Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
I had first encountered the Academy some months back when we investigated the apparent suicide of the then-principal. Well, it appeared to be a suicide, until we dug deeper.
By the time we arrived at eight-thirty, the campus was in full motion. Students of all ages headed toward their classes, crossing the square. A massive clocktower watched over the campus, striking chimes every hour.
We parked in a visitor parking slot, and took a winding sidewalk up to McCarver Hall. It was beautiful, I thought. Whoever the architect had been, he had managed to fit function and form together and the clock tower overseeing the campus was the cherry on top.
Several students were sitting on the steps leading up to McCarver Hall, studying or talking.
Still others were hurrying across the square toward one of the classroom buildings.
There was a buzz in the air, a feeling of activity and excitement.
A part of me envied the students here, because I had moved around so much with my mother that I’d probably attended almost every elementary and middle school when I was young.
It wasn’t until Dante got me into high school that I was able to complete more than one grade in the same place.
But I’d never felt part of the school community.
Watching the students in their uniforms, talking and chatting as they went about their morning, made me nostalgic for a past I had never had.
“Can you feel it?” Penn asked. “When you put so many witches in one area, regardless of their ages, the magic pops and crackles.”
“I thought that was just the curiosity and intellect,” I said.
“Oh, that’s part of it. But underlying everything, these students are all magical, and that energy permeates the very campus.
I remember when I came here the first day.
My mother had managed to raise enough money to enroll me in school, and while some of the kids made fun of me because I was part Fae, mostly they accepted me because I was one of their own — a witch like them.
I felt safe here,” she said, her hand on the railing that separated two wide staircases leading up to the third floor.
The administrative section occupied the top two floors, while a bookstore and cafeteria and a gift shop were among the other amenities on the bottom levels.
“I do envy you that,” I said. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt safe in my entire life.
Oh, it’s better, now that I’m an adult, but as a child, I constantly felt on edge.
Most of the students shied away from me, because they knew I was part demon, and their parents didn’t want me influencing their kids.
I had a few friends. My mother and I moved around enough that I couldn’t ever gain any sense of continuity. ”
As we pushed through the double glass doors, entering an equally busy hallway, the smell of ink and paper and coffee filled the air.
We headed directly for the principal’s office.
As we entered the waiting room, his secretary looked up and gave me a nod.
Her name tag read Ms. Falcon, and she had waited on me before.
“Ms. Sarasan, hello again.” She turned to Penn and gave her a nod. “I’m Ms. Falcon. I’m Principal Groveletter’s receptionist.”
“How do you do,” Penn said, returning the nod. I had noticed that among witches, handshakes weren’t as common as among other folk.
“Please, both of you take a seat in the waiting area. I’ll come get you when principal Groveletter is ready.” Ms. Falcon returned to her desk, sliding neatly into her seat. She picked up the receiver and pressed a button, saying something softly into what I assumed was an intercom.
Penn and I took a seat over in the reception area, watching as several of the other administrative personnel busied themselves behind the counter. I wondered what they did — this wasn’t the admissions area, so they had to work for Groveletter personally.
Less than five minutes later, the receptionist let us over to a door toward the back, opening it and announcing us before motioning us to enter. She closed it behind us.
Philip Groveletter was about 5’10”, with short brown hair cut in a neat, wavy style.
Last time I’d met him he’d been wearing a generic grey suit, but now he was decked out in a tailored navy suit, with a white shirt and a gold and red striped tie.
He looked like a principal now, rather than an assistant.
“Kyann, it’s good to see you again.” He stepped around his desk, his hand outstretched.
I shook his hand, smiling. “And you too,” I said. “This is my friend, Penelope Fircrest. She was a student here some years back.”
Penn smiled. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “So, you’re an alumna?”
“Yes, and now I’m a student again. I’ve been taking business classes here. But yes, I spent 18 years in the Academy, a long time ago.”
“Please, take a seat. My receptionist said you wanted some information on a student who used to go here?”
I sighed. “We’re investigating a haunted house, and the student in question was murdered in that house. Do you by any chance remember the Christopher Longworld case?”
Philip frowned, leaning back in his chair and scratching his beard, which was new. “I don’t think I recall the name.”
I consulted my notes. “Longworld was a serial killer. His thirteenth victim was a young girl who went here — she was 12 years old. Her name was Riana Marie Wildheart. From what I gather, he kidnapped her while she was on a field trip. Apparently, she had a lot of magical talent and she cursed him right before he killed her. We’re trying to find out what kind of curse she might have placed on him.
It could make a difference in our investigation. ”
A horrified look crossed Philip’s face. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. “I’ll check whether we have any records from that time. I think we do. They’re probably computerized by now. Hold on a moment.” He turned to his computer, and begin typing away.
As we waited, the soft sound of the air conditioning filled the air. While he was researching, I pulled out my phone to check my messages. Penn sat quietly, staring out the window.
After about 10 minutes, Philip looked up and muttered, “Yes!”
“Did you find anything?” I said.
“I did. For such a young age, Riana’s file was extensive. Let me see what I can tell you without breaking confidentiality.” He dove back into his research.
Penn glanced at me, and stifled a yawn. I grinned at her, looking back at my text messages.
Orik had sent me a message.
kyann, i’m thinking of coming back to work early. i’ll spend a couple days at home, but i’m getting under ana’s feet and she’s getting on my nerves. she can help hilda better than i can. i’ll be back to work soon.
I snorted, then showed Penn the text. She let out a little laugh.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “His mother-in-law is a handful. She could give Frigga a run for her money. And nobody messes with the head of the Norse pantheon. People may think Odin’s in charge, but you have to know that Frigga is the one driving the battle.”
