7. Cory
7
CORY
T he bell had just tolled the start of lunch as I followed Cordelia Jefferson, the head of Hearth, back to Hearth Haven’s headquarters. We took a winding route through the grounds, following first one path, then the next. Finally, Cordelia stopped and spread her hands out.
“Home sweet home.” She smiled fondly.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what she was gesturing to. All I saw were trees and hummocks of snow-covered moss, and a low sandstone ridge rising up from the forest floor. It wasn’t until we followed the path to the end, right at the base of that rocky promontory, that I realized what I was looking at.
The rockface was the front of a building, built right into the earth. There was a massive wooden door, made of light wood and left rough-hewn so it blended in with the stone on either side of it. It had iron hinges and a brass handle, though, and inlaid in the center was the hand and flame of Hearth Haven. To either side sat windows filled with glass so thick I couldn’t see through it clearly.
There was some device—it looked almost like an abacus—of copper and quartz set into the rock opposite the door handle, the copper weathered to a mossy green that matched the forest floor. Professor Jefferson flicked the counters this way and that, and then turned the door handle.
It looked so heavy, I thought she’d have to tug it open, but it swung open easily on noiseless hinges. Professor Jefferson held the door, then followed me into the building, swinging it shut behind us.
“Oh,” I said, stopping short.
We’d stepped into a cave. Or maybe cavern would have been a better word. The floor sloped down, away from the entrance, and by the time we reached the bottom, the rock ceiling stood twenty feet above us. The floor here had been inlaid with tiles, but the walls were bare rock.
“It’s not much, but it’s home. And the cool temperatures make it a great wine cellar.”
Professor Jefferson cracked a wry smile, and I smiled back. She was one of the kindest people I’d met on campus so far. It was nice to know that Professor Romero wasn’t the single exception, and not all the professors were intimidating like Kazansky or arrogant like Gallo. Or determined to be as cold as possible to me, like Noah.
Stop thinking about him , I scolded myself.
It was hard, though. Noah occupied my thoughts these days. Each of my lessons with Romero was still a struggle, but I’d remembered Noah earlier and earlier in each dream, even if I still had trouble remembering who I was.
I didn’t want to keep thinking about Noah, but my subconscious didn’t give a shit, apparently.
I followed Professor Jefferson through a labyrinth of tunnels. I supposed they were hallways, technically, but no matter how straight the walls or how thickly carpeted the floors, you couldn’t get away from the fact that you were walking underground. The floors rose and fell at random intervals, and I began to feel like I was on a rollercoaster.
Finally, we reached another door with the hand and flame of Hearth, but this time the symbol had been burned into the wood, and the flame didn’t cover the palm, but rather danced over the fingertips. Jefferson opened the door and ushered me into a giant…laboratory?
I wasn’t sure what to call it. It was a large cavern, that much was clear. The walls and ceiling were rough, and there were no carpets underfoot here. A fire burned in a circular hearth in the center of the room, but its flames were blue and purple, not the reddish orange I expected, and pink sparks floated in the flames without disappearing.
The smoke drifted up in a lazy spiral to what appeared to be a hole in the roof—I could see moss dripping down around the edges. I wondered if the fire went out every time it snowed.
There were large tables placed around the room, sticking out from the walls at different angles. Some were covered in papers and what looked like engineering schematics. Others were heaped with jewels and bits of metal, wood, and glass.
I recognized a microscope and a set of scales, but what was the thing that looked like a wooden robot, with a glass chest filled with sparkling green liquid? What was the set of interlocking, spinning circles and spheres, like a model of a solar system that definitely wasn’t ours? And what about the cube made out of various metals that hovered four inches above a table, humming softly?
The lab was lit with glowing balls of light above each table, plus a row of windows along the far wall. When I looked through them, I realized they were practically skylights. Bits of winter-brown leaves and sticks had blown onto them. I could see more snow-covered hummocks on the ground, and the base of a tall tree.
Professor Jefferson saw me staring and grinned. “Neat, huh? Well, maybe you’ll apply to Hearth at the end of the semester and conduct your own experiments here one day. But for now, come join me near the fire.”
I followed her, trying not to bump into any tables as I went, wary of knocking something loose. The fire was eerily silent. I’d never realized before just how many sounds fires made, but I missed those hisses, cracks, and pops as I stood alongside this one. It was disconcerting.
“Now, you know what a vocator is, right?” Professor Jefferson asked.
“It’s sort of like magical text messaging?” I said.
