by Tiegan Clyne
We sit by the oak tree. Alice sprawls out on the grass with her bagel, and Sirena leans up against the bole, taking advantage of the shade. I sit between them, making the third point of a triangle. I remember Grandma telling me how three is a magical number, and how triangles have magic in their shape. She was going to teach me how to use triangles in spells. Sadly she never got the chance.
My eyes mist up and I blink the tears away. I will not mourn, not until I’ve had my revenge. Somewhere hiding in this school is a werewolf and I need to find out who it is. If that wolf is part of Rosso Lupa, I’m going to slit them from navel to neck and dance in their entrails.
Sirena nudges me on the arm. “Penny for your thoughts, if they’re not too gross.”
She’s looking at me intently. I school my features to hide the ferocity of my emotions.
“Trying to decide what illusions to cast in the competition.”
She takes a bite of her apple. “What time do you go on?”
I pull the parchment out of my pocket and consult it again. “It starts at ten a.m. in the auditorium. First years are from ten to eleven, second years from eleven to twelve, break for lunch, third years one to two, and fourth years two to three.”
“Are the professors going to compete?”
That’s something I would like to see. “Yes. They’re from four to six. That’ll be fun.”
Over a mouthful of apple, she asks, “So when is the spelling bee?”
Alice smiles, shaking her head slowly. “It’s at eleven. Which you’d know if you’d read the parchment I gave you.”
“Well, you already read it, so I figured I’d just ask you. It’s always worked before.”
Alice rolls her eyes. “The alchemy demonstrations start at eleven, too, so I’ll be able to see Redera compete, at least. I won’t be able to see the spelling bee.”
Sirena snorts. “You’re not going to be missing anything.”
Alice turns to me. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”
I shake my head. “Depends on the rules.”
“Are there rules, other than ‘win for Everafter?’” Sirena presses, not sounding convinced.
A trio of Nevermore’s finest show up and walk across the courtyard, talking to each other. One is a dark fairy, one is the banshee who woke everybody up, and the third is the sluag. They look at us, and we look at them.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say.
Sirena finishes eating her apple, her eyes on the banshee. “I wonder what it’s like to be them.”
Alice pops the last bite of bagel into her mouth and brushes the crumbs off her lap. “Ask them.”
Sirena is aghast. “I don’t want to talk to them!” She lowers her voice. “They’re scary.”
“So are you without your makeup,” I tease.
She throws the last piece of her toast at me. A red-winged blackbird swoops in and grabs it with a loud cry. It must have been watching us from one of the other trees, just waiting for its chance. I remember seeing a similar bird the other morning. There’s something about it that seems…off. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.
Anyway, it’s time for me to strut my illusory stuff, and I’m really not enthused. My girls come with me as moral support, which I certainly appreciate.
Professor Rumpkin is hovering at the door to the auditorium. “Ah! Redera. Since you’re competing, you’ll be sitting in the front row, on the left side.”
“Good luck, babe,” Sirena grins. “You’ve got this.”
Alice gives me a thumbs up, and then I walk down to the front of the auditorium. There are two sets of steps that have been erected to let us walk from the seats to the stage, and two spotlights shine down to illuminate where the competitors will stand. The soot and scorch marks from our little episode have been cleared away, and if you hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t know I almost set the ceiling on fire.
Well, with Aurora’s help, I’m sure. Obnoxious little bitch.
They’ve got the Everafter people sitting on the left side of the auditorium, and across the aisle, the Nevermorians are occupying the seats on the right. I check to make certain I have my wand, then I sit back and wait.
Damien is in the front row on his side, and he’s looking right at me. I ignore him, something I’ve gotten good at over the years. I’ve elevated it to an art form. Apparently he’s going to be competing for his school. Hopefully he’s not going to be my opponent, because the less time I spend around him, the happier I am.
As if I wasn’t already annoyed enough, Gideon comes in and sits down two seats away from me. He gifts me with a glare before turning his attention to the stage, which is stupid, because there’s nothing on it but two chairs and some light.
