Chapter 2
“Harlow!”
It was Ellie’s voice and magic that cut through my spell-bound mind, rescuing me in the end. I turned one last time to see Typhon still behind me, the finding rune floating between us, until the image dissolved fully.
I gasped and my eyes flew open. Ellie leaned over me, her light brown eyes wide, sweat beading along her hairline, her cheeks pink but the rest of her face pale. “My gods! Harlow . . . you were –”
“Stuck, I know.” My voice was raspy, throat sore as if I’d been screaming.
“You were yelling at someone,” Fable murmured.
I hadn’t been yelling at Typhon, but maybe there was a disconnect between the dream and reality. In my spell-bound state I’d been calm and clear-headed, but apparently my body had been reacting to the truth that Typhon was trying to trap me again.
There was no pang across my chest as I sat up and finally took in the scene around me. All my friends were in the tiny compartment of the train, faces pale with lines of strain heavy around their eyes. They had enough to worry about without adding me to the list.
I forced a smile, tried not to wince. “I’m okay, guys.”
“Yeah, well, you look like shit.” Marina put her hands on her hips, which meant her elbows stuck hard into Ross and Gary.
Neither flinched. No, they nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, like . . . it’s not a great look,” Gary admitted with a wince.
Fable thrust a steaming mug into my hand. “Here, drink up.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure I could handle anything harder than sparkling water. “Hair of the dog?”
“No, it’s chamomile tea.”
“How did you . . .?”
She pointed out the partially open sliding door, and the sound of a cart was preceded by the smell of coffee and sweets. A mop of wild gray hair stuffed under a cap hovered just above the handle as an old man bent with age shoved the cart along. “Tea. Coffee. Biscuits.”
His English accent was heavy and reminded me that we were not on home ground any longer.
I took a sip of the tea and immediately wished it had more than honey in it.
Rum.
Vodka.
Anything to cut the shakes that had started low in my belly and were rapidly spreading. I had to hold myself together. My friends were depending on me to lead them, whether I wanted to or not.
“How long before we get to Heathermoor?” I offered the question to the group, fully expecting Fable to answer. Acting for all the world like I’d not come that close to dying. Pretending for their sake and mine that what they’d just witnessed . . . hadn’t happened.
The others exchanged a few more looks and then they joined me in pretending everything was okay. That I was fine.
“An hour before the train stops,” Caterina said. “But from there . . . What did Liam say again?”
A crinkle of paper and Fable pulled out the single lined sheet Liam had scribbled instructions on, such as they were.
Fable handed it to Caterina. We’d all read the note, and, funnily enough, there hadn’t been any changes to the words no matter how often we reread it.
“We’re supposed to meet him by the loch,” Fable summarized.
If things went according to plan on his end, which he’d seemed uncertain about.
“Does anyone know how far a walk it is?” Gary rubbed at the back of his neck. “Like, none of us even has a cell phone, nothing.”
I hoped it wasn’t too far; I was exhausted and anything longer than a short jaunt and I’d be flat out.
The last few days had been hard on me, so I’d only really listened with half an ear to most of the conversations as the pain of the bond-breaking had consumed me. I needed a distraction. “Refresh my crap memory and tell me what we know about Heathermoor.”
Fable cleared her throat. “They have the same houses as Neverthorn, though apparently, they’re a little less strict about separating everyone. Dorms are set apart, but there isn’t the rivalry that Neverthorn has amongst the houses.”
“Do they hate House Phoenix there, too?”
Fable nodded and then shrugged. “I don’t know about hate, but there is no mention of them. Us. My suspicion would be that, when they closed House Phoenix down in Neverthorn, Heathermoor was forced to do the same, as were the other schools.”
Ross grunted. “How many other schools are there now, exactly?”
Fable glanced at him. “There were two others. But one burned down and was never rebuilt, that was Baddenwold on Brazendale Island, Tasmania. They started sending their kids to Heathermoor once it was gone. And the other was in Madagascar, near Lake Itasy. Ankarana Academy. It was abandoned because of . . . reasons I have never been able to figure out in my research. Ankarana is, in essence, a ghost academy.”
“And the kids from there?”
“Go to Heathermoor now, too,” Fable said.
It could’ve been explained by Neverthorn simply being too far, but I had a feeling that wasn’t the real problem.
