The Nightmare Charade (8 page)

Selene and I gathered with the rest of the class outside the main gates into the Menagerie, waiting admittance.

“Good morning, class,” the teacher called from the other side of the massive gate. She was a trim, muscular woman with short brown hair and skin turned leathery and wrinkled from countless hours spent in the elements. “I'm Ms. Miller, your new biology teacher. Before I open these doors, I will need you to repeat this oath after me. Please hold up your right hand.” She demonstrated then waited for the class to comply. Selene and I exchanged a puzzled glance as we raised our hands.

“Very good,” Ms. Miller said. “Now repeat after me. I hereby declare, on oath, that I will not touch, tease, or talk to any animal or plant located within these walls—” She paused, allowing us to repeat. “Unless given permission and instruction to do so.” Another pause while we repeated. “Furthermore, I will not attempt to open any locked area within the Menagerie. And I acknowledge that failure to follow these rules may result in my death, dismemberment, or involuntary exile.”

I repeated the last of the oath, even more puzzled. The death and dismemberment, I got. There might be any manner of magical creatures kept in there, including dragons and trolls, according to rumor, anyway. But involuntary exile? What did that even mean? Better yet, did I really want to find out?

Satisfied by our oaths, Ms. Miller slid a giant skeleton key into the padlock on the gate. A second later, it swung open with a mournful creak and we all shuffled inside. Ms. Miller, looking very un-teacher-like in jeans and a green polo shirt, led us down a narrow passageway and onto a grassy lawn crisscrossed with cobblestone paths. Walls of animal-filled cages surrounded the lawn on all sides. Only a few of the animals were recognizably ordinary, some monkeys, a couple of parrots, various snakes. The rest were clearly magical.

Several Menagerie workers, also in green polo shirts, were walking various leashed animals across the lawn. One of the creatures resembled a salamander, except it was bright red with a steady stream of smoke issuing out from its ears and nostrils. Another looked like a rabbit with antlers. Yet a third was a baby lynx, small, furry, and adorable, but with yellow eyes glowing with magic.

“No need to worry,” Ms. Miller said over our excited whispers. “Only class C animals are allowed on the lawn and never without a leash and handler.”

“Class C?” someone asked from behind me.

“Those deemed relatively harmless and with only mildly aggressive tendencies,” said Ms. Miller.

“That's comforting,” I whispered to Selene. She made a strangled noise deep in her throat, half amusement, half dismay.

We crossed the lawn and continued down a wide walkway. On the left was a row of stone stables. On the right were a series of greenhouses, each with thick-paned glass and domed roofs. Signs stood out front of each building, bearing labels of the same classification system Ms. Miller had mentioned.

The stables and greenhouses gave way to a courtyard area. Roughly square in shape, it was surrounded on three sides by zoo-like cages, each containing a unique environment. One held water features, a pool, and several streams running in between grassy banks. Tall trees and climbing structures filled another. The third featured a cave environment. It was completely closed in, gloomy and full of large rocks. Several of those rocks had openings in them, small tunnels barely large enough for a human to crawl inside. Old food and other rubbish lined the floor. Some of it looked like pieces of bone.

To my surprise, there was a human inside the cage, another Menagerie worker in a green polo shirt. He was sweeping the stone floor with a push broom. He glanced up as the class gathered around. For a second, as he swept his gaze over us, he paused on me. A look like recognition crossed his face. I didn't know him, not even a little. He had short brown hair and a long scraggly beard that obscured most of his features, all except for a beaked nose.

I frowned, wondering at that look.

“This area is where we will be spending the first few weeks of class,” Ms. Miller said, motioning toward the three cages. Then she pointed to the rocky one. “Can anyone guess what sort of creature lives in this environment?”

No one answered at first, none of us certain what kind of teacher Ms. Miller would prove to be—the kind that would encourage us toward the right answer or make us feel stupid for guessing wrong.

Finally, Oliver Cork raised his hand. We all turned to stare at him as he answered. Oliver was a dryad, tall and thin with light brown skin. “Is it trash trolls?”

