The cold ones cast sly looks at him as they pass us by and head to the cold ones’ training room and the tunnel that connects Elmwick to their castle.
Jester places a butterfly kiss on my knuckles. “Until next time, my banshee.”
He walks into the cold ones’ training room last, passing Bryar with a cunning smile on his face. She only lowers the bow when he’s out of sight.
“Come on. I’ll take you to Jean.” My voice is low and monotone, as if we’re making small talk, but it doesn’t bother me enough to try harder.
The party has grown even rowdier in my absence, judging by the blotches of wine staining the floor and the overall level of noise. As soon as Bryar steps out from behind me, though, the room quiets.
Jean jumps up from the couch where she’s been drinking with two of Vanessa’s cousins. She turns into a smear that dashes across my vision and halts in front of Bryar.
“You’re back...” She sounds timid as she reaches for Bryar.
They share a soft kiss, but Bryar pulls away almost at once. “Yes, I’m back. And I received a weird welcome.” She grabs me by the elbow with one hand and wipes away my hair, so everyone can see the puncture marks on my neck. “What’s happening to you all? This is not the Elmwick I remember.”
With her gaze, Bryar follows the trail of wine on the floor all the way to the coffee table, where plastic cups roll amid leftover snacks.
“Typical hunter,” Vanessa says. “Your people aren’t in control anymore, so you sstart complaining. Well, it’s time to experience life under different rules.”
“This isn’t about control,” Bryar insists, but my interest in her arrival wanes.
It’s great for Jean, she got her girlfriend back, but my soul is still black. My heart still aches for Mason. Nothing has changed. And the last traces of the sway from Jester’s bite fade quicker and quicker.
I stomp over to the couch and sink in the soft cushions, taking Jean’s spot. They can bicker just fine without me.
“Are you really so far gone that you don’t even see what’s wrong here?” Bryar scans the room with her eyes, but she’s met with whispers and snorts. “Jean, please, you need to snap out of it. This is all very weird.”
One by one, I feel the gazes of those in my circle on me, but I don’t understand why they look to me for guidance.
“That’s it.” Bryar sneers. “Everyone not in the circle, get out now.”
Vanessa’s cousin sitting on my left bursts into a fit of hissing laughter. She leans forward, elbows pressing on her knees. “That’s a first. A hunter telling the legacies to leave Elmwick Academy.”
There’s a split second when all gazes fall on me again, but then Jean steps in. “Bryar’s right. We need to talk. Come on, guys, give us the space, please.”
The diplomacy she must have inherited from her mother seems to work. The others share reluctant looks but make to leave eventually. Vanessa and Seff come to sit next to me in place of Vanessa’s cousins who whisper and giggle together as they leave. My intuition tells me it’s all for show, to annoy Bryar one last time while they can.
She doesn’t pay them any attention, though. Once the door closes behind the last sullen legacies leaving Elmwick Academy for the night, Bryar starts pacing through the stray pieces of trash on the floor. “Feel free to explain anytime.”
On the other couch, positioned at an angle to the one Vanessa, Seff, and I are sitting on, Awan and Charity let go of each other and straighten up a little. Apparently, the kerfuffle so far wasn’t reason enough for them to untangle from each other, but now they see Bryar means business.
The only one still standing is Jean, who shoots cautious looks at Bryar. Through the link, I feel her frustration. She wanted Bryar to fling herself into her arms on arrival and explain why she’s been so distant in her texts. Instead, she’s greeted with a cool inquisition into our new lives.
I don’t have the strength to start explaining, so I’m grateful when Jean seems to swallow the bitterness. She rehashes our actions so far for Bryar—finding the ancient text, learning of the implications it has for Mason, and the warning it carries for our circle. Then, she briefs her on the actions we’ve taken to keep each other in check and make sure we don’t grow out of control.
“I’d say you’re failing.” Bryar’s tone sounds irritating. No. Irritated—frustrated with us.
