I cross my arms and give her a pointed glare. “So did you!”
“So did Ivy,” Krista adds, and Ivy rolls her eyes.
“I was scared in the moment,” I say. “I thought I saw a ghost. But I think the...demon, or whatever it is, is gone now. There’s been nothing else weird going on.”
Jaxon shakes his head. “It will be back. I doubt you’ve cleared away the reason the demon came around with a bit of sage.”
I grimace and lean back, putting my weight on my hands. I wish they would stop talking about the “demon.” After hearing Giselle tell me to “help them,” I’m more convinced than ever that it’s really her ghost asking me for help, and I’m determined to do so.
I look up at the clear blue sky and absorb the mid-afternoon warmth. The air bubble I created earlier is invisible, so it doesn’t block the delicious rays. Finally, spring is turning to summer in New England.
“Hey,” I say suddenly to Jaxon. “How is your orchid coming? It has to bloom in spring, right?”
“It’s coming along,” he says. “Thankfully my mom had some seeds lying around. She helped me plant it and get it started.”
“What about our pact?” I ask.
“A ludisia orchid bloomed in spring isn’t a secret. It’s on the ingredient list.” He waves his hand over a withering patch of grass, and it springs back to life. Does he even realize he’s doing that, or is that some earth witch autopilot thing? “That’s the one ingredient every earth witch will have, and every other witch will be trying to get their hands on.”
Krista’s fiery red hair suddenly waves as though it could burst into flames at any moment. “You better not be helping any other teams.”
“Do you know how much the other students and teams are willing to pay for one of those orchids?” he asks. But before Krista can set him on fire, he adds, “But no, I am not growing any orchids for anyone else. But some of the other earth witches are. And some of the other witches are doing power exchanges as well.”
I chew at the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I hoped we’d maintain our edge a little longer. “Do you think anyone else has figured out all the ingredients?”
“Not yet,” he says, moving his hands away from the grass and folding his hands in front of his tucked-up knees. “But I think the fact that it will take a team to craft it and not one person is starting to become common knowledge. It’s only a matter of time before another group wins.”
As everyone’s gazes turn toward me and then quickly away, I regret bringing the potion up. I haven’t had time to give a single thought to how to get smoke from a broken promise since we last talked about it.
“I’ve had some ideas on how to get the gift of water,” Ivy says. “So once the orchid blooms, I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll just have to travel through a mirror to Gram’s to harness the eternal flame,” Krista says, and I can’t help but notice how a hint of an adorable Scottish accent comes through when she talks about her grandmother. Her accent is normally just New Englander.
“We have time,” Jaxon says, spreading his hands and giving a slight shrug. “Mom promised not to give any orchid seeds to anyone but us. They will have to find them somewhere else, and orchid seeds are pretty rare. So I was probably the first person to get started on that, and we have a while before I will be ready.”
Thank goodness. I might still be able to find my contribution to the potion in time.
“I think this is my cue to leave,” I say. “Us figuring out that potion seems to be resting on me, so I better go...research or something.”
I stand and wave my arm to clear the air bubble around us. As I do, I look up at my room and see the shadowy figure standing at the window again. At least I don’t make a scene or anything. I must be getting used to her presence. Still, seeing Giselle’s ghost there, watching me, does give me the creeps.
“What’s wrong?” Ivy asks, and I look back and see her gaze following mine up to the window. It’s weird knowing she doesn’t see the same thing I do.
“I just...thought I saw someone,” I say.
“The ghost?” Jaxon asks, and I’m surprised that he doesn’t say “demon.” And he didn’t ask mockingly, either. It’s almost as if he might actually believe that I know what I saw.
Still...
“No,” I say. “But...something weird did happen yesterday after you girls left my room.”
They all look at me expectantly.
Ivy says, “I thought you said everything was fine after we left?”
“Oh!” I say, shaking my head as if that would clear the thought from hers. “No, nothing like that. Ms. Brewster came in with a key and took a bunch of papers and a notebook out of Giselle’s desk and took them with her.”
“What’s weird about that?” Ivy asks. “I’m sure her parents wanted them back.”
“Yeah. That’s what she said. But she wouldn’t let me see them. And Giselle was always really protective of them. Whenever she was writing or drawing, she would stop when I entered the room and hide them. I don’t know. It all just felt weird.”
Jaxon leans to the side to look past me, his gaze directed up toward my bedroom window. “So you think Ms. Brewster is in your room now?”
I can’t help but feel a bit of panic hitch in my stomach. What if Ms. Brewster does go up there and finds the sketch of the man in the grotto under my mattress?
I don’t stop to explain as I turn and run toward the house.
“Madison,” they call after me, but I don’t stop.
I’m back in the house before they are even on their feet, and I take the stairs on the main staircase two at a time. But when I reach my room and throw open the door, no one is there. Not even ghost Giselle.
But the sketch of the grotto man is in the middle of the floor.
I step into the room, panting as I catch my breath. I know I left the sketch tucked under the mattress, way at the back so even if someone did run their hands under the mattress, they wouldn’t find it. There’s no way it could have gotten out on its own. And no human would have left it behind. If someone had been looking that hard for it, they would have either taken it with them or put it back.
