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Clementine glared at himself in his bathroom mirror, fiddling with the lace on his new blazer. It felt lighter on his person than he had thought it might, but its comfort didn't make him feel as though he looked any less stupid. If Anette saw him right now, he was sure she'd be snickering.

          The day had come to a speedy end, and now that the time for making offerings and charms was over, it was almost time for the ball. He wasn't really looking forward to the party part of it, but rather the moment he got to seal Ian's fate. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to take any of the other Ravenblood out tonight, though. Of course, if an opportunity arose, he'd take it, but for now, his focus was on Ian. He had the ground death caps in his pocket, his eagerness was becoming desperation, but he did his best to stay calm.

          He sighed, making sure all his buttons were tied. Then, he glanced at his pocket watch—it was time to take the day's last med. He'd already brought it into the bathroom with him, so he placed it on his tongue and swallowed. The bitter, revolting taste scorned his mouth; the gulps of water he took moments after didn't help. He could swear the taste was getting worse with each passing day.

          With a grimace and a shiver, he exhaled deeply and started tidying his things away. He put his comb back in his over-sink cupboard, as well as his hair pomade and face wash. Then, he closed the cupboard—

          "It looks good on you, babe," Sebastien said, standing right behind him.

          Clementine glared at him in the mirror. His white hair was combed back over his head, and his tuxedo was jet black with shimmering gold buttons. His waistcoat beneath it was a dark red, and the rims of his balmoral shoes were gold, too.

          "Where's your mask?" Clementine asked him.

          "Where's yours?"

          He sighed, picking up his horned wolf masquerade mask. "Do I have to wear this?" he complained.

          "It's tradition."

          "So?"

          "So? Yes, you gotta wear it—we all do."

          Clementine groaned and barged past him. "What's the plan?" he muttered, heading into his room. He sat on his bed and watched Sebastien walk over to him.

          "Well, I trust you know not to get seen snooping around on the top floor," Sebastien said, leaning back against his desk.

          "I'm not an idiot."

          "I don't know how much soda Ian's got up there, but I think you should try to somehow make sure the bottle you put the mushrooms in is the one he'll drink next."

          "Yeah, I'll just put the bottle at the front of his cupboard or something. I was thinking I could just fill a bunch of his bottles with them, but they start to mould after a few days, and I don't wanna risk him seeing something in his drink."

          Sebastien nodded.

          "What about his goons?"

          "What about them?"

          "Are we taking any of them out tonight, too?"

          "We'll see how the night plays out. First, let's just focus on Ian. Remember, his room is number sixty-four."

          "All right."

          Elliot knocked at his door.

          Clementine sighed as he placed his mask on the bed and got up. He headed over to his door and pulled it open.

          "Are you almost ready?" his roommate asked.

          "Yeah, you?"

          Patting his waist, gesturing to his white, frilly-necked shirt, he nodded. "Mathew and Mavis are probably waiting."

          "We better get a move on, then," Sebastien said, ushering Clementine out of the door.

          "Wait, my m—"

          "We don't wanna be late," Sebastien interjected.

          Clementine wasn't able to get a word in. Sebastien hurried him out of the dorm, Elliot followed, and once they were in the dormitory corridor, Elliot pulled the door shut and locked it. Then, they headed down the hall after the several groups of bustling students.

          Irritated, Clementine glared over at Sebastien, who winked and smirked. He rolled his eyes, staring ahead, setting his eyes on Mathew and Mavis, who were waiting by the stairs.

          "There you are!" Mavis called.

          "Oh, Clementine," Mathew said, looking down at him, "where is your mask?"

          He glared over at Sebastien again. "He—"

          "Did you forget your mask, babe?" Sebastien interrupted. "I told you not to leave it on the side. Do you want us to come back with you to get it?" he asked, staring expectantly at Clementine.

          Now he got it. "No, it's fine," he answered. "You guys go ahead and I'll catch up."

          "Are you sure?" Elliot asked in concern.

          "We can come with you," Mathew said.

          He shook his head. "I'll only be a sec." Then, he turned around and headed back to his dorm. He was sure Elliot would insist they waited somewhere for him, but he trusted Sebastien to ensure they didn't.

          When he reached his dormitory, he glanced down the hall. His allies were gone, and the last of the students were heading down the stairs. He had to be quick, though. If he arrived at the party any later than anyone else, he'd paint himself a suspect. So, he hurried into his room, snatched his mask, and raced back out again, locking the door behind him.