She laughed. “Well, yes, that is one of its main functions. To send a message, you’ll actually speak the words you wish to send into the device, but your recipient will read them in the form of temporary ink on their skin. Your vocator will be tuned to the network at Vesperwood, so you’ll be able to contact any other student here that you wish. Faculty and staff can also use them to get in touch, but typically, official communications about coursework and such will be made through the tubes. Your vocator will also serve as a locating device for the dean, as a safety precaution. That way, if you’re ever in any danger, we’ll be able to find you and help you.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized there was a network to be a part of, but it made sense. I cocked my head to the side. “How is it able to do all of that?”
“A full explanation would take more time than we have before lunch ends,” she said. “Suffice it to say, the vocator is connected both to you, and to the magical network in which Vesperwood is enmeshed. Further elaboration can wait until you take our more advanced courses.”
She walked over to a basket woven from strips of brass that was sitting next to the hearth and picked it up. It clanked as she handed it to me. I peered inside. It was filled with lumps of metal and stone, even some crystals.
“Have a look at those and pick out the ones you want,” she said.
I stared down at them, then back up at her. “How do I choose?”
Jefferson shrugged. “It’s different for each person. Some people feel themselves drawn to different substances. Some say that the weight of the ore or stone feels ‘right’ in their hands. Some people pick based on nothing more than color. It’s entirely up to you. Just choose your top three and set them on the table there.”
As I began to examine the chunks of metal and stone, I was aware of the professor sprinkling different powders into the fire and speaking to the flames. She waved her hands above them, and at one point even stuck her hands into the fire, making intricate shapes with her fingers. I found myself staring, then remembered I was supposed to be picking out rocks.
I looked back into the basket. I picked up a lump of dark gray metal, rough on the outside. It reminded me of Noah—hard and forbidding—but I wasn’t attracted to it, the way I was to the man. I set it down and picked up another lump, this one a mass of tiny crystalline shards that reflected the indigo light of the flames. It was pretty, but too much like a disco ball for my taste.
In the end, I pulled three pieces from the basket. The first was a light greenish-blue crystal with swirls of white. It shimmered gently and made me feel calm just looking at it. The second was a solid hunk of stone that was silvery, shiny, and felt good in my hand. The third was a crystal that managed to be black, but filled with a kaleidoscope of colors at the same time. It reminded me of the night sky—or the starry sea that I saw when I dreamt.
I handed the basket back to Professor Jefferson, who inspected my selections.
“Interesting,” she said. “Aquamarine, hematite, and black opal. Very interesting.”
“Really? Why?”
She set the basket back on the floor. “Every student’s choices are different. But generally, we feel called to the stones and ores that give us something we need.”
“I don’t even know what these ones are,” I protested. “I just picked the ones I thought looked the nicest. What are they supposed to mean?”
“Interpretations vary, but I see aquamarine as a stone for calm, hope, and courage. I find hematite to have a very grounding presence, making it helpful for those seeking security. And black opal possesses protective and purifying properties. A very rare stone, and an interesting combination.”
I felt a little exposed as her eyes studied me. Was that why I’d chosen those stones? Was that what I was looking for? Either way, she didn’t give me much time to ponder it.
“Now,” she said, “which wrist do you want your vocator on?”
“My left, I guess? I’m right-handed.”
“Alright. In that case, come stand here, and hold your hands out.”
She pulled me forward and turned me so my left hand extended towards the fire, and my right hovered over the three stones I’d set on the table.
“Good,” she said, when she had my hands positioned just where she wanted them. “Now we can begin.”
From a small pouch on her belt, she pulled out a pinch of pink powder and tossed it into the flames.
“ Activate .”
The flames rose higher, six feet in the air, before sinking back down to three feet tall.
“Put your hand in the fire,” she told me.
I blinked. “Are you sure it’s—”
“Now, child. Once the spell is begun, it must be completed in a certain amount of time. The flames won’t hurt you.”
Warily, I extended my fingertips, and I felt the moment I brushed the flames. Professor Jefferson was right. It didn’t hurt, but it did tickle . The flames licked up and down my fingers as I stuck the rest of my hand in.
“Good,” she said again. She was brisker than before, all business now that the spell had started. She pulled a different pouch from her belt, undoing the ties and holding it out to me. “Now, dip the index finger, middle finger, and ring finger of your right hand into this and touch the powder inside. Don’t pick it up, mind. Just touch it with the tip of each finger.”
Cautiously, I introduced my index finger into the pouch. I expected the powder to feel like sand, but the pieces felt different somehow. Triangular. And they clung to my skin like iron filings to a magnet. When I pulled my finger out, a cap of gold dust clung to it.