It had to be Giselle.
But why—
“Hey!” Jaxon says, bursting into the room with Krista and Ivy at his back. “Are you okay?”
"Oh!” I say, quickly stepping on the paper to try to hide it. “Fine. I just...thought...nothing. It’s nothing. Everything is fine. Let’s go get coffee or something.”
“What’s that?” Jaxon asks, stepping into the room and pointing at my feet.
“Hey, rude!” I say, but Ivy and Krista follow in after him as he tugs the paper from under my feet.
“What is this?” he asks.
I shrug. “Other than one of Giselle’s sketches? Ms. Brewster dropped it as she left my room.”
Ivy takes the paper, her eyebrows pulling together as she gives it a once-over. “What’s this weird writing?”
“Just one of the many questions Giselle left behind,” I say.
“Who is he?” Krista asks, taking the paper from Ivy. “He’s almost good-looking enough for me to give him a second glance.”
If none of them have been to the grotto, they’ve probably never seen him before. And he isn’t drawn like a statue, but more realistic. I don’t want to reveal my statue to them. The grotto is my special place, but they are growing interested in knowing what happened to Giselle, so maybe I can coax them into helping me get the notebook back.
“I think he might be one of the statues on campus,” I say. “I’m pretty sure that’s what Giselle was working on, sketches and stories about the statues.”
“Why would she care about those old things?” Krista asks.
“Who are they?” I ask. “I mean, they represent people, right?”
“Just a bunch of old witches from days of yore,” she says like it’s the most boring thing in the world. “You know, coven elders from like two hu
ndred years ago and stuff.”
“Why do they all look like they’re trying to get away?” I ask.
“The sculptor had a weird style,” Jaxon says, the drawing now having returned to his hands. “He was a bit eccentric.”
With a shrug, he hands the page to me.
“There must be books and stuff written about them,” I say. Now that the sketch is back in my hand, it won’t be passed around again. “Why would Giselle devote so much effort to chronicling them herself?”
“I bet the answer is in those runes,” Ivy says. “But I’ve never seen them before. If we knew what language it was, we could decipher it. Do any of you recognize them?”
Krista, Jaxon, and I shake our heads.
I chew at my lower lip, trying not to jump in and ask for their help too quickly. They are all clearly interested in the picture and the runes. But if I tell them too much too soon, it might scare them off looking for the notebook.
Jaxon closes the door and then rejoins the group. When he speaks again, his voice is lowered. Conspiratorial. “You said Ms. Brewster took more papers like this?”
I nod. “And a notebook. Giselle used to carry the book with her all the time. She would leave the papers on her desk, but she never left the book lying around.”
Krisa’s eyes go wide, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I bet the answer is in the notebook!”
“Answer to what, though?” Ivy asks. “It could just be her personal notes from class she didn’t want anyone to copy.”
“Seems a bit extreme to prevent cheating,” Jaxon says.
I bite my tongue, letting them decide for themselves what they want to do.
“Besides, she’s dead,” Ivy adds. “What can going through her personal things possibly do to help her now?”
Ugh. Ivy is steering them away. I have to get this back on track.
“Ms. Brewster doesn’t think Giselle’s death was an accident,” I blurt out.
All three of them look at me, their eyes wide and their mouths agape. Then, all at once, they say, “What?”
“She thinks someone—okay, me—had a hand in her death.”
“That’s impossible,” Ivy says, waving her hand as if dismissing some ludicrous rumor. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“Of course I do,” I say, anger burning like lava in my stomach. Why does Ivy think I’d make something like this up? “Ms. Brewster thinks I did it.”
“How?” Ivy asks, tilting up her chin. Yep, she definitely thinks I’m lying. “You’re a witch. We’ve been through this. You can’t kill anyone. None of us can, and Ms. Brewster knows that.”
“I hear you, and I know it sounds crazy. But Ms. Brewster called me into her office and said that Giselle’s parents want to know what happened to their daughter.”
“It was an accident,” Krista says. “Right?”
Why did Krista sound so unsure?
“Ms. Brewster thinks I can’t control my powers and that I somehow caused Giselle’s death. Maybe people can kill people by accident?”
The three look at one another.
“Did you?” Ivy asks.
“No!” I say, throwing my hands out to my side, the sketch still tightly held in one hand “Geez. How could you even ask that? I was with you when Giselle died.”
“I just thought it was better to ask,” she says, a pained expression on her face. “Just to get everything out there.”
I sigh, and everyone goes quiet. We all probably have our own ideas and concerns, but giving voice to them is kind of scary. Whether witches can kill or not, if Giselle was murdered, then there is a killer in the house.
“Why would someone kill Giselle?” Ivy asks.
“Why are you asking me that?” I say, jumping to my own defense. I seem to be the first person everyone suspects.
“I’m not,” she says, raising her hands as if indicating I need to calm down.
I probably do, but the gesture doesn’t help.
“I’m asking everyone,” she continued. “If we figure out the why first, that will lead us to the who and the how.”
“Right,” Krista says. “If we focus on how she was killed when witches can’t kill, we will just end up on the same blocked path.”
