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“This is my first detention,” Corri chirped. “I’m excited!”
“Nothing. She just wanted to be included.”
“Zip it, ladies, or this won’t be the last time,” Professor Halo warned us, not taking his eyes off his phone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As much as I hated it, Yoli would have to wait. For one, I hadn’t yet gathered the courage to call my adoptive parents after so many months of treating them like shit. Lena still tried to call me once every two weeks, and sometimes I answered and chatted about nothing in particular for a few minutes, but most times I switched my phone to silent and pretended I was busy. I was afraid that if I talked to them or saw them, they’d see how I’d changed. Lena was religious, so I didn’t even want to think how she’d react if she knew I’d been dead, and now I was alive. And no, Jesus hadn’t been the one to resurrect me. And Stepan… He’d beaten himself up so hard for almost letting Morningstar kill me when I was a child... He’d even beaten me for it, although that would never make sense in my head.
That wasn’t the only reason. I’d also failed two tests – one in Anthropology and one in Psychology – and my worth score was almost down to 0. I wasn’t doing great, and the professors were kind of fed up with the whole “Mila is saving the world” story. It wasn’t working anymore. I’d ignored my homework, my projects and presentations, and now I was paying for it. My grades this semester were a disaster. So, Yoli would have to wait.
I didn’t even go to the Halloween party. As usual, Pandora and the girls organized it on the hidden beach. I locked myself up in my room, and Sariel and Francis joined me. We studied for Geography together, then, obviously, had sex. It was more sensual and languid with the Fallen One and the revenant. GC and Paz tended to be pushy, demanding, and jealous of each other. Sariel and Francis understood each other through simple nods and gestures. It was as if they had their own secret language they’d made up over years of friendship. That night, I climbed on top of Francis and kissed him all over, as Sariel took me slowly from behind. We took a bath together, and we made love again.
GC and Paz had been more interested in the Halloween party, getting drunk, and punching Merrit in the face again when the mage said some shit about how I was now in love with Sariel and Francis, and they were out. Corri told me all about it in the morning.
The next week after Halloween, Professor Maat took us to Goblin Mountain, which was, in fact, a mine accessible through the Appalachian Mountains, and wasn’t called Goblin Mountain at all.
“Avaa Yuoa Saavi Lom,” Mrs. Maat told us. “It means Marvelous Sanctuary of the Ancestors in their language.”
“That’s a stupid name,” GC commented.
“You will see that goblins love their pompous adjectives as much as they love their gold.”
“We don’t understand their ridiculous language anyway.”
“Mr. Apis, maybe you’d like to go back.”
“No, ma’am.”
The Carnelian City and Goblin Mountain were the most isolated pocket universes we’d visited so far. The Seelie and the Unseelie had plenty of contact with our universe, so they spoke English. Heaven and Hell had both given up using Latin centuries ago, and now English was the lingua franca. In the Carnelian City, though, very few people spoke English, and the goblins had no sense for the language whatsoever. Their own language was too tonal and vowely, which made it almost impossible for them to pronounce our hard consonants. But it didn’t matter. We only visited these places so we’d know where to go when we’d be called to reap here. It was sort of like adding new maps to our inner teleportation GPS. It was done half intentionally, half subconsciously. Once we graduated – well, some of us, because there were only twenty-two Reapers and we were one hundred students, – among the gifts we’d be granted, the gift of the languages was of major importance. I’d heard that in the very beginnings of Grim Reaper Academy, the study of the various languages had been a big deal, but the Council soon realized it was basically impossible for anyone to learn so damn many. So, they gathered a team of mages and tasked them with finding a more reasonable solution. The mages came up with a potion. I could only hope it didn’t taste too bad.
“Don’t stare,” Professor Maat reminded us.
The goblins hated it when we stared. They were short, ugly creatures, covered in rough, darkish skin from head to toe. But that wasn’t the reason why they didn’t want us to stare. They didn’t think of themselves as ugly.
“They’re very possessive of their treasures. Don’t look at their exquisite clothes and brilliant jewelry.”
“Professor, I’m afraid this adjective-heavy thing they suffer from is contagious,” GC chuckled. “You’ve used pompous, exquisite, and brilliant.”
The sphinx furrowed her elegant brows. “And you’ve used stupid and ridiculous, Mr. Apis. Maybe we should get you a thesaurus for your birthday.”
“As long as it’s an awe-inspiring, gregarious thesaurus…”
I smacked him over the head. “That’s not what gregarious means.”
The goblins were dressed to impress. I’d always
associated people working in the mines with dirt, sweat, and rags. Every day, I learned a new thing. And today I learned that one could work in the mines while covered in thick gold bracelets, diamond necklaces, and ruby rings. The goblin ladies were dressed in fancy gowns, and the gentlemen wore silk shirts, velvet tunics, and a sort of tight pants that made them look rather funny. I tried my hardest not to stare. It was hot as Hell down here – literal Hell – but they pranced about like there was nothing wrong. They were probably used to the heat and stuffy air. As for the work they did, they weren’t actually digging the tunnels themselves. They had heavy machinery they programmed and maneuvered. Quite a technologically advanced race…
Their homes were grottos they’d carved in the walls and decorated with precious stones, silver, and gold. They didn’t have doors, and they covered the entrances with beautifully embroidered carpets. For food, they raised small animals that looked like rats, cats, and wild rabbits in cages. There was an underground river crossing their mine, and they worshipped it like it was the center of their world.
“It’s their only source of water, so they drink, bathe, and wash their clothes in this river.”
We’d stopped on its rocky shore. Here and there, between the rocks, blades of grass popped up from the mushy sand.
“They use this herb for salad.”
“They are so poor,” I noticed in a bare whisper. “It just struck me. They have mountains of gold and precious stones, but they are so, so poor. Don’t they trade with other pocket universes? I bet they could trade with our world.”
