difficulty. Ivora isn’t usually this occupied with trivial things. We have been friends for so long because we have the opportunity to talk about the nuances of magic and all the small things, we can do that so far, others can’t.
I know it’s a usual thing for girls our age to gossip about other relationships and expressions of their individuality. Commenting on it helps us refine our version of ourselves. It only becomes toxic when we start to judge others, put them down to make ourselves feel better.
“Ivora. I’m not sure why I should care.” I look at my cookies again and try to nibble on one. It tastes good on my tongue, but it makes me feel ill. I crumble them slowly into the dirt, attracting a tiny flock of little brown birds. They chirp up at me, cleaning up the crumbs gratefully. I smile warmly at their antics, feeling far more interesting than conversations about potential break up fights and nail polish.
As I turn around, dusting off my hands I see Ivora is staring at me, shocked expression on her face. Her cheeks have small spots of flame and her eyes are wide.
“Ebony, what the hell.”
“What?” Her expression alarms me.
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird! I’m just not interested in Dorothea or whoever it is you are talking about. I don’t see why I should waste my time thinking about people I don’t even remember.”
“You’ve changed so much.” Ivora’s face falls and her voice trembles. “You used to sit and gossip with me every day. Now you don’t even talk to me—”
“We are talking. Right now. Seriously, I’m not abandoning you.”
“But you are! You’re sitting right here but you won’t talk to me! Are we even friends?”
“Of course, we are.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Not from where I’m sitting.” She folds her arms.
I take a small sip of my cocoa, finding it doesn’t upset my stomach.
“Ivora. I apologize. But I don’t feel like I have any friends right now. No matter how trustworthy, no matter how close, everyone has betrayed me lately. Everyone.”
“But not me.”
“No. Not you. Not so far.”
That comment seems to spark off and endless, peerless silence. Ivora stares at me. I stare at the leaves above us, the winking sky, my cocoa. Anywhere but Ivora.
I know what I just said. I have a pretty good idea how it made her feel. But there’s nothing I can do—I finally understand the meaning of the word ‘heartsick’. It just hammers at me, all day every day, a relentless onslaught of loss.
Everything I had, all the simple things I enjoyed—either in this life or my last—are gone. My death is lurking all around me. A far worse fate of being possessed looms.
Finally, I bring my eyes back to Ivora. She stares at me with wide, hurt eyes.
“Why can’t you talk to me? What’s happened?” She sounds plaintive and desperate. I want to respond to her, just open up my heart and tell her everything.
I desperately want some comfort. I want someone I can talk to who I know I can trust. But that’s just the thing. I don’t know who I can trust. Looking into Ivora’s face I feel terrible. I know this is hurting her. I know the chances of her betraying me are very slim.
It’s a chance I just can’t take.
>
“I’m sorry.” I say it bluntly and look at the ground. I know she can hear in my voice that I’m not sincere.
“Don’t be sorry.” She snaps. “Be truthful. That’s the only thing that can help here. Just tell me why you are being so mean.”
I sigh into my cup, taking another sip of cocoa.
“I’m not being mean. I just don’t feel like talking. There is nothing to talk about.”
“Bull. You’re sitting here moping and staring off into space. You’re not paying attention to what I’m saying, when just a few weeks ago you would have had some very loud opinions about lime green nail polish.”
That line does tug a smile out of me. For a moment we grin into each other’s eyes. The moment is intense and sweet as we share honest friendship.
But I can’t maintain it. I see traps everywhere. I can’t trust anyone. I feel my face fall again and hide it behind my cup.
“Ebony, please.” She tries to put out a hand but takes it back again. “Why can’t you just explain?”
“Why can’t you just respect my wishes and not get under my skin?” I hold my voice in check, whispering furiously so I don’t yell. “If we are such good friends, can’t you just leave me to my silence? Huh?”
She sits back a little, gripping her knees with her hands.
“I would. Except you are really in a mess. I care about you, even if you don’t care about me anymore.”
“I care about you.” I say softly, heart hurting.
“So, prove it! Talk to me!”
I shake my head. “Because the deepest betrayals lately have come from people who say they care about me. People I could trust.”
We sit in silence, staring at each other.
“It hurts me so much that you think that of me.” She says softly, looking away.
Again, my heart tugs. My need to give in to her is set against my hard feelings inside me. I’m just too vulnerable. Ivora knows so much about me.
A thought strikes me with icy clarity. Ivora might not even know she’s being manipulated. She could be completely innocent and honest. Someone could be using her; someone could be driving her to dig into me.
Forbidden Tutor Page 5