“Giselle was a tough bird,” Jaxon says. “But I don’t think that would be enough of a reason to kill her. She still managed to have friends, and her family is powerful.”
“She didn’t seem to fight with anyone the way she fought with me,” I say. “She was pretty, popular, and excelled in her classes. She was also a third-year student. If anyone didn’t like her, they could have just waited for her to graduate and be gone.”
“So if it wasn’t her personality, what else would make her a target?” Jaxon asks, but we already know the answer as we look at the sketch and runes he’s still holding.
“Her research,” I say.
“So, if we get the notebook,” Ivy says, “we might know what she was working on that was a secret worth killing for.”
“But Ms. Brewster took it,” I say. “How do we get it back?”
Jaxon rubs his hand down the front of his face and shakes his head. “Sneak into her office, I suppose.”
He looks and sounds like he can’t believe what he’s saying, and neither can I.
“I can’t do that,” Ivy cuts in. “If I were caught—”
Jaxon and Ivy go back and forth, but a breeze cascading along my neck and shoulders draws my attention away from them and toward an open window.
Wasn’t it closed when we got here?
Krista seems to notice the open window as well and walks toward it.
“Can you guys smell that?” she asks. I sniff, but I don’t sense anything out of the ordinary. “There’s smoke.”
We crowd along the window and look out. The sun is quite low, revealing the first twinkling stars of twilight in a dark blue and purple sky. But as I continue to breathe deeply, I still can’t smell it.
“Nope,” Ivy says. “I got nothing.”
Jaxon shakes his head. “Me neither, but if it’s bothering you, we should close the window.”
Before anyone can act on his suggestion, I strain my ears to see if I can hear anything out of the ordinary.
“Crackling,” I say. “There’s a fire. It’s over there.” I point across the lawn toward the hedgerow.
Jaxon freezes with his hands on the window, and instead of closing it, he moves his hands to the windowsill and looks out. When he pops back inside, he asks, “Are the brambles burning?”
“No,” Krista says. “Well, a few twigs are being used to stoke the fire, but it’s not the brambles themselves that are burning. The main fuel for the fire is paper.”
“You can smell all that?” I ask.
Krista grins. “Well, it is a fire.”
I nod. That’s right. She’s a fire witch. I guess it just never occurred to me how connected any of us might be to our elements.
And then what Krista said sinks in.
“Paper?” I jump so fast I bang my head on the window pane. I cuss and rub it as I try to talk. “The...the notebook! She’s burning it!”
“It could be anyone burning anything,” Ivy says. “Do you hear anyone talking?”
I feel a headache coming on. “No. But we should at least go check.”
Jaxon’s already across the room and pulling open the door. “Let’s go.”
We tromp downstairs and out the building to cross the lawn. As we approach the hedgerow, I hesitate. I remember the hedge beasts from when I arrived, and I have no desire to face them again. But Jaxon holds out his hands, and a small path opens through the brambles.
“What about the creatures?” I ask as we head into the tunnel one at a time.
“They will stay in the brambles,” Ivy says. “They are bound to the hedge, so open spaces are safe for passage.”
It sounds like a great rule, but I’m learning that sometimes rules can be broken. Even magical rules. So I stick c
lose to her as we make our way down the path.
Krista tells Jaxon where to direct the tunnel, presumably based on which way the scent of smoke is growing stronger to her. We aren’t very deep into the hedge when I start to smell it, too.
As we wander, the light around us grows dim, as if the sun has completely set, even though it shouldn’t have by now. The brambles are so thick I can’t see the sky. We walk and walk, and even though we are going slowly, I think we should have exited the other side by now.
A howl echoes in the distance, and I grip onto Ivy’s shirt so we don’t become separated. Without the others, I would become hopelessly lost. Fast.
Finally, Krista and Jaxon stop. They crouch down, and Ivy and I gather around them. I can see the glow of the fire from here.
“What—”
The others all put their fingers to their lips to quiet me. I create a pocket of air around us to keep our voices from carrying, but we continue to whisper.
“What’s happening?”
“I can’t tell who it is,” Krista says. “The smoke is blocking my view.”
I breathe out to create a gentle breeze, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction, clearing a small glen with a bonfire in the middle of it.
Krista gasps. “Mr. Stewart!”
Duncan Stewart is the third-year teacher and the Craig elder for the fire witches.
He’s Krista’s mentor.
We watch as Mr. Stewart reaches into a bag and pulls out some papers, throwing them onto the fire.
“What are they?” I ask, trying to see better over their shoulders.
Jaxon shakes his head. “I couldn’t see if they were Giselle’s papers.”
But as he says that, Mr. Stewert pulls out the notebook. I recognize the little pink and white flowers.
“That’s it!” I say. “The notebook.”
Mr. Stewart stares down at the notebook, turning it over in his hands. He glances around, and we all duck. When I look back, I think for a moment he is going to keep it, slip it into his jacket. But he doesn’t.
He tosses the notebook onto the fire as the flames dance toward the sky.
Chapter 16
I lunge forward. I can’t let Giselle’s notebook burn.
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