Loren stepped up to the fence, gritting her teeth against the magical barrier humming through the air. Interesting how the schoolboard would arrange to give such an old structure an extra layer of protection.
Storage house, my ass.
Squinting her eyes to see better through the rain falling in sheets, she studied the shape etched into the damp threshold.
The next question came from one of the students at the back of the group. “What was the society called?” Loren recognized the familiar shape carved into the wood half a second before the professor spoke.
“The Phoenix Head Society.”
—
The vast archway of the academy entrance passed over Loren’s head, the warmth of the firelit interior wrapping like a blanket around her chilled bones.
Students were packed like sardines in the entrance, chattering about their summer adventures. Wolves, witches, and vampires who’d graduated from the same secondary school as Loren and Dallas greeted the latter with varying smiles, waving their hellos from across the room. No one acknowledged the human friend standing at the witch’s elbow, but Loren wasn’t fazed—she’d had nineteen years to get used to this kind of treatment.
When they made it to the staircase in the entrance hall, they began their ascent to the House of Salt, consulting the map that was marked with a red X to show where they would find their hall of residence.
Dozens of steps and corridors later, they were greeted by a forked staircase. Each fork led to a different House; the left was for Mercury, the middle was for Salt, and the right was for Brimstone.
They made their way up the middle staircase and down a torch-lit corridor. At the very end of it, an ornamental gilt mirror covered the wall from floor to ceiling. There were no doors, for they weren’t needed here; the mirror was the entrance into their hall of residence. From what Loren had heard, all three Houses were entered into the same way, though each reflection displayed different alternate realities of the corridor that now lay behind them.
For the House of Salt, it was a corridor of sunshine streaming through tangled green foliage; for Mercury, it was coral walls and white sand that crunched beneath feet; and for Brimstone, it was walls of stone with a floor of magma.
The sight of the forest in the reflection left Loren momentarily stunned. Even though she spent every minute of every day surrounded by the magical and the extraordinary, some things never ceased to amaze her.
“Dal,” Loren said, shaking her head to clear it. Dallas had almost made it to the mirror when Loren hurried forward and caught her by the wrist. “Did you hear what Professor Phipps said?”
Dallas whirled around to face her. “About what?” Her eyes were as hard as the spotless glass at her back.
Loren dropped Dallas’s wrist like she’d been zapped. “About the Phoenix Head Society.”
“What about it?”
Loren blinked. “Didn’t you notice that the Darkslayer who took Sabrine had a phoenix tattoo?”
“So?” She crossed her arms and tipped her weight to one muscled leg. “Don’t all Darkslayers have the symbol of their circle tattooed on them?”
“That’s the thing.” Frustration edged Loren’s tone. “Thereisno circle of Darkslayers with a phoenix head as their symbol.”
Dallas’s mouth was set in a thin, bloodless line. “Don’t read into it too much, Lor. I wouldn’t want to get my hopes up if I were you.”
Loren felt like ripping out her hair. They were sisters, yet Dallas had a nasty habit of doubting her. Loren sometimes thought the armour Dallas wore was thicker than her own.
“I’m getting into that building,” Loren gritted out, her fingers curling into fists. “Whether you’re willing to help me or not.”
Dallas’s expression revealed nothing. Students began to emerge from the mirror, carrying grimoires and magic staves.
“Come on,” Dallas said, her tone as cold and emotionless as her face. “We need to unpack our bags or we’re going to be late for our first class.”
5
Clear blue skies greeted Loren early Saturday morning. As she walked through the gates of the academy, hugging the stack of posters she’d printed out in the library on campus, the magical barrier shivered over her skin, sending a chill from the crown of her head to the balls of her feet.
Her shift at the Mortar and Pestle was to start in roughly an hour. Located in the northern end of the downtown core, the Avenue of the Scarlet Star was about a thirty-minute walk from the academy. Although taxis were plentiful during the day, they could be quite expensive due to how long they might idle in traffic. Besides that, Loren figured the long walk would do her some good. It was an opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, to not have to force herself to listen if someone were to speak to her. These days, she didn’t listen to much at all, including her lessons.
The rest of the week had passed by in a blur. Neither she nor Dallas had mentioned Sabrine since that first day of school. In fact, they’d hardly spoken to each other at all. And despite that Loren had vowed to get into the Old Hall even if it killed her, her reluctance had stopped her from bringing it up to Dallas again. Though it killed her to wonder what it all meant—if the secret society was connected to the Darkslayer who’d taken Sabrine.
With a deep breath, Loren set off, heading for the long road that swept downhill and into the city. Blue jacaranda petals drifted down the sidewalk and spun around her wedge heels.
