The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 8
Encouraged, Rachel gave him a very slight smile.
Dread inclined his head. He felt so solid beside her, like a bulkhead against the onslaught of a strange and dangerous world.
Rachel said, “Gaius once claimed that we’re not actually saving the world—though that was before I was kidnapped—twice. We are saving the world, aren’t we, Vlad? We’re not making things worse?”
“We are defending the world,” replied Vlad, firmly. “I am not certain that all we do keeps the entire world from spinning off into chaos. But, on the other hand, I am not sure it doesn’t. Why would I take the risk?”
“Very true,” laughed Rachel. “Thank you.”
Von Dread inclined his head again. Without another word, he took his leave, walking over to where Penny Royal dueled Ethan Warhol. Rachel watched him go, sighing. She had been calm and collected while speaking with the upperclassman. The moment she was alone, a giddy flush spread through her body, as if she had rapidly downed a large glass of champagne. When she pressed her palms against her cheeks, they felt hot.
Rachel took a deep breath, striving to compose herself. She refused to indulge in romantic notions about a young man who belonged to her sister, especially when she already had the best of boyfriends. Turning her back on the Prince of Bavaria, she ran to find Gaius and show off her new bracelet.
• • •
As the evening progressed, Rachel fought several practice duels and watched others, striving to learn all she could. Around nine-thirty, Siggy and Salome got into a cheerful argument that they both insisted could only be settled by Valerie. They took their leave and departed the gym in search of Sigfried’s girlfriend. Rachel stayed a while longer, hoping to spend more time with Gaius, but he was too busy dueling. She watched him, telling herself that this was a good opportunity to learn from an expert. He looked so cute, however, with his patched robes, his cocky grin, and the intent look in his eyes, that she kept forgetting to pay attention to the duel.
She fought another match with Salome’s boyfriend, Ethan Warhol, which she lost. When it was over, she felt exhausted. As she sat down, fighting to catch her breath, footsteps approached. Looking up, she saw Freka Starkadder coming toward her. The Transylvanian princess had an almost feral beauty, with intense brown eyes and long, straight, oak-colored bangs. The older girl leaned over, her hands on her thighs, and smiled mischievously at Rachel.
“Well, aren’t you the young woman of the hour!”
Rachel blinked at her, not sure what she meant.
The feral princess teased her with a big grin, “Not enough to capture the heart of one cutie of an older boy, eh? Now you must add Bavaria to your stable?”
Rachel’s cheeks grew so hot, she feared that her flesh was being roasted from within. A moment later, she was unexpectedly glad of this, as the upperclassman’s next words caused the blood to rush from Rachel’s face. So much had suffused it, however, that Rachel had a chance to duck her head before the older girl caught her blanching.
Still leaning over and smiling, Freka was saying, “I wanted to thank you, Rachel Griffin, for your part in getting me my brother Remus’s message.” She raised a hand. “Oh, I know you’re going to say, that it was Gaius who told me. But our gallant Mr. Valiant informed me that he would never have been in a position to speak to Remus’s ghost, were it not for you. So, if there is anything I can do to express my thanks, please do not hesitate to ask.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Rachel nodded wordlessly.
“I did pass Remus’s message to Romulus,” continued Freka. “I hope our eldest brother was able to take care of whatever Remus needed, and that Remus and Fenris are now at peace.”
Rachel vividly relived the moment when the shade of Freka’s handsome, blond brother was simultaneously devoured by the flames and dragged into the ground. His terrified face again hovered before her. His bloodcurdling scream echoed in her ears.
Should she tell Freka?
Rachel’s heartfelt love of revealing secrets urged her to blurt out what she knew, but she balked. The princess’s brother had been dragged to a horrible place of eternal punishment. Absolutely nothing could be done to help him. Might it be kinder to keep this horror to herself?
Rachel swallowed the words that fought to leap from her lips. Calling upon her mask of calm, she looked back at the other young woman, her face betraying nothing.
“What is going on with your eldest brother and Von Dread?” Rachel asked instead. “They seem…frosty.”