Philip let out a soft laugh. “Norse women are nothing to be messed with, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“One of our investigators just had his third set of twin daughters. He’s a Viking priest. His mother-in-law is there to help out with the babies until his wife can get back on her feet.
I find it telling that Orik would rather come into work then stay home around Ana.
” I shrugged, then quickly text Orik back that we would see him soon.
“All right, it looks like there’s no one left to give permission for me to open the files.
Her mother committed suicide two months after the murder, and her father vanished into thin air, it seems. He’s never been heard from again.
So I think I’m safe in giving you answers. Do you want me to go over it with you?”
I nodded. “Can you summarize it? Even though Penn will understand you better than I will, it might be easier if you give us a paraphrased version and then we can look at the other information once we get back to the office.”
“Okay. It seems that Riana was far more gifted than any student we’ve ever had.
It’s a pity. She would have grown up to be such a talented witch.
She was casting spells two and three times above her level.
She was also extremely temperamental, but they chalked it up to her being high strung.
When I look through her file, though, I’d say she likely had some form of a borderline personality disorder.
She wasn’t mean to other students, but she seemed to have anger management issues when things didn’t go her way. ”
“Did she ever hurt anybody?” Penn asked.
“Not deliberately. But she didn’t have the control her magic would have demanded for her capability.
The school administration had enrolled her in an accelerated program, aimed at helping her learn to temper herself and control magical fallout…
Collateral damage, I guess you could call it.
” The principal was printing out papers as he spoke.
“She snuck into the library’s rare book room, and stole a book of ancient curses.
The admin managed to retrieve the book, but not before she had time to learn several of them. ”
“That sounds dangerous,” I said.
“It is. Now, we have those books under lock and key. But back then, they were on display. The curses come from an ancient family of witches who were extraordinarily powerful and vengeful. They were ruthless. No one knows if anyone from that bloodline is still alive today.”
Penn gasped. “ The Romalies ?”
Philip nodded. “I take it you’ve heard of them?
” He stopped himself. “Of course you would have heard of them. We teach classes on them.” He glanced at me.
“We teach new generations about the Romalies, just like we teach about Vlad the Impaler, about the Khan dynasties, the Yagasaras from the Black Forest, and other family empires.”
“Never heard of them,” I said. “Well, the Romalies. I’ve heard of the Yagasaras, Vlad, and Genghis Khan.”
The Yagasaras were an ancient bloodline of wolf shifters who had ruled within the Black Forest during the 1800s.
They had rampaged through the countryside, killing their enemies and looting villages.
Eventually, they incurred the wrath of the vampires, who were rising in power, and the ensuing skirmishes wiped most of the Yagasaras out of existence.
There were ragtag remnants of the bloodline still alive, but they had never recovered from the wolf shifter-vampire wars.
“The Romalies kept detailed grimoires, and a few survive to this day. We have two of them here at Windchime Magical Academy. Riana stole one, and she had enough time to learn several of the curses, and given the Romalies specialized in death and torture curses, she probably used one of them.” Philip sighed.
“I don’t blame her. They included a summation of what happened to her in her file. ”
“Is there anyway you can tell us what curse it was that she cast? That can affect how spirits haunt an area, and it can change how we approach exorcising the spirits.” Longworld got off easy, I thought.
“Not unless I know more about what happened. While we seldom allow people to research those curses—for obvious reasons—I’m going to allow you to borrow her files, and I’ll print out some of the curses that she might have used.
” Philip glanced at Penn. “Will you promise me that you won’t learn how to cast them? ”
She held his gaze for a moment before answering. “I can’t make an oath, but I’ll do my best to forget them after we’re done. I have an extremely good memory and I can’t guarantee I won’t accidentally memorize them.”
Philip stared at her for a moment. Finally, he must have decided that we meant what we said, because he went on to print out several pages.
“There are three curses I think she might have cast. Once you decide how to counter it, please destroy this paper so no one else gets hold of it. And if you would give me the counter-curse, if you are able to find one, I’d appreciate it. ”
“We promise,” I said.
He handed me the paper. “Sometimes I wish we could destroy those books. But those grimoires are our history. We don’t have the right to destroy them.
For instance, what if somebody discovered the same curse and used it in battle?
We’d need to know what we were fighting.
Anyway, if you tell anybody that I gave these to you, I’ll deny it.
Do you understand?” He stood, holding the file folder in his hand.
I gave him a nod. “I understand, and I promise you, we won’t tell anybody who isn’t on a need-to-know basis about this.
Thank you. There were thirteen women killed in that house, and they deserve a chance to rest. I’m thinking the curse probably keeps them going, given Riana cast it when she was being murdered. ”
I accepted the file folder, and we said goodbye. As we headed back to her car, watching the bustle of students around us, I turned Penn. “What do you think? Do you think that the Academy has the right to keep those books? Do you think they should be destroyed?”
Penn frowned, wiping her hair from her face. “I don’t think there’s a right answer to that. Destroying history never sets well with me, because if you forget the past you tend to repeat it. And yet, when the past contains what’s basically a landmine waiting to explode, what do you do?”
“I don’t know, but it’s an interesting question of ethics.
Come on, let’s get back to the office. We’ve got a lot of research to do.
” As we drove south on I-5, my thoughts were caught up in curses and powerful families.
What was it like, belonging to a dynasty?
In some ways, it made me glad for my own lack of connection.
Because regardless of who you were, everyone of these families expected you to take your place within it, to perpetuate the lineage down through time.
And if you weren’t as strong as your ancestors, what happened to you then?