After spending the third night with Andy, I was more than ready to escape Hell. My steps echoed across the roofed corridor on my way to the campus exit. The trimmed hedges shaped my way, the flowers and chunks of fruit swirling within, around, and atop them distracting me from what I came here for. After yesterday's revelations, I had some errands to run...and people to confront.
Voices rang behind the hedges, and I remembered Ethan leading me through hidden pathways in the same hedge maze as a shortcut to the Humanities Cluster. Only this time...
I ran my hands along the leafy wall, feeling for the bend rather than trying to spot it. Inside this maze, everything bled into each other, including corners. I reached the nearest bend, and the voices grew louder. "Someone help!" A familiar voice rang from the corridor's end, breathy and urgent. "Please!"
My legs acted on their own, rushing towards the source. When I got there, the world froze. About half a dozen students milled around, idling but never helping. They formed a hazy semi-circle around the central attraction. Ethan's blue uniform stood out from the rest, facing away from me, and lying on her back was...
"Move," I hissed, my own voice jarring me to reality. When did I get from there to here? Ethan sputtered, no doubt wondering where I came from, but my eyes fixated on the blue-haired girl seizing amidst the cobbled floor. Vomit trailed down the side of her mouth, and she choked. Her eyes rolled back to her head, eyelids fluttering to show me nothing but the whites. She heaved, hands clawing at her throat in an attempt to clear it. Dread knocked against my gut.
This was poison.
I pressed my hand on her forehead, exerting enough influence on her mind. "Sleep," I said. Her body stilled, but it never halted its response to its irritant. I ran down my mental list of accessible substances that could kill someone or incapacitate them to this degree. One substance clicked. Alright. Here I go.
A glowing representation of a clock appeared by Alyson's gut. Monothocroxin would only manifest like this when it was ingested. Was this a forced feeding? She was smarter to accept dubious drinks from people she didn't know. The other possibility, I'd rather not think about, because it would prove my initial suspicion. I didn't want Alyson to be a murderer, so I'd do what I do rarely but the best among them—save people.
My teeth dug against my lip as I turned the time on her system. It was a temporary fix, bringing the state of the body before the poison ingestion. If the spell ran out, her systems would catch up, and the effects would accelerate. Her breathing eased, and while she wasn't hurling her guts out, I fished a spare vial from the pocket of my vest. Tilting her head back, I pushed the all-cure between her lips. Upon emptying it, I released my time-turning spell, bringing the state of her body into his original state. But with the antidote already on its way, she wouldn't suffer any longer.
Only then did I realize my head spun and my chest heaved. When Alyson's air intake evened out and she stopped throwing up, I released the sleep spell and waited for her to come to. Seconds passed, and her eyelids fluttered. With my arm around her shoulders, I helped her sit up. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, her gaze searching the multiplying crowd around us. Then, her eyes fell on me.
"Arlo..." Her voice was scratchy, as if she had been shouting monologues for the past hour. "What—"
"Go home for now," I said, cutting her off. The whispers rose to a noisy cloud around us. "I'll take you to the infirmary and call your father. He'll sort it out, I'm sure."
Alyson attempted to squirm, but her movements were nothing but a weak squiggle against my tight grip. "Please, Alyson," I said, dropping my voice to a whisper. "I can help you, but only if you let me."
She paused, wide, doll-like eyes searching mine. They have been filled with unspeakable sadness and anger, but now more than ever. With a brief nod, she let me throw her arm around my shoulder and grip her waist close to me. Let her and everyone think what they want. For now, I have a plan, and it included getting Alyson out of here.
I dragged Alyson across the cobblestones. She could walk on her own—the all-cure would have done its magic by now—but just for show, I kept her by my side. We passed by Ethan who stepped back to give us a wide berth. A flash of white by his wrist caught my eye. Since when did he injure himself?
"Hey, can I ask you a favor?" I said to him, towing Alyson with me. "I'll accompany her to Mrs. Lemorpha. You get me a list of all the scholarship students in Lyllan University."
Confusion blossomed in Ethan's impish face. "Sorry?" he said. "All of them? By tomorrow?"
I gave him a quick pat on the arm with my free hand. "If there's anyone who can do it, it's you," I said. My lips ripped into a hopeful smile. Match that with the strain Alyson's weight dropped onto my knees, I'd say I made for a convincing actor of desperation. "Help a friend out, will you?"
Ethan pursed his lips. "I'll try." He jerked his chin towards the vague direction of the infirmary. "Now, go."
The next hour passed by without any fanfare. The infirmary's door slid open, and I deposited Alyson to the nearest bed. After informing the nurse on duty about the symptoms and first-aid I gave, I was shooed to the rotary block where a cable-phone awaited me. After dialing my Uncle's office in the Ocalira, I was eventually connected to the head of Darwood Gardens, Mr. Joyce Gardner. Yes. Alyson's father.
The call went smoothly, with the man promising to send for Alyson before the last period bell rang. I gave Alyson one last nod before rushing out of the infirmary and back to my room. Forget about Walter. He had nothing to do with all this. Andy's bow grated against the strings of his violin when I burst inside the room without knocking. Before he could throw in a cheeky comment, I reached my bedside cabinet and pulled out the middle drawer.
Alexi's gun slid into my view, all golden, bright, and inviting.
It was in the study hall when a shadow washed all over me and a stack of unbound sheets dropped in front of me. Ethan sank into the empty seat next to me, stretching his neck while rubbing it. "Oh, I worked hard for that," he whined, thumping his fist on his shoulders. Must be bloody stiff as hell. "But I only got to the new slates in the Botany Credence."
