Chapter Fifty-Seven These delicate creatures
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
These delicate creatures
WHEN I’D WITNESSED LUKE’S WRAITH, his spirit had been a distortion; something eerie and uncanny.
The presence of the general was an echo of that, a mutation of life and death.
The general’s figure looked nearly human, as if he had bones, and flesh, and blood.
But against his form, light reflected from him like a mirror, the tendrils of his soul dripping red with blood.
This was the truth, the terrible secret Jojo had been forced to keep.
All of the changes at Westfield, its attempts at uprooting its abolitionist lineage, how Theta and Sigma altered their own traditions to discard their mission, and the growing power the board of trustees held over Westfield as an institution—here was the ventriloquist behind it all.
At the desk, President Saint James slouched in his seat. He reached for the gold ring on his hand, and just as he tried to pull it off, Winhall was there, slamming the president against the desk, choking him.
“Remove it,” the general said. “I dare you. If it wasn’t for my curse, my diligence in removing the threat of your cousin’s offspring, your family would have nothing. How weak must you and pathetic Alaster be if you can’t maintain all I have done?”
I turned to Jojo. His eyes were wide, trapped in a state of paralysis.
“But the boy survived,” President Saint James said. “You couldn’t finish the job. And midnight approaches.”
“He will die,” the general said. “You will ensure it.”
President Saint James stood.
“Yes, General. It shall be done.”
There was a knock on the door and suddenly, the ring began to glow, filling the room with its radiance. Heat surged around us, and when at last the light faded, Winhall’s wraith dematerialized, returning to possess the body of the president.
The president’s normal voice was back, but when he spoke, it was clear that General Winhall was his master.
“Come in,” he said.
Alaster emerged. He carried the silver vulture mask in one hand and the engagement ring he’d given to Honey in the other. He looked desperate, like a helpless child in the midst of chaos.
“They’ve been poisoned. Honey, the members of the board who attended tonight’s vigil, all of them. I don’t know how it happened. But Father, I think there is an entity on campus causing this destruction. I think there’s a wraith Sigma and Theta haven’t been able to banish.”
The president was silent for a moment. “That’s grave news,” he said.
“Grave indeed.” He tapped his fingers on his desk.
“What about Kasem? It would be unfortunate if he was poisoned, but I’ve been talking with the Board, and given Ojore has renounced his inheritance and Kasem is the last of his side of your—our family,” the president said, correcting his mistake, “the Board has decided that you will inherit the estate.”
Alaster stared at his father, his gaze shifting between the man standing before him and the door. “What you’re saying is ridiculous. The line of succession is the last of our concerns. We need to help them. Kasem’s already in the medical ward with Honey and the others.”
“So you mean he didn’t drink it?”
“No, it was Honey, she…” Alaster hesitated. “She took Kasem’s glass and drank from it instead. Like she knew.”
“Sigma and Theta did organize the vigil,” the president said simply.
“Under your orders and supervision,” Alaster challenged. “You didn’t—”
“Are you accusing me of something?” the president said, his voice stern, baiting Alaster to say what they were both thinking.
“No—no, I… Of course not. I apologize if that’s how my words came across. I just… I’m taking everything in.”
“I thought you wanted the Westfield estate.”
“I did. I do.”
“And yet you hesitate,” the president said. “This is a golden opportunity. Kasem may not have been poisoned, but no one will know otherwise if he dies tonight. He’ll just be another one of tonight’s casualties.”
Alaster swallowed. “But this is wrong. I—I never agreed to any of this. We can file petitions, make our case for why our side should have the estate. The Board already has the conservatorship. They’re the ones who want me as heir.
But this isn’t who we are. You’ve told me that over and over again, since we were children. ”
Suddenly, there was a violent crack.
The president had backhanded Alaster.
“Don’t be so sniveling and pathetic. Stay the course and you will have your inheritance. When Kasem dies, we’ll make him the perpetrator of tonight. Understood? But if you fail, I will put this disaster on you.”
Alaster recoiled from the president. For a long moment, silence stretched between them.
He thought he was speaking to the man who had raised him, but in reality, he was speaking to the creator of the curse that had destroyed the Saint James lineage.
“Now,” the president said, “if Honey dies, her spirit will search for that ring. I want you to keep it for her. If it’s destroyed, then her spirit will die forever.
And you’ll never see her again. Do you understand that, Alaster?
There are a few other objects like the ring that I need to collect.
The crow masks from the swamp, and the one you are holding now.
The champagne flutes gifted to our current board of trustees.
All of them are special. All of them must be preserved. ”
The ring, the crow masks, the champagne flutes—they would all be relics that trapped souls.
Winhall had been responsible for so many torturous deaths and, in turn, was creating wraiths.
They’d do his bidding however he ordained it, whether they pursued the Saint James heirs or killed Poppies to make more wraiths of them.
Everything fell into place in that moment.
The curse. The deaths at Westfield. The hazing rituals.
This whole time, I had believed that only the Kent lineage of the Saint James family was cursed.
But there was another side to the curse, the unmitigated consequence of General Winhall’s reign of terror on the university.
From the botched summonings to the hazing rituals to students like Danny, who’d suffered under the weight of the university’s iron grip, and everyone who’d drunk the poison during the vigil.
In complying with General Winhall’s will, all of them became manifestations of the curse, whether they knew they were his puppets or whether they did his will as a way of propping up Westfield as an institution.
