Chapter Twelve

The way down the stairs was narrow and dark. All the lights had gone off after the last thunder. I hadn't wanted to get out of the bed, my safe haven with the warm quilt and Missus Piggy, but I didn't want to be alone when the sky was being so furious and scary. I also didn't like the loud voices downstairs—it was always loud downstairs because we always seemed to have guests all the time. But I thought I could hide behind the sofa like I always did, listening to everyone arguing and taking comfort in the fact that I wasn't alone.

There wasn't much light downstairs, either. A stranger sat on the floor. When he saw me from the stairs, he stood. I thought it was strange for a guest to notice me. Everyone usually ignored me as long as I stayed hidden behind the couch. Maybe I made too much noise this time. The stranger didn't look at me the way everyone else always did when they saw me—he didn't look away quickly like he wasn't supposed to be looking at me and neither did he look upset. Instead he smiled and held out his hand to me. It was big and pale, hidden by the same black cloth that covered his head.

"You are different, aren't you?" His voice made me shiver. It was soft compared to the loud thunder outside, but it sounded like it was made of many broken strings, distorted and spidery.

I took a step back.

The stranger didn't pull back his hand. "Come with me, child," he whispered. "You can be so much more."

My gaze flitted to Mommy and Daddy. They were lying on the ground. Why were they letting this stranger talk to me? They never let anyone talk to me. "No," I said. I wanted to sound just as loud and angry as the thunder, but my voice was small and high.

The smile died from his face. He withdrew his hand slightly, and then bent down to cover my head with his hand. I began shaking, but all he did was brushing back my hair from my face. "You will come to me," he said, and this time his voice was almost normal, sure and confident.

When he disappeared, I began crying. Mommy and Daddy still didn't say anything. Why wouldn't they say anything if they were awake? Their eyes were open, staring emptily at the ceiling. Red blood was everywhere. From their eyes, ears, mouth, nose, pooling under where I sat...

I woke up gasping for air, trying to remember who I was and where I was. Something wet covered my hands and for a split of second I almost thought it was blood. But when I murmured a spell to light up the nightstand, the only thing on my hands were clear liquid. I realized then that my face was also wet. Tears. I was crying.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped my eyes and tried to stop it from streaming out more tears. A glance on my right told me that Amy was still fast asleep. It was three in the morning. Every time I tried to pull myself away from the dream, it pulled me back to the memory. And that wasn't even the worst memory I had. I had been terrified and confused. Angry, much later. But the worst thing that had ever happened to me didn't come until years later

I remembered how I was discovered by the academy. It was my fourth foster home. In the previous one, I had gained myself a reputation as the freak. I just didn't want to be different anymore, so I stayed quiet all the time and never talked to anyone. At school, some teachers thought I couldn't talk at all. I was on the happiest place I could be at the time because no one was giving me a hard time for talking to animals or seeing people whom others couldn't see. I even ignored them these days—the ghosts.

Everything was as fine as it could be for someone like me—until my foster father started to come into my room at nights.

No one believed me when I told them because I had a history of 'making up stories' and 'telling lies'.

And then, one night, I couldn't take it anymore. When he came to my room that night, I thought about everything I wish I could do to him. Every pain he had caused me, every lash and beating and choking. I made sure he couldn't scream, because he always made me promise not to scream if I wanted it to hurt less. I also made sure he couldn't breathe, so that he knew how it felt like to be suffocated.

I did it all consciously. Only by thinking of it. Every single imagination I had came true without me even having to lift a hand. Many years after this, I would learn that what I did was called raw magic manipulation. And I had always been good at it. And I had killed someone because of it.

When I was sentenced to go into the juvenile prison, everyone was staggered by how a seven-year-old girl could do that to a grown man without any evidence for the cause of death. They finally framed his own wife, my foster mother, because hers was the only fingerprint they found on him that day.

The news drew the academy's attention to me. When they came and they told me I could go to this school where everyone was just like me, it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. So I lied to them and said that yes, I had used magic to defend myself, but it really was my foster mother who killed him. They wouldn't want me if they knew I had murdered someone—and I had enjoyed doing it. Every. Single. Part. Of. It.

And that memory was the reason why I never wanted to remember the life I had before the academy. When people heard of the little girl whose parents were murdered, they pitied her and wanted to keep her safe. When people knew that the girl was capable of murdering someone with only her mind—

They would kill her because she was a monster.

I didn't report to the principal about the voice that spoke in my head. Maybe it wasn't the right move, but I knew I couldn't give up what I had now. My uncle had been very right to blackmail me into doing what he wanted me to do with my place here at the academy. I couldn't imagine letting go of the friends I had gained, to see the horror and disgust in their eyes if they ever knew the truth.

