Miss Mabel's School for Girls: The first book in the Network Series

by Katie Cross

  No coincidence, I was sure.

  Augustus was too far away to call him back, and, at any rate, that wouldn’t do me any good. I hesitated, standing at the edge of the light flickering across the stones, unsure of my next step. One Guardian took a step forward, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes narrowed, assessing. His look said it all.

  Decide what you’re going to do, or we will decide for you.

  I swallowed, then spun on my heels and ran into Letum Wood like a frightened child. When I looked over my shoulder, two of the Guardians had disappeared. Soon enough they’d be hidden in the trees, waiting for the perfect opportunity to nab me. It wouldn’t take them long. My time to act was on a dying chain, disappearing one link at a time.

  There was only one way to avoid the dungeon right now, and I faced it with grim resolve. It involved magic that, technically, a first-year student shouldn’t know.

  Transportation.

  Miss Mabel couldn’t have known I was able to do it. The Network school system didn’t even offer it as an option because of the advanced nature of the magic involved. And in the hands of someone not confident enough in their ability to do it, it was dangerous. Fortunately I had enough confidence but not much time.

  If I transported, I may have to explain it to Miss Mabel. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t make it to the Esbat, and I’d owe thirteen years of my life to my mortal enemy. The sudden rustle of wind, as gentle as a breath, made every muscle in my back freeze. A slight crack to my right, close to the ground, made the decision for me.

  The Guardians had found me.

  I instantly dropped into a ball, flying through the incantation under my breath. I felt the tug of a hand close around my cloak, a guttural shout, and then I fell.

  The wind rushed my eyes, pressure bore down on my chest, and I stumbled forward, almost running into a brick wall.

  It worked. I stood on the far eastern side of Chatham Castle, where the trees and brush grew close and intimate, too thick and gnarled to make it through on foot by trespassers who thought they had the courage to try.

  My hand pressed against the wall of the castle to steady me. I tilted my head back and gazed up. The flying wall never ended, sending my vision into a dizzy whirl. The lightheaded feeling didn’t abate when I looked away.

  The Guardians were still watching me, I could feel it. They would have followed the impression of my magic the second I disappeared. Their talents for that were unmatched in all of Antebellum. Not even the Eastern Network trained their forces so well, and they were the richest of the Networks.

  I hoped that now that I was standing at this particular spot, the Guardians would give me some space. Transporting here could only mean that I came for the Esbat.

  All the same, I didn’t feel like pressing my luck. I pushed the dark hair out of my eyes and began to walk along the wall. A pressing drape of nettles and thorny bushes allowed only enough space to walk sideways without snagging my hair, which I did twice.

  The stones on the outer castle wall appeared to be perfect, especially when I stood this close, but they weren’t. My fingertips pressed into them as I moved past. Once the texture changed, becoming slightly gritty, I stopped. The subtle sandy veneer lasted for three full bricks across and twelve high.

  A skinny door.

  Gathering my courage, I repeated the ancient words that I’d memorized two weeks earlier. I’d been reciting the secret spells to myself every day in each of the three languages, just in case. The textured stones drifted back a few feet without a sound. I slipped inside and they closed behind me.

  I stood in a small room, barely wide enough to turn around in. Behind me the wall became a single smooth slab, with no evidence of a doorway. The chilly air hit my throat with a damp gust and I shivered. A pale green torch burned at the top of four stone steps, illuminating the only door. The emerald flame would never fade out unless the castle ceased to exist, an eternal companion to the sturdy walls.

  This was the anteroom. If I did anything wrong, I’d be trapped here until someone else came through. Since Mabel ensured I arrived late to the meeting, that meant it would be another month.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Mabel would intervene or just let me die with a sigh of regret that yet another student failed her. Isadora was not here to see, to protect me. I imagined some great tragedy hitting the Central Network and delaying the Esbat for months. Years, even. Then they’d find my bones here in the anteroom, one arm stretched to the wooden door.

