Chapter Twenty-Five
After a week of magical nonsense, and a morning spent worrying that her mood might impact said nonsense, Chrys registered the chaos breaking out with surprise … but not shock.
Rather, her mood settled on really? and again? Both emotions were soon followed by Why is it always during my lunch?
Unfortunately, most of the other students weren’t reacting with the same blasé attitude. Screaming got Chrys to her feet along with everyone else. But just as the third pumpkin exploded, even she began to lose her cool.
Because the plastic spiders grew to the size of baseballs and began crawling off their fake webs.
And then the fake skeleton stood up, stretched its limbs, and surveyed the pandemonium with its bony hands on its pelvis.
The screaming was losing its amused undertones. Baseball-sized spiders had a tendency to do that to people. Real screams of terror preceded a mad rush to the cafeteria doors as engorged arachnids dropped from the ceiling onto the student body. Some people were climbing onto the tables, and Chrys followed their lead, searching for a clearer exit path. A gust of cold air hit her face as students began shoving the fire doors to the outside open.
More screaming directed Chrys’s attention toward the food line. The skeleton was on the move and … Oh no. So was the life-sized plastic grim reaper by the cafeteria checkout. Its scythe swung through the air, clocking the nearest boy on the shoulder. He let out a cry that would have been more fitting had that blade been real—but luckily, the hex hadn’t gotten that violent.
Yet.
Chrys shivered. The floor was covered in pumpkin guts, and the air was full of yelling and cursing as shoes slid on the mess and bodies smacked the linoleum. Clearly, the magic-suppression spells the Society had cast on the school last week had worn off. Maybe if Chrys were as powerful as Lily seemed to think, she could stop this herself. But she wasn’t, and people were getting hurt.
“Chrys, come on!”
Anushka held her backpack in front of her body like a shield, following Luke and Isaiah toward the closest interior doors.
Slowly, so as not to slip and break a bone, Chrys hopped down and joined them. They broke through the press out into the hallway and ran, trying to get as far away as possible.
Black veins in the walls ran with them.
Ignoring Anushka, who was calling for her, Chrys peeled off and raced down a different hallway, and she didn’t stop until the veins faded from view. She finally stopped and sat in a vacant stairwell, huffing. Bits of splattered pumpkin stuck to her sleeves, but nothing worse. Muttering to herself, Chrys plucked them off before they could dry in place.
After how she’d left things with Lily this morning, she didn’t want to be the bigger person and suggest a second attempt at the Historical Society’s restricted room. For that matter, she didn’t want to deal with Lily again. Period. If she wasn’t infuriating Chrys, she was making Chrys forget that she was, by nature, infuriating.
Still, Chrys didn’t see a way around it.
She was pulling out her phone to text Lily when the stairwell door opened and Lily appeared as if summoned.
She hadn’t fared as well with the exploding pumpkins. She’d clearly tried washing some of the bits off her clothes, but orange goo stuck to her hair. A traitorous part of Chrys longed to reach over and pull it out for her.
“You have pumpkin in your hair,”
Chrys said instead, knowing it would annoy Lily.
Lily made a whining noise and picked through her strands.
“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, but we need to work on this.”
“Agreed. That’s why I showed up yesterday. And now I’ll meet you there today.”
“I can’t.”
Lily wiped her hands on a tissue.
“I have to run a student council meeting. Tomorrow, before witch school.”
Chrys sighed but didn’t see the point in arguing. This was why so-called student government, besides being nothing more than a popularity contest, was bullshit.
“Fine. You’d better show. We need to do something before blood gushes out of the supply closets.”
Lily’s eyes opened wide, and she glanced around as though Chrys had made a prophecy rather than an allusion.
“Don’t give it ideas. Why would you even suggest that?”
“It’s funny? It’s like a scene from The Shining. Haven’t you ever watched it?”
“It’s horror.”
Lily shook her head.
“I don’t like horror.”
“It’s a classic.”
“Which is why I’ve heard of it.”
