Heritage: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Elmwick Academy Book 3)

by Emilia Zeeland

  Frigid pins and needles prickle at my skin from all sides. My efforts to stop the future would be as futile as they would be foolish. “Fine, then do it.”

  “I will.” He peers into me with those piercing blue eyes. “But I need a few of you to come watch.”

  Chapter 7. Cami

  “I’m sorry, what?” I gape at him. “You want an audience so you can show off?”

  “Okay, correction, I need you to come watch over me,” Seff says.

  Discomfort mingles with the bitterness inside me. “Did you forget already? None of us can help you...apparently.”

  “That’s not true and it’s never been true. I need you there, at a safe distance, of course.”

  Seff’s stare is so intense that I stir just to break eye contact. “Fine.”

  We wait for our self-paced training period to end. It’s the last one for the day, so Seff and I hide in the banshee training room until all students leave Elmwick Academy. All apart from Awan, Charity and Fillan, apparently, because we bump right into them when we enter the wolves’ training room.

  Fillan leans against the door with that annoyingly smug smirk of his. “What’s this about? Little bro says the circle needs my help.”

  I cut Seff a look with my eyebrows raised.

  “Hear me out,” he says. “If only wolves can go through the obstacle course, then wouldn’t it be good to have another one of my kind to help out?”

  I bite my tongue. Fillan isn’t in any of the visions so far, so there would be no guarantee that he’d make it out alive. But I shouldn’t spiral, ruminating about this. The wolves’ training room shouldn’t unleash anything the twins can’t handle on their own.

  “And I’m here to heal him afterward, only if he needs it,” Awan says, emphasizing the last part of the sentence for Seff’s benefit.

  “What about you?” I turn to Charity.

  She runs a hand over her smooth and shiny ponytail. “I know Jean means well, and we can’t argue with her results, but I disagree with the implication that we’re better off doing this alone. We’ll always be stronger together. Even when we can’t practically help each other, we can still cheer each other on from the sidelines. That’s support too.”

  I nod at her, grateful she could find the words to describe my feelings so eloquently.

  “That’s ssickeningly ssweet,” a voice says behind us. The door creaks open, and Vanessa slips inside. “You didn’t think it’s even a little suspicious that none of you showed up at the steps after school to walk home together? It wasn’t difficult to imagine you’d be in one of the training rooms.”

  “Are you alone?” I ask cautiously.

  “Yep. Jean and Bryar will sit this one out. They’ve had enough for one day.”

  Guilt squeezes my insides, but I nod, grateful she doesn’t specify if the drama of getting the box was enough for them or if they’ve had enough of my remarks about their future.

  “So, shall we get cracking?” Awan breaks the uncomfortable silence.

  We look around the room, from its stone, cave-like walls to the small passages that lead into darkness.

  “I’m hoping we don’t have to go in there.” Charity points down the murky passages.

  Seff shakes his head. “The other triggers were all at the front of the training rooms. You guys stand back.”

  He gestures to me, Awan, Charity, and Vanessa. We flatten ourselves against the wall right by the entrance. Seff approaches the obsidian wolf’s head on the wall. It seems to be made of metal, its yawning mouth displaying razor-sharp teeth.

  Seff dips a Q-tip into the vial of Fowler’s blood, then puts the vial over his backpack in the corner, out of harm’s way. He and Fillan share a look, at the ready, then Seff touches the bloodied Q-tip to the obsidian wolf’s tongue.

  The reaction is as instantaneous as when Vanessa triggered the sphere in the viper pit. We all tense, expecting a wall to sprout between us and the twins or the floor to collapse beneath their feet, dropping them into a deadly arena like Jean’s.

  Instead, the previously smooth wall splits into two with a horizontal crack. The upper part, where the wolf’s head hangs, lifts up, revealing a hollow space, like a shelf made of stone. Twelve dusty old bottles line up in a neat file. Liquids of different colors gleam from inside the bottles. The wall behind them bears the full-moon emblem, same as the one on the training room door, and there’s a little pool below it.

