The darkest glass, p.9
The Darkest Glass, page 9
“Da, must you go to the capital?”
“Fret not, poppet. A grand adventure awaits, and one must never turn their back on such marvelous timings.”
His smile had been like sunlight upon her face. She’d come to treasure that smile, to carry it with her as a reminder of what still needed to be done. What she still had to do in his absence.
“I’ll find the truth of what happened to my coven, Da,” she whispered to the journal, pressing it close to her chest. “I’ll fix everything so your dream can go on. I promise. I’ll fix this.”
Sybil tucked the journal beneath her bed and pulled her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.
Some would say she had no right to think of her coven, but their memory was a bittersweet comfort. She committed each of their voices and whims to heart, etching them all into the walls of her mind.
Ginny, who never ran out of stories to tell.
Meredith, who wrote the loveliest poetry Sybil had ever read.
Jane, who loved to chart the stars.
Major Quinn, who was the best card player this side of the Silver Sea.
Even three months later, the pain was still a gaping chasm inside her. Sybil hugged her knees closer to her chest. Tears prickled her eyes as the other memories flooded in too, as they always did.
Ginny, whose neck was bent at the wrong angle.
Meredith, whose blood spatter had stained Sybil’s travel dress.
Jane, whose blonde hair had been matted with blood from her gaping throat.
Major Quinn, whose charred body was only identified because the others were recognizable.
Sweat prickled her brow. Her heart raced in her chest as a mounting anger warmed her skin. But just as quickly her father’s words trickled in from memory like a gentle rain, reminding her of all the times his hands gently held her shoulders and his slow, even speech ebbed away her temper.
“Stay here, poppet. Focus on your breath. You’re not going to let anger best you now, are you?”
“For I have become the shepherd of souls,” Sybil quietly recited, grounding herself, “and keeper of—”
A knock rattled across her door and Sybil snapped to attention.
“Not now, Cal.” She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
After a pause, another knock followed. Sybil got to her feet, a snarl curling her lips as she swung open the door.
“I said piss off, Ca—” but her words died on her tongue.
Staring back at her was a shadow slightly taller than herself. Its appearance mirrored that of a teenage boy who lived on the other side of Sanctis except for the claw-like fingertips and fanged-toothed smile. The shade’s golden eyes brightened when it saw her.
“Best of mornings to you, Miss Vorn,” it greeted in a low, menacing voice. Its purplish black body bent forward in a mock bow. “I do say, you look rather malicious today.” It peered up and flashed a wicked grin of sharpened yellow teeth. “It suits you well.”
Sybil leaned into the hall, looking both ways before turning her attention back to the shadow.
“What are you doing here, Cain?” she said in a frenzy. “Did anyone see you?” The last thing she needed was Cal or her mother seeing her speaking with an illegally conjured shade, even if it did belong to a classmate.
“Ah, you must give me more credit than that, my dear,” Cain chided. “Secrecy is my very nature. You needn’t worry about us being overheard.”
Sybil’s heart dropped, but Cain waived away her concern. “They’re fine, I assure you. Just a bit of very persuasive whispering to keep them bound to their beds and lingering in their dreams.”
“Thank the gods,” Sybil let out a sigh of relief, raking a hand through her short black hair. “So why did Heath send you? This wasn’t what we agreed to.”
Cain leaned in as if to whisper a secret. “Perhaps I’ve slipped from his grasp and came here of my own choosing. What would you do then, Miss Vorn?”
Sybil didn’t answer.
“You fateshifters are an awfully arrogant bunch. So confident in magicks not your own and yet your understanding is no better than that of a toddler. It’s all rather amusing.”
Sybil was familiar with Cain’s sharp tongue, but it still somehow bristled her every time.
“You’re quite the confident one to speak so boldly of history not your own,” she countered. “You know nothing of the magicks the old scholars studied.”
