Whispers in the Dark
Chapter Thirteen
WHISPERS IN THE DARK
Rinka
T he door to Idris’s office had been unlocked with magic.
“Ceri’s magic,” said Idris. “I never should have taught her how to do that.”
“Leo was here as well,” said Willow, sniffing the door frame.
No surprises there.
The only real surprise was that Willow could smell them at all over all of the other smells that must have been in the corridor. Idris’s classroom was right next to his office, and it had been full to capacity all week. It seemed like the whole school—minus Ceri, of course—had turned up to hear his lectures.
Rinka didn’t blame them. Idris was the crown prince of Loegria, which was a novelty in itself, and while magic was generally considered a bit old-fashioned, the study of dark magic had retained a certain allure. Idris called it “sexy.” She doubted him somewhat—was it the subject that was sexy or was it just him?
He had loved that she had asked him that.
It turned out to be both, as she had found out when she attended one of his lectures earlier in the week. And his lecturing style didn’t hurt either. He was passionate, relatable, clear. The class held onto his every word. Dean Whittaker interrupted to ask if he’d consider moving to the music hall so that the crowd in the corridor would have somewhere to sit.
Idris was so infuriatingly good at everything, it would have been easy to hate him.
It was a good thing, then, that she loved him instead.
“Where did they go next?” she asked Willow.
“Down the hall.” The tabby cat kept her nose to the ground until a rumble of thunder startled her upright.
“It’s alright, Willow,” said Rinka, stroking her on the back. “We’re safe inside.”
She looked at Idris and knew exactly what he was thinking: Ceri might not be.
“You two go on ahead,” said Idris. “Stay on their trail. I’m going to check my office quickly to see if they managed to get the objects back, then I’ll join you.”
Rinka took Idris’s hand as he was walking away and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find them.”
“I know,” said Idris. He leaned over and kissed Rinka briefly on the lips before going inside.
Rinka was reluctant to leave him. She knew he’d been struggling with Ceri’s presence since their reunion, and this situation did nothing to help matters.
It was his guilt that was getting to him. He blamed himself for his absence from her life when she needed him, and, in trying to make up for lost time, he had overcorrected and come out on the side of overprotective.
It would be better if she or someone else found Ceri first, for both of their sakes.
“I’m not sure they were together,” said Willow. “Leo’s smell is weaker. Sometimes, it vanishes entirely. I’d guess it was more than a day since he’s been here.”
“Maybe he came here yesterday after Dean Whittaker let everyone know about the storm,” said Rinka. “Or maybe Idris has it wrong and he didn’t take the cursed objects at all.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet. That boy doesn’t care about anything as much as his research.”
“Well, maybe there’s one thing.”
Rinka had noticed the energy between Leo and Ceri immediately, and she wasn’t alone.
In fact, it seemed like the only people who weren’t convinced were Ceri and Leo themselves.
Rinka was confident they’d work it out eventually. Assuming they survived this storm.
The wind blowing through the leaves outside sounded like a whisper as they passed a large set of windows and descended a staircase.
“Leo’s trail ends here,” said Willow. It was a door into the courtyard not far from where they’d left the dining hall. “But like I said, it’s an older trail. Ceri’s continues that way.”
“That’s headed towards the library,” said Rinka. “Alison may have already found them.”
There was that whispering sound again. No, not a whispering sound. Whispers.
Rinka froze. “Ceri? Leo?”
“What are you doing?” asked Willow. She was already ten feet ahead, continuing down the hallway.
“Can you hear that?” asked Rinka.
Rinka couldn’t hear anything herself. The whispers had stopped. Maybe it really was a trick of the wind.
Or maybe it was the way the sound carried in this old building. Rinka had been in some old elvish constructions in Arcas Dyrne. Old temples and the like, sometimes for the clothes and food they gave away when times were tough after her parents’ divorce. There were hallways that would carry the sound from one end to the other and great domes used to whisper political secrets without having to stand close to the recipient. Maybe this was something like that. Alison and Keir were nearby, after all.
“I’m losing Ceri’s trail,” said Willow just as the lights went out.
“Great,” said Rinka. “Just what we need.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew the match.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” asked Rinka. “I can’t see a damn thing to strike it on, and I don’t have a matchbox.”
“Follow my voice,” said Willow. “I can see just fine.”
Well, at least there was that. Rinka tried to stay towards the center of the hallway; there were so many statues and coats of armor and random plinths to avoid on the sides.
“ Come here. Come closer. ”
It was the whisper again, clearer this time.
“Ceri? Alison? Keir? Leo?”
A door or window had come open or broken somewhere, sending a damp wind blowing through the hall. Maybe they were outside?
“You’re not going to find them standing in the middle of the hallway. I could barely even hear you, and I’m right here,” said Willow, oblivious to the fear in Rinka’s voice.
“ Closer. I need you. Closer .”
That was odd. “ I need you .” What did that mean?
“You don’t hear that, Willow? That voice?”
“I only hear you, and my hearing is a bit better than yours.”
“ Please. You’re almost there. Just a little more. Come closer .”
“Nope,” said Rinka, stopping in her tracks. “Nope, we’re going back.”
“What do you mean? We ought to at least see if the trail leads into the library,” said Willow.
“Nope. I’m hearing strange voices. It’s time to go.”
Rinka had seen just about every picture show that had been made. There weren’t too many that were scary, but the scary ones all had one thing in common: people who failed to take note of obvious signs of trouble and kept plowing ahead into danger.
They didn’t have the benefit of an intertitle to tell them what the danger was, but Rinka didn’t need it.
Strange voices in a dark, spooky manor that only she could hear? Nope, nothing good was going to come from that.
“ Don’t go. Come closer. Closer .”
“Well, that’s certainly not ideal,” said Willow, “but I’m not hearing them, so I don’t see the harm in going on ahead.”
“Willow, please. Alison would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. Let’s just go get Idris. He’s probably almost here already. Then we can pick up the trail again once we have someone a bit more equipped to deal with whatever that voice is.”
“ Closer. Closer. Closer… ”
“Fine,” said Willow. “Maybe if we get you a matchbox, you’ll stop stepping on my tail.”
“Sorry,” said Rinka, following the cat back up the stairs as the whispered voice faded away behind them.