Despite the gloom of the place, Fiona had wanted to linger, though. She had yet to talk to Robert and find out how he was coping now that he wasn’t in the League. He could be so stoically stubborn sometimes. Where was he living? How did he eat?
But maybe it was better to stay apart a little longer. . as painful as it might be. If Robert attracted any League attention, she had a feeling that even Uncle Henry wouldn’t be able to get him off the hook this time.
Beside, she had to catch Eliot. He bolted before he’d written down tonight’s reading assignment-something he never forgot. He was so distracted lately.
As she tromped down the corridors, one archway caught her eye. It wasn’t a real passage, but rather a mural that gave the illusion of depth. The mural was a Picasso: cubist students with too many arms and legs, their faceted heads listening with disjointed ears to a lecturing stick figure Plato.[23]
The real reason she had to find her brother, though, was that he-without fail-got into trouble without her watching out for him.
Like in gym class. She should have known better than to leave him behind.
“Fiona?” a voice squeaked behind her.
She turned. Amanda Lane trotted up to her. Ever since Fiona had stopped Sarah from tormenting her in the locker room, Amanda had decided they were best friends and stuck close.
Like Fiona needed another person to look after.
Amanda’s school uniform was a mass of wrinkles. She carried a pile of books, and her backpack was filled to the bursting point. Fiona felt bad for her. Amanda’s eyes rarely left the ground, she wasn’t able to talk to anyone, and her hair has half tangle, half cowlick.
“Hey,” Fiona said. “What’s up?”
Amanda tried to brush the hair from her face, but couldn’t with her arms full. “Headed to the library?” she asked. “Maybe we could compare notes? I’m in the middle of Lovecraft’s unpublished
For someone never exposed to magic before, Amanda seem to have a knack, if not for its practice, then at least its study.
“I read those,” Fiona told her. “Eliot and I still needed to tackle the
Fiona had to study the canticles, not only for Miss Westin’s class, but also because it was
Covingtons, Scalagaris, Pritchards, Kalebs-these families taught their children fencing, etiquette, the art of small talk, poisons, and assassination from the time they were toilet trained. Politics that translated into duels and alliances and vendettas here at Paxington.
She had a lot of catching up to do.
Fiona snapped her fingers. “There’s one thing, though, we have to do before we hit the homework: find the others on our team and talk strategy.”
“Oh. .” Amanda drew her books closer and dropped her head.
“Slip too far in the rankings,” Fiona explained, “and all the studying in the world won’t matter.”
Amanda curled even farther behind her books and said, “I’m really sorry about what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Fiona said. “We’ll
Amanda brightened.
She was a real liability. If only Fiona could boost the girl’s confidence, she might actually get her
Amanda glanced past Fiona. “There’s your brother and that Jezebel. Let’s go say hi.”
“Jezebel?” Fiona whirled about. She squinted through archways and spotted them in the adjacent corridor.
Just as she had feared: Eliot in trouble again.
This was 100 percent weirdness. Why was he pushing his luck and talking to that thing? And why was Jezebel even listening to him?
And yet there they were.
This was typical Eliot: making well-intentioned but stupid friendly overtures. Probably still thought she was related to Julie Marks. He’d be lucky if the Infernal didn’t kill him. But what could Jezebel do to him here out in the open? Challenge him to a duel? Even her brother wasn’t foolish enough to accept an invitation to fight an Infernal.
The worst that might happen is a wounding of her brother’s ego.
But they were still just talking. It felt like a private moment between them, though. . almost intimate.
Fiona’s face heated. “I guess it’s him,” she told Amanda. “Whatever.”
She turned away and marched toward the gate.
“I thought you wanted to talk about gym. .,” Amanda said, running after her.
“Sure-with Robert or Mitch, even Sarah or Jeremy. But I can talk to Eliot anytime. And I’m not going to waste time with Jezebel. Not with a million things to read.”
They crossed the quad, and the sparkling quartz flagstones dazzled her. Fiona veered by the fountain of Poseidon and let the spray cool her face.
“You never said why you’re here,” Amanda said. “You and Eliot, your Uncle Henry. . you’re not part of any of the magical families we’re studying.” She continued with difficulty, forcing the words out: “But you’re not normal, either, are you?”
Fiona glanced at the fountain and the marble face of the dead god who had the same high forehead as her mother and her. “Not exactly,” she told Amanda. “It’s complicated.”
“So what isn’t?” Amanda said, and retreated behind her disheveled hair.
Maybe it was time to open up-not break any League rules, of course, but just share stories about families. It’d be a breath of fresh air to talk to someone other than her brother.
“Let’s grab something to drink at the cafe,” Fiona said. “We can talk.”
Amanda tilted her head up. “Really?”
“Sure. Iced Thai coffees. My treat.”
Eliot could waste his time with the Infernal all day if he wanted to-and he could figure out the reading assignment on his own, too.
Fiona turned. She felt a cold sensation at her back, like the shadows behind them had somehow darkened. She resisted the urge to look, however, and mounted the steps, making her away along the path to the front gate.
Mr. Harlan Dells stood there. The large man wore a suit that matched his blond beard and hair. He smiled at her and Amanda.
“Miss Post. . Miss Lane, I hope you girls are doing well with your studies. Not letting
Amanda convulsed with what might have been a silent giggle.
Fiona felt like he’d stabbed her in the heart, and her lifeblood pumped out there in front of the iron gates, spattering over the cobblestones. She thought about Robert. Deep inside, she wanted to be with him. . but not if it got him into trouble. . or killed.
“No,” she told him, “no boys. Just books.”
He looked into her eyes and said, “That is for the best. Trust me.”
“Yes, sir.”
She took a little step toward the gate, but Mr. Dells didn’t open it.
“One more thing, Miss Post.” His voice deepened. Fiona sensed a weight settle about his person like he could’ve halted her and Amanda and an entire army with one upraised hand. “Please tell your family not to block my