“Darkness, my dear,” Cain replied, his voice suddenly the deep, rippling echo of a thousand beating insect wings, “has been here long before you and shall remain long after you’re gone. Do not speak to me of history and magicks.”
He leaned back, his tone suddenly airy. “But such is a tale for another time. There’s been a change of plans, I’m afraid. Heath will meet you two days hence at the large oak husk. I trust you know of it.”
“Yes,” Sybil mumbled, eager to be done with the conversation.
Cain leaned in close. “Tread carefully, Miss Vorn. I’m not the only one following Heath.” He winked and melted into the shadows of the hall. A faint snickering echoed from the darkened corners and then was gone. Sybil heard rustling from either side of the hall. Cal and her mum must’ve been released.
Sybil glanced back at her bed, wishing to hold her father’s journal once more.
We’re not traitors, Da, she reminded herself. I’ll make Sanctis see.
11
Julia
“If an Iver dove’s coo is warbled and high pitched, a storm is soon to follow.” – An Iver’s call, old wives’ tale
The following morning brought a smattering of damp greyness over Temmings.
Julia awoke with a splitting headache and even less desire to attend class. The drinks that had tasted so pleasant in the shadowed halls of Gafton Manor left her mouth feeling sticky and sour. She rubbed her eyes and yawned wide.
“Really, Julia, do try to temper yourself. Any wider and your soul will flutter out.” Agatha set down a basket of folded laundry on George’s made bed. Julia snapped her mouth shut, startled by her aunt’s sudden appearance.
“Well? Are you going to lay about in bed all day then?”
“What time is it?” A sudden panic ran through her. Had she overslept?
Her aunt snorted. “If you have to ask, then you’re already late.”
“But Da didn’t wake me!”
Her aunt tutted. “I hardly see why he should when you clearly consider yourself a mature adult.”
If there was ever a time for a sudden sinkhole to appear and swallow her whole, it was then. She didn’t remember making that much noise or seeing anyone on her way back from the party, but thanks to the wine anything after her meeting with Daniel appeared in her mind more like half smudged sketches than living, breathing memories.
Julia slid out of bed and kept her gaze glued to the floor.
Today was certainly going to be one of those days. And she hadn’t even made it to class yet.
Mrs. Prinn, the head instructor at Elmwood Preparatory School, was standing at her usual post at the top of the stairs when Julia rounded the corner. At just 5’1, she was on eye level with many of the younger students yet none dared to cross her. Mrs. Prinn was nearly as old as the school itself and had the sharpest memory in town. Her mouth flattened when Julia rushed up the walkway.
“Ah, Miss Sheffield. Still working on our punctuality, I see.”
“Yes, sorry Mrs. Prinn.” Julia hurried past the head instructor’s withering gaze and down the hall. She passed the teacher’s meeting quarters, the supply room and the Youth Room where anyone under thirteen studied. Yellow and white hand cut flowers bordered the door. Julia paused, her hand frozen on the handle of the Elder Room as she took in the sight of the paper flowers cut haphazardly. The shriek of childish chatter spilled into the hall, warbling in Julia’s ears to become the distorted howls of wolves and skittering tree roots.
Julia jerked open the door to the Elder Room just as Mrs. Morwald finished roll call.
“Wonderful of you to join us, Miss Sheffield” she quipped. She motioned towards the empty seat in the front row. “Please do have a seat. Quickly now.”
Julia smoothed over her features and held her arms close to hide the goosebumps. Martha wiggled her fingers in hello as Julia passed her, but Dorothy and Emily kept their heads bent low in hushed conversation. A stab of rejection pricked Julia like a thorn. As she slid into her seat, irritation festered in the pit of her stomach for even caring about it at all.
Behind her, Charity Greerson and her two devotees, Mina Appleton and Tilda Roth, snickered.
Julia ignored them and reached inside the desk to retrieve her worn arithmetic study guide.