Deep down I feel she’s in the right, but I can’t sort through the fog in my mind quick enough to understand why. “We did what we could to curb the explosive temper that all circles of six seem to trigger. We did our best.”
Bryar stares at me, her green eyes wide in shock. “This is officially not normal. Since when is Cami the sulkiest of you all?” She whirls around to cast severe looks at the members of my circle. “Look at her! Jester fed on her and she doesn’t even care! Why is she like this? Whatever measures you took didn’t solve your problem.”
The others turn to me sharply while I only stare at the empty space in front of me—unseeing and unblinking. “The links feed me your emotions. By suppressing you from lashing out and releasing the darkness of the circle of six, it’s all flowing inward now...to me.”
The certainty of a premonition makes me keep a level tone as I speak, but unlike other premonitions, I think I’ve known this for a while. The fog wouldn’t let me think I could do anything about it, though. Even now, it’s hard to believe we could fight it, even if we tried.
“Oh, this is bad.” Charity bites her lip, nervously wringing her hands together. “We... We...”
“We dumped all our unstable negative emotions on you,” Jean says in terror. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s working, though, isn’t it?” I shrug. “Maybe it’s better that I pay the price for our circle rather than everyone in Elmwick.”
Seff’s expression crumbles when he throws me a sideways glance. In a flash it’s replaced with determination. “All right. We need to fix this right now.”
“No.” I’m as firm as my fuzzy brain will allow. “We have no idea what will happen or how fast you’ll slip out of control without the mechanisms we put in place. I’m fine... I’m managing it.”
If the quiet pulsating with my friends’ guilt is any indication, they don’t buy that for a second.
“Maybe she can handle it until we find a better solution,” Vanessa says at last. “Seff and I have plenty of experience keeping our darker instincts in check. We’ll keep an eye on Cami and make sure she can handle it.”
“And when a time comes when she can’t?” Charity asks in a whisper.
“Then, we’ll undo the measures we implemented,” Jean jumps in. “That means we’re on the clock, people. We need to figure out how to stabilize the circle, remove the measures, and then Cami will breathe easy again.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Awan says in a bold attempt to sound optimistic.
“So how do we stabilize the circle?” Bryar’s question sounds calmer, making her seem pleasant now that she doesn’t regard us all like we’ve lost our minds. “Does that old booklet you found hint at anything?”
“Of course not.” Vanessa sneers at her. “How thick do you think we are? If we had the answer, we wouldn’t have bothered trying to keep each other in check in other ways.”
“There’s no need to be nasty, V.” Jean almost seems too calm, as if distracted by her relationship issues. “All the text said was that a circle of six is incomplete and broken by design.”
“I guess, that means we need to complete the circle?” Charity purses her lips, then dips into a shrug when no one builds on her idea.
I know where she’s going with it, and it makes sense to me too, but there is more than one obstacle in our way if we decide to take that path.
“Someone enlighten me, please.” Bryar taps her foot in irritation. “Whatever you’re all alluding to right now, just come out with it.”
“It’s got to do with Mason.” The dark fog makes it harder to care about the imp
act of my words. “Show her the booklet, Awan. I guess she should know.”
Awan fishes the old booklet from his bag, smooths it, and hands it over with an apologetic expression. “If this story is true, then Mason is a legacy. A hidden one.”
“The one that’s been missing from every banshee’s circle for hundreds of years,” I whisper. “Read it.”
We allow her enough time to skim the text, although the silence weighs on us all. I can sense it through the links I share with the members of my circle.
“Okay, here we go,” Bryar reads a part of the story out loud. “This is what they did to create the joint spell.”
The good protectors erected a barrier, never to be seen through.
The slithering sisters hissed a curse to bind the shield, independent of any anchor.
The creatures of the night spoke their compelling commands to make the rebels forget who they were.
The howling beasts bit into the rebels, poisoning their blood.
The phantoms healed the bite, transforming the poison to a trace that would forever mark each generation of the rebels.
