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The dog stood and shook himself off, blades of grass flying off his ghostly body.
She smiled. “I will take that as a ‘yes’.”
The girl stood too, and dusted off her opalescent dress. She turned, looking down the hill that was studded with jacaranda and palm trees.
An old, towering building sat at the base of the hill. A school.
Students were breezing in and out of the arched doors, a number of them sitting among the grounds, grimoires spread before them. A few ate lunch, and a small group of veneficae practiced spells, waving magic staves through the air.
A male student—a human—was heading this way, a heavy stack of books and papers in his arms.
She stepped aside as he trudged by. His short, wavy hair was the buttery shade of sunlight, and round glasses that were taped in the center were perched upon his freckled nose. He was tall and gangly, his bony arms shaking under the weight of all those books.
One of those books slid off the top of his stack and thumped to the grass, a few papers fluttering free.
“Dang it all to Ignis,” he muttered. He chased after the loose papers, books teetering in his arms.
The girl rushed forward. “Here, let me help you.”
As she reached for a sheet of paper on the grass, she froze, reading the name scribbled at the top of it.
Erasmus Sophronia.
He stomped over, muttering under his breath, and snatched the sheet from her reaching hand. He stacked it with the others and took a quick glance around the hill—
The girl froze as he made eye contact with her, but…something wasn’t quite right. Instead of looking at her, he looked through her.
“Can you see me?” she whispered.
Erasmus Sophronia advanced on her, his speed too quick for her to step out of the way—
He walked right through her. She gasped as her body melted away like smoke and solidified again a moment later.
She stared after the student as he rushed down the hill, toward the towering building. The stone slab out front read ANGELTHENE ACADEMY FOR MAGIC, most of the letters embedded with moss.
Her eyes flicked up to the banner fastened above the door, the block letters proudly announcing Graduate Class of 4793.
“Singer,” she whispered, glancing down at the dog standing at her side. “I think we’ve gone back in time.”
Slowly, she lifted her left hand and inspected it, turning it from side to side. There was a transparency to her skin that hadn’t been there before.
Her stomach dipped, and she recognized then how hollow it felt—how hollow she felt.
“I think we’re dead.”
8
Hell’s Gate
ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
Darien packed swiftly, taking more than he likely needed, but he didn’t know how long he’d be away. The others were either packing their own things or were helping prepare the vehicles in the garage. They would be taking his truck and car, Ivy and Jack driving the latter while Darien, Loren, Tanner, and Joyce took the truck.
He threw on his leather jacket and checked for his wallet, keys, and phone. All were there, along with the last of his Venom and an extra bag of Stygian salts—just in case. Yveswich was a lot colder than Angelthene, so he grabbed a heavier jacket too—black sherpa-lined canvas with a hood—and dropped it on top of his bags.
Did you remember to pack Cluckles? Bandit’s misty voice drifted into his thoughts.
Darien looked toward the door to see Bandit trotting in.