“The other two, now. Quickly.”
I repeated the process with my other two fingers, then extended my hand towards the table again.
She put the pouch away, then waved her hand above mine and said, “ Accept .”
My fingertips began to tingle, and the gold dust on them began to glow.
“Now bring your hand to the table and touch each of the three rocks in turn with a different finger. Then pull back”
I did so, and the tingling in my fingers increased, spreading up my hand as the glow enveloped more of my hand too.
“Alright,” Jefferson said. “This part might hurt a bit, but only for a moment.”
Before I could ask what ‘a bit’ was, she waved her hands in front of me in a complicated pattern that I couldn’t follow.
“ Commence ,” she called, and her voice rang out in the room.
The rocks on the table began to vibrate, and a golden thread of lightning connected each one to one of my fingertips. The gold lightning then wound around each finger and across my palm, and the tingling there turned to pain.
The lightning continued up my wrist and arm in jagged steps and angles, darting this way, then breaking hard in the other direction. The tingling was definitely unpleasant now, but it wasn’t until the lightning reached my shoulder, disappearing under the sleeve of my T-shirt, that the real pain began.
I couldn’t see the lightning anymore, but I could feel it jet across my collarbones. My heart skipped a beat as pain lanced up my arm and into my chest. Fire flared down my nerves, a sharp, crippling pain that made my right hand contract and my chest squeeze tight. My heart beat rapidly, and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.
Fire flared down my left arm as the gold lightning reemerged on that side. When it reached the fingertips of my left hand, still extended into the blue and purple fire, my entire body lit up gold. It probably looked pretty cool, but I was too busy trying not to yell to really notice.
The pain was excruciating. It felt like flames lacerating my skin. I didn’t understand why I didn’t see blisters, or hear the hiss of my skin breaking and burning away.
I looked at Professor Jefferson in consternation. “This. Is. A. Bit?” I gritted out through my teeth.
She ignored me, moving her hand again and calling, “ Connect .”
Suddenly, the lumps of stone on the table weren’t just vibrating. They were shifting form, melting and swirling into something fluid. Sea green, silver, and sparkling black liquid turned into thread, and the threads of stone reached forward, touching my fingertips and following the path of the lightning.
This pain was different, but no less awful. It felt like knives stabbing my skin, then digging in deep, burrowing into my veins. I watched in horror as the stone traveled up my arm. It twined around the outside, but I could feel it moving through my muscles as well.
My heart almost stopped when the liquid stone reached my chest. I couldn’t breathe. For a long moment, my lungs felt encased in stone, my heart entombed, throbbing weakly but unable to fully beat. It didn’t start beating normally again until the stone began traveling down my other arm. I sucked in a ragged breath and tried hard not to cry out.
The stone kept moving down my arm, swirling along the outside until it reached my wrist, where the stone that had moved through my body broke my skin and oozed out, still liquid and alive. I wondered why blood didn’t spurt out with it. It felt like I’d been carved up.
The threads of stone separated again, the pale blue-green of the aquamarine, the silver of the hematite, the jet and rainbow fire of the black opal. They danced around my wrist in curlicues too fast for me to follow.
“ Set ,” Jefferson called.
The threads flashed the same gold as my skin, and the very air in the room seemed to flash in response. I yelled in pain as my skin burned even hotter.
Jefferson waved her hands a final time. The threads flashed once more, then returned to a solid state, a web of stonework encircling my wrist. The instant the stone set, the pain disappeared. I wheezed and gasped, my throat hoarse, and stumbled forward in the sudden absence of hurt.
I caught myself on my knees, struggling to get my breath back. I looked at my arms in wonder. From the way the spell had felt, they should have been blackened to a crisp, but they were completely unharmed. I didn’t feel any after-effects or lingering ache. The pain was completely and totally gone.
“You could have warned me,” I told Professor Jefferson. “That hurt for more than just ‘ a moment .’”
“And what would that warning have done, except make you more nervous?” she said, smiling warmly. “Now come here. Let’s take a look at you.”
She drew me over to the table where the three stones still sat. They looked slightly smaller than before. For all that it had felt like the entirety of each rock had entered my body, only a tiny bit actually had.
Jefferson placed my wrist on the tabletop and snapped her fingers. “ Light .”
It was a little different from the way Kazansky had been teaching our class to make light, but it had the same effect. A globe of light appeared over our heads, and I pushed back the sleeve of my gray hoodie to see the vocator on my wrist in sharp relief.