Lily’s tone was a challenge intended to cut off any snarky remarks.
“I don’t like horror because I don’t like seeing bad things happen to people.”
Chrys shrugged.
“Bad things happen all the time. How do you stand history class? Reading the news?”
“That’s different. It’s real.”
“Isn’t that worse?”
Lily stared at her like she was a dipshit.
“Life is already full of people suffering. I don’t understand why anyone would want to see more of it. At least with history, we can learn from the bad things so we can make the world better.”
“Oh my god. You’re …”
Disgustingly sweet. The words teased the tip of Chrys’s tongue, and she clamped her lips shut until the urge passed. How could anyone be so arrogant and selfish and yet so … ugh, yes, sweet. Also infuriating. Chrys did not need these contradictions complicating her life.
“You really are a princess,”
she finished pathetically.
“Totally ridiculous.”
“Whatever. Excuse me for not choosing to make myself miserable. Maybe if I did that, I’d wander around dressed for a funeral, too.”
“If we get out of this unscathed, I’m making you watch The Shining with me.”
Chrys heaved her backpack on.
“Consider it punishment for standing me up.”
“You’re going to punish both of us?”
Chrys didn’t realize what Lily meant until she’d walked away. Strange that she hadn’t even been thinking about spending more time with Lily as a punishment. It had to be the stress.
The plan was simple, albeit not as detailed as Lily would have liked. Nor did it contain as many backup plans as she thought any sensible preparation should. Chrysanthemum did not do plans the way Lily did. Life with Chrysanthemum, apparently, was about hoping one didn’t reach the find out stage of that whole fucking around business.
Arrive at witch school an hour early, break into the restricted room, hide anything useful they found in their backpacks, sneak it out after school, and pray they didn’t get caught. That was it. Chrysanthemum had assured Lily she could pick the restricted room’s lock. Where she’d learned to do that, Lily didn’t want to know. She was discovering that Chrysanthemum was a lot more normal than she’d believed, but every now and then, she lived up (or down) to Lily’s expectations.
Chrysanthemum arrived at the Historical Society a few minutes after Lily did, and Lily held out a to-go cup of hot chocolate she’d bought for her. Maybe it was an apology for standing her up, or maybe it was the fact that it was rude to buy herself a pre–break-in treat and not one for her partner in crime. All Lily knew for sure was that she’d wanted something to calm her nerves, and she wanted to give Chrysanthemum something, too.
Like Chrysanthemum was just another friend.
Chrysanthemum stared with a dumbfounded expression when Lily held out the second cup of hot chocolate for her, finally mumbling.
“Thank you.”
“They’re in the good cups,”
Lily said quickly, referring to the ones the shop enchanted to keep the contents hot.
“But the whipped cream will still melt if you don’t drink it fast enough.”
Chrysanthemum nodded and took a small sip. The heat pinkened her cheeks, and Lily wondered why she’d ever thought Chrysanthemum’s face had a sickly pallor. Her skin did look extra pale thanks to how dark her hair was, but it wasn’t an unfortunate contrast. It was … Lily tried to settle on a word and chose interesting. It wasn’t the first word to come to mind, but it was the first that she could tolerate.
Clutching their drinks, they crept into the library. Several Society witches must have been hard at work since Saturday. The enormous mess was cleaned up. Since Lily and Chrysanthemum had been partially counting on that mess to keep people away, that was unfortunate.
“I am sorry about Monday.”
Lily felt the apology burst out of her.
Chrysanthemum paused midstride and stared. The silence compelled Lily on.
“You don’t know what it’s like at home. My brother is perfect—perfect grades, soccer team captain, debate club winner, got into every college he applied to. And my sister is a star swimmer. My parents have such high expectations for her. Everything is scheduled around what Sara needs. I can’t afford to mess up, or I’ll slip further behind. They barely acknowledged me even when I was elected student council president. I just …”
Her free hand had curled into a fist as she spoke, and Lily drew a deep breath, forcing it to unclench. She’d given Chrysanthemum a lifetime’s worth of ammunition to use against her. Only, strangely, she felt lighter for letting all that pressure out. As if she’d been needing to tell someone for far too long.
