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Catarina smiled at Ty. “You’re one of the smartest pupils we’ve ever had, and I don’t want to deprive the world of your talents.” She tapped the papers on her desk. “This obviously won’t work as a final project. I’d like you to get started on your thesis paper about magic and crime. After it’s done, we can reevaluate the situation.”

As Ty got ready to leave the office, Livvy couldn’t help but wonder: Did Catarina really believe that it was the schedule of the Scholomance that was keeping Ty here?

Because Livvy knew better. Ty wanted to stay because of her.

She drifted after him, out into the stone-bound hallway. Witchlight burned in iron sconces along the walls, though the light didn’t illuminate the darkest corners of the Scholomance’s high ceilings and dark stairwells. It was a Gothic sort of place, one where Livvy felt that being a ghost was entirely appropriate. In fact, she was sure her presence added to the vibe.

“It worked,” Ty said, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was no one else in the corridor, so he and Livvy could talk openly. “She rejected the paper, so I get to stay longer.”

Livvy swooped around to face him. “She’s right, though. You can’t stay here forever. Not for me. I’ll be with you wherever you go.”

“It’s not just for you,” Ty said. “I do want to complete the last projects Anush and I have been working on. We were doing one on the Princes of Hell—everyone says there are nine of them, but really, aren’t there eight? Lucifer hasn’t appeared to anyone for a thousand years.”

“Which seems like a good thing, doesn’t it?”

Ty ignored the question. “And what if I wanted to become a teacher here? That’s a perfectly fine reason for staying at the Scholomance.”

“Well, they won’t let you unless you go out and get some real-life experience,” Livvy said, floating along backward as Ty walked.

“I was at the Battle of the Imperishable Fields. I have plenty of real-life experience,” Ty said. This was true enough. Livvy hadn’t seen the waging of the Battle of the Imperishable Fields. It had been a massive skirmish in the war between the Clave and the Cohort—a breakaway splinter group of brutally xenophobic Shadowhunters—with different Downworlders having pledged their allegiance to each side. But Ty had been there, and Livvy knew he’d fought bravely.

“I think when they say ‘real-life experience,’ they mean more than fighting,” Livvy said, but Ty didn’t reply. They had reached the room he shared with Anush; Ty unlocked the door with a massive iron key and ducked inside. Livvy floated through the door, not for any real reason, but because it seemed like more fun.

Inside, the room was a mess on Anush’s side, and neat on Ty’s. Photographs of Ty and Livvy’s family—Julian and Emma, Helen and Mark, Dru and Tavvy and Aline—hung on the wall, as did a photo of the beach below the Los Angeles Institute. Next to it was a different photo, an old one, tinged sepia. It was of Cirenworth, the manor house where Jem and Tessa lived with Kit. Ty had never been there, and Livvy had often wanted to ask him why he had the photo, but she never had.

There were some things that were just impossible to say to Ty, Livvy thought, as he sat down on the bed to stroke the thick, light brown fur on Irene’s head. Irene was Ty’s pet, a lynx he had adopted when they found her outside the Scholomance, injured and freezing. She adored Ty and immediately set herself to licking his hand.

I’m worried about you, Livvy wanted to say to Ty. Your dead sister can’t be your best friend. You need friends who will grow and change with you. I will always be fifteen.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, as they’d been so many times before, but she couldn’t make herself say them. She knew the grief he had experienced when she had died; she knew it had driven him to raise her from the dead despite necromancy being the kind of crime that could get you banished from the Clave. Not counting the Cohort, locked away behind their wards in Idris, plotting whatever it was they were plotting.

Livvy knew he felt safe here partly because Livvy herself was safe here—only Ty could see her (aside from the other ghosts in the Scholomance, who barely noticed her). If Anush or any of the other students caught Ty talking to himself, they didn’t take note of it; a lot of the students had absent-minded habits.

“When I need to go somewhere else, I will,” said Ty, still patting Irene. “But it isn’t just the stuff with Anush—it’s all the progress you and I have made, with the wards around Idris.”

Yes, Livvy thought, but every time I visit Idris, I have to go far away from you. And that’s starting to present its own problems.

Again, she couldn’t say it. There was too much bound up in all the conversations they weren’t ready to have. Eventually it would be impossible not to talk about it. But, Livvy thought, as she settled herself at the foot of Ty’s bed, not today. Not today.

—

Dru sat in Luke’s office, her booted feet up on his desk. Early autumn light poured in through the open windows, that pretty golden light that Dru liked despite her goth tendencies. Autumn wasn’t something you got in Southern California, so she’d grown up without leaves that turned red, gold, and ochre, without the scent of apples and campfire smoke drifting on clear air. In a way, these things were exotic.

She could hear the voices of some of the other students carried on the wind, and felt a jolt of annoyance. Luke was the one who’d demanded she be here; he could have at least shown up. She’d been waiting in his office for fifteen minutes already.

With a sigh, she toyed idly with the idea of sneaking around to see if there was anything interesting in the student files, but dropped it as soon as she heard footsteps in the hall outside. A moment later, the office door swung open and Luke came inside.

He was, as usual, dressed more like a farmer than the administrator of a school—even a very strange, very secret school. He wore work boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt. All that was missing was a piece of hay for him to chomp on, Dru thought, as he sank into the seat across from her and stared at her grimly. He’d been giving her these troubled looks for half a year, ever since she’d gotten lost on an assignment in the springtime and gone missing for three days.

“Look—” Dru began.

“Drusilla—” Luke started, at the same time. They both went silent. Dru grinned.

“Aw,” she said. “How about you talk first?”

“I’m not sure I need to,” Luke said. “We both know why you’re here.” He glanced briefly at her boots, resting on his desk. Dru knew it annoyed him, but he wouldn’t say anything about it. Luke was a man who knew how to pick his battles.

“Speaking of my being here,” Dru said, “do you really think it’s wise to keep pulling me out of class? Professor Wrayburn was about to start a lecture on common demons of Southeast Asia. I am concerned,” she added primly, “that these frequent trips to your office are having a deleterious effect on my education.”