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It wasn't until Monday afternoon in magick studies that Clementine saw Ian. The bitter taste of his medicine lingered on his tongue despite the fact he'd taken it an hour ago. He wriggled around in his seat, resting his magick studies book in his lap.

          "Good afternoon, good afternoon," Professor Ingrid called, waving around her hands as she glanced around her uncomfortably crowded classroom. "Yes, yes, I know that it is rather cramped in here today, but we are sharing this period together to make room for Professor Warren's lecture on All-Hallows' Eve."

          Clementine glared at Ian from the corner of his eye. There he was...sitting in the middle row with Connor, Horace, and who he now knew was Harper Collins.

          "Today, we'll be discussing copias. Who can tell me what a copia is?" Professor Ingrid called. Her eyes scoured the vacant faces of each student, and when she set her sights on Clementine, he felt his irritation swiftly morph into anxiety. "Mr Darlington?"

          He stared at her as most of the class turned their heads, gawping at him.

          "Could you tell us what a copia is?"

          Clementine half-nodded. "It's uh...a bushy, evergreen perennial," he answered. "It usually has dark green leaves and—"

          "We are in magick studies, Mr Darlington, not herbology," the professor interjected as the class snickered.

          He leaned back in his seat, trying to keep an embarrassed scowl off his face.

          "I didn't know you were plant-smart," Elliot mumbled, leaning closer to him.

          Rolling his eyes, Clementine glared ahead.

          "Miss Luma, how about you?" Professor Ingrid asked, pointing to the buzzcut girl a few seats away from Ian.

          "A copia is the unit of measurement used to calculate the extent of someone's ethos capacity, professor," the girl answered proudly.

          "Correct," Professor Ingrid called over the mumbles of the word 'nerd' and 'know-it-all'. "Of course, ethos has been around since the very dawn of time, but the ability to measure it was only discovered in the year nine-six-one, a mere two hundred and fifteen years ago. The nine-sixties were very promising years for the development of ethos-infused technologies, but more importantly, these years yielded many medical marvels. The copiatector, for example. Who can tell us what this device is?"

          A few hands rose, and when Mavis' did, Clementine frowned over at her.

          "Yes, Miss Fareborn," the professor called, pointing to Mavis.

          She clapped her hands together. "A copiatector is a small, handheld device that, when imbued with someone's ethos, can detect how many copias the person possesses."

          "Correct," the professor said with a nod. "Everyone in this room possesses ethos. The only beings in this world that do not are humans. They can learn to use the ethos from the world around them or that which has been imbued into objects, but there is no ethos stronger than that which comes from within," she explained, holding her hand against her chest. "Of course, we all possess different levels of ethos, and the more copias one possesses, the longer they can manipulate energy, cast spells, etcetera. Having more ethos doesn't necessarily mean you are stronger in some cases, though. To effectively use your ethos, you must also be smart. You must learn to use your ethos sparingly. It takes great discipline to learn how to master ethos."

          Clementine sighed, shuffling around in his seat.

          "Please turn to page fifty-seven in your magic studies books. Understanding copias and how to use a copiatector," the professor called. "You might recall this small device being used when you came to your interviews." She held up a small bronze thermometer-like device. "This is a copiatector. You all had your ethos levels measured. Does anyone recall what you were asked to do?"

          Staring ahead, Clementine frowned. He hadn't really been listening much, but he had heard enough to understand that someone's ethos capacity could tell him how strong each student was. He remembered seeing the word 'copias' on the student files Saturday night, and he wondered...would it be a good idea to note down the ethos capacities of his enemies? That way, he'd know which of them were strongest.

          "Who can tell me the average copias of a wolf walker?" Professor Ingrid called.

          Clementine had seen a lot on Saturday. He glanced over at Elliot as he answered the professor's question. Dybbuk—what the hell was that? He stared at his spotty-skinned roommate, scouring his face for features that weren't normal, but to him, Elliot looked like a normal kid. He'd never heard the term before, and he was sure that if he asked, Elliot might freak out and ask him how he knew.

          He leaned back in his seat again, pretending to read through his book as Professor Ingrid read the pages aloud. Perhaps he could head to the library and find out. No, he was getting distracted. It didn't matter. He didn't have time to sate his curiosities. He had to work out exactly how he was going to use the death caps he'd gathered to take out Ian and as many of his Ravenblood friends as he could. But first, he had to get through the day without getting caught alone or snapped at for not paying attention.

          Swiftly locating the line on the page Professor Ingrid was currently reading, he concentrated and read along.

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          History class was just as crowded as magic studies had been. The rows of benches were overflowing with students; the classroom was only supposed to seat twenty-five, but at least fifty had been crammed in.

          "All right, settle down," Professor Warren called, leaning back against his desk. "I know this must be very uncomfortable for most of you, but to spare time, Professor Huxley has me teaching two double classes today. He has had me divide those of you that remain into two large groups. You lot will be working on one-half of the upcoming celebration's tasks, while the other half will work on the rest."

