Chapter Sixteen What’s given freely
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
What’s given freely
IF I HURRIED, I COULD catch the last few hours of classes.
Maybe I could forget what I’d seen in the maze, what I’d witnessed in the alleyway and even in the president of Westfield’s office.
Maybe I could drown myself in school and piano lessons, just as I’d imagined my life would be here at Westfield before the fire.
It would be better than this, caught between two sides warring for an inheritance.
But if Kasem inheriting Westfield was really connected to the stabbing and my powers, then, like it or not, I needed to find the truth.
So, instead of returning to music theory, I followed Alaster and Jojo.
They’d gotten far before I’d started pursuing them, and I found myself alone in the corridors leading down to the tunnels Provost Henning had marched us through earlier.
I used my powers to retrace their steps, brushed my fingertips against the cool stone walls and knelt to trace impressions of their footprints making their way through the tunnels.
The images flashed in my mind; the tunnels were used mostly by faculty, but once in a blue moon, students found access to them and snuck kisses, drinks, and everything else in between within the shadowy hallways.
The images pooled through my mind, the past years flashing like strobe lights.
Breathe in, breathe out. It was painful and overwhelming to channel now.
But I pushed through the pain, and focused on drawing out the moments from the recent past, so I was seeing not months and years before, but days and hours, moments ago, when Alaster had been here.
The image of him emerged slowly. I caught hold of the vision, followed the trail of his footsteps.
But it was like trekking through water. Like the world around me was frozen in time.
A chill overtook me, numbing my lips and raising the hairs on my neck.
I shivered, and when I opened my eyes to the present, the burnt tips of my fingers shimmered with an icy residue.
A soft hum drummed in the back of my mind.
Or was it behind me, trailing in the distance, or farther up ahead, down the corridor?
I stood, turning the corner. My heart sank with realization.
I was lost.
Somewhere along the way, I’d taken a wrong turn.
The stone walls here looked older, like the marked ruins of a forgotten chamber.
Along its surface, medieval sconces lined the walls.
But the glow from their iron fixtures was like phosphorus; a steady hum of acidic green pulsed from within them.
The hallway was silent. But there was that hum. Ever present.
Pulsing.
Pulsing.
The path behind me mirrored the one ahead. I touched my cheek; scratches lined my face. They burned now, burned with the memory of the hedges.
At the back of my tongue, the metallic taste of copper and zinc clung to the air.
Click. Click. Click.
I tried to check my phone. There was no service. But there it was again. Footsteps. Farther off but getting closer, and closer, and closer. The sounds cut into the humming walls, splitting the silence like a blade against my ears.
Maybe Angelica had been right. Maybe my visions were getting out of control, even more so now than they had been since the night in the alleyway.
But what if this wasn’t manageable or reversible?
What if things got worse, to the point where I’d be trapped seeing things from a timeline that wasn’t mine?
Like my mother had been when she’d been on the brink of losing her sanity.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to jolt myself back to reality.
But I wasn’t seeing visions. I was in the present. I had to be.
Click. Click. Click.
From the corner of my eye, a figure emerged, up ahead. He was bathed in the soft blue light of my phone, and the familiar trail of sawdust and blood dripping from his jacket was suffocating.
He’d found me. Back in the maze and here again. The figure without eyes.
I spun away, pretending I hadn’t seen him. But he knew. He knew I had seen him. The cold burn of his empty stare watched me, taking me in, devouring me from a distance.
I pressed my phone to my ear and pretended to talk.
“Hi, Vivian. Yeah, I’m coming to class. Just got lost. Again.” I’d been an idiot not to get her number. Even if my phone had no service, Vivian was the only other person who might be able to help me. I started walking, faster.
Click. Click. Click.
Footsteps trailed behind me. The sound of my own against the stone walkway was heavy. Tangible. The figure’s was like the echo of sound. Like the memory of it.
I turned the corner. The figure followed.
I hastened my speed. The figure did too.
It was just us. Alone in these tunnels. Every corner I turned, he was close behind.
And he would find me. No matter where I went, he would follow, like he had in the maze.
I took a sharp left at an intersection, and for a moment, hope caught me.
But then the figure was there, on the other end of the hallway, as if the intersection had looped in on itself.
A snake like the one in the maze, eating its tail.
Pale skin, a buzz cut, and eyes the color of pearls. The Westfield blazer dripping with blood and caked in sawdust.
My breath caught. I covered my mouth to keep from crying out.
His pupilless eyes swept over me. Fear trapped me there.
I bit the inside of my mouth, hard enough that I could taste blood.
Against the dull hum and the cold grip of his gaze, the sound of my own voice was like glass shattering.
“Who are you?” I managed in a whisper.
The figure’s lips curled. And when it spoke, it sounded like a cursed chorus of voices merging together. It raised a hand. Blood dripped from its fingertips, and its nails were caked in dirt and dust. It was pointing to my hand, where Kasem’s bracelet was clasped on my wrist.
“Beware the mark of blood debts. A life for a life. Yours for his.”
I stepped back, fear coursing through every inch of me.
This wasn’t my powers. This wasn’t a vision.
This was something ancient and malevolent, something between the living and the dead.
Something sinister. Faintly, a prayer emerged in my mind.
When the fire had happened, my parents’ prayers for my safety, for my protection, were the last I heard before the screams and flames had engulfed everything.
“Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil—”
Laughter spilled from the figure’s lips, breaking me off from finishing the verse. But I was already running, sprinting at full speed in the other direction, back where I’d come again, down a corner, pushing against door after door.
Behind me, the figure was in full pursuit, its footsteps clicking and clacking even closer. The hum pulsing from the walls groaned louder, like engines heaving in the distance. The walls trembled at the force of the sound.
Finally, one door gave way. I threw myself inside, locked the bolt, and stumbled backward, desperate for somewhere to hide.