Ms. Miller smiled, revealing a set of uneven teeth. “You are correct. This is one of several dens for Arkwell's trash trolls. Every large food waste bin you see in the cafeteria and other places is set over a tunnel that leads back to the Menagerie. We will be studying trash trolls in depth this semester.”

I stifled a groan at this news. Trash trolls were tiny, malicious creatures that resembled feral Mr. Potato Heads with pointy teeth and sharp claws. The Arkwell student guide warned to never put your hand in a trash can unless you felt like donating a finger or two.

“But first,” Ms. Miller said. “I will show you to the laboratory we will be using for the lecture portion of our classes.”

And with that, she led us off to the Menagerie's main building, a tall fortress-like structure, located roughly in the middle of the complex. We spent the rest of the hour getting familiar with the equipment and leafing through our new textbooks before Ms. Miller escorted us out to the main gates once again.

On the way, I spotted that same Menagerie worker with the beard and beaked nose, this time mucking out one of the cages on the main lawn. As before, he seemed to single me out with his gaze. I shivered, the image of my dead body lying on that barge rising up in mind.
It was just symbolic,
I reminded myself, and kept on walking.

Next Selene and I hurried to our ordinary living class where we received our CasterCards, complete with a MasterCard knockoff logo and a unique sixteen-digit number. We then spent a long, boring hour practicing how to swipe them.

Afterward, I said good-bye to Selene before heading to psionics. This was by far my best subject. Not to mention it was taught by the best teacher at Arkwell—and the most handsome. Mr. Deverell flashed his gorgeous smile at me as I came in and sat down. I smiled back.

“How are you doing, Dusty?” he said, in his Southern cowboy accent that had a way of making me want to giggle.

I cleared my throat, trying to stifle the blush rising up my neck. “I'm doing good, thanks. How are you?”

“Fine. Glad that school is back in session.” He studied my face for a second, his expression pensive. “We should set aside some time to talk soon. I'd like to hear how you're faring after our private sessions last year.”

“Oh,” I said, my blush darkening. In all the excitement at Lyonshold and the long vacation afterward, I'd almost forgotten the crucial role Mr. Deverell had played in helping me deal with the mental block I'd developed last year. The cause of that block had turned out to be Bellanax, and it was gone now. But Mr. Deverell didn't know anything about it. Feeling guilty, I said, “I'm sorry. I meant to e-mail but got a little busy.”

He smiled again. It didn't make my head fuzzy the way a siren's would've, but almost. “No apologies necessary. Still, I look forward to chatting about it later.”

He turned and wandered to the other side of the classroom where Katarina Marcel had just sat down. I groaned at the sight of her and then glanced around the room, hoping for a friend.

Lance appeared in the doorway, a cell phone pressed to his ear. His face was flushed to a dark shade of red, as if he'd just eaten a raw habanero pepper.

“I don't care what you think, Dad,” he said taking the seat next to me. “I'll see and date whoever I want.” There was a long pause. “Yeah, you go ahead and do that. See if I care.” He lowered the phone from his ear and pressed the end button. “Asshole,” he muttered.

I winced, uncertain what to say. It wasn't like I could pretend I hadn't heard. “Is he upset about Selene again?” I asked, gently. Selene had told me that Mr. Rathbone's prejudice against inter-kind dating was half the reason she and Lance had broken up the first time.

Lance grunted. “If by upset you mean on the verge of disinheriting me, then yes.”

I gaped, unsure if he was being serious.

He turned an imploring gaze on me. “Please don't tell Selene. It'll only hurt her.”

“I won't.” Pity churned in my gut. Or maybe it was more like commiseration. “Looks like both of us are getting a hard time over who we want to date.”

A scowl twisted Lance's features until he resembled his pop culture hero, the Joker. “Screw that. We should be free to date anybody we want.”

I nodded, but didn't comment. Eli and I had it rough with the dream-seer curse, no doubt, but I had a feeling Lance and Selene might have it harder. There was no “we're just looking out for your best interests” in their case. It was just prejudice, and that seemed a tougher war to fight.

