by Sarina Dorie
Having this book in her possession was incriminating enough that Vega didn’t want the principal to know about it. If the people who had written the other potions found out Vega had it, they would surely want the book as well. Vega didn’t doubt Malicious Malisha would feel no qualms about slandering Vega or grinding her remaining reputation into the ground if it made her look better in the end.
The person who had given Jessica the spell had been smart enough not to write it herself—ensuring she remained free of suspicion. But that didn’t mean there weren’t ways to trace it back to someone. Teachers had all kinds of magic that Vega didn’t.
Vega slid the lumpy leather notebook underneath her to ensure no one stole it as she slept, the hard notebook keeping her up as much as her worry about what she’d gotten herself into.
* * *
Jessica had made no attempt to conceal that she was blackmailing Vega. It was only a matter of time before people concluded Jessica had died because of a spell Vega had written on her behalf—which would be incorrect. But what other conclusion would someone draw after seeing Vega and Jessica argue?
Vega knew she had to get rid of Jessica’s journal. It showed that she had been helping Jessica cheat and had done her homework for her. On the surface, that was bad enough—grounds for expulsion. Anyone looking into the matter more deeply would conclude Vega had a motive for wanting Jessica dead or at least badly hurt.
There was no way Vega could pretend to be an inept witch who didn’t know what she was doing in each of the spells she’d sabotaged. Someone might conclude that the last one written in the book had been copied by Jessica from a spell Vega had shown her. It would have been the logical thing to do in order to not incriminate herself by writing it in Jessica’s book.
Had Vega actually intended to kill Jessica, it was what she would have done.
Vega considered burning the potions notebook, but if the principal called her into her office, stating that witnesses had seen them arguing—or overheard one of the many times Jessica tried to blackmail Vega into doing work for her—they would assume she was guilty. That meant Vega would be destroying evidence of helping a classmate cheat but also her innocence of a crime she hadn’t committed if she burned it.
And they might not even conclude she was innocent if they thought she had made Jessica write the potion translated from Spanish from her notes.
Vega stuffed the notebook into her backpack and carried it with her to breakfast. She heaped her tray full of fruit. When she used a spell to check the oatmeal to see if it was free of dairy or meat, she saw the lumpy cereal had been doctored with something she couldn’t have. She checked another table, and it was the same. Malisha Bane smirked at her from where she sat surrounded by friends. Probably she had contaminated all the oatmeal just so Vega couldn’t have any.
Vega composed her face into one of neutrality so her current bully couldn’t see that she had irritated her. Vega scooped a second helping of fruit into her bowl from one of the tables and snuck outside before the principal caught her escaping the zoo of students. This time as she made her way through the forest, she used an enchantment to detect whether she had been followed. No one was behind her.
Once she arrived at the ancient graveyard overgrown with trees, she set her tray next to a mossy tombstone. She used the spell again to check for anyone who might have followed her. For all she knew, someone had tailed her out of the dormitory the night before. If it were an adult who was following her—the same male teacher she’d spotted the night before—Vega didn’t know whether she would be able to see through invisibility or glamour. She might not be able to detect whether either kind of spell was being used if someone properly warded themselves.
Vega headed toward one of the lichen-covered trees with a hollow inside. She didn’t want to use the same tree she’d hidden her other treasures in. It wouldn’t be in her favor if every bit of incriminating evidence from each illicit thing she’d done at the school were found in the same place. Very likely they would figure out this stash was hers, and she would be expelled if it came to that.
She drew a rune in the air to ward herself so that others wouldn’t see the sparkles of magic or smell the tingle of any spells she was about to use. Next, she used a glamour to blur the air around her so no one could see what she was doing—if anyone were watching. Crouching next to the hollow at the base, she pulled a plastic bag from inside the tree where she had previously tucked it, shaking a spider off. She placed the book inside the plastic grocery bag—a leftover from a shopping trip in the Morty Realm.
