All That Lives Must Die

origins of various magical lines.”

She pulled down a section of blackboard, revealing a gorgeous illustration of an oak tree in cross section-like those diagrams showing the evolution of protozoa, dinosaur, bird, chimpanzee, and finally modern man.

In this diagram, however, Fiona saw leaves and intricate wood grain, and upon the tips of the upper branches were neatly printed names, and on the lower branches Greek symbols, cuneiform. . and then older unrecognizable symbols.

“The ancient forces,” Miss Westin lectured, “the Old Ones, the gods, Infernals, and the Fey-these are our murky past, and much of what we know of it are lies. As you review the texts, note the obvious embellishments and question all ‘truths.’ ”

She gestured at the lowest branches, the ones gnarled and clearly dead. “We merely mention the existence of the Primordial Ones from before time. All are dead or forever banished-incomprehensible now and forever-more to mortals and Immortals alike. We leave their delicate and dangerous studies for your junior and senior years.”

The symbols on those lower branches were lines and dots and tangles of geometries that compressed to points as Fiona stared at them. She felt suffocated-strangled. She blinked, and the symbols were once more flat and plain chalk.

She should be writing this all down. Fiona fumbled out her notebook, accidentally nudging the boy in front of her.

The boy turned around. “Do you mind?” He was pale; his hair, dark and straight and falling in a neat angle across his glare.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Eyes up front, cad,” Jeremy spat back.

The boy snorted, but nonetheless turned back to face the lecture.

Fiona’s face burned. She was glad she was in the shadows. She nudged Eliot so he, too, could take notes, but his eyes were riveted on the blackboard to where Miss Westin next pointed.

“The Titans,” Miss Westin said. “Their origin and connection to the Old Ones is murky at best. This branch, with one notable exception, is now extinct.”

Fiona squinted. She read crossed-out names on that branch: Oceanus, Hyperion, and Tethys. The one not crossed out was Cronos, the Harvester, Keeper of the Sands of Time, founding member of the League of Immortals, aka Cornelius Nikitimitus.[17]

Uncle Cornelius? The frail old man on the Council was one of the oldest living things in the world?

Fiona scanned the other names, followed a side branch, and her breath caught in her throat as she read: (Son of Iapeuts) Prometheus, Bringer of Fire, aka Perry Millhouse.

Perry Millhouse had been a Titan, too. Nausea rolled inside her as she remembered how it had felt to cut through him.

“The Titans,” Miss Westin continued, “were the progenitors of many of the gods of the prehistoric and classical eras. Their children rose up to challenge them, recruiting some to their cause-but in most cases eliminating their parents altogether.”

Fiona’s mouth dropped open, horrified. Uncle Henry, her mother-they had murdered their own mothers and fathers? Was that what they were afraid Eliot and she might do one day? Was that the reason Immortals treated their offspring so badly? Because they were afraid of them?

“This transition from Titan to the Immortals,” Miss Westin said, “occurred circa eight thousand years B.C.E.”

That was ten thousand years ago. They were all so old. Fiona felt suddenly insignificant. Was that what she glimpsed when she looked into her mother’s eyes? The experience and knowledge of millennia judging her fifteen years of attitude and arrogance?

She searched the next branch-the Immortals-and found two familiar names: Hermes, messenger/spymaster for the League of Immortals, aka Henry Mimes; Ares, League of Immortals Warlord, aka Dr. Aaron Sears.

There was another branch next to this-connected only by a dotted line and punctuated by a question mark.

On this offshoot were three names: Atropos, Lachesis, Clothos.[18]

“Atropos,” Fiona whispered to Eliot. “Audrey. . Post.”

He nodded.

She wanted to ask Miss Westin what that dotted connecting line meant. Fiona started to raise her hand, but she hadn’t seen anyone else interrupt the lecture. She’d wait until the end of class.

Miss Westin indicated another branch. This one coiled up from the base, a snaking vine with a dozen names, like Sealiah, Leviathan, and several that had been crossed out, such as Satan and Beelzebub (which sent shivers down Fiona’s back).

One name was most peculiar in that it had been written, crossed out, and then rewritten: Lucifer-the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, aka Louis Piper, her father. .

“The Infernals are the exception to the preclassical cutoff date for living immortal beings,” Miss Westin explained. “Many of the fallen angels are still active in their Lower Realms. . and occasionally venture to the Middle Realms as well.

“Other immortal branches”-Miss Westin gestured to a half dozen others, grayed out-“the Fairies or Folk of the Aire, the King’s Men, Atlanteans, and the Heavenly Angels are all thought dead or departed.”

Jeremy leaned over Eliot’s lap, closer to Fiona. “The Fairies be hardly gone,” he said. “I’ve seen them-chased the little buggers, even held their gold. That’s how I came to find myself in the Valley.”

Sarah sighed as if she had heard this a hundred times.

Fiona nodded to be polite, but she really wanted to hear Miss Westin’s lecture, and wished he would shut up.

“Now,” Miss Westin said, “on to the mortal magical families.”

She pulled down a section of the adjacent blackboard. On it was a detailed expansion of the younger, topmost branches with dozens of names, including Van Wyck, Covington, Kaleb, and Scalagari. There were also more cryptic titles like “The Dreaming Families” and “Isla Blue Tribe.”[19]

“The thing about Fairies,” Jeremy continued to tell Fiona, oblivious of the lecture, “is that they didn’t want anyone to know they’re still alive. They had it in for me because I knew. Lured me with a trail of gold. . just to shut me mouth. What they didn’t know was-”

The pale boy in front of them turned and quietly but firmly told Jeremy, “Too bad they couldn’t keep it shut, Covington. Close your piehole, before I close it for you.”

Jeremy considered this threat, and his lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Here we go,” murmured Sarah. She closed her notebook and set down her pen.

Jeremy eased back in his seat and held up both hands. “Of course, laddie. My apologies.”

The boy glared at him a moment and then turned back to the lecture.

Jeremy picked up his copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology-and slammed it into the back of the boy’s head.

The boy reeled forward, scattering his papers onto the floor.

Fiona was stunned. She knew there could be fights at Paxington; she’d seen that duel the very first day. . but in class?

Miss Westin clapped her hands once. That instantly got the entire room’s attention. Even the boy who’d been clobbered looked at her, and didn’t move or say a word.

Miss Westin took a deep breath and in an even voice said, “Mr. Covington, Mr. Van Wyck-if you have differences to work out, do so outside my classroom.” She looked them over a moment, a gaze that reminded Fiona of glacier ice, utterly cold and unstoppably crushing. “I sense your blood is up, however, so the lecture will be suspended for ten minutes. Resolve this. Now.”

“Suits me perfectly,” Jeremy said, and stood. “This Van Wyck cad should be taught some manners, using such language before a lady.” He gave a quick bow in Fiona’s direction.

Fiona pushed herself deeper into her seat. She felt as if everyone were staring at her.