GOODBYE, OAKLEY RIDDLE
ONE WEEK AFTER SHE HAD BEEN CROWNED HOMECOMING ROYALTY by the student body of Raven’s Head School for the Magically Gifted, Oakley Riddle was officially eulogized by those same classmates on the school’s five-sided quad.
The vigil was a joint venture between Embry—who’d had the idea—and the Raven’s Head social committee leaders, aka Skye Wolverton and Fairfax Mirza.
But of course, the Head Bitch insisted on running the whole thing. Which, honestly, suited Embry just fine considering her amount of makeup work and general exhaustion.
Every student and teacher received a candle upon entry to the quad. Fairfax had enchanted each so that they’d burn but not drip hot wax onto the holder’s hand. They would also flicker until he extinguished them all at once with a special spell at the ceremony’s close.
In an extra stroke of genius, the committee had decided to decorate the quad with homecoming decorations that had gone unused—a move that was both clever and on point because the dance’s official theme was to have been the Night of the Living Dead, and rare vampire Oakley had been recruited as a consultant.
The committee hung streamers, propped up ornamental coffins and gravestones around the space, using the trinkets of the undead to both remember Oakley and recognize her hard work and that of the others.
Embry had to admit, the social committee was pretty good at this whole party-planning thing. The effect was both spooky and delightful, especially once all the candles were lit. It was perfectly in line with exactly who Oakley had been that first day she stepped on campus.
Before Embry had even taken it all in, tears welled.
If there ever were a time to cry in public, this was it. Still, she tried to blink the tears away, rolling her eyes heavenward in hopes they wouldn’t fall and ruin her makeup.
“I’ve got you, Em.” Amethyst swept from her side to stand in front of her, gentle fingers drying the tears and adding an extra layer of protection to her makeup. She smoothed her hands down Embry’s hair to her upper arms and gave her BFF a reassuring smile. “There we go.”
“What girl needs to rely on setting spray when she’s got you?” Embry half croaked.
“You’re the one who taught me how to do that,” Ames pointed out.
Oh, she had. Not for everyday wear—that was a little much—but for the stage?
A spell to lock makeup in place under the lights was a must. How’d she forgotten that?
Ames read her mind, adding with a soft smile, “You’ll remember all your tricks once things settle down. ”
“If they ever do,” Embry muttered.
Ames was having none of it. She looped an arm around Embry’s shoulders.
“Look, Martinelli canned your suspension because she knew it was a crock of bat dung to keep up the pretense with Balthazar in custody, you’ve already made up your missing work, including getting a ninety-nine percent on the calc test, and Jonesy is on board with using the understudies for Into the Woods.
The show is literally going on, my friend—two weeks late, but it is. ”
Embry nodded as Ames squeezed her shoulders so tight they climbed to her ears.
Ames was right. Of course she was. Things were moving forward, even though it was definitely taking longer than Embry would’ve preferred to sort everything out.
Due process, yada, yada.
Yet the picture was clear now: It was Balthazar, with the poison corsage, somewhere on campus, as directed by his father and leader of the Hale clan, Thelonious.
From the moment she’d come out of hiding to enroll at Raven’s Head School for the Magically Gifted, Oakley Riddle was a target.
Her decision to attend the school put a well-worn plan into motion, with Balthazar tasked with immediate enrollment with the singular goal of getting close to the vampire so he could murder her.
Under Thelonious’s direction, the Hale family had been consistently killing one vampire; draining them of magic for their magical well; baiting the rest of the family to come out of hiding, hunting them down, draining them, etc.; and then blaming and framing the nearest group of witches.
It was both methodical and messy, while the end goal was something only a deranged group of insular ninnies with a chip on their collective shoulder could understand.
Basically, as Balthazar had said, the sorcerers were powerful but not in power.
For every vampire they killed, the well of dark magic the sorcerers definitely used filled right up to the brim with stolen power. The well was fed year in and year out by pockets of vampire murders worldwide—Romania was a hotbed.
Their plan effectively was designed to kill two birds with one stone.
Witches were the most influential collective group in the magical world with their abilities and larger relative numbers, while vampires lived long enough to be dangerous to literally any ambition, especially considering their protected status.
So, the sorcerers concocted a plan to cancel them out, which would allow them to slip into roles of power on the Table and elsewhere until the entire magical world was theirs to control.
Ridiculous. Convoluted. And time-consuming to prove, even with Balthazar all but bragging the quiet part out loud as he fed his need for both drama and the spotlight by treating fifty witches to his villain’s soliloquy. Before, you know, his dad ruined it.
The path to justice was ongoing. But, at the very least, in the short-term, Embry was able to petition for her return to Raven’s Head School for the Magically Gifted.
And she wasn’t going to miss her chance to remember Oakley with the rest of the student body. Even if Embry felt every eye on her as she and Ames waded through the crowd.
This time, no one parted for them. The stares and whispers were tangible, as if Embry had dragged Ames down a path crisscrossed with spiderwebs, catching every single one in the face as they made their way through.
Even as they moved out of range, the interest in them clung stubbornly, a stringy whisper.
Let them look.
Embry deserved to be at this vigil. Not because it was her idea but because Oakley was her friend. She was gone and it was terrible, and Embry would do everything in her power to make sure Balthazar, Thelonious, and the rest went away for a very long time.
Throwing back her shoulders and lifting her chin into the air, Embry snatched Amethyst’s hand, planted her high-heeled boots firmly onto the brick pavers of the walkway, and made sure her head prefect pin was square on her Raven’s Head vest.
Embry and Ames wound their way to a dais—very likely the same one used during the homecoming court ceremony—and confidently strode across it.
Fairfax was already there, helping Skye with a microphone donated from the theater department.
Upon their arrival, he stepped in to greet them—Embry with a tight embrace, and Ames with a kiss.