          He scurried to the end of the hall and headed up the stairs that would take him to the top floor. He eyed each of the gold-plated doors, and when he located number sixty-four, he quietly hurried over to it and gripped the handle. To his annoyance, though, it was locked. Of course it was. That wasn't a problem, though. He'd stolen many a thing and lockpicking had become quite simple.

          First, he looked up and down the hall. Then, he crouched in front of Ian's door and took out two hairpins from his pocket. He tried his best to be careful but also needed to be as quick as possible. He eased the pins into the keyhole, positioned them properly, and slowly turned.

          Click.

          Swiftly, Clementine pushed the door open, slinked inside, and shut it behind him. He wasn't exactly sure where Ian would keep his soda, but he didn't have time to stand there and think. He quickly rummaged around the lounge, pulling open the oak cupboards and scouring every glass cabinet. He knocked a few things over, tutting irritably—why would someone need so many taxidermy animals? And why did he have a skinned wolf walker rug? With a revolted frown, Clementine avoided stepping over the rug to reach a cabinet by the window. And when he pulled it open, he was greeted by several bottles of brown soda.

          He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small vial of crushed death caps he'd prepared earlier. He took out the half-empty bottle sitting at the front, unscrewed the lid, and carefully poured the mushroom pieces inside. They fizzed and sizzled when they met the liquid, and the smell was enough to curl anyone's toes. But Clementine stomached it, waiting, watching, and when the mushroom pieces dissolved, and the foul smell faded, he sighed in relief and screwed the lid back onto the bottle.

          Clementine placed the bottle back into the cabinet, closed it, and turned around. But as he went to head for the door, something caught his eye. A gold-framed picture sat on one of the cabinets next to a fruit bowl. He moved closer, staring at the photograph. He recognized Ian immediately, despite the fact he looked much younger, and he could only assume the man and woman on either side of him were his parents. They didn't look very well at all. His father looked no older than twenty-five, yet he was clutching a walking cane, his hair was missing clumps, and half his face was drooping. His mother appeared no better. Her hair was frayed and greyed, her skin was patchy and peeling, and she seemed to be holding on to Ian's shoulder for support.

          Of course they looked like that. Ravenblood were cursed. And since the date on the photo read 1170, he felt it was safe to assume Ian's parents had perished already. Good.

          He turned to head for the door, but something glistened on the coffee table. Clementine glanced over there, and when he saw a gathering of crumbs with finger drag marks through them, along with cuttings of leaves and some string, he moved closer. It looked like someone had hastily tried to scoop whatever had been being made on this table into something. He picked up a small piece of a crusted, green leaf and sniffed it—bay leaf. String, crumbs. It looked like Ian had been scrambling to create a last-minute offering. Not that it was going to do him any favours. His death was imminent. No prayers would save him.

          Time was ticking away. Clementine made his way over to the door, pulled it open, and stepped outside. When he shut it, he made sure it locked itself, and then hurried down the hall, heading for the party.

          He didn't see any students on his way. The halls were clear, no one was heading downstairs. But to his relief, when he turned into the corridor that led to the assembly hall, Sebastien, Elliot, Mathew, and Mavis were waiting for him beside one of the pillars.

          "There you are!" Mavis cheered.

          "Did you get your mask?" Elliot asked him as he joined them.

          Clementine lifted his mask and nodded. "Yeah. I fixed my hair up a little too—sorry it took a sec."

          "Your hair looks fine," Elliot said, smiling at him.

          Sebastien then moved his arm around Clementine's shoulders. "You get everything done?" he muttered as they headed for the hall doors.

          "Yeah," he mumbled, glancing at his allies as they bickered with one another over which table they wanted to visit first.

          "Okay, good. We'll just lay low for the rest of the party. If an opportunity arises, we'll let each other know, right?"

          Clementine nodded. "Got it."

          "Let's go!" Mavis cheered, skipping into the hall.

          With a heavy sigh, Clementine tried to prepare himself for whatever waited inside...and followed his allies in.

          The hall was already bustling. A small band of violins and cellos played in the left of the stage, and everyone was hanging around the dancefloor instead of waltzing. Laughter, bickering, evil glares and observing eyes; Clementine could pretty much feel the tension constricting the sweet, toffee and pumpkin spice-infused air. The professors were present too, though, and seemed to be the only thing keeping each small huddle of students from pouncing at one another.

          "So, what have you been doing then, Sebastien?" Mavis asked as they stopped beside one of the small tables.

          Mathew reached out and took a glass of pumpkin wine from the server that walked past. Then, he looked at Sebastien. "You were gone for two days—you had Clementine pretty worried."

