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Clementine woke to a vulgar taste in his mouth. His throat felt dry, his head felt as though it had been smashed into a wall repeatedly, and an awful pain simmered in his gut.

          He groaned, looking around his room—the first thing he thought he needed was water, but when he felt his insides churning, he knew that wasn't what he'd woken up for.

          With a disgusted grimace on his face, he flew out of bed, sprinted into his bathroom, and reached the toilet bowl just in time. He groaned painfully as he threw up his dinner, and as he retched, his mind became flooded with panicked thoughts. Had someone poisoned him? Was he drugged? But when he lifted his head from the bowl and saw the black bile veining through his vomit, he understood what was going on.

          He dragged his arm over his mouth as he leaned his back against the wall, clamping his knees against his chest. He could only ever have so many good days, and why now, of all times, would a stage of deterioration hit him?

          "Clementine?" came Elliot's voice along with a knock on his bedroom door. "Are you okay in there?"

          Had he really been that loud? He sighed, dragging his hand over his face. "Yeah," he called. "Just uh...ate something bad."

          "Do you need anything?"

          "No."

          "Okay, well...let me know if you do."

          He waited until he heard Elliot's footsteps fade and his door shut. Then, he got up off the bathroom floor and dragged himself back into his room.

          Collapsing into his bed, he sighed heavily and tried to get comfortable again. This was only going to make things harder than they had already become. But he had no choice other than to deal with it—he'd dealt with it before...all he needed was ceraroot, and up here in the mountainous forests, he'd find that anywhere. The only problem was...going out into the woods.

          Clementine glanced to his left at the murky forest outside his window. He was certain there were creatures out there far worse than what roamed the academy halls, so if he was going to go out there...he'd need backup. And that was yet another thing for him to figure out.

          He'd do it tomorrow.

          As the walls started whispering to the howling wind, he rolled onto his side and tried to drift back off to sleep.

⤚       ♠       ⤙

          The morning was freezing. Clementine woke to the blue-hued light spilling into his room, and the only sound came from the creaking building. His headache felt worse but the nausea had passed, so that might make his hunt for ceraroot a little easier. All he had to do was figure out how to persuade someone to go with him.

          Of course, the only people he knew were Elliot and his friends—how was he going to convince them to follow him out into the forest?

          He had something of an idea.

          Clementine got out of bed and got ready for the day. Class didn't start until nine, which gave him two hours to rally Elliot and his friends and work out how to invite them all to the forest with him.

          To his surprise, when he stepped out into the dorm's lounge, Elliot was already awake and sitting at the table with a pile of books.

          "Oh, you're up early," the spotty-faced kid called, looking over at him. "You okay...after last night?"

          "Yeah," he lied, heading over to the table, "probably a bad pear or something."

          "Maybe."

          "You find anything?" he asked, sitting down at the table.

          Elliot looked down at his books. "A few things, actually. Uh...beetlebon can make these like...cocoons," he said, showing Clementine a sketch of a humanoid with the body of a man, but beetle-like wings and shell on its back. "Or...there's a species of seelie, actually, that can make this sort of silky stuff."

          Clementine leaned closer, looking at the five different diagrams Elliot had pulled from his books. "What about that?" he asked, pointing to a picture of a man with goat legs and deer antlers. "That doesn't really look like something that would spin webs."

          "That's a tarakoor," he said with a smile. "They craft a web-like substance, which hardens like glass—they usually build their nests out of it."

          Nodding, Clementine pondered. That didn't sound like what he'd seen Molly ensnared in. It was more crystal-like than glass-like. But then again, seeing these materials might make it easier for him to link the two.

          That wasn't his main concern right now, though. He leaned back in his seat and scratched his head. "Hey, uh...Elliot," he mumbled.

          "Yeah?" he asked, looking over at him.

          "Do you think Carmichael and that will be up right now?"

          "Uh...maybe...why?"

          How was he going to put it? "I think we should head down to the forest—while everyone's asleep."

          Elliot frowned. "The forest? You know there's like...rabid wolves and trolls out there, right?"

          "Yeah, I know," he said with a shake of his head, "but...I don't know, it might be worth checking out."

          "Why?"

          He shrugged.

          "Did you see something?"

          Clementine sighed and looked out the window. "The night Molly was first attacked—"

          "Yeah?"

          "I saw someone running into the forest—"

          "What?"

