Plague Saint [REMOVING FOR PUBLICATION JUNE 1]

Chapter Ten: So Below

Winter had told Phoebe in advance that she would not be leaving her home until the sun was out. Phoebe had laughed but agreed they could meet after sunrise. Winter told her parents she'd picked up an extra shift at the station.

When Winter hopped off the trolley stop, Phoebe was already waiting.

"Lab's pretty close to my house," Phoebe said.

"Have you been?" Winter asked as they walked.

"Uh, sort of," Phoebe replied. "I've been outside of the building to meet my uncle when he was done working, after my classes. He never took me in, though." Phoebe paused. "Oh, shoot. My classes. I forgot I needed to drop off an assignment before my professor marks it late."

"Oh." Winter paused. "Right now?"

Phoebe nodded. "I'm so sorry, I swear it won't take long. I just have to drop it in a box outside the classroom."

"Sure, no worries. I'll just...follow you." Walking to the college and back would only delay them, what, fifteen minutes? Twenty? Winter forced herself to take a deep breath. No need to rush. There was nothing to get worked up over.

They made the walk to the college, and Winter anxiously followed Phoebe inside. She had to remind herself that it didn't matter that it wasn't a student, and that she was with Phoebe, and that no one cared about some random girl walking the halls. But she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone they passed knew she didn't belong. The building they walked through smelled like old books, and posters Winter didn't understand covered the walls, along with portraits of people who looked a lot smarter than her.

"Here we are." Phoebe stopped in front of a door and drew a file folder from her bag. "I spent all night on this essay. I'd hate to get docked for being late." She slid it into the metal box hanging next to the door.

"Essay? On what?" Winter asked.

"Uh, it's for a history class," Phoebe said as they walked. "Stuff about politics when Devil's Pass was founded. Here, let's go down this hall, it'll put us out closer to the lab."

Winter followed her until they were almost out the doors. A massive painting, much larger than any portrait they had passed, made her stop. She stepped back to take in the woman's cold face, the sword in her hands, the blood dripping from the blade.

"Who's that?" Winter asked.

"Huh?" Phoebe was almost to the door. She turned around and glanced at the painting. "Oh. Saint Minerva." Winter swore there was a hint of disdain in her voice.

"That's Saint Minerva? She looks like she just killed someone!"

"Because she did." Phoebe closed the distance between her and Winter. "I don't know why they made the War Saint the school's patron—well, I do know, I just think it's a bad choice."

"Why did they, then?"

"Something about knowledge being our best weapon against our enemies."

"Devil's Pass has enemies?"

"Well, I guess we did when the school was founded. Territories were still fighting over resources. Still, you'd think they'd have taken this down at some point." Phoebe shrugged. "I just think it's a bit much. You ready to go to the lab?"

Winter nodded. "Let's go." As they reached the doors, she asked, "How did the War Saint die again? I remember hearing it was some kind of battle, right?"

"Yeah. The last battle the city fought, over a century ago. Saint Minerva led her army to victory, but the last enemy soldier killed her before being defeated."