“Aw, Biff,” I say. “Are you ignoring me? What’s the matter? Afraid I’m going to bite you?”
He gives me a snotty side-eye. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Gideon finally turns his glare back on me. His cheeks are flushed, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s pitching a bit of a tent, right before he’s supposed to stand up in front of both schools.
How hilariously inconvenient.
I glance in his lap and make sure he knows I’m doing it. “Is that for me?”
He looks away again, furious and flustered, and I laugh. Too easy.
Another Nevermore student sits with Damien. It’s the dark fairy that I saw out in the courtyard. She takes the seat right beside him and leans in, whispering in his ear. He turns his head and looks at me, his dark eyes twinkling.
Lockwood and Cassim stride onto the stage, and the people in the auditorium applaud politely, except for me. I fold my hands in my lap. Both of the headmasters look at me pointedly, and Lockwood raises a brow. I slowly applaud, too. I can be a real brat sometimes. I hope he remembers this the next time we’re alone.
The headmaster of Everafter raises his hands, and the room falls silent. He starts to speak. “Welcome to this year’s Festival of Light. Nevermore and Everafter have been sharing this holiday together for well over a hundred years, celebrating peace and the end of the Silva War.”
My covenmaster adds, “Every year, our two people come together. We are not friends.”
He smiles toward the Nevermorians, who laugh and cheer loudly, right on cue. The Everafter side boos. Lockwood crosses his arms with his wand in his hand, and even through his professor’s robes, I can see his biceps bulge. He makes me so hot.
“We are not friends,” Cassim continues, “but neither are we enemies. We no longer meet on a field of battle. We meet in friendly competition, where the winner takes all.”
A trophy that’s almost as tall as I am appears in the middle of the stage. It’s a gold loving cup, inset with jewels and engraved with intricate sigils. Every gem and symbol are packed with magic that I can practically smell.
“Ooh,” says the crowd, and damn if I’m not just as impressed. That’s a lot of power in one place.
“The school that wins this year’s competition will win this trophy,” Lockwood says, and I can hear his voice in my head. ‘And it had better be my school.’ I look around and I can see from the looks on the other faces on my half of the room that he managed to project his voice into all of our minds. Gideon actually looks pissed off about it. I want to know this spell! Imagine all the things I could make people think is their own thoughts? I bet I could convince Rapunzel she’s going bald. That would be fun.
“The first competition is illusions,” Cassim announces. “Two students from Nevermore for each level of schooling will face off with two students from Everafter. The one whose illusions gain the loudest applause wins that round.”
A tray filled with little trophies floats out from backstage, hovering at waist height and bouncing softly.
Lockwood plucks one of the trophies and holds it up. “The winner of each round will take these trophies home with them.” He turns it in his hand. “Perfect size for a drinking vessel.”
“Or for catching blood offerings at the altar,” Cassim adds. Everafter students grumble, but the Nevermorians clap their hands.
Professor Rumpkin joins them on the stage. “The rules are as follows. First: the illusions can only be the size of the caster—no life-sized dragons!”
Well, shit. There goes my idea.
“Second: the illusions may not interact with any living person or creature except the caster. Third: the illusions may not leave the stage.”
Cassim speaks up. “There will be a ward preventing that.”
I wonder what precedent made that necessary, and who cast the spell.
“Fourth: the illusions may be visual and auditory, but not olfactory. No smells!”
That sounds like a rule that’s aimed directly at Nevermore and some of its students, like the trolls.
“You each get to cast two spells. Students, may your spells be powerful and your illusions the stuff of dreams!”
“Or nightmares!” someone in the back of the Nevermore side of the room shouts out, receiving a loud cheer from his comrades.
Cassim beams in that direction, but Lockwood glares, his eyes narrowing. By all the unholy, that look is scorching hot. I really hope I get to see him again soon.
Rumpkin raises her hands. “Let the competition begin!”
