Ex Nihilo Academy (9 page)

Even though Rowan and I stay up until the sky turns pink I still manage to wake up refreshed and for the first time in weeks I arrive at school early. When I get there I unconsciously search the main hall for Luca
and I realize that I don’t even know if he lives on or off campus. There is a new schedule taped to my locker that shows that my morning English and Human Current Affairs classes have been replaced with Weapons Training. Not a big loss, I
think. I’m fairly up on current affairs and I have already read everything on the syllabus for English. My steps feel lighter as I walk to the training room and I don’t know if it’s the rare appearance of the sun in the sky or the fact
that it’s Friday and Rowan has offered to take me to Port Rush tomorrow to surf. I haven’t been on a board since before my parents died and I’m anxious and excited. When I see Nissa and Cai walking down the hall I invite them to
meet us at the beach for the bonfire Rowan and his friends are planning.

In weapons training I’m paired with Tristan who’s his usual good-natured self. He’s so upbeat and friendly that he kind of reminds me of a golden retriever we used to have. He guides me patiently through drawing the
string on the archery bow. I’m trying to position the arrow between my fingers when he leans into my line of sight to get my attention.

“Ahh! Don’t do that Tristan! I’m not good with this stuff
and I’d never forgive myself if I put an arrow between your eyes!” I shout and he just chuckles, pinching the arrowhead between his fingers.

“A group of us are going to Belfast next Tuesday to check out a club and I think you should come.”

“Thanks for the invite but it’s a weeknight and I’m underage.” I say, turning away from his gaze.

“Come on, live a little. It’s an all age’s night. Kennedy won’t be there and I promise to have you home early.” He gives me a confident
smile and I return my focus to the bow and arrow in my hands. While Kennedy’s absence does greatly increase the appeal I’m just not sure if I want to spend an evening at a club with a bunch of fairies I barely know.

“I’ll think about it.” I say, mostly just to get him off my back.

“That’s all I ask.” He beams, sliding in behind me to help position the arrow on the bow.

* *

Training with Lucinda is a little trickier. We start the
lesson by channeling fire. Apparently the key is to shout ‘Ignius’ before summoning the element but so far all I’ve done is melt away half of the training room mat while watching Lucinda empty multiple fire extinguishers on
to it.

“I finally understand what those are for.” I gesture at the empty red canisters littering the floor and she laughs.

“Be patient with yourself, Lily. It’s probably best if we
start with a charm anyway because they are much easier to control.” She tosses the last extinguisher to the side and leads me to what remains of the floor mats. “Now close your eyes and empty your mind.” I sit down beside her and try to mimic what she’s doing. Her hands are in her lap, palms up, and she is
whispering softly. She starts to fade and she becomes so translucent that I can see right through her to the opposite wall, and then suddenly she is gone.

“Lucinda?” I reach out my hand to search for her and my hand
grazes what I think is her shoulder. She is solid and real but completely invisible. “Lucinda?” I say again and she instantly re-appears.

“Pretty neat trick, huh? Trust me when I say it is a very
useful power. Now it’s your turn.” I sit up a little straighter and place my hands back in my lap, listening to Lucinda repeat the instructions over and over. After what feels like forever I am finally able to hold the invisibility for a few seconds. “That’s amazing!” Lucinda claps enthusiastically. “In all of
my years I have never seen anyone get it on the first day.” “But I only held it for a few seconds.” I say, defeated.

“It doesn’t matter. It takes most students weeks to be able
to master even a few seconds.” “How long have you been teaching here Lucinda?”

“I’ve been here for twenty five years and counting.”

“Where were you before that?” I ask.

“I’ve been all over the world but I’m originally from Basque
country.”

“Is that in Spain?” I ask, wondering about her accent.

“It’s a region north of Spain on the Bay of Biscay. It is a separate community that stretches into France. My hometown San Sebastian is in
the Gipuzkoa province of Spain but I assure you that I am not Spanish. Do you know about that Basque at all?” She asks and I respond with a blank look.