  I shook off the shiver in my spine, annoyed for spooking myself. Pull it together, Bianca. Well, there was no better way to disappoint Miss Mabel than to arrive at the Esbat, ready to conquer.

  Four metal hoops lay in a row on the heavy wooden door. Every hoop sat above a different triangle, one of each of the alchemy symbols. Air. Fire. Water. Earth. If I used the wrong hoop to knock, even once, I would not be admitted.

  Without hesitation, I grabbed the second and third and slammed them down at the same time. Two different tones resonated into the castle. Fire and water together made the unity symbol, which was an upside down and right side up triangle pressed together.

  To my relief, the door groaned open. A butler stood just behind it. His perfectly starched uniform smelled like powder. Light from the torch next to me glinted off his slick black hair. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with dull eyes.

  “I need to speak with the High Priestess. I’m here on business,” I said.

  His forehead furrowed.

  “What proof do you have?”

  My heart jumped into my throat, and I fought back the urge to smack my forehead. Proof. Of course he wanted proof. Why wouldn’t he? Certainly I didn’t look suspicious at all, a lone sixteen-year-old entering an ancient castle by a secret door. There was no way to make this less awkward.

  Unfortunately, I had no proof. No Esbat mark, no reason for him to allow me in. Uncertain whether my empty circlus would help or not, I exposed my right wrist. He glanced at it, hesitated, then pulled the door toward him just enough to allow me admittance. He wrinkled his upper lip, and I knew that he had no idea what to do with me.

  The room I stepped into consisted of gray stones and a ceiling that curved into a peak at the top. A crimson carpet covered floor, infused with golden threaded designs. Banners hung along the walls in blood red and gold, a large C drawn in the middle, a hat-tip to the Central Network flag and colors. Statues stood at random intervals in shallow bays. Well-lit by torches and candles, the area had very little shadow. My eyes had to adjust to the light.

  The butler motioned for me to stay where I stood. On his way to the door, he ran into a short, slender woman in a gray dress. They spoke in low tones, casting uneasy glances my way. When he left, the woman approached me. Her hair hung in limp blonde curls on her head, held in place by a large black pin. Rigid, and not very welcoming, she stopped a few feet away and looked me over with a haughty glance. Too late, I realized I’d left my hair down and my shoes in the carriage. No wonder the butler thought I looked odd. I pulled my toes under the skirt, silently berating myself.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Miss Mabel’s lessons came back to assist me.

  If you are outside the Council room or if the doors to the Council room are unsealed, you should never say your name or reason for being there. Spies could be anywhere and may take many forms.

  The suspicious glint in the woman’s eyes meant she had no idea what was going on either. My heart sunk a little deeper, if possible. Miss Mabel had not informed them of my arrival. She wanted me to get into the meeting alone, as a stranger, even though a current member always escorted newcomers to the Esbat. When it came to Network secrets, no one took any chances.

  “I can’t tell you that,” I said, swallowing back the nervous fear that rose in my throat.

  The unwelcoming glower turned dangerous. “Then why are you here?”

  “On business. I need to speak to the High Priestess.”

&n
bsp; “How old are you? Twelve?”

  “Sixteen,” I said through clenched teeth. Better than fifty-four, I almost snapped but decided I couldn’t afford to have her as an enemy.

  “But I don’t know you. Why should I let you into Chatham Castle?”

  Telling her I knew Miss Mabel would also be a mistake. It didn’t even matter to them that I’d come in by a secret entrance that a lay person couldn’t have broached, speaking another witch’s name in association with the Esbat equated with treason.

  Spies could be anywhere.

  “I’m supposed to be here,” I stated with false confidence. Even I wasn’t sure anymore. “I can prove it.”

  “Oh really? No one told me you were coming.”

  “It must have slipped her mind,” I retorted quickly, surprised at my own condescension. “I’m sure she is very busy.”

  She muttered something under her breath and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes glittered.

