Page 82 of Savage Elites

As we walked through the courtyard, the scent of a bonfire hung in the air, making me think about Corrine’s death at the Summer Solstice. Valentine’s day was next week, meaning that Imbolc, the festival for the Celtic Goddess, Brigid, had passed without much fanfare.

At the entrance to the west wing, Sebastian gave me a peck on the lips. “See you later.”

I grinned back. “Thanks for showing me a good time.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” He winked. “As much as you can handle.”

Imagining Sebastian, Leopold, and Prakash standing in a row, naked, hard, and ready to do anything I wanted, I licked my lips and winked back. “See you later.”

Sebastian headed for the east wing, and I practically flew up the four flights of stairs. The first thing I would do once I got dressed was to hand Bianca back the envelope of money I’d stashed in my school bag. I wouldn’t tolerate any more shit from her, her best friend, or her freak of a father. But if she ever needed me to serve as a witness, I’d be there.

I unlocked the door to my room and stepped inside, only to find it completely stripped. Everything—my laptop, my books, my pictures, my school bag, even my comforter from home—everything was gone.

My stomach dropped to the parquet floor, and I rushed ahead and flung open the closet. It was bare. Each drawer I opened was bare. The storage area in the bedside cabinet was also bare.

Who had taken all my stuff?

“Calm down,” I whispered to myself. “There’s a logical explanation.”

My mind whirred through the possibilities. Maybe my room was being fumigated. Maybe Mrs. Benazir had decided to expel me and had ordered my things packed up. I shook my head. Both would require some kind of notice, and neither would happen overnight.

I walked to the window and stared out into the gardens. A bonfire blazed in the middle of the lawn.

I blinked. Bonfire?

Mrs. Benazir didn’t allow the lawn to be tarnished on Bonfire Night, so why would she allow a fire during a no-festival day? Bile rose to the back of my throat. Someone was burning my stuff. Someone had moved my things, placed them in the middle of the lawn, and set them alight.

Probably in retaliation for having Miss Claymore fired.

“Shit!” I bolted out of my room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and out through the fire exit.

One of the cases I had taken from the house lay at the bottom of a bonfire piled with burning books and items of clothing I recognized.

“Fucking hell!”

People streamed out from the doors to watch the spectacle. A warm hand landed on my shoulder, and Cormac asked, “What’s going on, Willow?”

“That’s all my stuff,” I said with a sob. “My books, my clothes, my laptop, some money, and Corrine’s diary.”

Cormac’s face fell. “A-are you sure?”

I nodded. “Whoever did it stripped the room bare.”

“Bloody hell.” He ran both hands through his hair, and his face turned the shade of diluted milk. “Bloody. Fucking. Hell.”

All concerns for myself burned into the ether, and pain lanced through my heart. It looked like the destruction of Corrine’s diary had struck Cormac with a fresh wave of grief. I wrapped my arms around his middle, remembering how I had felt after seeing Mom’s watercolor portrait of the family torn to pieces.

“Cormac?” I looked into his face.

Staring blankly at nothing, he shook his head. “I-I’ve got to sit down.”

We walked through the crowds and back into the main building. The only place I could think to take Cormac was the infirmary, and I guided him through the parquet hallways and into one of the comfortable seats in the reception area.

Cormac rested his head in his hands. “This is going to sound stupid.”

“You can tell me anything.” I rubbed his back.

“Knowing that you had my twin’s diary was like having her live through you.” He turned to me, his eyes glistening with tears.