The truth was, fewer and fewer families outside of the magical elite wanted to send their kids to Neverthorn. And I couldn’t blame them. It was dangerous. Deaths, disappearances, and injuries were commonplace enough that no one really batted an eye anymore.
Explained as part of the training to push the students to their highest abilities, and to find their Quirks, they did produce some of the strongest Dwimmers. That was true.
But the cost . . . the cost was high.
At the end of the day, though, the Senate found it hard to argue with results, and there was no denying that most students left Neverthorn with mad magic skills.
“Okay, so a bigger school?” I glanced out the window, the Scottish countryside flicking by too fast, making me nauseous. Nope, no looking out the window.
“Much bigger,” Fable shrugged again. “Which is a good thing. They take a lot of homeschooled kids who are just here to finish their education, too, so it has quadruple the students of Neverthorn. Multiple buildings separated out for sleeping quarters, lessons, and study from what I could gather.”
“Easier to go unnoticed, blend into the crowd,” Ross said.
“Or,” Fable held up a finger, “because we’re all so much older, and if Tarquinius decides to make it public that we’ve run away, they’ll spot us immediately and we will stand out.”
I was banking on the fact that he wouldn’t make our desertion public – at least not right away. Tarquinius would not want to look like he’d lost us – not in front of the Senate.
Too much had happened recently that did not look good for him and Neverthorn, and he would not want to lose face.
In the first portion of the year alone, we’d weathered three attacks from Nocta, two at the school and one at the Coliseum during Solstice Games.
Our housemate, Zeed, was sent home after an ‘incident,’ and we still hadn’t managed to get in touch with him, despite countless attempts.
Not to mention I’d witnessed a girl, Lucinda – who Tarquinius insisted was a ‘wraith’ – leap headfirst out of a fucking window rather than let him catch her.
The list of nightmare scenarios went on and on.
No, I was pretty sure if our headmaster was on the hunt for us, he would be using stealthier means than sounding the alarm to the other school or the Senate. Besides . . .
“Liam said he has a plan. He just had a few kinks to hammer out. We just have to trust that he’s going to come through,” I took another sip of the tea, grateful for the warmth even if it was missing a shot or two of rum.
Fable didn’t seem convinced. Her fingers flicked once, the start of a rune, and then stilled. “The Sage of Heathermoor is half-Fae. Super strong in her magic, from what I’ve read. Fae magic is different from ours, so we’ll have to be very careful. There’s no telling what she’s capable of.”
Sage Thalienne. That much I remembered.
I set my empty mug on the ground between my feet. “What do we know about the Sage of Heathermoor, other than she’s half-Fae? And is there any chance that is just a rumor?”
“Not a rumor.” Ellie scrunched her face up. Caterina sat next to her, their fingers interlocked. “I had a cousin that went to Heathermoor, and it’s on the enrollment letter. They must announce that she’s half-Fae, given the prejudice around Fae magic.”
“Because it’s wild and unpredictable,” Caterina said. “Like ours.”
Great.
“Tarquinius and Thalienne do not get along,” Fable said. “I read a few articles in the library. The rivalry has been going on for years, in large part due to the difference in their teaching styles.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, she’s the strict one?”
The others laughed because of course it was hard to believe that anyone could be tougher than Tarquinius on students.
“I think just . . . different.” Ellie shook her head. “My cousin is a good sort, but he wouldn’t say a word about Heathermoor. Like, not one.”
I grimaced. “A gag rune then?”
“Could be woven into the enrollment letter, binding students who sign it like they bound us in Neverthorn.” Fable tapped a finger against her lips. “That would keep all info about their methods from Tarquinius. Interesting.”
Yeah, see that was where it was interesting indeed. We’d all signed re-enrollment letters to go back to Neverthorn, and it had been Liam that released us – as a doyen there, he could do that. As soon as someone realized it was him, he was done.
Though maybe he’d still have his job unearthing student Quirks here at Heathermoor.
“Um. I have a question.” Gary held up his hand as if we were in class. “Like, I know we have to find the kraken thing –”
“Coin!” Calypso’s bellow was muffled by my pocket.
I slapped a hand over her. “Yes, it’s a coin.”
Gary pointed a finger gun at my pocket. “Right. But aren’t we all supposed to be like .
. . learning? How are we going to get strong enough to wield the Grym Dunaras unless we train?
And how can we train here if everyone can see who we are?
Even if we weren’t recognized here, if someone comes from Neverthorn like . . . Doyen Moreno . . . he’d know us.”
Question of the day.