Miss Mabel's School for Girls (24 page)

Her steady gaze wasn’t welcoming, but she hadn’t thrown me out either. Hopeful, I held my breath and waited. She straightened even more, if it was possible, her bracelets dancing as she moved.

“Fine. What is it?”

“Is it possible to control Veritas? Well, to control yourself under its influence?”

She pulled her glasses off her face with a flick of her wrist.

“You must be facing the interrogation soon,” she said. “When Miss Mabel gets back from Chatham?”

“Yes.”

“A little worried?”

“I don’t want to fail, Miss Scarlett.”

“Or do you have secrets you don’t want to divulge?”

My heart hammered so hard I worried she’d see it through my ribs.

“No ma’am. I just don’t like the thought of not being in control of what I say.”

She paused for an uncomfortable length of time, her jaw set. I felt as if she rifled through my mind, like Isadora, trying to figure out for herself what I was trying to hide. 

“So you think I’ll tell you how to overpower it so you can be in control?”

“Can it be overpowered?” I grabbed onto this hope as if it were my last. Perhaps it was.

“Assuming you could handle a potion as powerful as Veritas, you don’t have the time to try. It takes at least forty or fifty exposures to make a difference.”

My stomach plummeted. A waste, all of it. I was out of time and facing an interrogation that could reveal dangerous secrets about Papa and me. I still had scrolls to finish, scrolls I’d put off so I could build an immunity I didn’t have time for. None of it meant anything. Tears rose in the back of my throat, but I forced them away.

“That’s only part of it,” she continued, reading my mind. “You can never be entirely immune to Veritas, or everyone would do it. You become immune to the side effects. That takes a long time. Years of constant exposure.”

“I see.”

“The purpose behind questioning you with Veritas is to give you a chance to know what it feels like, not to test your control of it. No sixteen-year-old stands a chance at controlling a potion that strong. You’ll pass the interrogation as long as you’re still breathing at the end.”

She turned back to her letter and dismissed me with a wave.

“That’s all the information I have for you. You may leave me to my work.”

I stared after her for a minute, listening to only the cackle of the fire. When she made it clear she’d forgotten me, I circled around and left.

A Frightening Euphoria

T
he next day passed much the same. In between meals, I buried myself in scrolls. Leda came up after lunch to study together. Although it seemed odd to me, I knew she felt some kind of friendship was forming as we sat in the same room saying nothing. Camille, unable – or unwilling – to do homework on a weekend, worked on a puzzle with a mousy girl named Grace in the first-year common room.

After dinner, I came to a stop at the top of the spiral stairs. The smell of plumeria filled the hallway, and I looked in the open classroom door to see a familiar curvy figure. My heart dropped into my stomach.

“There you are, Bianca darling. I made it back a little early and thought we could get a start on things tonight. Is your homework complete?”

Her cool smile set my nerves on fire. This unexpected return was no accident. 

“Not entirely, Miss Mabel,” I motioned towards her desk and willed my hands not to shake. “I’m still working on the scrolls from today.”

She rolled her eyes, as if that had been expected.

“Are you ready for your interrogation?”

Yes, please take all my secrets and destroy my family again. I’ve so been looking forward to giving you more leverage.

“Yes, Miss Mabel. Whenever you are.”

I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready. It was happening too fast, too unexpectedly. I wondered if I could warn Papa somehow. No, of course not. Already prepared, Miss Mabel handed me the glass of water. When I took it, I avoided touching her hand.

“Here’s to the Esbat,” she said.

Expecting warmth in my stomach after I drank, I stared at the glass when I felt nothing. An aftertaste followed, like the sweet tang of sugared grapefruit, instead of the usual hit of mint. I braced myself for the worst, waiting for the dizzying spiral in my head.

It never came.

“How are you feeling, Bianca?” Miss Mabel circled around me in a saunter, speaking in a lazy tone. “Do you feel unusual?”

Unusual. That was the only word to describe how I felt. I floated, drifting on an invisible current. The stress of the past week lifted off my shoulders and unburdened me. It was euphoric, and terrifying.

“Do you feel free?”

I looked at Miss Mabel in a happy kind of surprise. How wonderful. She hadn’t given me Veritas after all.

A blithe smile curled her lips.

“Yes, you figured it out. It wasn’t Veritas. You spent all that time taking it on your own. Why would I test you on something you’ve already experienced? That may come at a later date. Or it may not.”

The weightless feeling whirled through my body and brain. Such blue eyes. Miss Mabel had trustworthy blue eyes.

What?
I thought, shaking my head.
What are you thinking?

Miss Mabel strolled in front of me, her eyes as sharp as a hawk.

“You saved us some time, you know, trying it on your own. I’m so happy you did. In fact, I devised that little test to see if you would. Experience really is the best teacher, isn’t it? I like to see if my Assistants have initiative. You certainly have that in gobs, don’t you?”

While she spoke, I hovered between enjoyment and serenity. It was difficult to be concerned with what she said. She didn’t appear angry with me for taking Veritas. How could someone so beautiful be angry? 

“You went to Miss Amelia’s lesson on the specific ingredients in a trust potion yesterday. Do you remember?”

My carefree mind skipped back.

“Yes,” I answered, not aware that I spoke until it was too late. “Yes, I remember. I just ate dinner. The milk tasted funny.”

Was this sublime experience from a trust potion? How do I combat an existence so delightful? It had something to do with . . . I couldn’t remember. As soon as my worries appeared, they drowned in an ocean of disinterest. I didn’t want to lose this enchanting feeling.

