Even after showering, I was cold from my romp in the lake. As I exited the bathroom, hair heavy and damp against my turtleneck, I glanced out into the living area. It was only Blake there. The blonde girl's gaze lifted from her book as she folded the corner of her page. An impish smile stretched across her cheeks as she stood and hugged the book to her stomach.
"Heya, Vee. How're you holding up?"
"Fine."
"It looks like the headmistress wants a word. Here." Blake tugged a weighted square of paper from between the pages of her book and handed it over.
My name was in ink on the front with a request that I come to her office. No time was specified. It was a little late for a visit, but that probably still meant as soon as possible. Who was I to challenge the headmistress?
"It's in the tower. You just go all the way up."
I assumed she meant the one overlooking the quad and not some mystery tower on the lower campus. "Thanks."
"Yep." She approached the front door. "I'm gonna go meet some friends, so I'll see you in a little while."
After three flights of questionably steep stairs, I stood before a pair of mahogany doors. They rose as high as the ceiling and were wide enough for an elephant to pass through. I approached it, a little apprehensive, and knocked. The wood was so thick that my knock made no real sound at all. I thought to try again but the doors slid open to reveal a round room with half walls and an atrium. Curling metal accents that looked like vines took up the space between each window. The view in all directions was glorious, especially in the last light of day.
"Miss Tate," Haywood said, waving me in from behind a solid, wood desk. "Come in, come in."
I did as she asked and the doors slid shut with a solid thump before an unknown number of locks clicked into place. My sneakers squeaked against the misty, green tiles as I approached the chairs at her desk. They looked stiff, but I was pleasantly surprised upon sitting to find a wealth of comfort.
"How are you feeling, dear?"
"Fine, thanks."
Haywood smiled, her eyes creasing into crescent moons. "I'd like to start with an apology. There is no acceptable excuse or circumstance for the behavior Professor Briggs displayed. I've spoken with your parents. They feel you should stay, but you are welcome to choose. You do wish to stay, don't you?"
The idea of leaving to find a school where no one knew about my curse was tempting. The problem? I didn't have the luxury of picking another school and starting there whenever I'd like. Besides, I liked working at my speed and I was comfortable enough in my routine so far. "I'll stay."
"Excellent." Haywood clapped. "I've waived your tuition for the year—an apology on my part for allowing you to fall into danger."
Hard not to like that. My spine straightened against the chair's back as I bowed my head. "Thank you."
"Of course. Now for the other matter," Haywood said, her smile slipping. "Professor Briggs was under a form of outsider control. This group . . . their goal was to control you."
So, someone had been controlling him . . . and that person wanted to control me? I tilted my head and gave a nervous laugh. It was preposterous to think anyone wanted to control a freshman with a curse and little in the way of magical prowess. "Why would they want to do that?"
"There are many unknowns," Haywood said, her voice tight like she hated saying those words. Her stare lifted to a window of the atrium. "It's turning into quite the problem and I've run out of time to do anything about it."
Out of time? That was an ominous admission, but without an explanation, it could mean any number of things. I remained quiet, figuring she hadn't meant to say it out loud. It may have been better to run for it, after all. Go to another school somewhere far, far away.
A bunch of chimes hung by the window with a mix of wood and metal chutes. All at once, they trilled, thrummed, and clattered with urgent swings, some deeper than others.
"I'm afraid I must ask something of you." Haywood sharpened her stare upon me. "It is in your best interest and there is no time to refuse."
My heart tightened in my chest and my stomach dropped. What did that mean?
Shooting to her feet, she gestured me forward. "Quick. Come around here."
A little leery, I rose and walked around the desk.
Haywood hastily took up a letter opener and lowered it into a bowl with an orb. It was a deep red, nearly black, color, and melted into a pool of liquid. Blood, by the looks of it.
"I know your life has been a struggle, but it's going to get worse if they get their hands on you. Don't let them, dear. What I give you now can only go so far." As she lifted the letter opener, it burned black. She sliced the blade through the turtleneck, tearing the fabric to my chest bone.
"Headmistress," I said, trying to step away. I didn't like the idea of her holding a stabby-item anywhere near my heart. I felt like a ritual sacrifice being prepped for the slaughter. "This is—"
"There's no time for modesty or explanation," Haywood said, pulling me to the desk. "Don't move."