The young woman tilted back her head, eyes twinkling. “You know boys. They’re never happy unless they have rivals. But back to Remus…I gather you’re like me, then?” Freka asked merrily. “You enjoy talking to ghosts?”
Rachel nodded again. She forced herself to speak, though her voice sounded hoarse in her ears. “Do you like ghosts?”
“Oh, I do! And I’m good at talking to them, too. It’s my secret talent. We Starkadders all have one. Luperca can play with fire, and Gar—that’s my littlest brother, short for Wulfgar—is immune to cold. He says it’s a useless power, but he has no idea how miserable cold can be.”
“And Wulfgang?” Rachel inquired, curious about the elusive, brooding young prince with whom she shared all her classes.
“He can calm storms.”
“Can he stop the storm goblin?” inquired Rachel.
“The Heer of Dunderberg?” Freka laughed. “No, that one is far better at raising storms that Wulf is at calming them.” She flashed her bright, mischievous grin. “Poor Wulf. He objects that his gift is even more pointless than Gar’s…as he can do something every Tamas, Denes, and Aris can learn to do with enchantment.”
“Can Wulf calm storms without a musical instrument?” asked Rachel.
“Yes, but he says that’s sorry compensation.” Freka laughed, and the sound of it was so infectious that, in spite of herself, Rachel smiled. “Wulf thinks his animal talent is the worst, too. Gar can talk to squirrels, which are everywhere; while Wulf is stuck talking to wolverines, which—one must admit—are hardly as plentiful.”
Animal talents!
Rachel recalled the conversation she and Sigfried had overhead between Freka and her brother Beowulf. Beowulf had said something about Freka speaking with….
Rachel leaned forward earnestly and lay a hand on the older girl’s arm. “Actually, Miss Starkadder, there is a favor you could do me.”
• • •
Freka accompanied Rachel to the foyer of Dare Hall, a great, high-ceilinged chamber with a sweeping staircase leading to the girls’ dormitory and two sets of wide double doors—one on the far left, which led to the boys’ dorm, and the other in the center, which led to the theater.
Freka waited on the black and white marble, as Rachel ran up four flights, taking the stairs two at a time. She slipped silently into her room, so as not to wake her roommates. Walking purposefully toward her bed, she navigated using the special sense granted to her by the Familiar Bonding Ceremony. It was too dark to see, but Rachel could feel Mistletoe curled up on her bed, the same way she could feel the location of her arm or foot. She crept closer, without so much as glancing in the cat’s direction. It was important, when dealing with cats, to deceive them utterly about one’s intention. When she was close enough, she grabbed him.
The cat was so surprised, he entirely failed to escape.
• • •
“I have him!” Rachel ran back down the vast staircase, the large cat held tight in her arms. The lithe animal struggled, but Rachel’s grip was firm. When she reached the foyer, she put the black and white beast down on the marble. He mrowed at her reprovingly.
Freka knelt before the cat, smiling. She began to mew and purr and make cat-like noises. To Rachel’s great delight, Mistletoe answered in like manner. This went on for several minutes, long enough for Rachel to begin to feel the lateness of the hour.
She struggled to stifle a yawn.
“What a sweet and feisty cat! He loves you very much!�
� Freka stretched as she straightened. She smiled fondly at the cat and his mistress.
“Then…” Rachel’s voice caught. She hardly dared to hope.
Freka shook her head regretfully. “No, Rachel. He is truly a fine cat, but he’s not a familiar.”
“Yes,” Rachel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I…I think I knew that.”
“Familiars are to mundane cats as the Wise are to the Unwary. They have magic in their nature. Mistletoe is clever and wise, in the way of mundane cats, but he’s never going to be able to do the things that familiars do for sorcerers.” She pressed Rachel’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
Rachel nodded and swallowed painfully. “Thank you, anyway.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do, considering.”
Rachel thought again of the agony on the face of Remus Starkadder, as the demons dragged him down to their fiery, subterranean lair and bit her lip.
“It’s late. I should go,” Freka said kindly. She gave Mistletoe one last pat, where he sat licking his paw, and departed. As the door swung shut, she called from the darkness. “Oh, and do recommend my little brother Wulf to your friend the princess, will you?”