I gathered the sheets, glancing at him. With him massaging his shoulder, his sleeve has inched back to reveal a sliver of white bandages wrapped around his wrist. "Did you sprain it?" I asked, tearing off his attention from his shoulder to his pending injury. I remember seeing it yesterday as well, so when did he get it? "Is it because of the list?"
Ethan shrugged. "I tripped and landed on it wrong," he said. "Don't worry about it. Not my dominant hand either, so no worries."
"Of course," I replied, peering at the top of the sheets. The Innovation Credence was the most complete, with it being Ethan's program. That was all I needed. With both hands, I pushed my chair off the table and trudged out of the study hall. Ethan scrambled after me as he always did when he was fishing for my approval. "Hey, Arlo! Where are you going?"
My teeth dug against each other as my hands curled all over the sheets. The names in the Innovation Credence burned at the back of my head, taunting me. One of them would be the culprit, and one of them would come for me. If not today, then tomorrow, or the day that followed, or the day after that. It wasn't like me to let it drag long, though. If they wanted a fight, a fight was what they'd get.
I rounded the corner on my way out of FSH. That was when a million, thundering footsteps echoed along the hall. A mass of black-clad bodies fanned out from the hall's dual doors and filed into the lobby, forming a semi-circle around me and Ethan. The other students saw the pistols and rifles cocked towards us and scampered off, no doubt to tell Mr. Proleau in a haze of panic. My hands shot up in surrender. Nothing I could do against a barrage of guns pointed at me. I turned to Ethan whose wide eyes betrayed the turmoil he must be feeling inside.
I wasn't any different. My heart battered against my chest, begging to be let out. Sweat beaded on the side of my face. If I was caught here, my life would be over. This was all a misunderstanding...right?
The man leading the entire Ocalira pack opened his mouth, and the following words bled through: "Arlo Crowhaven, under the charges of assault and attempted murder of Alyson Gardner, you are under arrest."
I did the best thing I could—run.
My legs tore through the FSH, eyes flitting around for the hidden exit I always secured for myself. Ethan's alarmed cries vanished behind me, but the Ocalira's footsteps were an impending storm. I pushed the door to the last classroom on the west wing and shut the door with a bang. I twisted the lock, pressing my hand against the metal and placing a weak locking spell for good measure. Next, I whipped to the glass windows on the far side of the room. Well, if I was to get out of here, I have no choice.
A spell ripped out of my hands, spearing straight through the panes. Glass and metal exploded into a million shards, the sound carrying over to the rest of the campus. The lock jangled behind me, muffled shouts of aggression ringing beyond the door. They'd break it down. They'd break it—
With a guttural scream, I ran towards the windows, keeping the jagged edges on track. At the last step, I threw my weight into them. The world spun, and pain blossomed in my shoulder as I toppled outside the classroom.
Outside. I made it outside. Time to run.
I pushed myself up with a grunt. Ignore the blood streaming from a thousand, paper-thin cuts on my face and hands. My life was more important. With gasping breaths and sweat dousing every part of my body, I tore through the lush grounds of Lyllan University. The Ocalira rounded the FSH and now followed in my wake. Tch. How much would it take to shake them?
The cobblestones dug against my soles with every heavy step, shooting pain to my knees. I should practice running for my life more often. Students watched the entire chase with both apprehension and intrigue. Here I was, ruining my reputation by dashing from authority blessed by the Lochrame herself, and like dogs robbed of their favorite bone, the Ocalira were hunting me down.
Salvation would come in hand, though. I swerved around a pillar and came across the glasshouse. Alexi better be there, and he better help me hide from these idiots. I reached the door lined with see-through glass. It was shut. I slammed into it to stop my momentum, hand cranking the handle. Didn't budge. Locked.
I banged my fist on the wooden frame. "Jansen! Open up!" No response from the inside. Not even a whisk of movement. "Jansen! Alexi! Rosie! Anyone?"
The Ocalira's pursuit came alive behind me. Bloody tarnation. I craned my neck up. The spire rose from the ground in its imposing glory. That should do. They wouldn't expect me to hole up there, and even if they did, they wouldn't send all of the units. I could deal with adults if there were only two of them at a time.
My sides ached from the abrupt halting and lurching into motion. The wrought gate to the spire's base rattled against the cobblestones when I plowed through it. With a wild swish, I slammed it shut, tinkering with the lock to stall my pursuers. Stairs curved upward to my left, ushering me to the winding belly of the beast. With the last of my breath, I exhaled my exhaustion off and squared my shoulders. Here I go.
The climb was more arduous than the chase across the campus. By the time my legs left the topmost step, sweat dripped from my chin and trickled down my back in droves. When I stepped forward, my knees threatened to knock together. Damned Lochrame. I would never go back here.
But I swallowed my gasps for air, forcing my lungs to be content with what meager air my nose could bring them. Cold bursts of wind whistled through the arches of the tower's cardinal windows. In the middle of the compact room hung the largest bell I ever saw. Rust coated its metallic surface. It would have once gleamed gold, but now, it only glowed a muted ocher. Wiping the sweat from my face with the back of my hand, I strode towards the northern window and planted my hands on the dusty, stone sill. Below, the glasshouse's ceiling glinted against the afternoon sunlight, the reflected rays poking me in the eye.
A single set of footsteps scratched against the dusty floor, driving a smile on my face. That smile was far from sane. In fact, it was the most malicious one I've shown in a long time. I turned to find a pair of legs and leather shoes edging out of the influence of the bell.
"It's nice of you to join me in hell, Mr. Murder," I said with an intrigue my rational mind told me I shouldn't have when facing my mortality. "I shall say, you're close to giving me a run for my money."
A chuckle and a light brush of fingers against the bell's body rang across the meager space between us. "Glad to be of service, Arlo Crowhaven," Ethan Delcher replied with an equally mad grin. "I hope you had fun in this game as I did."