When pressed to my skin, the metal burned with a searing heat that turned my vision white and made my eyes tear. I gasped, trying to shrink back, but my body froze. A spell. I could feel the drag of the blade tearing my flesh and the lingering magic left in its wake. She was drawing something. I couldn't tell what.
Although I couldn't move my body, I could move my teary eyes well enough to watch her work. Enough to see the door quake before my vision cut to black from her thumbs sliding my eyelids down. A jolt of pain shot through to the back of my eye-sockets. It was sharp, cold too, and over in a flash of a second.
As the weight on my eyelids lifted, so did the magic that kept me still. I checked the carving immediately. It was the size of my fist and left a barely-there scar, but ultimately, I had no idea what it was. It didn't hurt, but the tingle of magic remained in its place, itching my chest-bone like it didn't belong.
The door shook a second time.
"Under my desk, dear. You must hide." Haywood ushered me into the small space and crouched to my level. Her skin was clammy and her eyes tired, both signs of magic sickness. "Do not come out under any circumstances. Not until Lucien comes for you. Are we clear?"
I nodded, unable to speak, and rubbed the wetness from my eyes.
Haywood dragged the letter opener across the tile, forming a line of blood from one side to the other before pressing it into my hand. At the sound of wood splintering, she rose and walked around the desk. I strained my ears for a listen.
"Jayla Haywood." It was a man's voice with an accent I wasn't used to hearing. Something European, maybe. "Your time here is over."
Yikes. Things were getting serious.
"I do hope that you came ready for a fight," Haywood said. "Otherwise, Anthony, I'm afraid you'll die here instead."
His name was Anthony. Good to know.
"Oh, Jayla. You underestimate me."
There was a crash. Metal shrieked and glass shattered. Racing steps. A series of thumps, like bodies hitting the floor. Then all was quiet. My heart hammered in my chest. I tightened my hold on the letter opener and prayed to the Goddess that Haywood was alive.
"Bitch!" Anthony. That was bad, bad news. He coughed and spit. "Get me out of this!"
Metal twisted before his feet slapped the tile.
"What now?"
"Find the key and figure out what she did with the girl," a feminine voice spoke. "We don't have long."
Scrambling footsteps circled the room. Someone knocked the chair away and stood before me, yanking drawers open and tossing papers. I bit back a yelp and held my breath as he crouched to my level and sniffed.
"Flowers," he said, voice gruff. "She's here."
Oh, Goddess, no. I wanted to scream. My shampoo. He smelled my shampoo!
The man before me, I realized, was Anthony. Red eyes stared from beneath a mess of red hair. He reached beyond the ward and promptly reared back with a hiss. His hand was pink. Burned. If it had stayed any longer, his hand might have been cleared of flesh. His eyes hardened with determination as he leaned closer.
Damn it all. I readied the letter opener. I'd have to fight my way out. Somehow. They just kill Headmistress Haywood, but maybe I could get the element of surprise on my side.
"Allow me, sir!"
"Shut up." Anthony took a deep breath and plunged his arm through the ward.
Grabbing his hand, I slammed it to the floor and leaped from under the desk with a scream. I stabbed the letter opener into his eye, twisted, and yanked it free. He collapsed at my feet. Then I ran. Or tried to. I was pinned by a half wall with nowhere to go.
"Calm down, little lamb." Laughter drew my attention to a curvy woman in mostly sheer robes, her lips painted to black. She perched an arm on her hip with an apathetic air before flicking her stare to the others. "Don't kill her."
Despite their orders, they inched closer. I pressed my back to the wall and held the letter opener up in warning.
"You can't stab us all, my sweet," the woman said, driving a hand through her short, black locks. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile fell. "I mean you no harm."
I had no chance. None at all. I surveyed the room. Haywood was dead. Very dead. Lying on her back in a pool of blood, dead. The glass ceiling and the iron atrium were shattered and twisted in the room's center near tossed over chairs. It was a mess. There was nothing for me to use and nowhere for me to go.
The woman held a hand to the others, forcing them to give me space. "I'm willing to extend an olive branch, my sweet. If you cooperate, I will let you go unharmed."
"Why do you want to control me?" I asked, voice shaking. "I'm useless."
"She told you, did she?" The woman perched her free hand on her waist. "You're simply a means to an end. We don't have any intention of you. We just need you to create an opportunity. As soon as we have that, you're free to go."
I didn't believe her for a second. I lowered the letter opener and took a deep breath. As her lips curled into something of a satisfied smirk, I prayed for a miracle and threw myself over the half-wall, off the tower.
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