“Sorry to dump that on you. I just mean even princesses have problems.”
Chrysanthemum looked a bit like someone had slapped her.
“Yeah, I guess they do.”
The hardness in her face was gone.
“It’s fine.”
It’s fine wasn’t apology accepted, but it was close enough.
“I was thinking about it, and once this is over, I’ll watch The Addams Family with you. Consider it part of my apology.”
Chrysanthemum shook herself.
“That’s not even horror. It’s comedy.”
“It’s a creepy comedy. I need to be eased into anything else. It’s a compromise.”
Chrysanthemum bit her lip like she was fighting down a smile, and she continued weaving through the shelves to get to the restricted room. In the silence, Lily’s heart thudded in her ears. “Okay.”
“That’s it?”
Lily asked as they set down their backpacks.
“What did you want me to say—no? You suggested it.”
“I thought you were going to make fun of me. Call me a wimp.”
Chrysanthemum swallowed more hot chocolate, then retrieved a couple of tools from her pack with a sigh.
“I can’t really call you a wimp when we’re about to break into the Society’s restricted room to research hexes so we can fight one. If we pull this off, we’ll be pretty badass. And anyway, your reasons for not liking horror are fine. Understandable. If you were like, ‘Ew, I hate fake blood,’ that would be different.”
Oh. Lily had to take a step back. Since when did she care what Chrysanthemum thought of her?
“Why do you watch horror?”
Lily asked.
Chrysanthemum frowned as though she’d never thought about it before.
“Real life can be pretty awful. It’s a way of reminding myself that no matter how much things suck, it could be worse. I’m not dealing with vengeful ghosts or serial killers or something.”
In that moment, she seemed fragile and soft, and something inside Lily pinched in her gut. Then Chrysanthemum laughed ruefully, breaking the tension that Lily was positive only she was feeling.
“I guess that’s kind of morbid. Should’ve gone with ‘I like fake blood.’”
“Because that wouldn’t be morbid? I couldn’t do it. But I get it. I think.”
“Speaking of doing it.”
Chrysanthemum wagged her lock-picking tools and made a suggestive face. “Ready?”
Lily tried to fake a laugh at the innuendo, but she had gone hot.
“What if there are wards on the door?”
“This whole building is lit up with tinge since the weekend.”
Chrysanthemum gestured to the nearest window. The old glyphs and their muddy-brown tinge were gone, replaced by fresh ones colored a golden yellow. Over time, those would also turn brown as different people strengthened them and the tinge colors blended together.
“If there were wards on this door, don’t you think someone would have strengthened these, too?”
Lily had to admit there was logic to this. Besides, the wards were about protection from outside threats. The Society was supposed to trust its own.
“You’re right. Let’s do it.”
While Chrysanthemum did … whatever she was doing, Lily took her hot chocolate and crept to the end of the row of shelves to keep an eye out for intruders. Chrysanthemum was quick, though. No sooner had Lily peeked around the corner than she announced she was finished.
Lily scurried back over.
“Do I want to know where you learned this?”
Chrysanthemum stuffed her tools back in her backpack.
“I had a friend in New York whose dad was a locksmith. He taught me. Most locks are scarily easy to pick.”
She gestured to the door.
“After you.”
Lily shot her an unamused glance that made Chrysanthemum grin. Lily’s gut pinched again, but for some reason, seeing that grin made her feel braver. Bolder. She flipped Chrysanthemum off, and the surprised laugh that burst from Chrysanthemum’s lips was like music.
All the nervous energy inside her was making her act silly and unlike herself, and she kind of liked it. She especially liked knowing she could be unexpected, too, and that she might be confusing Chrysanthemum as much as Chrysanthemum confused her.
Plus, all sniping aside, Lily trusted that Chrysanthemum wouldn’t try to run if they got caught. They were in this together. When Lily had started trusting her, she couldn’t say, but she knew it instinctively, and having Chrysanthemum at her back made doing something so stupid seem less risky.