          Clementine sighed when Sebastien smirked.

          "Well, somebody died. When that happens, we have to look into it in case witnesses come forward," the white-haired kid answered.

          "Why did you even come over here? Don't you have classes over there?" Eliot mumbled.

          "We have two classes a day. One in the morning, one before dusk. I have a lot of free time."

          "What about the other law students?" Clementine asked. "What do they do?"

          "Well...." He looked around the room. "There's three of them over there," he said, nodding to the trio over by where the band was sitting. "I think most of us came over here to join the celebration."

          Clementine frowned and immediately scanned their faces, but he didn't see Lucinda, the Ravenblood President.

          And then, as Elliot and Mavis continued talking, Sebastien leaned over to him. "She's not here," he muttered.

          "Why not?"

          "I don't know. Her and two others stayed back." But then, he took his eyes off Clementine and looked over at the stage.

          "What?" he asked, looking at the stage to see Professor Huxley staring right at them.

          "I'll be right back," Sebastien said.

          Clementine watched him head over to the professor, and as they started talking, he once again tried to work out what they were saying to one another. This was the second time he'd seen Sebastien acting so casual with Professor Huxley, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

          "Here you go," Elliot suddenly said. "Mavis and I grabbed drinks."

          Taking his eyes off Sebastien, he looked at his roommate, who was holding out a mug of cinnamon cocoa.

          "I didn't know what you'd like, so I picked this."

          "Thanks," he said, taking it from him.

          "I got fruit punch," he said, showing Clementine his glass of crimson juice.

          He nodded. "When do we do the ritual?"

          "That usually happens at midnight," Mathew answered.

          "Where did Sebastien go?" Mavis asked.

          "He's just..." Clementine looked to where he'd last seen Sebastien...but neither he nor Professor Huxley was there anymore. "He was just right over there."

          Elliot shook his head. "He seems to be doing that a lot. What's his deal?"

          "I don't know," he mumbled. "He doesn't tell me everything he does." He sipped from his mug and frowned. The warm liquid tasted earthy with a hint of chocolate and was rather thick, too. "You sure this is cinnamon?"

          "Yeah," Elliot said with a nod. He looked back at the table. "Says so right there," he said, pointing to a label wrapped around a large barrel.

          "Hey, guys," Mathew mumbled.

          They all looked up at him, and as he nodded ahead, they looked in that direction, setting their eyes on Ian and several of his goons. Clementine recognized them all. Harper Collins, James Grant, and Kristen Monroe. He was sure the other three boys with them were the wolf walkers he'd found out were aligned with the Ravenblood, too. Ian glared right at Clementine, as did his goons.

          "He's planning something," Elliot uttered fearfully.

          "Come on," Clementine mumbled, moving through the crowd.

          He led the way over to the food table, putting a lot more distance between himself and Ian's group. He didn't need to worry about him anymore. He'd be dead soon.

          "Do you think Sebastien and the other law students are looking into the three of Ian's friends that attacked you in the bathroom?" Mathew suggested.

          "Maybe," Clementine mumbled.

          "Is...is that why Sebastien's suddenly around you so much? What if he's investigating you, Clementine?" Elliot panicked quietly.

          Clementine almost laughed. Sebastien had been investigating him, but that wasn't why he was here. But that was something he couldn't tell anyone, even if he wanted to. "He's not investigating me, Elliot," he assured him.

          "How can you be sure?"

          "Because if he was, I'm sure they have some sort of questioning room, and I'd be there, wouldn't I?"

          Elliot shrugged. "I guess. I don't know. Something's just...really off about him."

          "Maybe it's his hair—no, that's not fair," Mavis said, shaking her head.

          Sighing, Clementine took another sip of his drink.

          "I am...suspicious," Mathew said quietly. "But if you trust him, Clementine, then I will try to, too."

          Did he trust Sebastien? He looked around the room, trying to find him. He hated that he kept disappearing like this, and he hadn't exactly given Clementine a reason to trust him. Well...he had saved his life twice, but he'd also tried to take it just as many times. He could claim that hadn't been his intention as much as he wanted, but that first time in the bathroom, Clementine was positive Sebastien would have choked him to death if those kids hadn't walked in and interrupted.

          He believed his reasons for forging their deal, though. It made sense. Sebastien wanted to join the Zenith's High Court, and if he caught the guy that took out a whole generation of Ravenblood—the last generation, then he'd most certainly get the job he wanted. And it felt fair, too. Sebastien had already proved himself a valuable ally; he'd given him the names and faces of the rest of the Ravenblood, and he was keeping Ian at bay. He felt he might even feel more than glad to give himself up to Sebastien and his weird little investigation once the Ravenblood were dead. Sebastien had helped him, so it was only right that he returned the favour, right?