          He looked over at him. "And I didn't say anything because I didn't want to get involved—you know I didn't want to get wrapped up in all of this, but I suppose now I am, so...."

          For a moment, Elliot stared at him as if he was trying to decide what to say or do. But then he sighed, looked down at his books and shook his head. "Why are you suddenly telling me now?"

          "Because I'm involved," he grumbled. "Those arachnoids saw you and me. I've not really got any choice but to help now. So I think we should check out the place I saw that person running—maybe there'll be some sort of clue or...something."

          "It's been a week since that happened, Clementine. The wind would have swept any sort of evidence away."

          "You never know," he said with a shrug. "Come on. If we can find something that points Carmichael and that away from the arachnoids, we can all avoid getting wrapped up in some sticky spider web stuff—literally," he uttered.

          Elliot adorned a look of pondering as his eyes scoured over his books. "Yeah, I guess...if we found something—even if we found something that further ties the arachnoids in."

          That was easier than expected—but then again, Elliot was rather easy to manipulate. It wasn't the first time he'd got him to believe his lies. "I thought you didn't want to provoke them," he continued.

          "I don't, but...I do want to help my friends find out who killed Molly. And when we find out, I'll turn them in before Carmichael can kill anyone and start some sort of species war."

          Clementine didn't understand why Elliot was so adamant to turn murderers in—playing the good guy wasn't going to get him to the New World, but Clementine wasn't here to tell him that. He was sure he'd figure it out eventually. All that mattered to him right now was getting ceraroot, and then continuing his task.

          He nodded. "Exactly," he concurred. "So, let's head out there—we can go and get the others right now—"

          "What if...what if something happens, though?" Elliot asked unsurely, watching him as he stood up.

          "Well, if it does, there'll be five of us to deal with it, right?"

          Elliot kept a worried frown, but slowly nodded and stood up, closing his books. "Yeah...I guess so. Okay," he said unsurely.

          "Come on," he said, heading over to his door. He grabbed one of his turtlenecks from his dresser and pulled it on as he pulled his bedroom door shut. "You know where their dorms are, right?"

          Pulling on his blazer, which he'd just taken from his own room, Elliot nodded. "Yeah, the third corridor across the landing."

          With a nod, Clementine followed him out of their room.

          As Elliot led the way, Clementine tried his hardest to ignore his headache, but it grew worse with each step he took. He tried to focus on something else; the groaning, walls, the scattering clicks of rats—he even tried to occupy his mind with the stench of mildew and must, but nothing could overpower the pain.

          He gripped his head, clawing at his skin beneath his hair as if that would help. He felt as though he was starting to sweat, but he felt so cold at the same time. This was going to get ugly fast.

          The banging of Elliot's fist against a door snapped him out of his desperate trance. Door number thirty-one.

          "Do they all share this room?" he asked Elliot.

          "Nah. Carmichael has one of the suites on the top floor—his dad was some big shot for a firm in seelie territory, so he could afford it."

          Suites? "So...not everyone has a roommate?"

          "Nope, which is kind of weird—wouldn't you want the safety of a friend? But then I guess some people would be worried their roommate would try to kill them if they didn't know each other prior to coming here, huh?" he mumbled, knocking on the door again.

          Ian and his friends had come over from the New World, which meant their parents were probably loaded. Would Ian have one of those suites?

          The door opened, and a very tired-looking Bernard glared down at Elliot. "What?" he grunted, his hair like a bush clinging to his scalp.

          "Clementine might have a lead," Elliot whispered.

          Stanley immediately appeared at Bernard's side and eyed Clementine up and down. "What lead?"

          "He thinks he saw someone running into the forest the night Molly was attacked—on the first day of school—"

          "That was a week ago!" Stanley growled. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

          "Shhhh!" Elliot insisted, looking up and down the hall. "He didn't want to get involved, guys. But—"

          "Look, we have to stick together, right? I want to help, so I think we should head down to where I saw that person running and see if they left any clues," Clementine interjected, looking at both their tired faces.

          Stanley and Bernard glanced at one other.

          "You sure you saw someone?"

          "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Probably the guy Molly said attacked her, to be honest."

          They looked at each other again.

          "If it really was the arachnoids, maybe they attacked her that day, and if so, then...there's probably something out there that can confirm it," Elliot said confidently.

          The pair adorned sceptical looks.

          "All right," Bernard said. "We have to go and get Carmichael, though."

