- Home
- H. D. Gordon
The Awakening Page 9
The Awakening Read online
Page 9
Roo and I glanced at each other. “They might be disappointed,” I said. “We’ve just begun learning how to use our magic.”
Genie grinned. “Well, may the best witches win.”
As we returned to our dorm room after dinner, I debated about whether to tell Roo right then what I’d learned from the headmistress, or to wait until after the Hunt.
Eventually, though, I decided on the latter. Roo deserved a little fun after all the craziness we’d been through, and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I told her now.
But it was Roo we were talking about, so she noticed that something was off with me. As she slipped into the deep-hooded cloak that all the students wore after school hours, she tied up her long chocolate hair and looked at me.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” Roo asked.
I sighed, adjusting the cloak over my shoulders. The thing was so soft and thick that it was like wearing a blanket. “I’ll tell you later,” I said. “After the Hunt, maybe.”
Roo narrowed her eyes but nodded. Genie came practically bouncing out of the bathroom, cloaked and brimming with excitement. “You guys ready?” she asked.
We followed Genie out, down the hall and staircase and toward the ballroom, where it seemed every student at the Academy was already gathered. I’d never been in the ballroom before, and it was a sight to be seen.
“Whoa,” Roo said as we walked in, and I nodded in agreement.
The domed ceiling was covered from edge to edge in a mural that must’ve taken a master artist months to complete. The more I looked at it, the more I came to the conclusion that the mural told a story. It was done with grand contrasts between dark and light, beautiful witches facing off against equally beautiful, albeit terrifying witches. Magic sparked and glowed at their fingertips, the world around them swirling with vibrant, alluring colors.
Chandeliers made from carved wood boasted emerald flames and created an otherworldly glow around the enormous room. Tall, spiraling columns encircled the main area, carved with detailed serpents with yawning, fanged mouths large enough to swallow me whole. The floor was polished white and black marble, and a four-string quartet was suspended in the air near the center of the dome, musician-less instruments playing themselves, no doubt enchanted with magic.
The hordes of cloaked students made their way toward the center of the room, where a circular stage was set up, the professors and headmistress overseeing the arrivals.
The cloaks we wore had the school insignia on them—my threading done in gold, Roo’s in silver. The students began to separate themselves by level. On the stage, I noticed an enormous grandfather clock, an intricate design cut into the base of it.
“Good luck, big sis,” Roo whispered before splitting off and joining the other silver students.
My stomach clenched with nerves as more and more people entered the room. I wondered how they would decide who was paired with whom?
The Headmistress raised a hand, and silence fell over the crowd, all eyes diverting to the stage. “Welcome to the Academy’s annual Hunt,” she said. “The four high levels—Copper, Silver, Gold, and Platinum—will all be competing against those within their grade levels to win the coveted prizes of ten percent added to the scores of their final exams, as well as an all expenses paid trip to Grove Gardens.”
Excited chatter rose up. Headmistress Talia waited until it passed to continue.
“You know the rules. Professors are forbidden from assisting, and the Hunt ends at midnight. One pair from each level will be declared winners once they solve their riddles, and can bring forth their box, unlocked and open.” She turned, long skirts and cloak swishing around her ankles. “Professor Lu, are we ready to begin the pairing?”
Professor Lu stepped forward, moving in that wraith-like way she had. She produced a black box from the wide sleeves of her cloak and held it out to the headmistress.
Headmistress Talia took the box without touching it, using magic so that it was suspended in the air before her. She waved a hand, and the top of the box flipped open, emitting a flash of light so bright that it left an impression behind my eyelids.
When the light faded, two names hung in the air, much like a hologram, only with magic.
The pairing had begun.
It was an effort to keep my jaw from hanging open.
The stupid black box had matched me with Agnes Buttsworth.
Of the one hundred and twenty seven other gold level students, I had to get Agnes. If there was a single event that could epitomize and sum up my luck, this was it.
Agnes looked about as pleased about this news as I was. But, apparently, the pairing was final. There was no option to redo or switch partners. So she shoved her way through the crowd until she was standing beside me. She glanced at me with narrowed eyes and folded her large arms over her chest.
I suppressed a sigh. This was going to be great.
Of course, Roo got matched with a sweet-looking student with a cloak she seemed to drown in.
Once all the pairs were made, the Headmistress raised her hand once more, and silence fell again.
The grandfather clock struck eight o’clock, the chime loud and stately, and I watched in amazement as the base of it opened up. An enchanted gargoyle-like creature flew out of it, roared an adorable little roar, and retreated back into the base of the clock.
“Go,” said Headmistress Talia, and people began to speed-walk toward the exits, heads huddled together in pairs as they went over the scrolls they were given with the first clue.
Agnes stared at me in hostile silence, arms still crossed tightly over her chest.
“Right,” I said, and unfurled the scroll the Headmistress had handed me when Agnes and I had been paired. “I guess we should get started.