  “So what? They have to pour the bottles into the little sink thingy behind them?” Vanessa asks next to me, not bothering to whisper.

  “That would be a bad idea,” Fillan says.

  He and Seff lean in to study the bottles, hands on their knees.

  “The twelve herbs,” Seff concludes.

  “What?” The four of us, still glued to the wall, shout at once.

  “It’s not something we advertise outside of the pack.” Fillan cuts us a warning look. “Elmwick Academy has nothing on the knowledge alphas share with each other before their ascension.”

  This isn’t the first time the twins have demonstrated they know more than the rest of us, so I believe them, but my eyes bulge when I look at the colorful, dusty bottles.

  “Promise to keep this under wraps,” Seff says in our direction. “We don’t want the other legacies to know all our vulnerabilities.”

  “Promise,” we murmur, still shocked.

  “Wolfsbane is the only magical substance that can harm us wolves, but there are twelve other herbs that can mask its scent and make it easier to trick us.”

  “Each of these other herbs masks the wolfsbane’s scent by overwhelming it with its own,” Fillan adds.

  “Which means we can still learn to detect them.” Seff reaches for the first bottle and uncaps the cork at the top with a pop.

  “That doesn’t explain the test,” I warn as they take turns sniffing the bottle.

  “Not to you,” Fillan replies.

  If I were closer to him, I’d be tempted to elbow him in the ribs.

  “The test is asking us to find the one bottle without wolfsbane,” Seff says. “There will likely be one or more of the other herbs in it to confuse us.”

  “That’s sstupid.” Vanessa snorts. “What’s to sstop whoever discovers this place from pouring one bottle, cleaning the sink, pouring another, and so on, until they get to the correct one?”

  “Oh, we’re not pouring the liquid into the pool,” Seff says very seriously. “The compartment behind the full-moon emblem, which I assume must be hiding our box, is not going to open to anyone who isn’t a wolf.”

  “So?” I push for him to continue.

  “So, we’ll have to identify the bottle without wolfsbane, drink it, wait for the herbs to flow into our system, and use our blood to fill the pool.”

  “And then BAM, we’ve got the next piece of the puzzle.” Fillan grins like the prospect of accidentally drinking poison is nothing but a dare.

  “That’s it.” I push away from the wall, now that the danger of a horrifying arena meant to make mincemeat out of anyone but a wolf has passed. “We’re not going to let you drink poison.”

  “We won’t,” Seff counters. “Honestly, do you trust us so little?”

  “And if you’re so worried you’ll lose Seff and get your circle broken, you can always let me do the poison drinking and bleeding. Isn’t that how it works? The circle is worth more to you than anyone else?”

  If I could burn Fillan to a crisp with a look, I would. “I said that’s enough. Whatever you two think you smell, don’t do anything until I get back.”

  “Get back?”

  “Where are you going?”

  Vanessa and Charity ask over each other, but I’m reaching for the nearest candle. I hiss in pain when melted wax spills and coats my fingers. I remove the candle from the candleholder attached to the wall, slowly lower it down to the floor and sit in front of it with my legs folded under me, trying to ignore the others who’ve gathered around me.

  “Into t
he future.”

  Before I focus on the flame, I cast one last look at the twins, who’ve already opened a few of the bottles to sniff them. I need to do this for them.

  The vision rolls over me like always, snapping me out of the present.

  It’s like I’m watching a movie close-up of Seff. It’s impossible to ground this vision or zoom out to see the surroundings. There’s only Seff’s face, biting into a person’s forearm, right above the wrist. His jaw is clenched tight, like those dogs that can’t let go once they lock their jaws.

  Werewolf venom sizzles at the edges of the bite wound, more than enough to kill or turn that unfortunate person, but Seff doesn’t let up. He digs in his teeth with all his might until he doesn’t seem capable of holding on. His eyes lose focus, and once his jaw finally unclenches, he falls unconscious.

  I bite back a scream and bury my face in my hands, trying to escape the vision.