When the bell rang an hour later, I leaped up from my desk and practically ran all the way to the cafeteria. Lance kept pace with me. He was as eager to see Selene as I was to see Eli. I supposed, in light of all this new evidence of how much he adored her, how much strife he was willing to go through to be with her, I would have to cut him some slack.
A lot of it.

Lunch passed all too quickly, and spell casting afterward way too slowly. So did gym. Eli and I barely got to talk to one another between running laps and doing push-ups.

But he was waiting for me outside the locker room afterward. I hurried over to him, eager for a kiss, but stopped at the sight of several Will Guards loitering nearby.

Eli eyed them dubiously and said to me, “Practice for the gladiator team is at four-thirty if you want to come.”

“I'll be there.” There wasn't a chance I would miss it.

“Good.” Eli said, and then despite the Will Guard watching us, he leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

Sighing, I headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, pulling out my course schedule to double-check the room number for my math class—285 Jupiter Hall.

Spying rain outside the gymnasium windows, I headed down the stairs to the tunnels that ran beneath Arkwell's campus.

As I descended, the murky stench of the canal water filled my nose. The smell teased memories of Eli's dream to the forefront of my mind. The tunnels consisted of a single dirt path of varying width that ran side by side with the canal. There were lots of naturekinds who needed regular access to water. Often, they would slip down here in between classes for a refresher. But right now the surface was dark and undisturbed—far too much like the river in Eli's dream.

With prickles dancing down my back, I glanced behind me and all around, worried by how quiet it was, no signs of anyone anywhere.
Totally normal,
I reminded myself. There were lots of tunnels and Arkwell was huge.

Nevertheless, I quickened my pace, darting around the corner. The tunnel ahead was just as empty as the one before. Except when I passed by an alcove, a hand reached out from the darkness and closed around my arm.

 

6

New Leads

Shrieking, I spun toward the person. I raised my free arm on instinct.

“
Hypno-soma!
”

The dazing curse burst out from the tips of my fingers and struck my attacker right in the chest. Too late, I saw the familiar face of my mother. She let out a great gasp of air and then stumbled backward.

“Mom!” I dropped my hand and rushed over. “Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you.”

She pushed me away. Fury and pain lit her expression. Seeing it, I bit my tongue and waited. Speaking now would just make it worse.

Finally, she drew another breath and stood up from her hunched position. “Where are on earth did you learn to cast that hard? You're only sixteen for goodness sake.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I'll be seven—” I broke off, finally getting a good look at her. Shock tore through me. This wasn't the Moira Nimue-Everhart I knew. It couldn't be the same woman I'd said good-bye to less than a week ago. This person hardly looked like my mother at all. Her blond hair, normally short and styled to photo-shoot perfection, hung lank around her makeup-less face. She looked so old, like one of those movie puppets after having its vital essence drained. I didn't want to believe that makeup could make that much difference, but apparently it could.

Mom shook her head, refocusing. She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Of all the good luck, Destiny, I'm so glad I found you. I was going to sneak up to your dorm tonight, but this is so much better.”

I gaped, still wrestling with shock that was slowly turning toward fear. “What's wrong? Why are you here?”

“They're coming for me.”

“Who?” I took a step back and out of her clutches. My shoulders were beginning to throb from her pincer-like grip on them.

“The police.”

“What?” I groaned. “Oh, geez, Mom, what did you do this time?”

“Shhhh.” She pressed a finger to her mouth and glanced behind us, the direction I'd just come. A second later she spun on her heel and started walking down the tunnel. She grabbed my wrist and hauled me beside her. “How long before your next class starts?”

“Like five minutes.” I once again freed myself from her grip, but I kept pace with her. She fell into an easy stride, her movements nonchalant and at complete odds with her anxious expression. She was dressed like a student—another unprecedented event—in jeans, T-shirt, and neon-colored running shoes.

“You can't be late so I'll talk fast.”

“Screw that. It's just math class. If you're really in trou—”