Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dafni
I extended my index and middle fingers, keeping my hand low at my hip. I sent my magic toward the stream of water, right where it exited the hose. Flicking my fingers up, I directed the stream the same way.
Fingernails shrieked as the cold water sprayed up her nose.
I bit my tongue, hard enough that an iron taste coated my mouth, trying not to give myself away by smiling.
“You’re all a bunch of heathens!” Her screech ricocheted off the tiled walls and into our ears. I bit my tongue harder, still trying not to smile. She reached behind her, turning the knob further to the left, the water pressure increasing. We all braced ourselves against each another.
Fingernails was thorough, not stopping until everyone was drenched, shivering together in a group trying to find warmth. I huddled with the other girls, Brooke once again finding my hand.
“Ladies,” Gray Curls said from the doorway we’d walked through to enter the shower room.
She was still dry, probably having hid back in the dirt room away from the water.
“We have towels and uniforms in the next room. Please dress quickly, and a senior student will lead you to your dormitories.” Gray Curls’s heeled boots clicked past our huddled mass as she walked the narrow room, using a key she pulled from her pocket to unlock the next door on the opposite side of the room as the one we’d entered.
This door was also metal, although rusted.
“We will give you tonight to acclimate. Come morning, you’ll be training with the witches here in this room.
” She paused as we took time to look around at each other.
“There are only a few weeks until the first evaluation.”
Gray Curls opened the door, and warm light from the next room flowed into the shower room, a stark contrast to the bright fluorescent lights that reflected off the tile.
It almost looked welcoming. Our huddled group walked together toward the next room, separating when we got to the doorway that only allowed one body at a time.
A long wooden bench stood in the center of the room, with eleven bundles of clothing and white towels spaced out evenly along it.
The sight of clothes and towels had the witches rushing, drying their icy bodies and covering them.
I dried my body, squeezing out my dripping hair with the fluffy towel.
The uniform left for us had more pieces than I was used to.
White underwear and a white bra. A green plaid skirt and a pressed white button-up shirt.
There was even a dark-green sweater, the color of the woods in summer, with a patch sewn on the left side of the chest. I ran my fingertips over the patch, admiring the stitch work.
It was intricate, the letters BTC stitched in gold thread.
Become the Chosen. Their motto…their creed.
Annabel hadn’t fully conveyed to me their devotion to becoming the chosen partner of the male witch.
Underneath the bench stood a pair of pointed-toe ankle boots with a small heel that matched Gray Curls’s.
I could already tell that the shirt was going to be too big, even before I pulled it over my head.
The second I put it on, the shirt swallowed my body—the hem falling just above my knees.
There was no way I was going to ask for a different size.
Gray Curls wasn’t going to go out of her way to make sure I had an appropriately sized shirt, and I didn’t need to call any more attention to myself—I’d probably already pushed my luck with the water stunt I pulled with Fingernails.
The green plaid skirt had a drawstring on the inside waistband, and after I tucked the bottom of my long shirt inside, I pulled it tight.
I drew my sweater over the top of my shirt, hiding the way the baggy shirt hung on my body.
Most of the girls got dressed before me, many of them trying to tame their hair with their fingers.
I’d only finished pulling my boots on my feet before a wooden door opened on the opposite side of the room from which we entered.
A witch, maybe a few years older than me, stood there, taking in the eleven girls in the room.
The marks on her face weren’t as unsightly as the ones on Gray Curls or Fingernails, but the sores were there.
Some of them looked to be oozing yellow pus.
The tip of her nose looked disproportionate to the rest of her face, like just that small part of her nose was growing faster.
She wore the same uniform as us, although she’d ditched her sweater and unbuttoned the top of her shirt, so the swell of her breasts was visible.
“What are you staring at?” Her sharp voice snapped me out of my daze.
I looked away as fast as I could. Stop attracting attention, Dafni.
The girl stopped glaring at me and looked around the chamber. “Let’s go human-borns.”
The witches followed her instructions, making a line in front of the wooden door where she stood.