          "Hey," came Sebastien's voice.

          As his allies stopped chatting to look at him, Clementine turned to face Sebastien.

          "Sorry, law stuff."

          "What happened?" Clementine asked.

          "Nothing, just a case we're working on. Hux wanted updates."

          "Hux?" Elliot questioned. "Professor Huxley?"

          "Yeah."

          "Does Professor Huxley teach you?" Mathew asked curiously.

          Sebastien nodded. "Yeah."

          "Ah, I thought so. It seemed only fitting since he was the judge during the trial. I didn't get to meet the teachers when I applied for the Law Institute."

          "You applied for the Law Institute?" Sebastien asked, staring up at him.

          "I did. But they refused me. I think it had something to do with my family. Berserkers have always been perceived a certain way. I suppose they thought it was improper for someone like me to try and get into law."

          "Were you able to afford the tuition?" Sebastien asked.

          Mathew nodded. "But I took Clementine's advice. I will continue my studying in my free time, and when I get to the New World, I will pursue a career in law anyway."

          Sebastien smirked. "You're that sure you're going to make it?"

          Elliot scowled at him. "Do you have any reason to think we won't?"

          With a quiet laugh, Sebastien shook his head. "No, no."

          "I think we'll all make it," Clementine said. "As long as we stick together." He took another sip from his drink. "It won't be long until everyone starts killing more frequently. All we have to do is ride it out."

          Mathew patted Clementine's shoulder and smiled crookedly. "We have a plan."

          "You'll have to fight at some point," Sebastien said. "You can only stay on the sidelines for so long."

          "We know that," Elliot said. "But...that time hasn't come yet."

          "It will, though."

          Clementine sighed. "We know," he said before Elliot could snap. "But there's still a few months left of the semester, so we have time to work out what we're gonna do once things pick up. For now, we're just letting the other kids take each other out."

          Sebastien smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the abrupt sound of smashing glass and someone vomiting among the crowd.

          A flurry of revolted groans overshadowed the chatter, and as the crowd dispersed, they revealed a boy who had dropped to his knees, coughing and groaning.

          "What happened to him?" Elliot muttered.

          But then, another glass shattered, and someone else fell to the floor, hurling their guts up.

          The band stopped playing, and as a third kid dropped and threw up, everyone started looking around in panic.

          Clementine felt his heart start to beat a little faster. He stared around the hall, watching as another girl fell, and when he saw that the liquid spilling out of her dropped mug was the same colour and texture as that in his own mug...angst consumed him.

          The room around him seemed to fall still; everyone's confused, panicked voices went silent, and all he could hear was the beating of his own heart. A nauseating discomfort swirled in his stomach, and when Sebastien turned to face him with a look of both realization and horror on his face, Clementine groaned painfully. He couldn't stop it—he lost the grip on his mug, and as it fell to the floor, he threw up, weakness striking his entire body.

          Elliot's horrified voice echoed around him as he fell, but he didn't hit the ground. Sebastien grabbed hold of him, and his allies all shrieked at him with words he assumed would match the mortified stares on their faces. But he couldn't make out what they were saying. His heart was racing, his body was writhing in pain, and the weakness in his legs began spreading through him.

          Someone had poisoned the cocoa.

          He gritted his teeth, unable to hear whatever struggled noises he must be making. And as the pain surging through his body was swiftly outweighed by numbness, he stared up at the panicked, distressed faces of his allies. He had no idea what he'd ingested—he had no idea if any of them were going to work it out in time. Earthy taste, thick texture...his mind was foggy, he couldn't think.

          Clementine felt so stupid—like such an idiot. Of course he wouldn't be the only student planning to use this party to kill someone. And he wondered...was that why Ian had been watching him like that? Had Ian done this?

          His heavy eyes shifted to Sebastien's face. The white-haired kid was evidently yelling at him; turmoil had warped his once horrified frown. Clementine tried to utter Ian's name—he was sure he'd done this, but whatever came out of his mouth only made Sebastien and his allies frown as if they had no idea what he was trying to say.

          And then his vision started blurring. He was out of time. He could feel his heart slowing—something inside his chest was burning, and as he struggled to breathe, he felt as though he was slowly sinking into a deep, dark, suffocating sleep.

          The world around him began to swirl, and as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, the last thing he saw was Ian's grinning face among the crowd of horrified, scrambling students.

          It was over.

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