“Thank you for pulling this together,” Embry told him as they parted. “It’s incredible.”
“Truly, Mirza,” Ames agreed, patting his cheek. “I’d kiss you right now out of sheer astonishment at what you’ve achieved in basically forty-eight hours, but honestly it makes me so weepy, I’d probably just snot all over you.”
Fairfax grinned brilliantly. “Split the difference and hold my hand during the vigil?”
“I’m already holding Embry’s, and I don’t want to levitate my candle the whole time”—his face fell briefly before Ames made a very strategic move to nestle one hip next to his—“but I’ll allow you to wrap your arm around my waist.”
“Deal,” Fairfax agreed without hesitation, already slipping into place.
So, there they were, lined up on the dais behind Skye, who’d finished with the microphone and was gesturing for everyone’s attention.
Embry looked out into the sea of humanity.
Witches, Bitches, Stitches, Glitches—hundreds of them, all illuminated from below by their candles, all sending a shining light toward the dais.
Faces both familiar and not-so-much smushed in between the ring of trees.
The powder-puff team—minus Skye—and the regular football team crowded together on the right side of the podium, their boulder shoulders quaking as some teared up. The shifter girls Embry and Alistair had helped out during room assignments handed out tissues.
Many of the Stitches had camped out by the largest of the decorative coffins, sitting and standing and hovering over the thing, a dark void in the settling night. The Glitches filled in the gaps as they always did, too many of them to count.
The cast and crew of Into the Woods hung together in the back, toward Marlow Theatre.
Jonesy was ensconced with them—already absolutely bawling her little empathic heart out as revenant Magda patted her shoulder.
Alistair stood with them, off to the right, and silent, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his Raven’s Head vest. When she spotted him, Embry gestured for the diviner to come stand with the rest of the senior Witch crew on the dais, but Alistair shook his head.
It made her heart ache more than it should. He punished himself too much.
And the rest of the Witches? Well, they swarmed together on the left side of the podium, more bonded now than before, after the fight at Raven’s End.
Headmaster Martinelli stood with Merlin behind the dais, clustered with the rest of the administration.
Even after locating everyone else, Embry kept searching for the one face she wanted to see. The only one she didn’t—Rye. He’d be here. She knew he wouldn’t miss it.
“Hello, all. Hello, if I could have your attention,” Skye began, doing her best impression of a teacher into the microphone.
“We’re here to celebrate the life and memory of Oakley Riddle.
If you would like to share something with everyone about Oakley, please line up in an orderly fashion on the left side of the stage. ”
There was a flurry of movement as a line formed, but Skye motioned for the first person in line—a craggy freshman mummy—to stay put. Then, with a toothy nod, the werewolf stepped away from the mic and, as she’d promised, waved Embry forward. “The floor is yours.”
“My name is Embry Woodcross,” she started, stepping up to the mic, holding fast to her burning candle, “and I know most of you probably already knew that before last Saturday, and if you didn’t, you certainly learned it since then.”
She nodded, the crowd eerily silent at her weak attempt at self-effacement.
“By now you’ve seen the video of me saying not very kind things to Oakley. I was trying to make a joke, and, as you can see here, I’m not actually very funny. She sure didn’t think so.”
Her voice broke. Embry closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying to will the tears to hold back. Her makeup would be intact, but the rest of her wouldn’t be—and she needed to get this out. As well as she could.
Embry swallowed hard and lifted her gaze back to the crowd of faces that had made up her world the past three years.
People she framed in contrast to what she’d done for them—bestowing her grace one potion, elixir, magically updated room assignment at a time.
She truly did spend so much time and energy trying to make Raven’s Head the best it could be.
But looking in the face of the student body now, she realized she’d never seen each of these people as more than just a clamoring mass providing background noise below her pedestal.
They were individuals. Not just members of their groups, or commodities based on their magical gifts—people. All of them. Just finding their way.
Like Oakley.
As Embry drew in a shaky inhale to continue, realizing she’d taken too long, her attention caught on a face a few rows back in the crowd.
Close enough that even in the falling light and the flickering illumination, she could make out the riot of blond hair, the searing attention of his green eyes, the taut expression.
Rye. He was here. And now, just as she’d been taught to do as a young performer, Embry was going to give her speech straight to him. “I wish I could take every single word back—”
Voice cracking, Embry glanced down at her candle, trying to collect herself. When she looked up again, her gaze snapped right to Rye’s. He waited, rapt, encouraging, sweet.
Hers. She’d need him after this. And forevermore.
“If I’d known that interaction would be the last time I saw Oakley, I would’ve instead told her all the reasons I found her incredible.” Her throat constricted, but her words still came strong and stage-clear. “I would tell Oakley that she was an amazing friend. She really was.”
Embry nodded, her heart lifting as some in the crowd nodded at her. Yes, this was right.
“When we needed to save the school musical, Oakley joined up and took a big role. When the social committee wanted to perfect its homecoming theme, she didn’t hesitate to join, even with her commitments to the musical.
” At this the rest of the cast began cheering.
Tears formed in Embry’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
“Oakley adored her roommate, Magda; loved to sneak out as a bat to skirt curfew—sorry, Headmaster, but it’s true—and let Amethyst and me dress her up like our very own Goth Barbie. ”
Embry glanced back at Ames, saw her crying sheets over her magically fortified makeup, and turned back to the crowd, nodding now. “I know so many of you here identified with Oakley because she identified with you—Stitch, Glitch, Bitch, or Witch—she was all of us.”
Embry looked out over the bobbing heads, flickering candles, and magical decorations, and found her favorite pair of grounding, loving green eyes.
“And even though she was taken too soon, we won’t forget her. Our homecoming royal, our vampire, our friend—Oakley Riddle.”