  “Well, that can’t be good,” Awan says in his patented attempt to brighten the mood.

  Too bad it couldn’t work on me, not with the darkness suffocating me from the inside. When I finally gather the courage to gaze up at my friends’ worried faces, I know what I must say, but my throat constricts.

  Vanessa’s lips are pinched in a nervous expression, Awan gapes as if in anticipation of a retelling of the crazy vision, and only Charity nods, not to invite me to speak, but to let me know it’s all right that I seem to have momentarily lost the ability to string words together.

  Her kind eyes help me find the courage to speak. “Seff has to drink it. I’ve seen him in a vision, only him, so if he’s the one to drink, he’ll be all right.”

  At least until the moment I’ve glimpsed in the vision.

  But I don’t share that, not after I slipped up and used my previous vision to spite Jean.

  Awan and Vanessa turn to the twins, who seem to have halted their examination of the ancient bottles long enough to hear my verdict. Charity helps me up, and we all near the wall with the obsidian wolf’s head. Not too close, in case there are protection spells in place, but close enough so we don’t miss the micro expressions on the twins’ faces.

  Fillan reaches for another bottle and sniffs it, then passes it to Seff as if nothing has happened, but I sense he’s throwing quick looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “It doesn’t mean you’re dead in the future.” My voice echoes in the cave-like room.

  “I know,” Fillan says, but it comes out throaty.

  “The vision was weird,” I say, though I know I shouldn’t divulge any details. It’s better for the others not to live with any knowledge of the truth. “It was like a close-up of Seff, so I couldn’t have seen anyone else. Don’t read too much into your absence from it.”

  “Got it.” Fillan sniffs the opening of another bottle. “It’s this one.”

  Seff takes a whiff himself, then another, hesitating for a moment. “I think you’re right.”

  “That’s it?” Vanessa yells, but when she tries to go over there, Awan pulls her back. “That’s not good enough. Check again. I can’t believe this needs to be said out loud. Don’t just go ahead and drink something that might be poison!”

  “Got any better ideas, V?” Seff sounds cocky, amused by her reaction.

  “Charity is the herbs expert!” she bites back.

  The charmer scolds her with a look. “It’s not like I can do much without mixing the liquids with even more herbs and that will further change the smell. If the test is meant for a wolf and relies on their sense of smell, it’s probably a bad idea for me to interfere.”

  “Then maybe I can help? I can curse whoever made the test to unwillingly reveal the right bottle.” Vanessa eyes us, searching for an ally.

  “The wolf that created this is surely long gone,” Seff cuts her off. “I’m doing this.”

  Vanessa glares at him with murderous intensity for a moment too long before we catch on. Barely noticeable flashes of green spark close to Seff’s hand. She’s cursing him. Seff’s fingers tremble, and the tiny bottle slips from his grip.

  Charity swipes her hands, producing a purple shield, blocking Vanessa’s direct line of vision. It seems to work because the wolf’s reflexes kick in, and Seff catches the bottle an inch before it was about to hit the stone floor.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t!” Awan grabs Vanessa from behind and lifts her, one arm clasped over her belly and his other hand covering her eyes. He carries her, kicking and protesting, out of the room.

  “What’s up with her?” Fillan smirks, but I sense he knows what this is all about as much as I do. He hands the bottle to Seff. “Care to try again?”

  Seff straightens up, a daring smile plastered on his lips. Vanessa’s protectiveness seems to have only made him want to do this more.

  In one breathless gulp, he bottoms up the tiny bottle.

  Chapter 8. Cami

  The silence feels breathless, but I’m taken out of my frozen stupor by Vanessa’s constant objections, which I hear through the door. Apparently, Awan’s holding her in a deadlock grip for fear of getting cursed if he lets her look at him.

  Seff makes a face that suggest the contents of the bottle were not as delicious as one might have hoped. “So far, so good.”