“I’ll take your names and magic type before you enter the Academy,” Gray Curls said, walking over to where the senior witch waited, producing a pad of paper and a pen from the pocket of her dress.
“State your first and last name clearly, along with your magic type.” She looked down the line, and I thought for a moment she’d stopped to stare at me.
“The choices are earth, water, or air—no funny business.”
Brooke grabbed my hand again and pulled us to the back of the line. The witches moved slowly, Gray Curls often yelling, “Speak up!” at those whose voices trembled.
“Name?” Gray Curls stepped in front of Brooke and me before we could follow the rest of the group into the narrow tunnel that led ahead.
“Brooke Sukedi, earth magic.”
“And you?” Gray Curls looked at me, waiting for my name.
“Dafni Sarr—” I snapped my lips shut before another syllable could escape. That name was dangerous here. That name would bring attention to who I was, who I came from.
Her pen stopped scratching on the paper, her eyes raised to investigate mine.
“Sarrenti.” It spilled off my tongue, the ending sound worryingly similar to Brooke’s.
Gray Curls stared at me for a moment before her eyes returned to her pad of paper, finishing scratching my fake last name onto the page.
“Water magic,” I said.
“Go ahead.” She tilted her head toward the tunnel.
Brooke and I had to let our hands fall apart to walk through the narrow twisting hallways the senior witch led us through. The group sounded like a herd of hooved animals, our heels clicking along the wooden floor beneath us.
We wove through several twists and turns, walking in a single line.
The senior witch walked quickly as we all tried to keep up while still taking in our surroundings.
The dim lighting of the tunnel gradually became brighter the farther we walked, and before long, we saw the literal light at the end of the tunnel—a giant dome-shaped room buzzing with activity.
It wasn’t until I’d completely exited the tunnel that I could see the scale of the room. It was nothing like I’d imagined in my head from Luke’s penciled description. My mouth fell open as I looked up and around the space. All of this was hiding here…underground.
The dome resembled more of an arena, like the ones from my grandmother’s bedtime stories involving Roman gladiators and Commodus, the mad emperor.
But this wasn’t Ancient Rome. This was the Coven—an arena run by my mother, who used the witches as her personal gladiators.
The circular space was immense, with witches mingling, cackling, and staring at us.
Several couches and tables with chairs made the space look like a casual social area.
Looking up, I saw two levels above us wrapping around the entire dome.
Witches hung over the metal railings, gazing down at the goings-on below.
They stared at us, no smiles on their faces.
Spaced every few feet behind the railings were doors with numbers on them.
These were the dorms. There looked to be two levels of rooms, along with the ones on the main floor.
We were below the dirt. That much was obvious from the way we’d fallen through the trapdoor onto the floor earlier.
There was a pentagon-shaped window at the tip of the domed ceiling letting in some natural light, but the rest of the light came from the lanterns mounted to the walls around the space.
There were no flickering flames but light bulbs.
They had electricity down here, I realized with surprise.
“These are the dormitories,” the senior witch said.
Her voice was monotone and rushed. She seemed bored with us already.
“The classrooms are through there.” She pointed to a set of wooden double doors a quarter of the way around the circle from us.
“And so is the Coven. You can go into the classrooms but not the Coven grounds.”
She turned and walked across the dome, the witches standing around moved out of her way. We followed, unsure of what we should be doing.
“This is where meals are served.” She motioned to the silver metal accordion door that was closed atop a white counter.
Her boots clicked as she took a step closer to our group.
We froze. She took another step toward us.
“Don’t bother trying to be friends with any of us.
We aren’t like you. We were born from witches.
Real witches with important bloodlines. You were born from weak humans. ”
I looked around at the witches standing around, all of them stopping to stare. They weren’t like us. Our skin was clear and smooth, our noses in proportion to our faces. Their features were grotesque, noses all mishappen and skin marked and bumpy.
Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Your kind never lasts long.” With a lift of her upper lip, she revealed her teeth dripping with green poison.
I retreated, backing up into Brooke. I closed my lips. Another reminder I didn’t have poison.