Lily opened the door, and a light turned on automatically overheard. She held her breath a moment, searching for some telltale signs of a ward being tripped, but when no footsteps pounded down the hallway, she stepped inside.
The restricted room was small and had no windows (unsurprisingly, it smelled mustier than the main library). Lily counted three large bookcases, each stuffed full, and a set of wooden shelves filled with boxes. Some of the boxes were labeled with names or dates, and all were dusty. She reached a hand out, curious what was in them—but drew it back before she touched the closest box.
A shiver ran down her spine.
“Can you feel that?”
Chrysanthemum did the same thing, and her face turned paler.
“Is it me, or is there some seriously bad magic in there?”
Lily stepped away from the shelves without thinking, a move that pressed her against Chrysanthemum. This room wasn’t much larger than her parents’ walk-in closet, and the hairs on her neck rose, although this time she was certain it was because of her proximity to Chrysanthemum. The warmth of her body seeped through the fabric of Lily’s shirt, and Lily’s skin seemed to tighten.
“Let’s go through these books and get out of here,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Chrysanthemum’s voice sounded strained.
Lily grabbed a book from the top leftmost shelf, not knowing what she’d find. The Historical Society had accepted a number of personal antiquarian collections from members over the centuries. And that was what Lily discovered: an old collection of hexes some witch back in the 1800s had gathered. The book was so fragile in her hands that she questioned whether she should be touching it, and flipping through the pages, trying to decipher whether it would be useful, was dicey. This was going to be a slow process, and they didn’t have all night. Maybe only another thirty minutes until witch school began.
Lily put the first book back and tried a second. That book turned out to be a kind of index someone had put together in the mid-1900s, chronicling all the alleged hexes that had been cast on the island. Interesting, but unlikely to be useful. The third book she grabbed was some treatise on the nature of negative magic. Lily held on to that one, deciding it had potential.
Tucking that last book beneath her arm, she reached for a fourth, and her hand collided with Chrysanthemum’s. Lily froze as something like an electric shock seized her muscles and her brain lost her entire train of thought.
This was so much worse than when she’d grabbed Chrysanthemum’s hand without thinking last week. She wasn’t sure why, as that had been weird and awkward and this was weird and awkward, too. Perhaps this was the result of standing side by side in such a confined area.
Chrysanthemum had frozen, too; she dropped her hand, and given their positions, her arm brushed Lily’s arm all the way down to her side. Despite the sleeves protecting their skin, Lily felt that, too, and in far greater detail than she ought to have.
“Go ahead—”
“You can—”
Chrysanthemum tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced away.
“Never mind. It’s not useful anyway.”
Lily thought she might suffocate.
“What isn’t?”
“That book.”
She needed to breathe. She needed air. Lily stepped out of the room, clutching the book she’d found between them.
“How do you know? You haven’t looked at it.”
While she was at it, why hadn’t Chrysanthemum stuck to her end of the shelves? If she’d done that, that uncomfortable moment in the room wouldn’t have happened, and Lily wouldn’t be wondering if she’d caught blood poisoning.
“I don’t need to,”
Chrysanthemum said, and that was when Lily noticed she was holding three books of her own.
“It’s my talent. Books, I mean.”
Lily’s jaw dropped.
“Is that it? Is that how you make everything look so easy? You can just touch a book and know what’s in it?”
She wouldn’t want to give up her own talent, she loved animals too much, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous. With a talent like that, she’d never have to study for a test again.
“Not quite,”
Chrysanthemum said, easing Lily’s mind a touch.
“It’s not like all the knowledge is dumped in my head. It’s more like I touch a book while thinking of what I’m looking for, and the book will tell me if it has what I need. I still have to read it.”
“Oh. I guess that’s better.”
Chrysanthemum snorted. “For you.”
“Well, yes, I mean …”
Lily shrugged.
“That’s a cool talent, but having everything dumped in your head would be an amazing talent.”