I stared at it in wonder. Ropes of hematite braided and twisted together as they knotted around my arm. Aquamarine ran through the hematite here and there like veins of pale blue. And on four of the knots, black opal erupted from the hematite like a tiny star.
It was beautiful, and not something I had any right to wear. It was too nice for me.
“Interesting,” Jefferson said again. “Yours is more intricate than many designs I’ve seen. But again, the stone responds to you and your needs.”
I wondered what the intricacy meant. I suppressed a shudder, imagining what my dad would have said about me wearing something so, well, pretty. I stifled the urge to cover it with my hand.
Professor Jefferson pointed out a tiny depression in the hematite that was just the right size for a fingertip.
“You’ll press there to activate it, either to speak a message to someone, or to read one sent to you. Then you press it again when you’re done.”
“Okay,” I said softly, still reeling from the experience. I felt strangely exhausted, and I didn’t know if it was from the spell, the fact that I’d missed lunch, or because I had another lesson with Romero tonight.
“Alright.” Jefferson picked up the basket of rocks and added the three I’d removed to it. Then she turned back to the fire, which had threads of gold running through the indigo flames now. She frowned slightly, then looked over her shoulder at me. “Are you able to get back to the manor on your own? I need to deal with this fire before Third Hour starts.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be okay. And, um, thanks.”
I waved my wrist in her direction. I really was pleased with how the vocator had turned out, even if I was a little worried about what others might think.
“My pleasure,” she said with a final smile, before turning back to the fire.
I was amazed that I was able to successfully backtrack through the maze of Hearth Haven to the front door. Amazed, and proud of myself. I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine with a grateful smile. I hadn’t felt uncomfortable in Hearth, not exactly, but it was nice to feel the breeze on my face again, and know I was above ground.
It was chilly, though, so I set a quick pace as I headed back to the manor. Maybe I could get back in time to grab a sandwich from the refectory before I had to go to Haven Selection. But I must have used up all my mental mapping ability inside Hearth. I was so focused on my hypothetical sandwich that I didn’t pay attention to my route, and soon enough, I was hopelessly lost.
I stopped in the middle of the path I was on and spun in a slow circle. I couldn’t see the roof or towers of the manor anywhere. I couldn’t see any buildings, in fact. I assumed I was still on Vesperwood’s campus, because Professor Romero had said something about the wards discouraging students from leaving, but aside from that, I had no idea where I was.
A caw sounded through the trees, and I looked up hopefully. Maybe the raven was coming back. Maybe it could guide me to where I needed to go. But all I saw overhead was a crow, much smaller than my raven, perched on the edge of a tree branch. It stared at me, and I got the distinct impression it felt I had invaded its territory.
“Sorry,” I said, looking up at it. “I’m trying to get out of here, I promise.”
I glanced around. All I saw were bare winter trees and shrubs, mixed with pines and other evergreens. A huge spruce leaned over the path ahead, and part of me wanted to turn back. It looked a little ominous, despite the bright sunshine of the afternoon. But I didn’t want to turn around either. After all, I’d just come from that direction, and I hadn’t found the manor back there.
With a sigh, I walked forward again. I passed under the spruce without incident, and told myself not to be stupid. Trees didn’t have nefarious intentions—right? The path curved, and I blinked.
Was that a roof peeking out through the trees up ahead? It looked too low to belong to the manor, but whatever it was, maybe I could find someone there to give me directions.
I resumed walking, the wood shingles of the roof coming into focus. The path curved again. I followed it eagerly—and walked straight into Noah, coming from the other direction.
His eyes narrowed immediately. “What are you doing here?” he asked. His tone wasn’t warm.
My heart stuttered in my chest, but I reminded myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Trying to get back to the manor.”
He snorted. “Right. So you want me to believe you just happened to be walking towards my cabin purely by accident?”
“Why would I—wait. Your cabin? That building back there is where you live?”
A thrill shot through me at that thought. Knowing where Noah lived—it felt a little like seeing him undressed. Which, technically, I had never done. Only part of him had been unclothed, that first night.
“Don’t act innocent,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not cute.”
I stiffened. “I’m not trying to be cute. I’m trying to get back to the manor. That’s all.”
“Well, it’s in the opposite direction.”
“Okay, well. Thanks, I guess.”
I wanted to say something more clever as I turned and walked away, but I couldn’t think of anything cutting or witty enough.
“Wait.” Noah’s voice cracked like a whip.
I looked over my shoulder.
“I’ll go with you,” he said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, though.