          "Yeah, we'll grab him and then head down the stairs from his balcony," Stanley said.

          They had balconies, too? What was this, some sort of luxury resort? It seemed that way for those that could afford it. Clementine rolled his eyes and slipped his hands into his pockets, watching as Bernard and Stanley swiftly grabbed their jackets and hurried out of their room.

          Then, the four of them quietly made their way towards the stairs that would take them to the top floor.

          "You see anything specific about this guy?" Stanley asked quietly, looking over at Clementine.

          He shook his head. "It was pretty dark, so it was hard to see much at all—but I definitely saw someone fleeing."

          Bernard scoffed as they climbed the spiralling staircase. "God damned arachnoids—I know it was them. We'll find something out there and then I'd like to see them deny it," he growled.

          "We have to be careful though, guys," Elliot warned. "There're wolves and trolls out there...and God only knows what else."

          "Don't worry, we'll be fine," Bernard mumbled.

          They reached the top of the stairs and emerged into a rather lavish-looking hallway. It was much wider than the hall downstairs, the doors had a lot more space between them, and at the end of the hall sat a communal kitchen space with a stove, couches, and jars upon jars of foods and snacks. Evidently, the people up here could eat whenever they wanted.

          "His room is over here," Bernard muttered, leading the way along the ruby-red carpet.

          Crystal chandeliers lit their way; the walls were covered in murals of animals, people, and creatures Clementine had never seen before. Sculptures rested in glass cases, framed photos clung to the walls, and the black wall panelling shimmered in the early morning light.

          Clementine eyed each of the gold-plated doors. There were only six, three on either side of the hall, counting up to the number seventy. Was that how many rooms there were here?

          They stopped outside room sixty-eight.

          Stanley knocked as quietly as possible.

          The quiet seemed to intensify as they waited. They looked up and down the hall, glancing at the other doors, and when Carmichael's door opened, they all sharply turned their heads to look at him.

          He frowned strangely. "It's seven in the morning...."

          "We think we have a lead," Bernard mumbled.

          "Clementine saw someone running into the woods the night Molly was attacked—we think it's our guy," Stanley explained.

          Carmichael looked at him. "You saw someone?"

          "Yeah." He really didn't want to have to repeat himself again.

          "Was there anything distinctive about this guy?" Carmichael questioned.

          Elliot sighed and shook his head. "There's got to be something out there," he insisted. "It's worth a shot, right? If we find something, maybe we'll know for sure who did or didn't kill Molly."

          With a deep sigh, Carmichael dragged his hand over his face. "Are you still going to try and convince me it wasn't those freaks?!"

          "Shhh!" Bernard uttered.

          Carmichael sharply turned his head and glared at him.

          The boy frowned nervously and looked away.

          Elliot shook his head. "If it was them, maybe we'll find some web or something out there—they tend to leave that stuff behind if they're careless, and this guy was running away, right?" he asked, looking at Clementine.

          He nodded.

          For a moment, Carmichael eyed each of them—clearly, he was thinking about it. And to Clementine's relief, he sighed and nodded, grabbing his blazer from his coatrack. "All right, we'll check it out," he said. "You two are leading on this, though," he said, pointing at Clementine and Elliot. "Brains and witness."

          "Brains?" Elliot questioned.

          "Yeah," Stanley snickered, "you're a nerd, Elliot."

          "Am not!"

          "Shhh!" Bernard insisted.

          Elliot pouted.

          Carmichael stepped aside. "Come on," he said. "We'll get down from my balcony."

          They all filed into his room, and as he shut and locked his door, he led them over to the glass door to his balcony.

          His room was just as nice as the hall outside. Clean, shimmering furniture—so much space. Shelves of books, a breakfast nook, a sunroom. It was like some sort of high-end hotel in here, and Clementine tried his best to hide his jealousy. He was stuck in some creaky, mouldy room downstairs while Carmichael and whoever else got to enjoy this.

          "This way," Carmichael mumbled, pushing the glass door open.

          Without any hindrance, the group quietly headed outside, and once he'd locked his door, Carmichael took the lead, heading down to the grounds below.

          Clementine wasn't entirely sure how this was going to go or what they might find out there, but he needed to make sure he got what he had really come for.

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♠ Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ♠

♣ What was your favourite part? ♣

♥ How do you feel about the characters? ♥

⤠ What do you think will happen in the woods? ⤟

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