“Unfortunately history is not my strongest subject.”

“That’s quite alright, Lily. The Basque people have existed since ancient times. When I was a little girl the town I lived in was used primarily as a military port but in the 1800s San Sebastian was captured by the
French during the Peninsular War. Several years later it was captured back by the allied forces however many lives were lost during the siege and the allied troops, drunk and angry, turned on us all and quickly became an angry mob. They killed many people and burned the city completely to the ground.”

“Did you see it happen?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“My mother and father were among those killed.” She looks at me sadly but I detect no trace of pity in her eyes - not for herself or for me.
“They broke down our door and came into our home. I watched paralyzed as they slit my father’s throat while my mother lay screaming at his feet.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“There is nothing you can say. These experiences shape who we are and what we become, and my experience is not something I will soon forget. That is why my Basque roots are very important to me. We must keep our traditions sacred and preserve our language and we have long fought for independence.
I myself have been involved in different separatist movements over time. We have violence in our history but it is the result of our immovability; we will not be dominated.”

“So do you consider yourself a Basque or a supernatural?” I
say, confused.

“You can be both things. Are you not an American as well as a supernatural? All of the things I’ve said about my culture can just as easily be applied to the work I am doing here at Ex Nihilo. As supernatural’s we are
powerful and unique and our culture needs to be protected as much as it needs to be nourished. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yeah, I guess it does, but the one thing that no one has
really explained to me is how someone would even go about killing a supernatural?”

“While it is true that we all can be killed, vampires and werewolves have enhanced healing abilities so its wooden stakes for vampires
and silver bullets for werewolves. Trolls can be especially challenging as they have a very thick-skin which makes them virtually indestructible, so to eliminate them it needs to be exposure to sunlight. That said none of us are immune to methods like decapitation or explosion - anything that leaves you in
pieces would probably do the trick.” She says and I shudder at the visual.

“Fairies and witches are closer to humans in our resilience. Yes, we live longer but that’s what makes it so much harder for us, because we
face the same mortal challenges that humans do each and every day. That is why we need to learn different ways to protect ourselves using all means: whether it is with weaponry, physical training or our abilities.”

I sit quietly, pondering what she’s said. If I am going to live for hundreds of years am I going to live in fear of every potentially dangerous situation? It seems almost like a cruel joke of nature to make a group of people last that long without giving them the means to survive it.

“Look, I’ve given you much to think about. Why not take the rest of the day off and I’ll see you back here on Monday. We’ve accomplished a lot today and if you keep up at the rate you are going we’ll have you mastering
charms and fire manipulation by the end of the month!” I stand up and roll my neck from side to side before looking at Lucinda.

“I’m really sorry about your parents.” I say.

“As I am about yours.” She replies, hugging me tightly
before pushing me out the door.

