“And that guy you’re seeing?” Nigel and April merged into the loitering school crowd. It was like stepping into gridlock traffic.
April thought for a moment before she said, “Oh. Him.” A breathy sigh escaped her lips. “I haven’t seen him since Friday night at Club Soho. He’s been the last person on my mind, honestly.”
“Who’s the first?” At her frown, he elaborated, “The first person on your mind.”
April hummed, a jarred sound, as she whipped out her phone. The screen showed the call log. It was all red, a stream of Piper’s name, interrupted by only one unanswered call to April’s mother. “I’ve tried calling her.”
Nigel saw that on the screen, but he said nothing and nodded instead.
“She just sends the calls to voicemail,” she said. “I think she’s upset that I left her at that weird place when I woke up, but…” Her voice drifted before she swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking straight that day. I woke up in some strange place with a girl in the room who shot sparks from her hands. And my body was covered in these marks. I suppose I expected Piper to understand why I bailed.”
“She’s hurt,” he said, “that you left after what happened. From what she said to me, I figure she feels abandoned by you.”
“Abandoned,” she repeated, rolling the word over her sharp tongue. “Piper wasn’t the one who had her flesh ripped from her own body and eaten.”
Nigel flinched as if she’d struck him. April didn’t seem to notice. “She lost her mum,” he said. “I can’t imagine what you are going through, April, but shouldn’t you both come together in times like these?”
April stopped. One flat ballet shoe rested on the first step to the school, the other was planted on the street. She turned her head to face him, a blankness in her hazel eyes. “What did you say?”
Nigel frowned. “I just meant that you two should talk about what you’re feeling. You’ve been best friends since primary school, and with you being attacked by that thing inside of me, and Piper’s mother dying—”
“What?” April’s voice slithered out of her lips like a cat’s hiss. “Rosemary? She—She’s dead?”
Nigel’s jaw dropped and he blinked at her. “You didn’t know,” he said. A huff of understanding puffed through him. “Of course you didn’t know. No one told you.”
Nigel glanced around before he stepped off the stairs. April followed him back up the street, until he stopped in the entranceway of a cathedral.
“When I got there that day,” he said. “Rosemary let me in, and she went to look for Piper upstairs. But she’d gotten this gift; an emerald stone.”
“I remember that,” she said. “I saw it next to the door.”
Nigel nodded and dropped his voice. “It was cursed, by someone who is working for Piper’s dad. He did this—” His hand waved between them. “—He killed Rosemary with whatever that stone was, and when I tried to revive her, that thing took over me. It transferred from Rosemary’s body to mine. Then, I heard you, but I couldn’t warn you to run. That thing had complete control.”
A group of girls strutted toward them. It was April’s clubbing crowd. “Hey, Clark!” The brunette waved April over, her manicured nails glittering under the morning sun. “Are you coming?”
April looked over at the girls. “I’ll see you in class,” she shouted. “Go on without me.”
The brunette—Angela Barker—narrowed her eyes at Nigel before she turned and led the sheep-in-designer-clothes away.
April leaned back against the door. “I didn’t know.” Her eyelashes hovered over the honey flecks of her eyes, wedged between deep brown and green hues. “I thought it was only you and I who were hurt. Her mother didn’t even come to mind.” April banged her head back against the door. “Lord, I’m such a twit.”
“You couldn’t have known.” Nigel went to reach out for her hand, but stopped when April flinched. It was a slight wince, but he dropped his hand back to his side. “We just assumed you did, but that’s on us, April. Piper will understand once she learns the truth.”
April pursed her lips and pushed herself from the door. “I’ll see you later.” She hopped off the step and walked up the street, away from the school.
Nigel ran out after her. “Where are you going? The bell is about to ring!”
April trotted up the street, and didn’t look back as she shouted, “I need to do some damage control. I’ll be back for lunch!”
Nigel lifted his hand and waved, though she couldn’t see. She had already veered right to cut through the public gardens.