Another thought occurred to her as she tried to read the spines on the books Chrysanthemum had taken.
“Wait. If you can do that, why didn’t you tell me on Saturday that my family’s books wouldn’t help?”
It was Chrysanthemum’s turn to shrug, and she clutched her books more closely.
“I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe your family might have done something to them to block me.”
Like what? Lily wanted to ask. Why? But she didn’t really care about the answer. Chrysanthemum would have left a lot earlier if they hadn’t gone through every book together, and that would have been disappointing. As much as she hated to admit it, going through the books together had been … Well, fun wasn’t the right word, although there had been moments that had almost seemed like it, moments where she’d laughed.
This was all extremely disconcerting.
“Do you want to—”
“Someone in here?”
Chrysanthemum swore under her breath, and Lily’s heart jumped into her throat. She shoved the book she’d taken behind her back and hoped Chrysanthemum would be smart enough to hide hers and the rest of the incriminating evidence as fast as possible. Then she walked calmly but quickly to the end of the row of shelves.
“Mrs. Cook, hi!”
Lily smiled brightly. Mrs. Cook was a member of the Historical Society board, and as she was retired, she had too much time on her hands, making her the nosiest witch in the Society. If she heard anything suspicious—like Chrysanthemum closing the restricted room’s door—they were screwed.
The older woman cocked her head to the side.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“In ten minutes. I was looking around at the work that still needs to be done in here.”
That had been the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Cook grunted and strode deeper into the room, holding her cat, Elspeth. Since her husband had died a couple of years ago, the cat went everywhere with her. Lily would have been more sympathetic about it if Mrs. Cook weren’t always so condescending to the young witches. The last run-in Lily had endured with her, Mrs. Cook had told her that no one would ever take her seriously as a witch if she insisted on casting spells to make her nails change color.
“I heard about what you and that other girl got up to.”
Mrs. Cook clucked her tongue.
“I expected better from an Allerton witch.”
Lily backed up, wishing she were large enough to block Mrs. Cook’s view through the shelves. Had Chrysanthemum closed the door yet? Lily hadn’t heard it, and the hinges creaked something awful. Maybe she was waiting until Lily had chased Mrs. Cook off.
Elspeth squirmed in her owner’s arms, and inspiration hit Lily. She casually took a few steps closer to the front library door, keeping her back—and the contraband book—away from Mrs. Cook.
Want some pets? she silently asked Elspeth. The cat seemed bored with being held, so if Lily could encourage her to act on it … Down!
That was all it took. Elspeth leaped from Mrs. Cook’s arms and shot over to Lily.
“Elly, no! What are you doing?”
Mrs. Cook bounded over and scooped up her cat.
Sorry, Lily tried to convey, as Elspeth meowed her displeasure at being confined again.
“Well, we’ve been working hard, and I think the room’s coming along great, so we’re definitely making amends,”
Lily said sweetly.
“I should probably get going to class. I hope you’ll be impressed when we’re done.”
Mrs. Cook didn’t seem to hear her, trying to contain a squirming feline.
“Yes, I should go, too.”
Lily sighed with relief once she disappeared from the library, but it was short-lived. Doors were opening and closing, and voices filled the hallway. The previous class was getting out, and Lily’s classmates were arriving. The noise provided the necessary cover for Chrysanthemum closing the restricted room’s door, though, so that was good.
Lily stuck her pilfered book in her backpack, watching Chrysanthemum try to cram in her three.
“Give me one. I promise I won’t look through them without you.”
Chrysanthemum handed over one of the books.
“I’ll be too tired to read them all tonight anyway. So when?”
The school had been quieter today, but Lily saw no point in waiting until the weekend.
“Tomorrow after school?”
“Okay. That was good thinking, by the way. With her cat.”
“Just putting my fairy-princess powers to use.”
Chrysanthemum laughed. Lily wanted to laugh herself. Never having been much of a rule-breaker, Lily could only assume this was the adrenaline rush that came from getting away with a crime.