Chapter 32
This has been the week from hell.
I’ve not had a moment to breathe or think; Jordan is constantly in my face, and it's driving me to the limit of my tolerance.
HARPY: Take me shopping on the weekend. I need new shoes for the All Hallows Ball.
ME: Fine
HARPY: And dinner together tonight
ME: Fine
I’m powerless in this situation, and Jordan, knowing so, is taking every advantage. I’ve half a mind to join the stupid fucking Fateball team, just to have an excuse to say no sometimes. None of the repulsion spells I keep casting on her is working in the slightest.
And now I have to deal with the All Hallows Ball.
Don’t be fooled—though the Ball is technically Validus Vale’s, hosting it at the state capital ballroom confirms its true audience: the high-ranked families and the city’s social elite.
Father may even be there, despite his disdain for most Havengard witches.
Witches—huh. He considers that term far too reductive, holding it in contempt for the sheer magical potential some possess, particularly Elites.
My mind flicks back to last year, the little dud’s final weekend on campus.
Wes had somehow finagled her an invitation, and turned the prep into a massive, luxurious production: dress, jewels, limo.
But in the end, none of them turned up at the ball; they stayed here in the penthouse, presumably fucking the night away.
I have to give the dud her due; she did make them return all the designer dresses and jewels. I figure she was playing the long game, a calculated move to show them what a ‘nice girl’ she was.
Now though, I’m coming around to the idea that Wilson isn’t a schemer. She wasn’t after the Harts for their money or status. Perhaps she was just a dumb little girl, completely out of her depth in this world.
Someone not dumb at all is Feniks. I don’t like the unknown element he presents. I’ve yet to understand why he asked about Wes and Dono, but my need to know is unrelenting. I guess I should pay him a little visit.
Not giving myself time to reassess, I grab my jacket and head out.
When I get to the faculty offices, I cast an awareness spell. Several people are hanging about, but Professor Feniks's office is empty.
Hmm. While the cat’s away and all that.
I expect the room to be locked, but to my surprise, when I try the handle, the door opens. Stale smoke permeates the air; gross. I fight the urge to go and open a window. The man is a fucking slob; his desk is a mess of papers, books, coffee cups, and an overflowing ashtray.
How am I going to find anything in this chaos?
I start with a basic search spell, using the images of the twins in my mind to illuminate anything in the room that references them.
This only works for anything visible, and it’s soon clear that neither Wes nor Donovan is mentioned in any of the debris on his desk.
Wishing I’d brought some nitrile gloves, I try the drawers. The first is unlocked and contains nothing more than office supplies and a half-eaten granola bar. The second is full of files, and once again I cast the search spell.
Nothing.
The final drawer is locked, which piques my interest. I’m even more curious when I realize the drawer is sealed with a comprehensive locking spell. It’s not one I know. If I want inside, I’ll have to do my research.
Under the desk are empty cigarette boxes, an overflowing trash canister, and a grocery sack. I pull it open, and inside are a pair of red and white Fateball sneakers. They’re pretty sweet, actually, and I’m surprised Feniks can afford them on a faculty salary.
Maybe he has other sources of income? That would be useful information to know. I text Striker immediately and ask for background and financial information on Alexis Feniks.
STRIKER: o7
I’ve just come up with >_>, which is my version of ‘side eye’, to reply with when the door to Feniks' office slams open and…
There’s the man himself. Hmm. I guess I’m a little busted.
“What the fuck, Drakeward?”