Lockwood and Cassim come down the steps and sit in the aisle seats of their respective first rows. The trophies float back behind the curtains, and Rumpkin comes down out of mid-air and sits in a chair at the back of the stage. I guess she’s the referee? She waves her wand, and letters a foot high that look like they’re made out of glitter and good intentions waver into being. They spell the names “Gideon Kingsley” and “Damien Salvador.”
The room erupts into cheers as each school tries to out-shout the other. Gideon stands up and goes toward the stairs. As he passes Lockwood, the headmaster whispers, “Don’t embarrass me.”
Gideon gives him an evil look but proceeds up the stairs. Damien shakes his father’s hand on the way to his own set of steps and climbs up onto the stage. They’re both arrogant pricks, and I don’t know which one of them I want to see lose.
Rumpkin guides them to stand in the illuminated circles cast by the spotlights. She produces a coin, one of the big, flashy silver ones from Fantasia, and they flip to see who’ll go first. Damien wins the toss.
Figures. He’s always been a tosser.
He stands back and shakes out his hands, as if casting an illusion is somehow physically demanding. Someone in the Nevermore section shouts, “Let’s go, Salvador!” Damien acknowledges them with a grin. Gideon stands with his arms crossed, mimicking the position that our headmaster was in earlier. Lockwood did it better.
Rumpkin shouts, “Three… two… one!”
Damien lifts his wand and the air around him fills with miniature ravens. They’re no bigger than hummingbirds, and they soar around him in a wedge formation. His classmates erupt in cheers and applause, but nobody on my side of the room seems very impressed.
“Ravens from Nevermore?” a voice mocks from the Everafter side. “We’ve seen it!”
The people behind me start laughing. I slide Lockwood a glance, and one corner of his mouth—the side that’s not facing Cassim—is turned up just a touch.
The ravens swoop around Damien’s head faster and faster until they form a replica of the Crown of Lucifer, an image that’s in every Unholy Bible. Once the crown is complete, it strobes with blacklight. The Nevermore side is eating it up. Everafter is unimpressed. They probably have no idea what that crown is supposed to be.
It’s Gideon’s turn. He squares his stance and spirals the tip of his wand, starting low and moving up higher. As he goes, a tower constructs itself from the bottom up, taking shape out of nothingness. The stones look like real granite and marble, and when he gets to the roof, its pitched sides are covered in copper sheets. A flag flies from the peak of the tower, and it shows the royal symbol of Fantasia. The Everafter side goes berserk, and even some of the Nevermore crowd clap. The tower dissolves into a shower of golden glitter.
I’ve got an idea of what I’m going to do for my illusion. I only hope it works out right.
It’s Damien’s turn again. He sweeps his wand over his head in an arc, and the whole room goes dark. A spark flashes, then what looks like a rose arbor that someone set on fire appears, and I can see how happy he is from the look on his face in the red light. The usual applauding and shouting goes up from the crowd.
Gideon flicks his wand at Damien’s fire arbor, and he dispels it.
Cassim leaps to his feet. “No! That is against the rules of the competition!”
“The matter of dispelling or dismissing an opponent’s spells was not read out in the rules,” Lockwood counters calmly. He sounds even, but he’s annoyed as heaven with Nevermore’s headmaster.
Professor Rumpkin flies to the proscenium. “I apologize. I neglected to read that rule aloud. Technically, dismissing a competitor’s spell is against the rules, but we didn’t announce that rule, so we can’t enforce it… can we?”
The Everafter side of the room starts yelling, “No!” The Nevermore side screams the opposite.
Lockwood stands and holds up his hand. The room goes silent.
“From this moment forward, dismissal is forbidden. The round is a draw.”
Resentful noises rise from both sides of the aisle, and the students come down off the stage. Gideon and Damien glare at one another when they reach their respective bottom steps.
“You did that on purpose,” Damien accuses. “You knew perfectly well that dismissal is forbidden and you took advantage of the loophole. How like a ‘hero’ to manipulate a situation in their favor!”