* *

I’m tired of staring at the walls in my room so I decide to explore this cave of a house. I wander downstairs and into a room that looks
like the study from the wood paneled walls and cluttered built-in bookshelves. There is a fireplace to the right that is filled with dusty old books. I kneel in front of it and read the spines on the stack of volumes which include everything from magical spells to botany to alchemy. The far wall houses row
upon row of books including a number of classics I recognize and I wonder if they were put here by my father. I walk through the study to the dining room, which is a high-ceilinged space with a long mahogany table at its center. The
table is surrounded by way too many chairs to count, and a baby grand piano with a broken bench sits in the corner. I circle the room and notice that the walls are covered with different sized decorative plates: Brass plates, ceramic
plates, hand-painted plates. I’ve never understood why someone would mount dinnerware on a wall but nothing in this house is really my style anyway and I should be grateful it’s just plates and not some kind of trophy animal head. I
don’t think my vegan parents would’ve stood for that kind of décor - not that this is a house they would’ve chosen at all had it not been inherited. But from the gilded mirrors and brocade wing-backed chairs it would appear that someone a long time ago loved this house very much. I walk around the dining room one
last time, stopping to examine a set of badly tarnished silver candlesticks, and I think of how impossible it must be to keep up with so many knick knacks. Aside from the thin layer of dusting coating everything the house is overall
very clean; the carefully scrubbed floors and sparkling windows both evidence of how hard Niall is trying. Niall. It occurs to me that I hardly know anything about him. I peek out the front window and see that his truck is gone and I
know it’s my only chance to check out his part of the house. I make my way down the long hallway to the ‘servants’ quarters’. I hate that Niall insists on calling it that because to me it sounds incredibly derogatory. When I enter his part of the house I see that is definitely newer than the rest of the manor.
The hallway leads me into a narrow living room with French doors that open on to a quaint little red brick patio. A well-worn leather recliner sits in front of an old wood stove and there is a galley kitchen off of the living room along
with two doors - one leading to a washroom and the other presumably to Niall’s bedroom. When I watched the movie with Rowan we accessed his bedroom from another hall so this is the first time I’m seeing this part of the house. I’m
immediately struck by how much religious paraphernalia there is. There are crosses on every wall and an oversized oil painting of the Virgin Mary hanging above the leather sofa. The whole place is obsessively clean and otherwise bare
except for the ceramic angel statues that cover every surface. I am surprised as I didn’t take the Savages for the super-religious type and Rowan has never said anything about church before, but then again I guess that’s a pretty personal thing to share. What’s even more surprising that there are no pictures
of Rowan; no family portraits, no graduation picture sitting on the shelf, no naked-toddler shots to poke fun at - these things are much more noticeable to me by their absence. I pick up one of the porcelain angels and turn it over in
my hands.

“Lily.”

His voice startles me and I drop the statue and watch in horror as it shatters all over the floor. My face grows hot with embarrassment and I turn slowly to see Niall standing beside me with his arms crossed.

“I didn’t think you were home. I thought… I was… ”

“You were snooping around. It’s alright, Miss Hughes, I understand.” He sighs, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“I’m sorry. I’d never been in this part of the house and I just wanted to see where you lived. It was stupid. I’ll clean up the mess, just please don’t tell Rowan.”

He sits down on the sofa and studies me for a moment before
patting the spot beside him. “Please come and sit. Don’t fret about the statute, as you can see we have many. They belonged to Rowan’s mother.”

I perch myself beside him and rest my shaking hands in my
lap. My heart is still pounding in my chest from the surprise of being caught.

“I think that I owe you an apology, Miss Hughes. I’m afraid I’m not used to having a teenage girl around and while my instinct is to keep an eye on you I don’t know if I’m overstepping my boundaries by doing so. Your
parents were always very good to Rowan and I and I want to return the favor and look after you, but I fear I don’t know how. I knew that you would come here one day but I suppose I always thought it would be with them.”

“You don’t owe me anything at all, Niall. It’s obvious that you cared about my parents and it’s not your fault that they left you unprepared for this situation. I’m not sure how this is supposed to work
either, but you have been great.” I twist my hands in my lap, avoiding his gaze.

“You and Rowan seem to be spending a lot of time together these days.” It’s more of a statement than a question and I detect a hint of disapproval in his tone.

“He’s been a good friend to me.”

“Rowan is a good boy but he has a lot on his plate right now. I’m happy that he’s helped you to feel more at home here but you must keep in mind that friendships can be difficult for him.”

Though he’s not saying it directly it’s clear to me that he doesn’t want Rowan and I hanging out and I can feel my anger rising. Whatever is on Rowan’s ‘plate’ has been put there by Niall himself. It makes a lot more
sense to me now why Rowan was so standoffish initially and why he keeps on insisting that everything is complicated. What I don’t understand is why Niall wouldn’t want his son to have friends? His warning to me and the living room without a trace of Rowan’s existence doesn’t at all reflect the kind and gentle
Niall sitting in front of me. As if reading my thoughts he continues.