          Clementine glanced around the class, seeing that he was sharing it with everyone he'd just had magick studies with. The moment he located him, he immediately glowered at Ian and his goons.

          "More on your tasks later. Now, let's talk about All-Hallows' Eve and why we celebrate it," Warren called.

          As Elliot's elbow stabbed into his arm, Clementine grunted irritably and shuffled around. He hated this.

          "All-Hallows' Eve," Warren bellowed humbly, puffing out his chest. "This celebration has a long history, but today, it is celebrated as the day His Lord Caedis was born into this world. It is believed by many that on this day, the veil thins, allowing spirits and Hell demons to roam our world—this is true," he said with a nod. "The humans leave offerings on their doorsteps to keep these spirits from entering their homes and feeding on their souls—of course, their gifts don't often suffice."

          The class snickered.

          Clementine rolled his eyes.

          "These traditions have evolved over the years, leading children to dress up as these wandering spirits in hopes of preventing them from doing harm. They carry hollowed-out turnips with candles inside and ask for their own offerings, such as candy, sweets, and sometimes money. Perhaps some of you have partaken in such a tradition, going door-to-door and chanting the phrase, trick-or-treat. Tell me, what is the story behind this phrase?" he asked, looking around the classroom, and as a few hands shot up, he pointed to a black-haired boy.

          "The children would chant it when they knocked on people's doors asking whether they would give them a treat to keep them from causing mischief or not, sir," he explained.

          "Correct," he said, nodding. "So, we leave offerings on our doorsteps for the spirits, and hand sweets to the children. Why do we do this instead of just turning them away? Well, the answer to that is simple. The wandering spirits enjoy this practice. It is believed that they wander around close to these children—they find...fun in watching them impersonate spirits and demons, therefore actually keeping the wandering spirits from doing harm."

          "I used to love trick-or-treating with my mother," Elliot whispered into Clementine's ear. "Did you ever go?"

          "No," he grumbled.

          "Oh...."

          "Not only do we concern ourselves with the wandering spirits, though," Warren continued. "We must also construct a presentable offering place for His Lord Caedis, as well as obtain a worthy offering. That is what you shall all be working on. You will construct the offering place on the grounds, as well as come up with the perfect offering. After the celebratory ball, we will all take part in the All-Hallows' ritual."

          Clementine's frown thickened. He had no idea why he was in this group. Offerings and rituals? He didn't have a clue about any of that—he wasn't even Caederian!

          "This is so exciting!" Elliot squealed quietly.

          Mathew, who was sitting beside Elliot, nodded. "My family found the largest stag in the forest last year—it was a wonderful sacrifice."

          Stag? Animal...sacrifice? Clementine felt sick.

          "Now, let us read The Book of Lore's All-Hallows' Eve chapter," the professor called, tapping the large black leather-bound book on his desk.

          As everyone started flipping through the pages of their books, Clementine stared down at his. As if things weren't bad enough already, now he was going to have to partake in animal sacrifice?

          "Hey, you okay?" Elliot asked him—he must have noticed the sickly frown on his face.

          He nodded, flipping through his book.

          "You sure?"

          "Yeah, I just...does it...have to be an animal?" he mumbled, glancing over at Elliot.

          "What? The sacrifice?"

          "Yeah."

          "No."

          "We chose to sacrifice a stag because stags are a symbol of devotion among our people," Mathew explained.

          "I'd imagine we'd be offering something with significance to this school," Elliot said, resting his arms on his book as the class started chattering.

          "Like what?" Clementine muttered.

          "I don't know. Maybe Professor Warren will give us some ideas at some point."

          With a deep sigh, Clementine looked down at his book again. He wasn't about to sacrifice anything living to some stupid god. All of these practices and traditions were idiotic—cultish, and he didn't want to get involved. The only society that he was interested in was the Ravenblood.

          It then hit him. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? This ball was bound to have food, drinks, and whatever else. He could put the death caps in Ian's food. But how was he going to sneak a piece of mushroom onto a particular plate? A few plates. He'd work it out. He could watch Ian, find out where he was sitting, and simply brush past somehow and drop the poison into his food. That could work, couldn't it? It was definitely worth considering.

          "I trust you have all found your pages," Warren bellowed. "Now, you best pay attention. You will all be writing a two-page essay on All-Hallows' Eve once the celebration is over, so be sure to absorb this information and everything you learn on the night of the celebration."

          A flurry of groans and grumbles echoed through the class.

          "Now, let us read," the professor called. "Gregory, you will start."

          As the boy started reading aloud, Clementine stared at his pages. An essay didn't bother him. No, what had him occupied was the many possibilities this party presented him with. It was a perfect opportunity...and he wasn't going to waste it.

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