Chapter 25 #2
“Yes, of course,” she answered. Then, she repeated it, for good measure, because she hadn’t sounded at all confident like she ought to. “Of course I am.” Then a pause, before a whispered, “I am, right?” Her voice pitched high, stretched thin like saltwater taffy. “Right?”
The room seemed to tip, and she felt like she was sinking into the stone and floating through the air like a wisp all at once as sudden terror cascaded through her body, her mind reeling. She flushed hot, then cold, then hot again, as sweat beaded suddenly upon her brow.
She flexed her hand, feeling the lingering tinges of discomfort in her fingers.
Yes.
She was alive.
“I was just making sure, as I’m not.”
“Not what?” Though she was afraid that she hadn’t misheard and fearful of what the answer would mean for her.
“Not quite … living.”
“So, you aren’t a demon?” Demons were alive … right? They had flesh and blood, and some had three hearts that could be stabbed. They could be killed. If something could be killed, that usually meant it was in the “living” category.
The figure crossed its arms, the translucent form blurring further, making Audra’s eyes itch. She resisted the urge to press the heels of her palms against them, to knead until her eyes met the back of her skull.
“Not a demon.” The figure spat the word “demon” as though it tasted vile just being formed in its mouth. “And branding me as such is hardly a fitting punishment if all I’m guilty of is a harmless prank with a hand towel.”
Audra swallowed. “A spirit, then.” Audra’s head began to pound, the ache pulsing in time with her rapidly beating heart.
Did the presence of magic make spirits visible?
Was this part of the magical awakening they’d been warned about?
The scholars had mentioned potential side effects, but the magic during Desolate Winter was expected to be weak.
Or were ghosts a common thing here? Could all fae see them? She doubted this very much.
The figure flickered in and out of view. “I don’t like to think about it.”
“About … you being a spirit?”
“I prefer not to.” The boy, for Audra could now see that this was clearly the ghost of a dead fae student and not a creature from the Veiled Realm, raised his chin.
Audra blinked. Gods, her head pounded. She was beginning to feel faint. She reached out until she gripped the firm, substantial marble of the sink.
“May I ask—”
The spirit interjected, “As long as it’s not what my name is—because I don’t remember.”
Audra pivoted. “What are you doing in the washing chamber?”
The spirit sighed. “I was just passing through when I saw you. Hardly anyone comes down to the basement level—with the term starting up this year, after decades of being closed … I didn’t have time to prepare for so many people; I prefer the basement now.
” His mouth twisted in distaste. “You’re all so loud, chaotic, and … alive.”
“I see.” Though Audra didn’t see, or rather, she saw too much, because she shouldn’t be able to see him. “Spi—uh—Sir—were you in the Arcane residence hall last night? Perhaps messing with me?”
He shook his head. “Too many people; I avoid the residence halls.”
So it was another spirit whispering her name. The knowledge unsettled her. How many spirits haunted Holyvere Academy? How often must she worry that one was around? And if this one could move towels, could he affect other objects? Could he … affect her?
Could he hurt her?
If it wasn’t common for even the fae to perceive spirits, what with this one’s reaction to her being able to see him, then how would she find the answers to these questions?
She couldn’t just ask—this was just another way that she was wrong—different.
Another thing that put her at a disadvantage.
She couldn’t afford to be distracted like this.
Audra winced as a particularly sharp twinge rang through her head. She needed to lie down, sleep away this migraine, and block out the world for a while. But lunch would be almost over by now, and she had another class to attend. And she still had to change into combat dress.
“I haven’t talked to someone living in so long …”
The spirit made the sound again, like rustling leaves. Laughter. It was laughing.
“It’s not bad, with you being able to respond. I don’t feel so very … dead.” The spirit drifted closer, though his insubstantial legs took no steps that she could see.
“Please don’t come so close.” Audra shivered. She didn’t want to find out what would happen if he touched her.
“Apologies. It’s just … I haven’t felt this … alive … warm … in a long time. It’s nice.”
Warm … it was freezing in this bathroom; even now, her teeth chattered from the cold. He must be able to sense, to feel, her residual warmth. She didn’t want him to get too comfortable, to decide to claim more of her body heat.
“Right … Well, I’ll leave you to it—I have to—”
“Don’t leave. Please. Won’t you stay?”
“I’m not even sure I’m allowed in the basement.”
“Well, may I come with you?”
That’s all she needed. For someone to see or hear her talking to a spirit.
She needed to blend in, keep in the middle.
She didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to herself outside of academic excellence; the less the scholars, the priestesses, or anyone else noticed her, the less likely she was to be harmed. The safer she would be.
“Thank you. No.”
The spirit frowned, the temperature dropping further. Audra’s breath clouded before her. His gaze lingered on the cloud, a hungry expression appearing on his face. But he made no protest when she grabbed her bag and slipped into the corridor.
She couldn’t help but glance behind her as she hurried down the empty hall and up the stairs toward the light, and sounds, and other living initiates. Would she even know if the spirit was following her, though? If he wanted to, could he render himself invisible, even to her?
As she slipped into the dining hall, settling in beside Callum, who sprawled in his seat, animatedly regaling the others with some story about sparring in the storm that morning, she continued to shiver, as though the entity still siphoned her warmth.