“Now, before we begin,” Mrs. Morwald said, “as you all know, we’ve had a terribly tragic passing in our community. Little Billie Moore’s absence will be felt by not just his classmates across the hall, but all of us here at Elmwood. As Father O’Malley so aptly described yesterday, we must let an honest heart guide us through these difficult times.”
Charity cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Morwald. May I share a word with the class?”
Mrs. Morwald nodded. “You may, Miss Greerson. Do hurry it along please.”
Charity nodded and stood to address her peers, a queen in her court. “A tragedy in Temmings is a tragedy for us all. My father, Deputy Sergeant Greerson has graciously volunteered to hold an open forum with himself and Governor Longworth in hopes of strengthening the community during this time. Refreshments will be provided, of course.”
Charity’s offer was met with applause, most noticeably from Mina and Tilda.
Before Charity could sit back down, Julia was on her feet. The utter shock on Charity’s face was enough to spur her on. Emily, Dorothy and Martha all looked at her, but Julia no longer cared about their attention. The dark satisfaction from Charity’s shock was reward enough.
“On behalf of us all, thank you, Charity for your family’s generosity,” Julia said with a sticky sweet smile. “Considering the horrible events, though, I do hope your father will take this time to more strictly enforce measures against bullying, particularly amongst the younger kids. Perhaps one day it can save others like Billie from such an awful fate.”
Charity paused for a beat before gathering herself. “Everyone knows Billie disappeared, Julia. No one said he was bullied.”
“Ladies, please take—” Mrs. Morwald interjected, but Julia spoke over her.
“Well, I don’t suppose he was taken by wolves, now was he? Seems more likely he was led to them by those looking for a laugh.” Julia lowered her tone so only those closest could hear. “You know, just like you used to.”
Charity’s face flushed with anger. “How dare—”
Julia cut her off. “Mrs. Morwald, I’m suddenly not feeling well. I think it’s my flow. May I have a lie down in the nurse’s office?”
Mrs. Morwald huffed and pointed to the door. “Out. Now, Miss Sheffield.”
Julia smiled and gathered her bag, not bothering to return her arithmetic book. When she stepped out into the hall, she went straight past the nurse’s office and down the stone steps to the bench across from the school.
The sun was hidden behind a thicket of clouds, but Julia didn’t mind the sullenness. She rested her elbows on her knees and rubbed her temples, silently urging her hangover to cease and willing her corset to loosen if only for a moment to ease her building headache. At least she was out of that saints awful classroom.
“I think you missed the nurse’s office.”
Julia looked up to see Harrison standing over her, the hint of a bemused smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed.” The shadow of her earlier irritability still lingered, but if Harrison picked up on it, he didn’t let on.
“Mind if I sit with you?”
Julia shrugged and scooted over. Her heart skipped a beat as the smell of pine and cinnamon wafted across her nose. She loved his smell, woodsy yet sweet, and wanted nothing more than to snuggle beneath his arm and envelop herself in his warmth. A strange boldness suddenly overcame her. It was enough to urge her on if she wanted, to close the gap between them and finally make her feelings known, but when Harrison cleared his throat, the illusion was broken.
“I’m glad to see you’re all right. I was a bit worried that you might’ve, I dunno, maybe went ‘round to the wrong residence or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet her eyes. “You were quite a sight.”
“A sight not worth accompanying?” Saints, she was a thorn today. But something unnamed and uncertain scratched at the door of her consciousness. She couldn’t remember it exactly but the feeling of it lingered. Bitterness, brittle and black. An urge to make Harrison suffer, a slow bleed she could savor the taste of later at her whim.
Julia hadn’t been the only sight at the party. That much she remembered, even if her heart wanted to forget it all and enjoy the rare moment alone with Harrison now.
“I meant no offense, I swear. I should’ve, you’re right, but I wasn’t well off either. I just—saints, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“It wasn’t a great party. I mean it was but, y’know, a bit lethal. Martin and his lot are all big headed poshers. I guess I was too nervous to ask you for a dance but um, maybe next time I suppose? And less drink.”