In their rage, the five kinds bound a joint spell, pouring their abilities into one to erase the rebels from existence.
Only the banshee watched in terror and screamed for the others to stop. But the cruelty of her incomplete circle knew no bounds. The circle went against nature, against life, against decency.
The banshee screamed, aiming to shatter the barrier around the rebels before it enveloped them forever. The joint spell was too strong for her to break through, but she pushed with all her heart until, combined with the effort of the clan being restrained, a piece of the slithering sisters’ curse ricocheted.
The joint spell took.
Those in the rebel clan woke up with no memory of who they were or of the powers they’d lost.
They went back to life as humans, never knowing they were once much more. Still, they were always drawn to the powered ones, seeking them out on instinct. That was the heritage they were left with.
And the rest of the powered ones? They inherited something as well, from the part of the curse that ricocheted. Since the day of the joint spell, they could never link with those of their own kind.
Only the banshee, the one who fought against the joint spell, inherited the gift to form the link. Not a link with her own, but with one individual from the other five kinds.
And she lived with the pain of knowing that, even if she used this ability, every circle of six would be doomed like that first one. So the banshee and her descendants swore to never let another circle form because it could be even more destructive than the first.
Bryar nods once she’s done reading the story. “Seems clear enough. Let’s find Mason and bind him to you. You two were pretty chummy before I left, so it should be a piece of cake, right?”
“Err... Not exactly,” Jean corrects her. “Cami can only bind herself to other legacies. Mason doesn’t have his powers, whatever they are, so unless we break the joint spell keeping him from his legacy first, we wouldn’t be able to link to Mason at all.”
“There’s also the question if we should free his legacy,” Seff says, then immediately shoots a guilty look my way. “I’m sorry, but the instability of a circle of six isn’t the only cautionary tale in that old story. The joint spell, although it went wrong, was a result of the violence the hidden legacies caused back when they were free. What if that means Mason’s legacy is better left...forgotten?”
“I don’t have the answer.” A dull pain appears in the back of my head. It seems the darkness fogging my mind doesn’t enjoy a brain teaser. “But it doesn’t even matter. We have no idea how to undo the joint spell.”
“Well, we can sit here complaining about it, or we can start looking.” Bryar motions for us to stand, her hands whipping up in the air. “Come on, let’s go. We can start at the place where you found this booklet.”
“It was up in the library.” Awan stands, and Charity follows slowly.
Seff, Vanessa, and I take a couple more nudges to react.
“I don’t see the point,” Vanessa whispers to me as we take the stairs to the library on the second floor. “Mason left because he didn’t like us, legacies, being in control in Elmwick. Even if we found a way to free his powers, I don’t think he’d want us to.”
I only grimace in reply, but unfortunately, I think she’s right.
Once we’re inside the library, Charity turns on the lights. Awan takes us through the events of the night Zach and Mason snuck in here and he followed them. When he gets to the part about them finding the booklet, we take the entire desk drawer out. There’s nothing but a faint dark streak across the smooth wood.
“What’s that?” Jean squints at the smeared traces.
“Old gunk, perhaps?” Vanessa pretends to gag.
Jean disregards her. “I think it’s blood.”
“Well, you’re the expert on that.” Vanessa grins back.
Seff pushes them apart before they continue their childish exchanges. “Let me sniff.” He crouches down and puts his head at the level of the drawer we pulled out. “Yep, that’s a streak of dried blood, all right.” His voice echoes inside the compartment.
“It must be how Mason opened the hidden compartment,” Awan says, turning to Charity, who picks up his train of thought.
“If there’s a charm masking over the compartment, the blood of the legacies could unlock it. It’s a similar charm to the one around Elmwick Academy.”
Jean steps forward and pats Seff on the back to make him move over. “Here, let me.”
She assumes his position and runs a sharp nail over the tip of her finger—a cut as quick as it is precise. A scarlet drop of blood forms on her finger. Jean watches it for a second, then runs her finger against the wood, next to the old traces. We all huddle together and lean over to watch. Jean’s blood leaves a wet spot of blood on the wood, but nothing happens.