CHAPTER 12
Piper’s eyes scanned the side of his face.
Ash hadn’t said a word since she’d told him about waking up to fire coating her hands. His smooth jaw was set, and his grey eyes stirred like cauldron of melted silver.
“Well?” Piper’s voice rang with the impatience that clenched her hands into fists. “What does it mean?”
Ash strode through the glass labyrinth in the bowels of the Academy; Piper marched beside him. The dungeon chambers held the same captives as the first time she’d visited, though there was an additional prisoner they were going to see—Chen Wu.
“When is your birthday?” he asked, taking a sharp left.
Piper frowned up at him. “What does that have to do with me waking up in fire?”
“Everything.” Ash glanced at her. “So when is your sweet seventeenth?”
“September 21st.”
Ash’s brows arched. “That’s just over two weeks away.”
“So?” Piper didn’t want to think about her birthday. Not with her mother gone.
“Halfbreeds come into their powers fully on their seventeenth birthdays. I’m sure I’ve told you this already.”
Piper shrugged. He had told her, she remembered, but all the information piled on top of her over the past couple of days merged into one tangled ball of data in her brain. “I’ve had a lot to remember, and a lot to forget, in case you didn’t know.”
Ash hummed. “Point taken. Anyway, your powers are maturing, and with the emotional stress you’ve been under lately, it’s not unusual that you’re having trouble controlling them.”
They turned a corner, passing the pale boy with white eyes and black nails. Piper said, “Should I be worried?”
Ash guided her down another row, far from the one Nigel had been in the day before. “Did it hurt you?” he said. “The flames.”
“No,” she said, “I felt the heat, but it didn’t burn.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” His strides slowed into a steady pace, and glanced down at her solemn face. “I’ll set up a meeting with the trainer.” His tone was terse, as if he was speaking to an annoying door-knocker. “He’ll know more about it than I do.”
The tension in her shoulders unwound, but the tautness remained in her jaw. Piper couldn’t quite muster the courage to ask him if he was annoyed with her in some way, or if she was just imagining his distancing. Maybe, she thought, he was just tired.
“There,” he said, gesturing ahead. Like the hundreds of others, the compartment was clear and held a single metal chair and a toilet. Chen Wu was inside, bound to the chair, flanked by two others in plain grey clothes. “Right on time,” added Ash.
They stopped at the transparent glass wall and looked inside. Ash folded his arms over his chest, crumpling the t-shirt he wore; Piper reclined against the opposite glass cell.
“Are they the interrogators?” Piper nudged her head toward the ones in the cell wearing grey trousers and shirts. One perched himself on a metal table, and grasped an ancient metal syringe in his hand.
“Yeah,” said Ash. “Though, they’re not the best of them—or worst.”
Piper went to ask what he meant by that, but a steady clack of heels clicked down the aisle. Her muscles were clutched in an iron grip of tension as the image of April sprung to mind. But when she looked to her left, she deflated. It was Elsa, sweeping down the aisle with the grace of a
ballerina. Elsa glanced at the cell—and Chen Wu shaking in the chair—before she strode past them and vanished down another aisle.
Ash strolled toward her and leaned against the glass. Their shoulders touched, and the hairs on her arms stiffened. “How do you know him?” Ash’s voice was indifferent, like his mood had been that day, but there was an edge to it that reminded Piper of a sanded slab of wood with tiny splinters, too small for the naked eye to see. “The Tracer,” he said. “You recognised each other back at the shop.”
Piper sensed an underlying question in his words, unasked but implied. “He knows April,” she said, looking down at her ankle boots. “They dated, I think. He was there, at Club Soho, in the VIP booth on Friday night.”
Piper hadn’t noticed that his biceps were tense until they relaxed in her peripherals. He nodded, a firm gesture, and pushed himself from the glass. “Are you up to it?” He sauntered over to the glass door. “Witnessing the interrogation, I mean.”
She stepped forward as confidence straightened her spine.