Julia flushed. She bit the inside of her lip to avoid her smile growing too wide. “I’d like that. And absolutely less drink.”
Harrison beamed. “You should come then. To the summoning tonight.”
“The summoning?”
“It’s a bit silly really, but some of the upper years were going to have this mock ritual or something. For a laugh and all. I figured maybe I could see you there?”
Was Harrison asking after her company? Was this truly happening? Julia was fit to burst, but composure was everything. She’d come this far. She couldn’t spoil it now. She was a Grace, after all.
“Sure. I’m holding you to that dance, though.”
Harrison’s cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Aces. Count on it.”
A moment of silence lingered between them. Julia let herself soak in Harrison’s presence, his soft brown gaze and the shape of his mouth. When the scratching returned, that pesky, unnamed bitterness, Julia ignored it. Because Harrison had asked after her. Perhaps not her, not the darkly minded and sharp edged her, but the sweet-faced mask that she wore so well. But Harrison didn’t know that, and she didn’t care, and all that was left was for hope, however misguided, to bloom. Julia reflected Harrison’s nervous smile because she could. Because she wanted to.
Because Harrison Goldwell, in that quiet moment, was worth suffering the slow bleed.
“Did you see her face?”
“Oh saints, it was absolutely brilliant!”
Dorothy and Martha tossed their heads back in laughter beneath a towering oak tree. Emily stood, chest puffed out, parroting Charity with Lake Promise as her gleaming backdrop.
“Oh, but dearest Papa will open a new shelter for the homeless! We shall eat biscuit jammies while trading missing children stories! Won’t that be splendid? Aren’t we such an upright family?”
“You even got her annoying pitch down!” Julia blurted between laughter.
Emily smirked. “Only the best for my audience that dared skip class for my performance. Thank you, thank you.”
“I swear you and Charity were about to have a row in the middle of class,” Martha said to Julia, wiping tears from her eyes and chuckling. “Mrs. Morwald aged five years, saints honest.”
“Serves the croon right the way she sucks up to the Greersons and all that.” Dorothy reached into Emily’s satchel and popped a salted cashew into her mouth. “It’s maddening. She wasn’t even elected class lead and yet she acts like she runs the whole bloody school. I can’t stand her.”
“Not like any of it matters anyway,” Julia replied, grabbing a cashew for herself and basking in the shaded grass. “Charity and her lot will be off to finishing school after graduation and the rest of us will be spud wives at the market. No shame in going with the tide.”
Dorothy paled. “That literally sounds like the most depressing thing ever when you say it out loud like that.”
“That’s because it is.” Julia tucked one arm under her head and stared up at the blanket of puffy white clouds. The meadow fell silent save for the chirping of the finches above. Emily raised her arms in a cat stretch.
“My parents insist I marry and stay here in Temmings, but it’s all bollocks. We can do anything we want.” Emily’s gaze found Julia’s, and in that deep sea of blue was a promise. A secret. Their little group was young, beautiful, and dangerous. Temmings could never hope to diminish their radiance. No one could ever hope to do that. Not to them.
Not to the Graces.
Martha twirled a finger around a blonde strand. “So, what’s everyone bringing to the summoning?”
“Wait, we have to bring something?” Julia asked.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “You know about the summoning?”
Julia’s breath caught in her throat. Beneath the innocent question Julia caught the edge in Emily’s voice. A blade hidden beneath the lace of geniality.
“Oh, Harrison asked me about after—”
“Jules!” Martha squealed, face beaming. “Did he have a chat with you? Oh, he did, didn’t he?”
“He excused himself right after you left,” Dorothy piped in, saddling up beside Martha. They exchanged glances and giggled. “Everyone knew it was to chat with you and of course Charity was absolutely pissed, the hag. Tell us everything.”
“Yes, tell us everything.” Emily smiled, but her gaze was too hungry.
Julia swallowed down the unease burning in her throat. “He asked me if I was going to go to the summoning, and if we could chat.”