“Trust potions work on a very different level than Veritas. All that awful vertigo really takes a toll. This is much more pleasant and soothing. It’s so easy to trust me right now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I agreed in a dreamy voice. The feeling relaxed me. I never wanted it to leave. It felt so good to talk to her that I wanted to say more. “I took the Veritas three times. I didn’t want to. I told Leda I didn’t want to. She helped me not get caught.”

Talking lifted me up, carrying me high and free. I could talk forever. Miss Mabel walked over to look out the window, her hands folded behind her back. I watched her in adoring reverence. 

“What do you know about the High Priestess, Bianca?”

“Not much,” I sighed and closed my eyes. It felt like a cloud held me suspended in the air, letting me sleep on a moonbeam.

“Do you believe that sometimes the High Priestess makes the wrong decision?”

Something nagged inside me like a sharp pinprick. What did the High Priestess have to do with this? My brain became fuzzy, and I floundered in confusion. 

“I-I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“I know you don’t,” she said, soothing me back into serenity. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes,” I agreed with a dreamy sigh. Everything felt so good here. Miss Mabel was so pretty, so trustworthy. She’d never hurt or betray me. “Something else.”

“Do you ever crave power, Bianca?”

Power.

Power over my curse. Power over Grandmother’s daily pain, and Mama’s sad eyes. Power over Papa’s job, and the secrets, and the Veritas.

Power over my own life.

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

“You have many reasons to need it, what with the curse that may soon take your life and your dear Grandmother’s.”

Grandmother. Curse. These words from her lips snagged my joy, like a dark cloud, threatening, but not overhead yet.

“If I offered you a chance to have power, would you take it?” Mabel asked.

The answer came to my lips without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Of course I would take it. Wouldn’t I? Something inside me didn’t feel right. Through the haze of enjoyment rose a mild state of panic, and the two feelings clashed.

I fought my own thoughts with a visible frown.

“Bianca?”

She faced me now. The light from the sunset silhouetted her in dripping shades of yellow and orange. My internal conflict deafened me. I wanted to fall into the overwhelming safety of tranquility and trust. But the peace couldn’t win. What stopped it? I’d do anything to live like this forever. No cares. No troubles.

Oh, yes. My secrets.

The secrets kept me here. I had to let go of them. Once I let go, I would be free.

Miss Mabel strolled forward a few steps.

“You are fighting it, Bianca. Just give in. I can see the struggle in your eyes.”

The desire to speak overwhelmed me, but my jaw wouldn’t move. No matter how good the sweetness of answering tasted, my lips wouldn’t open. My body trembled. The longer I waited, the stronger the desire to talk, to tell her all my secrets, to tell her to give me power, became. The assault bounced back and forth until I felt as if I battled myself for my own soul.

“Silly Bianca,” she laughed under her breath. “A little power never hurt anybody. Think of the things you could do! I could train you and your impressive mind for great things. Don’t you want to be great?”

Papa’s dark eyes flashed through my mind. Priscilla’s voice said,
I want to be one of the great ones.
Mother’s laugh. Grandmother’s arthritic hands. A new feeling built up inside me, gaining pressure like a bottle of expanding bubbles. The tips of my fingers tingled.

“Tell me, Bianca. Don’t you want me to make you great?”

I dropped to my knees and yelled.

“No!”

Everything exploded. The elation shattered, the confusion disappeared, the weightless feeling evaporated. Once the cloud in my mind faded, I found myself panting. The muscles in my face had cramped from holding my jaw closed.

Miss Mabel stood over me with a knowing smile on her face.

“Very interesting,” she murmured. “You’re much stronger than I expected, Bianca. That’s very good to know.”

I stared at her feet, too weak to meet her eyes. 

“Go to bed. You can have the rest of the night off.”

She disappeared into the hallway as I put my head on my arms, exhausted.

I Must Know

T
he grass felt cold at my back, but I lolled in it anyway, drunk from the effects of the sun, however small. Even the air felt almost warm, a playful breath of spring that winter would soon snatch away, leaving nothing but the mocking laughter of a bitter frost. My eyes stayed shut, but turned up, trying to soak in every winter ray.

Clusters of girls littered the schoolyard, speaking and laughing in quiet bursts, desperate to soak up the light. Camille lay next to me, propped on her elbows, picking absently at the brown spears of grass beneath us.

“Jackie told me today that she wants to go into divination. Her grandmother is a Diviner,” Camille said with a sigh. I opened one eye to see her hands mowing the grass with fierce strokes. The afternoon Jackie pointed out the raven in my odious drawing flittered back through my mind. Diviner seemed to fit her. “I think I should like to be a Diviner.”

Leda looked over the edge of her scroll. Her white skin looked almost translucent in the sunshine.

“I thought you wanted to be an apothecary?” she asked.

“I do,” Camille replied. “But I think I should like getting a set of Diviners’ cards. They are so lovely. I think I’d like helping people see the decisions they face, so they can make good choices, based on what the cards say.”

Leda snorted, drawing a perturbed glare from Camille.

“There’s more to it than that and you know it,” Leda said, as self-righteous as ever. “Divining isn’t just seeing the future.”

“I know,” Camille muttered under her breath. “I’m not stupid.”

Camille resumed watching the other groups of girls, a restless, unsatisfied look on her face. I closed my eyes again, wanting to block it out. I didn’t want to think about the future or our purpose here at the school. I just wanted to sit and not see a scroll or Miss Mabel’s face anywhere near me. I wanted to not think about the Esbat, the close call with the trust potion, or what it meant that I almost told her everything. The pressure of the mark was beginning to take its toll on my weary mind. Even small talk felt like work, so I stayed out of it.