“It’s villains who manipulate loopholes,” Gideon snarls.
For a moment, I think they’re going to come to blows.
“Come on, guys,” I say, standing up to take my place beneath the spotlight. “It’s just a little competition.”
“Mr. Kingsley,” Lockwood rumbles. “Sit down.”
He points at the chair beside himself, and Gideon reluctantly sits where he’s been told. He needs some lessons in obedience, not just decorum, and I’m the witch to teach him.
The dark fairy comes up to stand on the stage with me, and she offers me her hand. I shake it, because why not? The students act like some earth-shattering thing just happened and I think I see a little shine of approval in both headmasters’ faces.
We repeat the coin toss, and the dark fairy goes first. She creates a replica of Captain Hook’s ship, the Jolly Roger, and it sails across the stage. The sails don’t really move because she can’t seem to get it to behave like there’s a wind blowing it across water, but it’s a pretty good illusion anyway.
My turn.
I get my wand and draw a circle around myself as if I’m consecrating the space. Once I have my boundaries set, I think of a dancing tune and make it start playing out loud. My conjured music reverberates, the auditorium’s perfect acoustics making it sound as if there’s a bunch of musicians playing in the non-existent orchestra pit. Then I create a hundred different candle flames and make them dance in time with the music.
This is a simple spell, but it’s entertaining. Redera and I used to get in trouble for doing this in our room at night after we were supposed to have gone to bed. She loved this song and we used to take turns making the flames dance. When we got really good at it, we’d change the colors of the little flames, and so that’s what I do now. The tiny yellow flames turn red, which fade to pink. Pink changes into white, white into blue. The colors cycle in time with the music, whose rhythm is tied to my own heartbeat. The flames bounce and dance and whirl, and I’m concentrating so hard on playing Redera’s song without crying that I miss the fact that both sides of the room are cheering for me.
I dismiss the spell at the end of the song, and Professor Rumpkin presses a little trophy into my hand. It’s thoroughly mundane, but it’s made of gold and
carved with the date and the words Festival of Light Winner, First-Year Student Illusionist. At the very least I can melt it down and make some money, if I’m ever so inclined.
I hold up the trophy, unexpectedly happy to have won. I can see Alice and Sirena giving me a standing ovation in the back, and I grin at them before I leave the stage.
“Well done, Miss Hemlock,” Lockwood congratulates as I pass him. “A perfect performance from start to finish. It’s a pity not all of my first-years are so diplomatic.”
Gideon’s face turns dark although he wisely holds his tongue. Jealousy is eating him alive. I guess it really sucks to be beaten by a Darkblood when you’re a raving racist.
Since my part of the illusion competition is over, the three of us leave the auditorium. Alice has to set up her alchemy display, and I’m going to go watch Sirena compete in the spelling bee. The three of us walk with our arms linked. Sirena’s holding my trophy and looking at it.
“It’s nice. It almost makes me wish I could spell,” she smiles. She giggles. “That’s almost a double entendre. Can you spell spells? I guess that’s what we’re going to be doing.”
We stroll into the common room, where people are setting up their alchemy displays. There are four tables on one side of the room and four tables facing them, I guess so four Everafter students can be paired against four Nevermorians. Alice sighs.
“This is my stop,” she says.
I look at the elaborate rigs that the fourth-year Nevermorian student is setting up. He’s got green skin, black hair, and a completely black robe. He pauses in his labors and looks up, feeling us looking at him. He smiles, revealing row after row of sharp teeth.
Sirena groans. “Ugh. A Dakuwanga.”
“Somebody from Poseida?”
“Yes.”
Alice looks concerned. “What is he?”
“A Dakuwanga. A shark shifter. They never completely take on a human form, though. The one he’s in is as close as they can get.” She frowns. “They eat babies, I’m told.”
I snort. “Rude. They say that about Darkblood witches, too.”