The door closed with a bang.
Wondering about her last comment, Rachel swallowed twice. Below her, Mistletoe let out a soft mrrow. Seeing him there, gazing so steadily up at her, Rachel knelt and touched her nose to his moist one. As her head tilted, the single tear running down her cheek slid forward to wet the corner of her lips. She rose to her feet and brushed it away.
Together, mistress and cat made their way back up the stairs.
Chapter Seven:
The Lure of Other Worlds
Emboldened by the favor that the Prince of Bavaria had showed her, and the continued absence of the princess, Rachel took an unprecedented step.
At lunch on Friday, instead of sitting with her friends, she brought her tray over to the central table, where Dread and his cronies gathered, and plopped it down next to Gaius’s. She stood there uncertainly, the roar of the fountain only slightly louder than the thumping of her racing heart, as she hoped that her boldness would not be rebuffed by the upperclassmen. Her nervousness was made worse by the fact that her older brother Peter, with whom she still was not on speaking terms, was glaring ferociously at her from across the enormous dining hall. He was not at all pleased to see his little sister in the presence of his hated rival, Gaius Valiant.
Apparently, boys and rivals really was a thing.
Von Dread noticed her first. His regal nod drew the attention of the others.
“Rachel!” Gaius gave her a big grin and patted the bench beside him. “Come join us. We were just telling the others about our trip to Detroit—the not-restricted parts, of course.”
“Tell us,” asked William Locke, “what was your impression of my family’s company?”
Smiling, Rachel sank down onto the bench beside her boyfriend, grateful to be welcomed into the conversation.
• • •
Friday afternoon, Rachel’s core group had Music and True History, or True Hiss, as she now thought of it, thanks to Gaius, with a free period in between. In Music, they stood in front of music stands, practicing the song for dispelling mist and clouds. True History, however, took place around one of the large rectangular tables that filled the center of the majority of classrooms, which meant that Rachel had to choose where to sit.
Usually, she sat with Siggy, Nastasia, Joy and Zoë. This time, however, the princess and Zoë were missing. She should have felt lonely. She did not.
Instead, it was as if she had been granted a reprieve.
Rachel stood in the doorway, surveying the classroom. Joy chatted animatedly with her roommate Hildy Winters, the flaxen-haired cheerleader from California. Siggy was deep in conversation with the hockey player Seth Peregrine, as they argued about possible names for their new band. The other core group from Dare was here, too, along with one from De Vere. Ian MacDannan, Oonagh’s younger brother, tormented his cousin Wendy Darling by sticking paperclips into her cloud of wavy chestnut locks. Sakura Suzuki, Enoch Smithwyck, and Rachel’s roommate Kitten Fabian talked with the girls from De Vere, one of whom had pink hair. The remaining crowd of boys, save one, were laughing over something under the table.
That left two people sitting alone: Freka’s younger brother, Wolfgang Starkadder, and Rachel’s fourth roommate, Astrid Hollywell. Wolfgang had a perpetual haughty scowl and a forbidding, brooding air about him. Astrid, on the other hand, seemed to be watching wistfully as her classmates joked and laughed. She was a shy girl with caramel skin and tight, black curls, who always wore a scarf, usually the same electric-blue one. She had seemed very sweet when she and Rachel had roasted friendship chestnuts together on All Hallows’ Eve. And yet, Rachel never saw her talking to anybody. Was Astrid always by herself?
Rachel thought back but could not remember seeing the other girl talk to anyone else regularly. There was an empty chair next to Astrid. Impulsively, Rachel took it. Astrid looked up, startled. When Rachel smiled, the other girl gave her a grateful look. Then, she ducked her head, returning to her books, but Rachel noted that a little smile lingered on the other girl’s lips.
• • •
After classes, Rachel and her classmates returned to Dare Hall. She tried to study, but Joy kept popping in every few minutes to ask if the princess had returned from Magical Australia. Finally, Rachel gave up on studying, grabbed her coat, and went outside.