Agnes said nothing, only snatched the scroll from my hand and scanned the writing. I resisted the urge to comment upon my surprise that she could read. Getting my face punched in was probably not the best way to start off the Hunt.
Agnes grunted and shoved the scroll back into my hands, before striding out of the ballroom, leaving me to follow.
It was going to be a fun night.
14
“Agnes, I don’t think this is the way. I’m not even sure we should be down here.”
Agnes ignored me. My jaw clenched. In a burst of bravery, I grabbed her arm, the muscle of which was hard as a rock, and made her come to a stop. She looked down at where I gripped her, anger flashing in her eyes, but I’d committed to the action.
“This will go much smoother if you communicate with me,” I said. “We’re a team. We can’t expect to win if we can’t even talk to each other.”
Agnes turned down a hallway that was even darker than the shadowy one we were already in, the magical orb she’d casted the only light by which we had to see. She’d taken us down a set of curving stairs, then down another, until the air had grown colder and damp smelling, and I was pretty sure we were in the basement beneath the Academy.
Maybe she’s taking me down here to murder me, I thought, and then quickly shoved the thought away. I knew Agnes didn’t like me—though I still didn’t know why—but she certainly didn’t have a reason to kill me.
But as we wound deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Academy, I amended that to or so I hoped.
“You’re really just going to ignore me?” I asked.
“If I talk to you,” Agnes said over her shoulder, “you gonna run and tell that freak of a sister of yours?”
So, there were two things that were sure-fire ways to set me off—people who drove the speed limit in the left-most lane, and people who messed with or talked bad about my sister.
Anger rose up in me, and with it, the magic in my blood grew cold and started to tingle. It was a good feeling, despite the rage that accompanied it, and I likely should’ve known even then how dangerous such a feeling could be.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. Agnes froze in her tracks.
&n
bsp; “What the—?” she began and then let out a low growl.
“Let me go, princess,” she said.
I twisted my wrist, and she was lifted a few inches into the air, her body turning a one-eighty, so that she was facing me. The orb of light still hung suspended before her, throwing both of our faces into sharp contrast. Agnes’s face was twisted into a snarl, but beneath that, I saw a hint of fear.
At the sight, the magic in my blood pulsed stronger, the tingling sensation becoming nearly heady. My hands tightened a little further.
“That…hurts,” Agnes gritted out.
I took a step closer, my feet moving as if of their own volition. “Don’t ever talk about my sister like that again,” I said, and the voice that came out of me was so cold that I hardly recognized it as my own.
Hatred flashed in Agnes’s eyes, but the fear there bloomed further.
“Say it,” I said in that same cold monotone.
“Okay…Okay… I won’t talk about your sister. Now…put…me…down. It hurts!”
I released my grip, my hands unclenching. Agnes dropped the couple of inches to the ground, panting as if it had been hard to breathe. Seeing this, guilt flooded me. I was not at all sure the punishment fit the crime, and that meant I was the one being the bully.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Yes, you did,” Agnes said, before spinning around and continuing down the hallway.
I hurried to keep up with her. “What makes you say that?”
Agnes scoffed. “Because I’m very familiar with people who hurt others, and though they always claim they didn’t mean to, they always continue doing it, so what does that tell you?”
I let the question hang in the air, mostly because I knew I didn’t like the answer.
Agnes and I stared at the small, locked door.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there,” I said.
“We are.” She pulled out the scroll with the riddle we’d been assigned and held it up.
I took it from her, scanning the words and biting my lip in apprehension.
“You scared?” Agnes asked.
“Aren’t you?”
She grunted.
“How do we open it?”
Agnes shrugged. “Read the riddle again.”
“What once was divided, must now become united. Where once there was suspicion, there must now be a single mission,” I read.
“What does that mean?” Agnes asked.
“I pretty sure it means we need to hold hands and sing kumbaya.”
Agnes’s lips twisted as if the very idea were repulsive, and to be honest, after what I’d done to her a few minutes ago, I couldn’t really say I blamed her.
“I really am sorry,” I said.
Another grunt.
“But it’s not like you rolled out the welcome mat for me,” I continued. “Why’d you shove me that first day? What could I have possibly done to piss you off in point-three seconds of knowing me?”
Agnes turned to me, looking me in the eyes for the first time since the little incident where I’d lost control over the magic and myself. She stood a whole head taller than me, and there was such distain in her gaze that it was an effort not to shrink away from it.
“It’s not just you,” she said. “It’s what you represent.”
I blinked. “And what do you think I represent?”
“You’re royalty,” she said, as if that explained everything.
It wouldn’t be until much later that I realized perhaps it did.
“I can’t help that,” I replied. “And I didn’t even know about it until just recently.”
“Everything will be easier for you,” Agnes continued. “Not just the magic, which you clearly already have a better grasp over than witches who train for years, but the way people treat you, the things that are handed to you—everything.”