Ash smiled, one side of his lips lifting higher than the other, and opened the door. Piper slinked past him and wandered inside; Ash shut the door behind them. The interrogators glanced up as they entered, but it was a brief acknowledgement.
The woman—the one without the syringe—gripped onto the sides of the chair and bowed over Chen. Their gazes locked, and a thick silence sucked the air out of the room like a hoover. Piper frowned, her eyes darting between the two quiet interrogators. Call her crazy, but she’d expected at least a couple of questions to be asked.
Piper shuffled closer to Ash. “Are they going to torture him for information?” Her hushed voice swept through the cell and pierced the silence.
Ash chuckled, his pecs jittering, and folded his arms over his chest. “There’s no need when it comes to Tracers,” he said. He didn’t whisper like she had. “Some of the interrogators have very specific powers—mind reading. Of course, one has to ask the right questions first, and the prisoners respond better when afraid.”
Piper followed his pointed gaze to the syringe. It was empty, and yellow droplets fell from the needle. Adrenaline, she suspected, or some strand of it at least.
“How does fear make a difference?” she asked.
It was the male interrogator who answered: “When someone is overwhelmed with emotion,” he said, his voice a gruff purr, “their inner voices are at their loudest. They have less control over their minds, which makes it far easier for us to learn the truth.”
Ash said, “Fear will bring the source of anxiety to the front of the mind. Then, it’s ripe for the taking by those who can see it.” He paused and looked at the prisoner. “Piper recognised him,” he added. “He has been involved with her dullborn friend.”
A protest slurred from Chen Wu; the gag stuffed in his mouth muffled it.
The woman who leaned over Chen hummed, the vibrations shaking her throat, as she leered into his eyes. Piper could see the twitches of Chen’s eyelids, and wondered if he was trying to shut his eyes but somehow couldn’t.
“April Clark,” said the interrogator. “A pretty blond human.”
Piper inched closer. Ash shadowed her, hovering behind her shoulder.
The interrogator said, “Colt Stirling. I see him … Ah.” She pulled away from the chair a second before Chen twisted his wrists against the wires and fought the restraints. The interrogator looked at her colleague. “Colt Stirling paid this Tracer to involve himself in the halfbreeds life—” Her grey eyes swerved to Piper. “—Via your dullborn friend, it appears. Through this girl, April, he found out your address, the places you frequent, and the company you keep. That was his first task—to observe you and report back, without alerting you to his presence.”
“And his second?” It was Ash, and his molten eyes were fixed on Chen who had slumped back against the chair.
“To curse the gems delivered to three women,” she said. “The mothers of the halfbreeds.” The interrogator jerked her head at her colleague. He got up from the table and pulled a drawer—dozens more syringes were inside. “His memories are difficult to peel apart,” she explained. “The trace of magic within him is stronger than I anticipated. A higher dose and we should have answers by nightfall.”
Piper didn’t want to wait all day and night. She stormed over to the chair. No one moved to stop her, and she fleetingly found herself surprised at that. When she reached Chen, she ripped the gag from his mouth and tossed it to the floor. Then, she snatched a tuft of his black hair, pulling his head back so far that his neck curved, and spat into his face: “Why? Why did you do it?”
Chen grunted and his Adam’s apple quivered. “For the money,” he groaned. “And more.”
Piper released his hair. Before he could relax on the chair, a crack tore through the room. She’d struck his face, hard. A red handprint swelled on his cheek. “More?” Her voice hissed between her clenched teeth. “What did he offer you?”
Chen Wu sniggered and his hooded gaze met hers. “You’ll find out,” he said. “When he comes for you.” The wires rattled as he lunged forward a couple of inches. Their noses touched as he whispered, “And he will come for you.”
Ash’s boots thudded against the hard floor. He approached, but Piper didn’t need him to come to her defence. She’d already smiled, a cruel smirk, and straightened her spine. As she looked down at Chen Wu, she slinked back before she snatched the gag from the floor. Piper twirled it in her fingers and inspected it. It was nothing more than a rag, bundled in the centre.