  “If you’re supposed to be here,” she said with a nasty snark in her tone, “prove it.”

  The last words came out punctuated with disdain, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. The muscles in my throat seemed to spasm. My false bravado caught up to me. I couldn’t prove it. I didn’t even have the Esbat mark yet. I hesitated. She tapped her foot on the floor. Her eyebrows, lifted halfway into her hairline, seemed to ask, Where is your courage now, little girl?

  Good question.

  If I could at least get into the Council Room, I might be able to defend myself to, or get myself imprisoned by, the Council Members who were there. Even that would be better than making it this far just to flounder in the hallway with the housekeeper. Better to die in pride than wallow in regret.

  I just had to get past her.

  “I can only address my business to the people who actually understand what I am here to say,” I finally concluded, turning my nose up in a queenly move that would have made Priscilla applaud. “I’m not sure a servant would know my purpose.”

  Her anger deepened to murderous intent in a flash.

  “I see,” she said, tightening with scorn. “Well then, let’s see you prove yourself to the Council.”

  I fought the urge to run away and leave it all behind me. Instead I straightened my neck to a pristine tightness.

  “Yes, that will suffice. Thank you.”

  My dread doubled into a sickening pit at the bottom of my stomach as I followed her. What had I just done? The meeting could have started and the doors sealed with a protective spell. If someone from the outside tried to listen or cast a spell to eavesdrop, they’d only hear the false drone of a very boring meeting in the background, one that wasn’t real.

  If the doors were already sealed on this meeting, they’d have to break the seal to admit me. My stomach committed to a terrifying nosedive. I wasn’t sure what the ramifications of breaking the seal were, but I knew they wouldn’t help my cause.

  I trailed a few steps back, walking in her long shadow down hallways dotted by paintings of wrinkled faces and landscapes, statues, and grand tapestries until we came to a set of closed double doors. The woman flung the doors open and stepped aside. Her face lifted into a delighted sneer.

  “I hope they understand all you have to say.”

  A crowd of nearly thirty adults sat around a sprawling table; they all turned to face me at the same moment. Although I didn’t know what to expect, their stoic, eerie silence wasn’t it.

  The room looked similar to the rest of the sprawling estate. Cold slate walls, a glittering chandelier with tiny candles that reflected light off the crystals, an oak table, and maroon banners. Skinny windows with shiny panes of glass filled the far wall.

  An older woman in an elegant black dress stood directly across from me. She had short silver hair and biting eyes the color of cinnamon. Her imposing bearing and the rigid lines of her face gave her a determined, straightforward look. Here was a Council Member I didn’t want to mess with.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “I-I’m here on business,” I said, taking a step forward. The doors chugged to a close behind me.

  “I didn’t ask what you were here for. I asked your name.”

  “I know what you asked,” I said, hoping the trembling in my hands didn’t transmit to my voice. The doors weren’t sealed by magic yet. I would not say my name.

  “Oh,” she lifted an eyebrow. “You’re just going to ignore it then?”

  Several witches stood near the fireplace, the rest sitting in plush red chairs. They all gave me the same harpooning glare from over their wine glasses.

  “The butler allowed me in,” I offered instead, trying to veer away from further questions. My voice sounded less certain now. The faces surrounding me were not familiar. Where was Miss Mabel? I didn’t dare look too far away from the commanding woman at the center to find out.

  “The only reason they let you enter is because you have a circlus on your wrist,” she said. Her voice was deep and succinct, and her indifference chilling. The way her glare bore down, when taken with her gritty voice, terrified me. “Strangers are usually killed on the spot.”

  “I know.”

  “The only reason you’re alive right now is because you’re young.”

  “But I’m not a stranger,” I said in a pitiful attempt to elevate my drowning chances. “I’ve been in this Network my whole life.”

  “You’re a stranger in this room!” she thundered. “Obviously you don’t understand how suspicious you are. The only conclusion I can draw is that someone sent you here to spy on our Esbat. Do you agree?”