“Father, please. Why are you doing this? Ever since you became president, you haven’t been yourself. Remember when Grandfather died? You told me he changed too, when he’d inherited the presidency. And so have you. You’ve changed.”
At the door, there came a knock. Provost Henning emerged, and she was joined by three Sigmas.
“Why haven’t the authorities been called yet?” Provost Henning demanded. “I’ve spoken with Angelica and she said the situation is dire in the medical ward. She’s working on an antidote for the poison, but she won’t have enough.”
“We were just heading there ourselves,” the president said, nodding at Alaster. “Go first. We’ll meet you.”
Alaster didn’t hesitate. He was out the door and gone, leaving just the president, the Sigmas, and the provost.
“Sigmas,” President Saint James said. “Why are you unmasked?”
Without hesitation, the three Sigmas wore the masks they’d brought with them.
It happened in an instant. Their heads snapped back; the pointed beaks of the crow masks that now covered their faces oozed silver.
Three figures emerged: the Sigmas from the swamp.
The ones who had died that day with Luke.
They too had become wraiths. And now they were possessing the living Sigmas.
Provost Henning screamed, fainting instantly. One of the fraternity brothers caught her before she fell while the president’s laughter boomed.
“If she’s dead, find a relic to trap her soul,” he said.
“For too long, I’ve let her and other faculty exist here without one of my soldiers tethered to them.
When the members of the board are dead, you may gift them their own relics, but remind them that I am their creator.
And I, who have existed in this infernal form for centuries, demand their loyalty.
If they dare defy me, I will destroy them and their relics and curse them to the afterlife with brimstone and fire. ”
“Yes, General.”
They left then, the president and the Sigmas, with Provost Henning in tow.
I emerged from the wardrobe, waiting for Jojo to come out too. But he remained immobile, his eyes bright, haunted.
“We have to find Kasem,” I said. “The binding ritual—”
But before I could finish, a chill formed in the corner of the room.
I froze as General Winhall’s wraith emerged before us, towering and clad in the pale gray uniform in which he’d died.
“I didn’t expect this betrayal from you, Ojore. But then again, I’ve been too lenient.”
Jojo stepped between us, shielding me from the general’s view.
“I’ll do what you ask,” he said. “Just let her go.”
The general sneered. “A negotiation is only effective if there’s something of value to bargain with. You have no inheritance. What could you possibly offer to me?”
I stumbled backward, but the door to the office opened and President Saint James emerged with the three masked Sigmas and Angelica.
“Jayson,” the general said, nodding at one of the masked Sigmas. “Return to me my blade.”
The Sigma, a hulking man dressed all in silver except for Westfield’s blazer, took off his mask.
Burns covered half his body, and his eyes were bloodshot and red from the fire in the greenhouse.
Despite his tragic appearance, I recognized Jay from my vision.
But his gaze was glassy. It was him, yet not.
He was dead, but his soul was tethered to the mask.
The general had made Jay’s corpse a relic.
I cried out, fighting against Jay’s clumsy strength as he shoved me against the shelves, wrestling the satchel with the blade away from me while the other Sigma attacked Jojo.
The general hummed in pleasure, admiring his own twisted work.
“My soldiers,” he said, “reanimated for but a brief period. Of course, they will rot over time. Duncan did when I first killed him and possessed him. But it is a burden to have to share a body with another soul as I do with this current one.” He glanced at Jojo.
“After we’ve killed your brother, I want you to test the theory you’ve been researching. ”
I turned to Jojo, who had stopped fighting the moment the switchblade was returned to the president. As the president spoke, a soft light emanated from beneath Jojo’s shirt, matching the now glowing blade.
The president—no, Winhall, was performing an incantation.
Angelica raised her hands and chanted too. Her words weren’t in Akan this time but in Jamaican patois, her incantation a fiery benediction I didn’t recognize, and yet I knew it was to counter his spell. Jojo’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling as blood seeped from his nose and eyes.
“Keep trying to break my hold on him,” the general said. “It will kill him. And when he dies, I’ll use his body too. Fitting, for him to be the first subject of his own research.”
The other Sigma grabbed Angelica and twisted her wrist violently.
She screamed, falling to the ground and clutching her broken wrist, unable to channel with her right hand.
When I tried to run toward her, Jay grabbed me, pulling me to Winhall.
“General, you said I was to be the first experiment,” Jay sputtered. “You said she could bring my body back to life.”
He was looking at me now, his eyes wide, desperate. “You have time magic—you can reverse anything. You can bring me back and bind my soul to my body. That’s what Jojo said.”
My blood ran cold.
“Sianna,” Jojo said, pleading. “I did it for Kasem. If he dies, and we can’t break the curse, then maybe we can save him.”
“You were working with them?” I whispered.
“I was researching the affinities of time. I was studying Vivian, focusing on her at first—but you brought Kasem back to the realm of the living, and came to Westfield wielding powers strong enough to reverse the weight of time. It was the only way I could think to save my brother. I wanted to tell you. I swear, I did. But I couldn’t.
Not without the president finding out. And with his hold on me, helping you break the curse or sharing why I’d come back to Westfield would have put all of us in danger,” Jojo said.
“I wasn’t going to use my research for the general.
I was going to save Kasem—even if it meant bringing him back from the dead. ”
The general roared in laughter.
“You thought you could betray me? Very well. Let’s put your research to the test,” he said. “It’s almost midnight. And we have a birthday to celebrate.”