“This won’t do,” she said, almost to herself. Piper hummed a slow, melodic tune as she marched over to the metal table and rummaged through the drawers. The others watched her with mild interest, but didn’t intervene. The male interrogator handed her the syringe as a smirk played on his lips. She grabbed it, stabbed it into the rag and injected the liquid.
“This should taste as putrid as your heart,” she said, nearing Chen Wu. His eyes widened and he parted his lips to protest—Piper rammed the dirty, soggy rag into his mouth. His shouts gurgled behind the fabric, but she smiled down at him and stuffed it deeper to the back of his throat. Piper leaned closer to his squirming head and added, “I hope you can breathe through your nose.”
The door opened. Piper turned to see Desmond stroll inside, his stormy eyes raking from Chen, to herself, before settling on Ash.
“Just got this,” said Desmond. He handed a folded piece of paper to Ash. “From Elsa.”
Ash unfurled the paper and scanned it. A sigh came from his lips as he scrunched it up and threw it in the bin tucked in the corner.
Ash opened the door and held it ajar for Piper. “Come on.”
Piper spared a final glower at Chen Wu—who choked on the rag—before she left the compartment with Ash and Desmond.
“What was that?” asked Piper. The three of them weaved their way through the dungeons, in the direction of the exit. “The note,” she added. “Was it about Colt?”
Ash side-glanced at her. “Someone is here to see you.”
Piper hmphed as they turned a corner. Desmond led the way. “It’ll be April,” she said, a huffiness hugging her words. “She’s been calling me non-stop since yesterday. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s a little pushy.”
The muscles on Desmond’s back twitched as if someone had raked a finger down his spine. He rolled his shoulders and kept walking, Ash and Piper at his heels.
Ash stuffed his hands into his pockets. His darkened eyes, Piper saw, swept over Desmond’s back. He’d noticed the peculiar motion, too, she thought.
“I don’t know your friend,” said Ash. “So I haven’t exactly noticed her characteristics. And it’s been my experience to never involve myself in other people’s dramas. Besides, it’s not her who asked to see you.”
They reached the glass wall—that vanished into nothing—and filed through it.
Piper’s brows furrowed. “Who else would come here?” Nigel’s face jumped i
n her mind, and she grimaced—she’d almost, almost, forgotten about him. Already, she was straining to hold onto both worlds, and she’d only been at the Academy for three days.
Ash’s voice yanked her back into the Beyond World. “Your brother,” he said.
Piper’s frown deepened. It was alien to hear those words, ‘your brother’, and even stranger that he had come to see her. She and Kieran weren’t what she would consider close.
Desmond pushed through the door first, and they followed. They climbed the three steps to the foyer, where Kieran was waiting. Arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers curled around his biceps, and his foot tapped on the floorboards. Desmond and Ash wandered over to the banister and lingered there.
As Piper stepped into foyer, Kieran spun around and dropped his hands to his sides. Flecks of hope seemed to shine in his amber eyes, she thought, but he blinked it away.
“Hi.” Piper’s voice was terse and uncertain. “You … wanted to see me?”
Kieran shrugged, a lazy gesture, and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. He looked sheepish, she noted, and uncomfortable.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was probably stupid of me to come. It’s not like I know you or anything.” He dropped his hand and looked up at her, his head bowed. There were dark smears under his eyes, as if mascara had smudged there, but she suspected it was lack of sleep was to blame. “I was hoping,” he said, “that we could chat for a minute.”
Piper nodded just as someone came down the stairs. It was a boy, around fifteen years old, wearing the arrogance of a hall monitor. His weak chin was raised and a bronze badge shimmered on his blazer. Piper hadn’t known, until then, that the Academy uniform included a blazer. No one else seemed to wear them.
“Pratt,” said Desmond. His voice was stiff, like the boy’s spine. “What do you want?”
Pratt stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked down his nose at Piper. His eyes didn’t stray to Desmond.
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