Rowan’s swirling signature slashed across the bottom of the page.
She dropped the scroll onto her lap, it curled back under itself at once.
She didn’t care about the exam. She didn’t care about the newspaper that sat on her bedside table. She didn’t care that anyone was dead. There was only one thing on her mind.
Her hand crept to the nape of her neck. Where an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling still lingered.
And she knew it meant trouble.
Down the spiral staircase of Volaticus East Wing sat Mal. He was lounging along a sofa, knees pulled in and a book resting against his legs. One hand lazily propped on the side of his head.
She crossed the common room towards him.
“Tell me you didn’t stay here all night.”
“Of course not,” he said, turning a page. “Arman had the night shift. I slept like a baby in my own bed.”
He finished the next page and then closed the book, swinging his legs to the ground. His eyes traveled from her face to her stomach to her toes and back up. Maeve shifted her weight.
“How do you feel?” He asked.
“Fine,” she lied.
His mouth pulled tight. It was difficult to lie to him.
“You pulled me out, didn’t you?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t press her.
He nodded. She looked away towards the windows that lined the common room. Sunlight poured onto the plush sapphire floor. “How?” She looked back at him. “How did you know I was in danger?”
Mal answered with certainty. “Like calls to like.”
Even though Mal was satisfied with his discovery of Vexkari Magic, he insisted they continue to visit the Restricted Area of the Library to learn as much as possible about what they weren’t being taught in school. Maeve, of course, agreed wholeheartedly.
She held up her hand, her lux charm illuminating the spines of books along the tall shelves. Many of them didn’t have titles or authors, even. They were visiting during their normal Paragon duty hour, and tonight Abraxas and Hendrix were covering for them.
She heard Mal remove something from the shelf and went to peek over what he was reading.
“Have you noticed how many of these Magical experiences happened on the Dark Planet?” Maeve asked Mal.
Mal nodded. “I have.”
“Father says that was the origin of Shadow Magic.”
The pair continued pulling books and reading for close to an hour. Maeve spent most of that time nose deep in a poorly handwritten book on memories and magic. Most of it was hard to decipher, as it was also written in French.
“How many detentions do you reckon Abraxas has given out so far?” Asked Maeve.
“Probably not enough. Come look at this,” said Mal. “‘The army of Di Inferius.’ Do you know that word?”
“The Latin would roughly translate to ‘underneath’ or ‘below,’” said Maeve. “What’s it referencing?”
“It’s not very specific. It’s some kind of list.”
Maeve scanned it over. “Those are Gods, or something. ‘Dis Inferius’ she repeated twice over “God’s below,” she said finally. “That’s it.”
“God’s of the underworld,” said Mal.
“I think so,” said Maeve. “Oh no,” said Maeve. Her face dropped, and she grabbed his arm. She shook her wrist quickly, the lux charm at her wrist extinguished.
