Marchantiophyta” when they wouldn’t even hear you?[59]
Fiona’s gaze drifted to the fiery wood and bold brass fittings of Eliot’s new guitar. It creeped her out. That thing had more power than his violin (it was more like artillery than a musical instrument, as far as she was concerned).
Eliot had told her when she woke up on the helicopter that it was Lady Dawn transformed. The change in shape wasn’t what bothered her. . it was that it was a magical thing. . a thing that had been her father’s. . an Infernal instrument.
Like her bracelet-useful, but not to be entirely trusted.
But the thing that’d really thrown a wrench into their morning had been at Paxington’s Front Gate. Mr. Dells gave them a note. On Paxington letterhead, in a typewritten script was the following:
And so here they were.
Fiona checked her phone to see if Mitch had texted or called, but then the door to Miss Westin’s office creaked open and a boy emerged.
He was maybe twelve years old, pale, and his dark hair was cropped short. He met none of their eyes. “You may go in now, good ladies and masters,” he whispered, and held the door for them.
Fiona went first, and the rest of her team followed.
Miss Westin’s office was long. There were no windows. The only light was from dozens of Tiffany lamps and light sconces. The walls were polished walnut, rubbed to a mirror sheen, and every five paces there were doors: double doors, tiny doors that looked like they belonged in dollhouses, even a round door. Between the doors were oil paintings, sketches, daguerreotypes, and modern photos of students in Paxington uniforms-some in powdered wigs, others in cloaks, some with peace symbol medallions. A few of the paintings were Rembrandts, Cezannes, and there was even a Picasso sketch.
There were no books, though. Not one volume.
Miss Westin’s desk was large and black, with thick claw-footed legs. The entire surface was a touch-screen computer. There were layers of icons and text files and windows.
Miss Westin looked up as they approached. With a single sweep of her hand, the screen blanked.
There were no chairs for them.
Fiona guessed Miss Westin didn’t often have guests in her office. . and when she did, they weren’t supposed to feel comfortable.
Miss Westin assessed them from behind her octagonal wire-rim glasses and then said, “I have two announcements. I shall be brief, as we have class in ten minutes.”
She opened a filing cabinet and withdrew two letters. The first was neatly typed on white paper and signed at the bottom. The other was ancient vellum and curled as if it had been rolled. Its letterhead was festooned with poppies and vines. It smelled of vanilla and sulfur, and it repelled Fiona.
Miss Westin tapped the ordinary letter. “Mr. Stephenson has requested a two-week leave of absence, and I have granted it. His homework assignments shall be forwarded. His gym rank remains attached to Team Scarab’s, but obviously he cannot participate in any matches that may occur during his absence.”
“Is he okay?” Fiona blurted out.
Jeremy Covington cleared his throat. “How are we expected to perform without one of our best teammates?”
Miss Westin frowned at them. “I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr. Stephenson’s personal matters,” she told Fiona icily. To Jeremy, she said, “And I am coming to the matter of your so-called team, Mr. Covington, if you’d be kind enough to remain silent for thirty seconds.”
Jeremy flushed. He shut his mouth, though, and looked at his loafers.
Fiona suddenly didn’t care about her team or their ranking or anything other than what might be wrong with Mitch. She strained to read his letter upside down, but before she could make out a single word, Miss Westin set the other letter on top.
“My second announcement regards Miss Jezebel,” she told them. “Her guardian has petitioned me to withdraw her from this semester at Paxington, citing internal Infernal matters that cannot be avoided. I’m inclined to grant this request as well.”
Eliot stepped forward. “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he whispered. All the color drained from him. “So she’s not coming back?”
Under normal circumstances, Fiona would’ve been happy to hear Jezebel was gone for good. . but the expression on her brother’s face was almost more than she could bear. It looked like he was going to die.
Miss Westin sighed and her impassive features thawed-for a microsecond-as she told him, “She shall receive an incomplete for her work this semester. If, however, she enrolls in summer school, she will be able to make up her courses.”
Eliot nodded and stepped back.
“This leaves Team Scarab with but six members,” Miss Westin said. “If you choose to play in such a state, there is little chance you would win your next match, let alone survive the final. This leaves you two options.”
Miss Westin stood and straightened her shirt, donned her black wool jacket, and did up its pearl buttons all the way to her throat. She then picked up a slender leather folder that held her class notes and marched toward the door they had entered.
“Follow,” she ordered.
They did, and Miss Westin talked as they all walked. “According to school traditions, your first option would be to recruit two new members from disbanded teams. There are several excellent surviving players who now need a home.”
She paused at the door. “Or Team Scarab may disband. . and you each would have to find new teams.”
Fiona felt as if she were sinking in quicksand. Disband the team?
Miss Westin ushered them into the waiting room and locked her office door. “I leave the choice between those two options up to you.” Her gaze fell on Jeremy and then Fiona, lingered a bit on Eliot, and then she blinked. “I must, however, impress the seriousness of this. Your team is below the grade cutoff. Fail Mr. Ma’s class, and I will have no choice but to flunk all of you.”
And with that, she turned and left them there. Stunned.
Fiona recovered from the shock, and started thinking. . and getting mad. “This is completely unfair,” she said.
“’Tis not like we haven’t seen it coming,” Jeremy told her. “Though ’tis a shame about Mitch. I thought him made of sterner stuff.”
“Shut up,” Robert said. “You don’t know what’s going on with Mitch. He said he’ll be back in two weeks- maybe in time for our next match.”
Sarah said to Robert, “I sympathize for whatever Mitch is going though, but I’m not going to risk graduating on ‘maybe.’ ”
Amanda skulked to a couch and sat, head between her hands. “Maybe we should just disband,” she muttered.
Fiona had to rally her team-while she still had a team. She went to Amanda and set a hand on her shoulder. The girl’s skin was blazing hot. “I’m not giving up. Scarab is a good team. We stick together, and we can get through this. We’ll win our next match, and who knows what the rankings will look like after that? Let’s not panic.”
Jeremy nodded. “No one be panicking, my dear Fiona. But we should consider the hard facts of playing without two key members. And what if we break apart as Miss Westin suggested? Would it be so bad to find open slots on a team that needs us?” He stared pointedly at Amanda as he said this.
“No way,” Fiona told him. “Like I said, Scarab is a good team-maybe the best team, regardless of Mr. Ma’s rankings. We beat