“You don’t have to. I’m not a child.”
“I don’t care if you’re eighteen or eighty-eight, I don’t trust you walking around by yourself. For all I know, you’d manage to drown yourself in the lake.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, but not quietly enough.
“What was that?” he asked sharply.
“Nothing.”
I started walking again. Noah caught up and we walked in silence while I stewed. I was so angry, and still so attracted to him, which wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to like men in the first place, much less this one. It wasn’t fair that he got to be so hot while also being an asshole.
“Where were you coming from?” Noah asked after a minute.
“Hearth Haven. I got my vocator.” I held up my wrist to display it, as if I needed proof.
His eyes narrowed again. “Who did the spell for you?”
“Why does it matter?”
And why did he have to sound so suspicious about everything I said?
“Don’t be a brat, just answer the question.”
A new rush of anger filled me, but saying I wasn’t being a brat would only make me sound more childish.
“Professor Jefferson.” I strove to make my tone as cold and uncaring as his.
Noah grunted.
“Why?” I asked again.
“Forget it.”
I resisted the urge to scream, but it was really, really hard. Having a normal conversation with the man was impossible. I shouldn’t have cared, but for some reason, I very much did.
After another moment of silence, Noah asked, “Did you see Autumn Zhu while you were there, at Hearth?”
“Who?”
“Nevermind.”
It was a weird walk. Noah seemed to want to be in the lead, but I’d be damned if I was going to waddle after him like some kind of duckling. So I kept pace with him, but I still had to look to him for guidance every time we came to a fork in the path.
Noah reached out to hold an overhanging branch out of the way, and I caught sight of his vocator. It was a heavy, solid thing, with two coils of metal, one silvery, one black.
“Does everyone at Vesperwood have one?” I asked, pointing at the device.
He nodded. “The dean wants it that way.”
“Did it…hurt? When they made yours?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking. Maybe I just wanted confirmation I wasn’t a total wimp.
“Life hurts,” he said.
What a cheery turn this conversation had taken.
“Does it get in the way of your knife? The one strapped to your arm?” The bottom end of the knife he kept strapped to that wrist was just barely visible as his jacket cuff fell back.
He shook his head. “I take the vocator off during combat. You should too.”
“Well, yeah.” I’d seen other students doing that since our first class. “But I mean not in combat. In real life.”
“I try not to use my knives much in real life.”
“Then why wear them?”
“I said try .” He shrugged. “Besides, old habits die hard.”
An answer equal parts unsettling and arousing. I wanted to ask what old habits, but Noah looked away. His nostrils flared, and his face was set in a hard line, like he couldn’t bear being polite to me much longer.
What had I ever done to upset him so much?
“I would never mention it to anyone else.”
The words fell out of my mouth before I’d fully formed the thought that went with them.
“What?”
“That night. At the Balsam Inn. I haven’t told anyone about it, and I won’t. I wouldn’t do that.”
He barked a laugh. “Tell who you like. I didn’t do anything I’m ashamed of.”
“Then why are you such a dick to me?”
Those words came out before I’d even begun the thought, and I clapped a hand to my mouth.
Noah gave me a withering glance. “I don't befriend students as a rule, Cory.”
“I’m not asking to be your friend.” I flushed with mortification. Did he think that was what I wanted?
“Good. Because it’s not going to happen.”
I just barely withheld a sigh, opting instead to walk even faster, trying to become the one in the lead. But Noah’s long legs kept pace with mine.
“If I’m hard on you,” he said after a moment, “it’s because you missed your first semester. I’m trying to catch you up. Nothing more than that. Definitely nothing personal.”
I watched his face as he spoke. His lip curled in disgust. He could say what he wanted, but I was clearly distasteful to him in some way. If he wasn’t worried I was going to blab his apparently not-a-secret, then what the fuck was his problem with me?
Abruptly, he said, “There’s the manor.”
We came around a bend in the path, and sure enough, the manor loomed in front of us. I started forward, then noticed he’d stopped walking.
“Aren’t you coming too?”
“I have other things to do than babysit you. I trust you can make it the last fifty yards on your own.”
I didn’t bother to respond, just stomped away.
“Cory.”
My name on his lips stopped me before I’d made it five steps. In spite of myself, I turned around.
“Maybe you really were just trying to get back to the manor,” he said slowly. “But you shouldn’t be wandering out here alone. It’s dangerous.”
“For me, but not for you?” Annoyance laced my tone.
“I’m older,” he said. “I can take care of myself. But I don’t have time to take care of you too.”
With that, he turned and walked away.