I opened my mouth to say something. What, I didn’t know, but Agnes continued before I could.
“On top of that, you’re beautiful,” she said. “People assume you’re good and kind because of that. They don’t shrink away from you. When something bad happens, they don’t immediately assume you had something to do with it.”
Something unspeakably sad flashed behind Agnes’s eyes as she said this, but it was gone too quickly for me to really sink into. Nonetheless, a lump had formed in my throat, and all of a sudden I felt even worse about what I’d done to her.
“None of those things I can help, Agnes,” I said.
“Yeah,” she replied, “And I can’t help hating you for them.”
“Well… That sucks.”
“I need to win this Hunt. I need that ten percent on the final exams.”
I nodded, turning my attention back to the locked door before us. Replaying the words on the scroll in my head, I held my hand out to Agnes. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it.
“We don’t have to be best friends,” I said, “but can we at least bury the hatchet for now?”
Agnes gave a curt nod. Then she placed her free hand on the door. I followed suit, feeling my magic perk up inside me… and a little something extra, as if I could feel Agnes’s magic as well. The cool tingling sensation started in the hand that was holding Agnes’s and rushed up my arm, dispersing through the rest of my body. I tried not to think about how heady the feeling of her magic mingled with mine was, how intoxicating. Even then, I knew that no good could come from that.
I knew I wasn’t alone in the feeling, though, because Agnes let out a small gasp, and rocked back on her heels. Her eyelids fluttered, and she swallowed heavily.
“So powerful,” she mumbled, almost as if to herself, as though she hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.
Before I could respond, the door swung silently open.
A dark hallway stretched beyond. Behind us, in the halls that we’d taken to get here, I heard the distant voices of other students catching up to us.
Agnes dropped my hand as though it was hot. “After you, princess,” she said.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, and stepped through.
Agnes followed, and as soon as she passed over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her, making us both jump.
She added a little flare to the glowing orb that she’d kept suspended before her, providing us light.
“Are all the boxes together?” I asked.
Agnes shook her head. “They’re spread out throughout the Academy. Whoever finds theirs first and brings it back to the headmistress opened, wins.”
“How do we know someone hasn’t already won, then?”
“The bells will ring. We’ll hear them, but the Hunt usually goes all the way to the last few minutes before midnight. Sometimes, no one wins at all before the clock runs out.”
We continued through the maze of dank hallways. “I get what you said before about why you don’t like me,” I said, making conversation mostly because the quiet of the place was starting to creep me out, “but you could’ve really hurt someone when you added that Triproot to my brew the other day.”
Agnes snorted. “That wasn’t me, but there you go, making my point about people always assuming the worst about me.”
I paused in my tracks, turning my head to look at her. “It wasn’t you?”
“No, but I guess I’m not the only one with strong feelings about our new resident royalty.”
“Who, then?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I wouldn’t risk getting suspended over you, and I was standing pretty close when it exploded, so I definitely wouldn’t risk getting burned myself. I was as surprised as you when it happened. Your stupid shield saved me, too.”
With this revelation, my blood went a little cold. Was there someone at the Academy who genuinely wanted to hurt me? And, if so, why? Of course, Agnes could be lying, but I just didn’t think that was the case, even if I would prefer it over the alternative.
We continued on, the floor slo
ping downward, the air getting cooler and damper, until we came to a split in the hallway.
As we stood there, contemplating which way to go, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my stomach twisting into a knot, and a glance at Agnes told me that whatever it was that had caused the feeling, she was experiencing it, too.
On the heels of this sensation, we heard a sound… a quiet, high-pitched whistling that grew louder until I could identify it as a sort of howl, like the wind curving through branches and around window panes.
“What is that?” I asked, my voice reflecting my sudden fear.
Agnes turned toward the direction from which the sound was coming, mouth tightening. “I don’t know,” she said, “but it doesn’t sound good.”
“On these hunts,” I said, “no one ever…gets hurt, right?”
She shook her head once, but even the movement seemed doubtful. “No, not usually.”
“Not usually?”
She shrugged. “There are accidents, of course.”
The whistling grew louder, so close that the hair on my arms stood at attention. It was coming from the passageway to the right, so I turned to the hallway on the left, even though the arrows on the compass were clearly indicating the opposite. I was about to suggest we take that one anyway when Agnes shoved me down it.
Anger surged in me until I took in the look on her face.
Fear, pure and unadulterated.
“Run,” Agnes said with a cool calm that was almost worse than if she’d yelled it.
“Run!” she repeated, and I realized that my prior conclusion was wrong.
15
We took off down the passageway on the left, running as though our tails were on fire.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at whatever was chasing us, but I’d gotten a look at Agnes’s face after she had, and that was enough.
Now, the only sounds were the whistling howling, the slap of our shoes over the rock floor, and the harsh gasps of our breathing.