I was freezing. The desert got cold at night, so before bed I’d wrapped myself in blankets. But sometime in the night I must have kicked them off. The white quilt dangled loosely from my ankles.
I’d had strange dreams.
Dreams of dark forests and long corridors, a single light flickering down a hallway. Of Dani’s eyes finding mine. Of her neck straining as her back arched into a horrible position. So many things here bothered me. The closeness to Max, the horrible things people said about Dani. The horrible things Dani had done.
That a spell could take someone over so fully that they’d kill the person they loved—and not just kill, stab thirty-six times—made me shudder. But even more was the lingering question of who would cast such a thing.
The meetings with “RO” loomed in the back of my mind. And I couldn’t stop picturing Strauss yanking his sleeves down when he saw us, and the glimpse I got of the skin underneath right before he did. It was mottled and scarred. Just like Dani’s.
Then there was Dani herself. Unlike Maya, she clearly didn’t have many friends here. Maybe she had more enemies than we knew.
I ruffled through the pages of her notebook, still open on the covers beside my phone.What are you hiding?
The bells outside chimed nine a.m. If I wanted breakfast, I’d have to hurry. I took a deep breath and stretched my arms overhead, brushing the top of the headboard.
I winced, drawing my finger back. A drop of blood welled on my fingertip, courtesy of a fat splinter. My eyes drew up to the dark walnut headboard, and I lurched back, knocking over my lamp.
There, just above my pillow, someone had carved words into the wood. Words that spelled:
HELL IS HERE
My eyes flew to the door and window, but both were locked. I scrambled for my phone and whipped back the covers to look under the bed. I peered into the bathroom, but there was nothing.
No one in my room but me and Bear.
Was this some kind of sick joke? A “welcome home” present from one of the people who’d sent me death threats after my all-too-public meltdown in my second year of postgrad? Max said that no one cared anymore about me losing control of my Magic, but I wasn’t so sure.* Or maybe it was Strauss? Or another council member who opposed my involvement so much they’d decided to scare me off themselves?
Cautiously, I reached a hand back up to the wood. But I would’ve noticed if someone had been looming over my bed, carving menacing words right above me, and Bear would’ve been barking his head off.
This couldn’t be fresh.
Whoever was responsible must have done it some time ago. Probably the last occupant of my room, one last “fuck you” to the school before graduation. I must have just missed it yesterday.
The staff could’ve at least given me a warning, though. Pillows had even been placed strategically to hide it.
I resolved to ask the RA of the hall who’d been the last occupant of my room as soon as I saw her. Most likely she already knew about the vandalism, and it was the reason my room was empty in the first place. Still, I’d feel better if I at least had a name.
I took the world’s quickest shower, fed Bear, and made my way down to the breakfast hall.
Wordlessly, I sat down next to Max, who was staring at a fixed point on the table and furiously shoveling Froot Loops into his mouth. Neither of us were morning people, but I did wonder what offense his breakfast had committed. His hat was on the table next to him, and he had a mixture of hat hair and bed head, chestnut curls sticking to his forehead.
“You know they have other cereal,” I murmured.
He grunted in response. “Rough night.” He grimaced over at his phone; it kept pinging with texts I could only imagine were from his girlfriend.
“Ah.” I shifted. We weren’t really good at this, the talking about our feelings bit. Suddenly, I preferred the creepy carving in my room.
“I’m going to need one of those request forms,” he said abruptly.
I blinked. “What?”
“For the Magic.”
“Oh …” I shook my head. “Oh, right. I was kidding. You don’t need a form.”
He looked down. “It’s for my dad.”
“Oh.” Max’s dad was this barrel-chested rancher, a real bear of a man, strong and buoyant and joyful, but an accident years ago had damaged his back and left him in intense pain. He was on medication and in bed most of the time, and I know it had been rough on all of them. Suddenly, I felt like the world’s biggest jerk for posing stipulations on our Magic use. It was as much his as it was mine.