“Pair up!” she shouted, startling us as she switched tones.
I looked behind me at Brooke, who instantly grabbed my hand.
I didn’t know what we were pairing up for, but she’d already been there for me once, pulling water from the soil to wash our hands.
The eleven of us spread apart in pairs of two.
A smaller witch, with short ringlets that spiraled down to her chin, stood partnerless because of the odd number of girls.
“Go with them,” the senior witch directed the spiraled hair girl, pointing to Brooke and me. Ringlets kept her eyes to the floor as she toed over to us, standing nearby. “Follow me to the dorms.”
The senior witch brought us to a set of spiral stairs that led us up to the second story of the dome.
My feet hurt from walking so far in heeled boots.
I wasn’t used to the confinement of this type of shoe.
After the first set of stairs, she led us up another spiral staircase, which brought us up to the third story.
“Human-borns are on the third level.” She led the way, her heels clicking on each of the metal treads.
The senior witch used the toe of her black boot to kick each dorm open before pushing a pair inside, letting the door slam behind them.
So much for a welcome home. After the fourth door slammed shut, she turned to the three of us before opening the door to the next dorm.
She glanced around the room before ushering us in. “I guess this’ll have to do.”
The door slammed behind us, leaving us in the dark room. There were no windows. I reached out for a wall, hoping to find a light. My fingers found a knob in the wall that I pushed up, fluorescent lighting illuminated the room. Ugh. I immediately bent over, covering my eyes.
The squeak of metal on metal made me open my eyes.
Ringlets had climbed to the top bunk of the only set of bunk beds in the room.
Save for a wardrobe pushed into the corner of the room and an open door with a small shower, toilet, and pedestal sink, it was the only sleeping space in the room.
She sat on the bed, laying her claim, gazing down at Brooke and me, as if daring us to challenge her.
“Are you okay sharing a bed?” Brooke asked. It looked like I didn’t have a choice. Suddenly, I missed the bed at Annabel’s house and the privacy the room had provided me.
I took a breath before exhaling out my nose. This was temporary, part of the plan. The sooner I figured out the Academy and took my place as Prime, the sooner I’d be in much more comfortable accommodations.
“I mean, I can sleep on the floor…” Brooke looked at the dirt floor we were standing on and cringed.
“No, I’m fine sharing a bed,” I said. “I’ve shared one with my grandmother my whole life.”
Her shoulders dropped in what looked like relief.
“Thanks for helping me back there—that thing with the water,” I said.
“It’s no problem. I can pull water from the soil with my earth magic.
It was nothing.” Brooke looked around the windowless room.
It was damp and smelled like the cottage before we aired it out each spring.
“We’ve got to help each other out, right?
” She made her way to the bottom bunk, sitting on the thin mattress. “We’re all each other’s got now.”
I looked down at my feet. It was true—I didn’t have anyone here at the Academy. “Yeah,” I whispered.
“Did you see the way they look—their faces?” Brooke asked.
They looked like my mother had, their faces disfigured, and their skin broken. I nodded as Brooke shivered, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
Do all witches look like that? I wondered.
I only had Matilda and Grandmother as references.
Through her visits over the years, my mother, Matilda, had begun to look different—her nose growing wider and her skin breaking out in different bumps.
Grandmother hadn’t ever looked that way.
Her skin, although wrinkled, had stayed clear of blemishes.
I tried to suppress a shiver, my hands coming up to my face, my fingers feeling the smooth skin of my cheeks and nose.
Brooke sighed, sitting on the bed, testing its bounce. “I’m a quiet sleeper. I don’t move much.”
“Me either,” I said. My eyes glanced up to Ringlets, who was still sitting on the top bunk, staring at us. “What’s your name?” I asked.
She looked around the room like I was asking someone else before she answered. “Petunia.”
A muffled bell rang outside of our room. “Dinner?” Brooke asked.
Must be. I opened the door to our dorm, peeking my head out. A line of witches on the bottom floor of the dome had already formed a line at the counter with the accordion door.
“We’d better get in line,” I said.