Just touching the inorganic material, Vega could feel it pulling at her stamina and stored starlight. She divided her attention between her ward, her glamour, and dropping the book into the shopping bag. Vega wrapped the book up tight, then reached into the tree for a second bag. The plastic would protect the book from the rain as well as most Witchkin spells. Fae, and their half-breed descendants like Vega and others at the school, were sensitive to Morty-crafted toxins like plastic.
The plastic would make it more difficult for other magic wielders to use a locating spell with the negative effects of the synthetic materials.
Vega might need to retrieve this book later to prove her innocence. Jessica had at least four other enemies who might have wanted her dead.
She wished she had paid closer attention to whom Jessica had coerced homework out of in the cafeteria. Potions wasn’t the only class she would need others to help her with. Charlotte was one of the people who had written in Jessica’s book, as were Frida and Malisha. Vega wouldn’t have put it past Malisha to kill another student who threatened her. Nor did Vega doubt Malisha would shift the blame to someone else if she could.
But Vega had accidentally outed Malisha’s secrets last quarter. Everyone knew everything incriminating about her family and their heritage by this point, didn’t they? Vega recalled that note left on her pillow. It had been Jessica’s handwriting—or she thought it had been. Could it have been Malisha’s? A forgery?
The breakfast hour was dwindling. Vega only had so much time to eat and race back to school. Even so, she unwrapped the warped book and flipped back to the potion in Spanish. This penmanship was definitely Jessica’s distinct style.
Touching the plastic for so long was taking its toll on Vega’s magical stamina. If she kept this up, she wasn’t going to have energy for spells in her classes since she couldn’t recharge her starlight until the evening. She hurriedly wrapped up the book in one bag and then slid it into the second bag before shimmying the book inside her hidey hole. She tore a few clumps of lichen from the tree and stuffed it in front of the bag so it wouldn’t be visible to anyone who looked inside. She dropped her glamour, feeling exhausted.
When Vega returned to her fruit, she found a group of small pixies trying to carry off her banana. She clapped her hands and scared them off. They dropped the fruit onto a grave and scattered. If only all her problems could be solved as easily as clapping her hands.
* * *
Vega’s fourth-period teacher handed her a note at the end of the class that said she was to go to the principal’s office at the start of lunch. This didn’t bode well.
Malisha Bane, Vega’s nemesis prior to Jessica, rushed past Vega on her way out of the waiting room, shoving her shoulder hard into Vega’s. Her long blond hair trailed behind her as she ran past, tears in her eyes. Vega hoped that vile daughter of a witch had gotten a detention for something she deserved.
Or better yet, expelled.
The principal’s secretary, Mr. Gordmayer, an attractive man with a square jaw, athletic build, and a smile that lit up the room, waved to Vega from his desk.
“Can I offer you a cookie?” He held out a metal tin.
Vega froze when she saw the watch on his arm with the leather band. He had been the one to confiscate her books the night before. Did that mean he suspected her of murder? Or did he have some other motive?
His eyebrows raised
expectantly.
Vega shook her head. “Sorry. I’m allergic.”
Probably he had a potion in one of those cookies to make her spill all her secrets. Even if Vega could have eaten a cookie without any ill effects from the butter, she wouldn’t have trusted him to feed her food free of magic.
Vega didn’t even make it to one of the chairs in the waiting room before the principal called her name through the open doorway. Warily, Vega stepped inside.
Between the impressive wall-length windows behind the desk leading to a balcony, the expansive shelves of books, a marble statue of the Lady of the Lake, and a high ceiling decorated with a celestial mural, this was what Vega had imagined her room at the school would look like.
An impressive dragon skeleton floated elegantly on display, gleaming like polished alabaster in its poised position above their heads. With the girth of an elephant, the skeleton of the dragon took up half the room—but only the upper half. The tail curled around the office, enclosing the two women, making Vega feel tiny and insignificant.