“What if the shield was only meant to be broken by one legacy?” Charity whispers what we’re all thinking. “It responded to Mason’s blood because it was waiting for one of his kind.”
“So, does this mean,” Awan takes a nervous step back as he speaks, “that if any other clues about the joint spell are hidden at Elmwick Academy, they’d only reveal themselves to us if we offer the blood of a hidden legacy?”
“Seems like a fair bet,” Seff says. “Bryar, dear, care to help us out?”
I bite a lip, thinking of Vanessa’s cousin’s quinceañera at The Ravenna. Seff was taking Vanessa home after Zach poisoned her with viper’s venom, so they missed the part where Vaughn, the leader of The Hunters’ Guild, admitted to being Bryar’s father.
She doesn’t seem to mind trying, though. Bryar cuts her finger on an arrowhead and leaves a smear of blood next to Jean’s. Nothing happens.
“It seems I didn’t inherit the hidden legacy gene.” She forces brightness into her tone.
“Keep that finger covered.” Jean hands Bryar a tissue with a pinched expression and a flash of red in her otherwise gray eyes.
“So, it seems my father was right when he told Mason that they alone carry that gene in our family,” Bryar says.
“It’s just as well,” Jean says quickly, still on edge from the sight of Bryar’s blood. “Even if we had a hidden legacy’s blood, what were we going to do—go smearing it on random items at Elmwick Academy in the hope they would reveal secret hideouts with more clues?”
Bryar shrugs. “I would suggest exactly that.”
Charity licks her bottom lip. “So, we’d have to smear a hidden legacy’s blood on an item or place of significance for each of the five legacies, apart from the banshee, who fought against the joint spell, right?”
Bryar gives her a brilliant smile. “That could give us an idea of how each of the five legacies can help break the joint spell. Where should we start?”
“We could try random objects in our training rooms?” Seff says.
Awan s
cratches his chin, his perfect eyebrows arching up. “Maybe, but we still don’t have the blood.”
“Ah.” Bryar waves him off. “Did I forget to mention that Daddy’s back in town with me?”
“Hold on.” Jean blanches to bone-white. “You want us to go ask your father for a bit of his blood?”
Bryar’s lips extend into a slow and very gleeful smile. “Like I said—a piece of cake!”
Chapter 3. Cami
There are certain things I never thought I’d ask of Mason’s father. A vial of his blood has got to be at the very top of the list. Bryar, however, doesn’t seem to share my concerns as she stomps ahead, leading the circle back to her home—the mansion at the end of our one-way street.
“Do you think he’ll go for it?” I whisper to Jean, who has stayed by my side, though she traces Bryar’s every move with her eyes. “Every time I’ve talked to him, he hasn’t seemed too friendly.”
“I have a feeling Bryar will tip the scales in our favor.” Jean’s voice is cool, like she’s trying to sound detached.
“What’s up with the two of you?” I watch Jean’s stony expression for a hint, but apart from the biting sense of trouble, I come up with nothing.
“I’m not sure yet,” Jean says. “But she’s in a hurry, and she doesn’t seem to want to talk about us yet. I guess there’s something she isn’t telling us.”
“Maybe she’s worried about Mason?” His name comes out in a whisper, making me realize I haven’t said it in a while. The dark fog inside me rises in answer, replaying the moment I screamed for him to come back and he turned his back on me.
“We’ll see.” Jean’s calculating look makes me antsy. Her stoic strength becomes scary at times.
Bryar opens and calls out, “Daddy?” Though there’s no reply yet, she throws a look over her shoulder at us and says, “Come in.”
By the time the whole gang squeezes inside, Mr. Fowler makes his way to the entrance. “Bryar, I didn’t know you were bringing company.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Bryar says routinely. “I didn’t plan on having them over, but as it turns out, the circle needs your help.”
Heritage: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Elmwick Academy Book 3) Page 2