  Fillan fishes out a small Swiss army knife from his pocket and hands it over. Seff closes his fingers in a tight grip around the blade and pulls the knife out of his fist with his other hand. Crimson blood leaks out of his hand so quickly that I’m glad Jean didn’t join us for this.

  Seff doesn’t let out even a faint growl as he tightens his fist. The blood falls faster and gathers into the pool behind the bottles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to fill it. Like Seff assumed, as soon as his blood has filled the pool, the full-moon emblem pops out. Inside the small compartment is another one of the metallic boxes.

  Seff grabs it with his uninjured hand and lifts it up into the air. “Success!”

  WE’RE ALL TOO EXHAUSTED to hover, especially since the clue in the box is a drawstring pouch of ash. There’s no doubt something special about it, but Seff and Fillan don’t seem to have a clue as to what. Besides, I have better things to worry about than this. After all, since I’ve seen us breaking the joint spell, I guess we’ll figure it out in time.

  We join Awan and the very sullen Vanessa outside. She glares at Seff and Fillan, but stubbornly refuses to speak as if in protest of their actions. Only I sense the darkness stemming from my link to her lift a little, which lets me know she is relieved. I swear, one day when I have the emotional capacity for it, I’ll figure out what’s going on between Seff and Vanessa. Just not today.

  The next few days roll out in an adrenaline crash. Someone must have told Jean that we got the next clue, but neither she nor any of the others insist we attempt one of the remaining rooms before Friday afternoon.

  We’re gathered in the Elmwick Academy lobby, but unlike last week when Bryar showed up, there’s no drinking, no party, no other legacies, and, most importantly, no out-of-town cold ones. I’ll have to make it up to Jester later. I ball my fists, trying not to think of the bite I crave.

  Jean wishes us a chipper ‘good luck’ before she leaves. She calls it leading by example—giving the others in the circle the solace she wished for when she was fetching her clue. We all stew in uncomfortable silence for a minute after she leaves, but then Awan proposes to go for his box next.

  He’s riding on a high after his team’s dodgeball victory, but Charity insists it has to be her.

  “Tonight is the monthly haze reinforcement,” she explains. “Most of Elmwick’s charmers will be at one of the four points that anchor the haze, stitching the shield. I can skip it this time since I usually pitch in.”

  “Aren’t you a precious doll.” Vanessa rolls her eyes.

  Charity sighs in obvious effort not to pay attention to her. “But before we continue, I think we should undo some of the measures we took after we discovered the warning about the instability of the circle.
” She glances at me with caution. “I don’t think Cami can take much more of this.”

  “Sure I can,” I say automatically, before I’ve even thought it through.

  Letting the darkness back into all of them scares me more than whatever might be hiding in the next training rooms we explore. For as long as I can, I’ll face the darkness alone.

  Charity pouts, looking very much like a disapproving older sister. “All right, but we’ll have to lighten your load soon. Promise you’ll let us.”

  “As soon as we’ve gathered all the clues.” I shrug, hoping it comes off innocently when I’m actually not in any rush to gather the rest of the clues. That would bring us uncomfortably close to the horrifying future I know is coming.

  Her doubtful gaze stays on me a second longer before she says, “Let’s go, then.”

  I can’t explain why, but I enter the charmers’ training room feeling a little calmer. I trust Charity will undo whatever shield is blocking our way to the next box. Plus, now that the rest of us know to stay out of the way, the room shouldn’t retaliate, right? There’s a sinking hollowness in my heart that I try not to interpret.

  The charmers’ room looks the same way it did when Mrs. Gianni gave me a tour of the school a few months ago. Different charm anchors—in the form of herbs, mushrooms, and moss—are neatly packed into solid glass jars or wooden boxes. Despite the control I have over my voice now, the sight of so much glass makes me a little uneasy. I could shatter it all like an elephant in a china store.

  “Where do you think the trigger could be?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

  When I whirl around, the others are studying the endless shelves of charm anchor ingredients, and Charity advances deeper into the room. It only now occurs to me that I never asked her to show me the charmers’ gardens where they grow the herbs. Or to explain how they can even grow them underground.