  Although the sharp look in her eyes raked through me like a hot set of talons, I felt a thrill all the same. Spy on our Esbat, eh? How about you see how it feels to look like a fool.

  “No, I do not agree,” I replied in a calm voice, looking at the unsealed doors with a deliberate gaze. “I never mentioned an Esbat. I’m here for business.”

  A few shocked expressions passed from participant to participant, but they remained silent. Whether they reacted to my cheekiness or to her fault in mentioning the purpose of the meeting with unsealed doors, I didn’t know. Either way, I knew drowning when I felt it. When the woman’s face took on a perturbed, assessing stare, my chance at the Esbat mark disintegrated. Survival or occasional visitation from my mother while in the dungeons was the best I could hope for now. I curled my toes in again, hoping they didn’t peep out the edges of my dress.

  The woman glared at me for several minutes with regal superiority.

  “I know your face,” she said. “I’ve seen it before.”

  “Perhaps out in the Network?” I suggested.

  “No, that’s not it,” she said with a peevish snap, then shifted the conversation so suddenly it took me a moment to catch up. “I will ask you once more. What is your name?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “No? You will stand before all of us and refuse a command from one of your superiors? Would you like to give your refusal to the High Priestess instead? We can arrange that.”

  What little ground I had left rapidly slipped away, leaving me on precarious footing. Defending myself would only damage my chances further. I already faced failure and a thirteen-year sentence with Miss Mabel. A movement across the room caught my eye, and I looked up to see my beloved teacher standing near a painting of a peacock. My heart sped up when I noticed her grin.

  She enjoyed this. Today was no longer just a test for the Esbat mark. It was a battle for the next thirteen years of my life.

  “Answer the question or we will send you to the High Priestess,” the woman demanded. “She won’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

  I hesitated as the two of us locked eyes. Something didn’t feel right.

  “There’s nothing to explain,” I said, trying to buy a few moments to think this out.

  “Don’t waste our time,” she barked. “Tell us your name or we’ll have the Guardians come in, take you into the dungeon
for a few uncomfortable nights, and you can discuss it with the High Priestess then.”

  A metallic bracelet on the woman’s wrist caught my attention with a gleam of light. An ancient language covered the front that I could just decipher.

  SAC ERO DOS SUM MUS

  I caught my gasp before it came out. I’d seen those words in the Esbat book. I knew what they meant, what the bracelet meant.

  Nothing is ever what it seems.

  My next move was a wild guess that risked my life, and my grandmother’s—a chance decision that Leda would not approve. If it failed, Miss Mabel would own me until my twenty-eighth birthday. Grandmother, and possibly my mother, would die without me.

  Given how close I felt to the edge of sanity, my mind seemed surprisingly clear. Every eye focused on me. Miss Mabel chuckled to herself as she tipped her head back and downed the last of her wine.

  “I already have discussed it with the High Priestess.” I moved into a low curtsy. “Or should I say, Your Highness?”

  28

  Searing Pains

  A familiar, searing pain grew in my right wrist.

  “You are smart for one so young,” the High Priestess declared in a dramatically altered tone of voice, although she was still far from kind. “When your teacher suggested this as a method of testing you for your mark, I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t think it would work, but obviously you did well.”

  Our eyes met and silence fell. The burning faded from my wrist, and I glanced down to see the two triangles of the unity symbol tattooed within the circlus.

  “Well?” she asked. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “No, Your Highness,” I responded, realizing I might need to atone for my lack of respect. “Except to thank you for the honor of your participation in this test.” Just for show, I added another curtsy. When a few of my toes peeked out, I quickly straightened.

  Her eyes narrowed to thin slits.

  “You’re a little impudent, aren’t you?” she murmured, and then paused. “Yes, you are. You’ve got a bit of vinegar beneath that calm expression, not a very attractive trait for a young girl. Especially with that hair of yours. Don’t you wear it in buns anymore?”