"Why so glum?" Amy asked me at lunch. Dee was still ranting about what she speculated about Mr. Hollister's death, the Dark Prince, Fridays, etc. I didn't want to listen because I didn't want any of it to be true. I knew turning a blind eye to reality wouldn't change it, but right now, I just wanted to bask in the oblivion as long as I still had the luxury for it.

"Just...thinking."

"About what? Is your uncle trying to bully you into transferring again? I thought you'd be happy because you finally spelled Luke's hair for the first time."

Not the first time, but I didn't correct her. I was actually surprised he hadn't found the spell to reverse it yet. Probably because he'd like the sensation to spread on for a while. I'd seen at least two girls dyeing their hair that shade in the bathroom today, with old-fashioned bleach and dye. "Just thinking about Abercrombie's Duels later," I lied.

"You've got Duels today?" Amy was confused. "But I thought Abercrombie is one of the teachers who took leave off after what happened to Mr. Hollister."

"Oh, right." I winced inwardly. "I forgot."

"It's so boring this week because of the cancelled classes," Dee complained.

"Only you would think it's boring when there's no classes," Amy teased her.

"No, I mean I literally have nothing to do now. What am I supposed to do—sit staring at the wall for twelve hours until I have a class again?"

Amy rolled her eyes, but agreed, "It's been so long since we've had some real fun."

By real fun, Amy meant our occasional outings at the weekends. In a boarding school like Asphodel, students weren't supposed to go out of the campus even on Sundays, but we had always found a way to sneak out, go to a café or if we were feeling bold, a bar—the nearest town happened to be more than ten miles away, but we always managed to get back before curfew. It wasn't just us. The other students did the same thing—and I had a little suspicion that the principal had known along all this time, but she just pretended not to notice.

Since the beginning of the academy's tightened protection, we hadn't been able to get past the woods surrounding the buildings, nevertheless the gates.

Dee leaned forward. "I heard Jack Cylde and his friends have been bribing a mage to get out and in to the academy."

Amy leaned forward, too. "Where did you hear that? Which mage? What did he bribe him with?"

"Not him," Dee corrected. "Her. She had done a few solo jobs for Jack's father before. I'm guessing that he did it with money. Jack's father has a seat on the Council. Their family is one of the wealthiest."

My head snapped up. "His father has a seat on the Council?'

"Yes, third seat, actually. The first seat is Lord Ellison, of course. The second is a werewolf, Claudia Dumont—she came here last week. Honestly, Riley, you should start learning people's names and positions if you want to survive as Lord Ellison's niece."

"Maybe later," I mumbled. I was now thinking about what Jack Clyde told Luke yesterday. It had sounded a lot like he was accusing Luke of...something. The way he had said 'your kind' to describe Luke was as if he was saying Luke wasn't a warlock, like him. Or maybe he had meant social status, which could be explained now that I knew Jack's father was loaded. But what about when he said 'abomination'?

Either Jack Clyde wasn't very good with his vocabularies, or he knew something about Luke that people didn't know.

"Guys, I have an idea."

We looked questioningly at Amy. So far, her ideas hadn't worked all that well. "I think we should go out. Tomorrow. All classes after lunch are cancelled, right? It'll give us time."

"I think I know where your mind is going," Dee said. "It won't work."

"What won't work? How can we actually go out without bribing a mage?"

"We are still bribing a mage," Amy assured me. "Just not any mage."

It dawned on me then. "No. I'm not persuading Carter to do anything illegal."

"Oh, come on, Riley! It'll be so easy. He'll just say to his buddy at the gates that he wants to take over his job, and then we come out and wave bye to him. Simple. He's already half in love with you anyway."

"He's not half in—"

"It's never that simple, Amy," Dee interrupted. "His whole career would be on the stake if he actually did something like that. As much as he likes Riley, he won't risk that for a girl's day out."

"He doesn't like—" I cut myself off with a sigh. "Amy, it won't work. I won't do it. Stop pressing, okay? Besides, there's a reason we're locked inside the school. After what happened to Mr. Hollister, do you really want to go out there?"

Amy deflated. "But I really, really want to go out."

She looked so forlorn, so I tried to cheer her up. "What about we learn some spells in the library? I've been wanting to learn the object teleportation spell for so long."

"Learning is not fun. I want real fun."

"Maybe we can go steal some dessert in the kitchen," I suggested.