One of the giant teeth in the regal skull was missing. Vega pretended not to notice. The hollow sockets of the dragon stared accusingly at her, as if it could sense her guilt.
Each step toward the empty chair across from the principal’s desk felt as though it took forever.
Principal Gordmayer’s fingers were steepled in front of her, her eyes hidden in the shadows under her witch hat. Vega noticed her journal on top of the principal’s desk. It was the one that had been taken the night before in Ms. Suarez’s classroom. Vega looked out the window before her expression gave her away.
“Do you know why I have called you in here today?” The rhinestones on Mrs. Gordmayer’s glasses twinkled as she adjusted them.
Vega suspected the principal expected her to confess to killing one of her classmates—which she hadn’t done. Vega seated herself in the chair. “I suspect my grades are so exemplary you intend to give me an award.”
The principal snorted. “Nice try, dear.” She opened Vega’s journal. “We’re here to talk about Latin. And potions.”
Son of a succubus! This was worse than Vega had suspected. Had Mr. Reade figured out she’d been doing Jessica’s homework?
Mrs. Gordmayer stared in stony silence for a long moment before adding. “You have such lovely handwriting. Such memorable penmanship. So neat and elegant. Tidy and easy to read.”
Sweat trickled down the back of Vega’s neck. The principal’s puckered lips stretched into a smile. Vega had no doubt the principal could smell her fear.
Vega did her best to keep her face calm. “How kind of you to take an interest in my penmanship.”
Mrs. Gordmayer slid the journal toward Vega. “I believe this is yours.”
Vega picked it up and examined the contents. It was her potions journal, just as she’d thought. “Did I lose this?” she asked innocently.
“Indeed. You must have lost it.”
“Oh.” That answer was unexpected. Vega knew for a fact she hadn’t lost it. The journal had been in a locked classroom until a staff member had confiscated it—probably for Principal Gordmayer. She expected the principal to say so, but she didn’t.
Apparently, she was going to play a game to try to entrap Vega. Had this scheme worked on Malisha, who hadn’t known what was coming?
“It’s interesting how handwriting can say so much about one’s psyche.” Mrs. Gordmayer’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone’s penmanship is so distinctly unique, it doesn’t even take an expert to see the difference from someone else’s. Not in most cases.”
Vega leaned back in the chair, attempting to look bored and indifferent. “That’s nice.”
“It happens one of your teachers noticed your handwriting in someone else’s journal.” She let that sink in. “Mixed in with a classmate’s homework assignments.”
Would Mr. Reade have ratted her out? He had done so before—for her own good. Of course, those circumstances had been different. Did he suspect Vega had murdered a peer this time? She hated to think her favorite teacher would have concluded she was a selfish, wicked witch—even if she was.
“Wow. Someone else must have handwriting similar to mine.” Vega tried to replace the panic in her tone with sarcasm. “I guess we must have similar personalities.”
Mrs. Gordmayer crossed her arms. “Any student caught cheating will be suspended, and a note will be written on her permanent record. A student who already has a note of misconduct on her record will be expelled.” Her blue eyes bore into Vega, skewering her with that comment.
Vega couldn’t imagine any fate worse than that—except being outed as being a ghoul. Either would shame her family and cut down on her opportunities for the future.
“It’s a good thing I have excellent grades. I have no reason to cheat.” Vega knew the principal was aware of her academic excellence; she’d needed to get Mrs. Gordmayer’s approval to advance to more challenging classes. But the principal also was aware of her detentions of student past.
The principal scowled. “Those who assist cheaters will also earn the same reward. Am I clear?”
“Why would you think I’d lower myself to help someone cheat?” Vega asked innocently.
“As I said, we have someone else’s notebook that contains similar handwriting to your own. It would be a pity if I learned you were assisting someone to cheat in classes rather than allowing them to earn the grade they deserve.” Mrs. Gordmayer’s silver eyebrows furrowed together. “How unfortunate that someone is now . . . dead.”