Snow carpeted the campus. The cold November sun sparkled off icy crystals that topped the most recent snowfall. In the distance, the ice-covered crescent of broken stone that made up the new top of Stony Tor—ever since the demon Morax had destroyed its former rounded top when it released the imprisoned storm goblin, who had then murdered their Elf—glittered in the brilliant sunlight. Closer at hand, familiars ran back and forth through the fresh snow, while students in old-fashioned or brightly-colored parkas threw snowballs and built snowmen. One group of upperclassmen, probably alchemy students, had granted their snowman motion. They cheered and shouted as it slowly shuffled forward.
Rachel stepped over someone’s familiar sleeping on the porch of Dare Hall and descended into the winter wonderland. She walked by the snow sculptures and ducked a stray snowball. Beside the reflecting lake in front of Roanoke Hall, she came upon Sigfried, his girlfriend Valerie, and Salome Iscariot. They stood by a snow-covered bench, skipping rocks or throwing them hard enough to break the thin black surface of the lake. Lucky flew over the half-frozen water, his long serpentine body undulating through the air, as he snapped at the skipping stones, blackening a few with dragon fire. Payback, Valerie’s Norwegian elkhound, ran back and forth along the shore, barking at each throw, her curly tail wagging furiously.
Valerie’s cheeks were bright pink from the cold, matching her pink jacket. Salome wore a black double-breasted coat. Sigfried, however, was dressed only in his academic robes. His lips looked a little blue. With a pang, Rachel realized that he probably did not own any winter gear. She made a mental note to wangle a gold coin from Lucky—who hated to part with even a single piece of the vast hoard that Sigfried kept under and around his bed—so that she could order Siggy a proper parka and some boots.
“I’m bored. Let’s go kill that ogre before he eats any more humans,” suggested Sigfried. “I bet Lucky and I can take him.”
“Take him out how?” asked Valerie dryly. “He has a charmed life.”
“So?” Sigfried shrugged. “What’s that mean?”
Salome chirped, “That he’s immune to knives and arrows and spells and also guns and large ammunition.” To the other girls, she said, “You always have to add that with boys, or they assume the thing can be blasted with a Howitzer.”
“Aw!” The news that the ogre could not be blown away with a Howitzer, whatever that was, disappointed Sigfried, but then he perked up. “Then let’s trip him into a very deep pit and bury him alive. Or dunk his feet in c
ement and drop him at World’s End. What’d you say the water depth was there, Griffin? Over two hundred feet.”
“Be serious, Siggy, how would we get to the end of the world?” asked Valerie skeptically.
Rachel pointed south. “He means the bend of the river just north of West Point. The old sailors called that area World’s End, because the Heer of Dunderberg sank so many ships there. And he’s right. The Hudson is over two hundred feet deep in that spot.” To Sigfried, she said seriously, “It’s not a bad plan, but where would we get the cement? We’d have to order it and that could take days.”
“That’s too long,” said Siggy glumly, sending another rock skidding across the lake’s black surface to plunk into the icy waters when it encountered a hole in the ice.
After watching Sigfried and Valerie slide or skip stones a bit longer, Rachel rebelliously picked up a flat piece of gravel from where someone had scuffed snow off the path and threw it, even though she knew Siggy thought she “threw like a girl.” There was no shame in that, she told herself stoutly. She was a girl.
Her rock sank like a stone.
Valerie, who threw as well as any boy, snickered, but Salome, of all people, gave her a sympathetic glance. Rachel walked over to stand beside the other girl. Salome had huge luminous eyes, fair locks, and an eye-catching figure that she flaunted to its best advantage. Her black coat hung open. Underneath, she was dressed in subfusc, the most modern of the three uniforms allowed at Roanoke. Her white blouse stretched too tightly across her generous curves, and, even on this cold day, her black skirt was shorter than regulation permitted. A group of older boys pause to ogle her. With a smirk and a twinkle in her eye, Salome tossed her head and arched her back, displaying her charms. Rachel, who had trouble imagining how one might enjoy the attention of strangers, felt in awe of her cheerful, attention-seeking classmate.
Salome’s red lips curled into a cupid’s bow of amusement. “So. Super-aloof-but-totally-hot Vladimir Von Dread gave you a bracelet—while kneeling. That was special!”