"Riley!" both of them exclaimed. And then she sighed. "Not your fun. My fun. Whatever. Let's just go back. Maybe I'll just read some gay porn or continue re-watching Supernatural."

"I'm in," Dee said. "For Supernatural, not gay porn."

"Po-tay-to, po-tuh-to."

We left the lunch hall and headed back to the girls' dormitory through the garden. The sky was just as gray as yesterday and I had a feeling it would stay that way until December. After years living in Asphodel, I knew how cold the winters could be. Maybe that was why I hadn't even argued when my uncle stated that I had to stay with him for a week in the break.

Dee's room was on the first floor and she wanted to drop off her bag first before we went up. Her roommate didn't really like us, so we didn't go in. After she was done, we went upstairs, talking about the possibilities Dee's roommate wasn't a fan of ours. She was still a new student so she maybe she was still wary of people. Or maybe she didn't like a bunch of loud girls inside her room. She looked like the elegant, reserved type. Worst case was that she thought we were racist because she was half-Japanese. I hoped she didn't think so.

We were still talking about it when we arrived in front of our room. There was a package in front of our door. Amy bent to pick it up. "Are you expecting any package?"

"No. Maybe it's from your mom." Amy's mom sometimes sent her foreign souvenirs like chocolate, clothes, accessories, etc. She traveled a lot.

Amy was already on it. She tore open the paper wrapping and opened the box. "Oh, well, I don't think this is mine—" She stopped talking and her eyes suddenly rolled back to her head. Without warning, she dropped on the floor, trashing sideways in fits of seizures and gasping as if she was choking. Beside me, Dee screamed at the mage guarding the floor, but I was too transfixed to the content of the box she had held.

It was a bouquet of black roses and a note that said three simple words: Come with me.

I had never been so terrified in my life, and it wasn't even about myself this time. This was nothing compared to what I had endured by my foster father. This—watching my best friend fighting for her life and knowing I was the one who had put her in this situation—it wrecked me up inside more than anything that had ever happened to me. I had been so selfish and stupid. I had wanted to believe that I could escape something bad happening just by ignoring it.

The mage had teleported Amy right into the infirmary after Dee screamed. The nurse's expression when she saw Amy made my heart clench. Dee was crying in the corner, holding the box Amy had opened. "Please call the principal," she told the mage, who teleported out of the infirmary before she even finished speaking. In any other situation, I would have been impressed with the spell.

Right now, I didn't care about anything but Amy. "What's wrong with her?"

The nurse didn't look at me. "She is filled with raw magic. I need to drain it out. Please don't distract me. If you want your friend to get better, get out now. Both of you."

Numbly, I drew Dee up and led her outside. Dee was still crying. I wanted to do the same, but I was afraid if I started once, I wouldn't stop. If Amy didn't make it, I would never be able to face Dee. I wouldn't be able to even look at myself.

After what seemed like forever, the principal rushed in and checked on Amy. The nurse let us in again. The seizures and choking had stopped. Amy's face was pale and almost deathly. She wasn't conscious, but the nurse told us she would be fine when she woke up.

Principal Edgerton was furious. "What happened here?"

"The student was filled with raw magic," the nurse explained. "I had to drain it out of her. The magic has the same scent as the one yesterday."

"Yesterday?" the principal asked, barely controlling her anger.

The nurse shot me a look. "I told you to report to the principal." She then explained to Principal Edgerton about the voice I'd heard yesterday. "Now that I recognize the scent, I realize why the effects had been so powerful. It was done with raw magic, not a spell."

Principal Edgerton turned to me. "Prior to Miss Lee's situation, was she holding any object in particular? A necklace she put on? A ring? A stone she touched?"

It was Dee who spoke up. She had stopped crying the moment the nurse talked about my incident yesterday. I could picture her putting the pieces together in her head. Not looking at me, she handed the box to the principal. "It's a package in front of their room. Amy started having seizures the moment she tried to take out the flowers. There's also a note on it."

The principal took it and let her hand hovered over the black roses, not touching it. And then she cast the box aside. "It is as I expected. The roses are cursed."

"What is it spelled with?" Dee asked the principal.

"It's not a spell. They are cursed with raw magic. Black roses was known for only one particular dark sorcery—to create a distorted illusion of all the deaths someone had seen, in the form of apparitions over and over again. It used to be a method of persuasion, haunting the person in memory loops until they gave in. The curse would have only work on someone who had experienced a death in their family member."

The principal turned to me. Fury radiated off her. "Your friend's body rebelled against the magic because those roses weren't meant for Miss Lee." My heart began hammering against my chest and black spots filled my vision as she said, "Riley, tell me now everything you know."