Mrs. Gordmayer was bluffing. She had to be. The principal didn’t have Jessica’s potions journal—unless she had followed Vega and found it in the hollow of the tree between breakfast and lunch. Then again, there was all the Latin homework Vega had done, but with that, she’d at least attempted to make her handwriting look like Jessica’s.
Vega waited for the big reveal that would incriminate her for helping another student cheat. Did Mrs. Gordmayer know she’d fallen into Jessica’s blackmail trap, and the principal was about to accuse her of murder.
Mrs. Gordmayer tapped her long nails on the wood desk between them. The clock in the corner ticked menacingly in the silence.
“Is that all?” Vega asked. Was all of this really about cheating or was this some kind of covert way to find out if someone had set Jessica up to die?
The principal stood. “You are dismissed.”
Charlotte waited outside the office, her foot tapping in anxiety. First the principal had questioned Malisha, then Vega, and Charlotte was next. She was questioning everyone whom Jessica had dug up dirt on, other students she’d coerced into doing her homework for her. If Charlotte were smart, she would have used a charm to listen in so she would know what to expect. Vega didn’t know whether Charlotte was intelligent enough to think of that.
The day went by without further incident until Vega found the second note on her pillow.
I know what you are.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Present—Nine Years Later Again:
Time Keeps On Slipping into the Future
Vega sucked in a breath. The sanctuary of the teachers’ quarters had been disturbed by unexpectedly finding a note on her pillow. Just as the one nine years previous had, it looked to be written in Jessica’s nearly illegible handwriting. Scrawled across the new note were the words:
I’m watching you.
Karen Kazmere, Vega’s roommate, was already asleep, probably unaware someone had been in their room. After using a spell to attempt tracing the note to the person who had placed it on her pillow—and failing—Vega slept fitfully, her mind on the mysterious message.
Was this note written by the same person who had left the notes a decade ago or by someone else? Nine years previous, Vega had slipped the note that had been left for her into the journal—which someone could have appropriated to use for reference. This new note was charred, either because it had been near some pyroma
niac or because someone thought they were being ominous and dramatic.
When she’d been a teenager, she’d received two notes in the same handwriting after Jessica’s death.
This was the same handwriting but a new note and a new message, nine years later. Did that mean Jessica was still alive?
Vega ruled out the possibility that the note in her hands was from Jessica’s ghost. If Jessica had decided to haunt the living, she would most likely have chosen to harass the person who had given her the last spell in her book—assuming she had coerced someone into giving it to her and someone hadn’t snuck it in. Even if Jessica were a ghost, Vega’s previous readings on restless spirits suggested ghostly presences were stronger right after their deaths. Jessica would have started haunting her killer, or the suspected killer, immediately after her death, not nine years later when it conveniently happened that the same spell had been used again.
Also, ghosts didn’t typically write notes and slip them under blankets. The living did that.
Vega had seen Jessica die herself. It was impossible to resurrect the dead. Vega knew. She had tried—even if it was illegal. It was possible Jessica was a phoenix or some other creature that could be born anew out of the ashes of fire. A possible scenario, but an unlikely one, considering Jessica hadn’t had any feathers or bird characteristics. Even if she had been a shifter, Vega would have spotted a bird hanging out at the school.
The most likely scenario was that someone else had planted the new note. Someone who knew about Vega doing Jessica’s homework and suspected she had created the final spell that had killed Jessica. Or if they knew she hadn’t, they wanted someone else to think she had to take the blame off themself.
When Vega thought back to everyone who had a reason to want Jessica dead, she had only known about the four girls who had been her classmates whom she had blackmailed. The four handwritings that Vega recognized in the book belonged to: Vega, Malisha Bane, Charlotte Winters, and Frida Lakshmi. The last handwriting she’d just figured out was Ms. Suarez’s entries.