Eliot’s affections, well, you would not want to deal with an Infernal woman scorned.
He leaned closer and whispered, “Besides, the Post children have a knack to twist fate to their own ends, regardless of what either Immortal or Infernal family desires, eh? Those two-by themselves-may represent an entirely new force for us to consider.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robert asked, suddenly feeling protective of his friends.
Mr. Mimes stood straighter and brushed some imaginary dust off his silvery gray sports coat. “Oh, just silliness, a bit of random number mathematics I was toying with. Nothing at all for you to worry about.”
When Mr. Mimes said don’t worry like that, Robert
He filed that clue about the twins and them being a “new force” under stuff to follow up on later with his own investigations.
Mr. Mimes glanced at his watch. “Where does the time go?” he muttered. “I need to ask Cornelius. I must be off. So many things to attend to down in Costa Esmeralda.”
“That’s in Central America right?” Robert asked. “Near Panama?”
Mr. Mimes cocked his head, looking surprised at Robert’s grasp of geography.
“I rode through there once. Nice place. There some Mardi Gras or something you have to be at?”
“Something like that,” Mr. Mimes replied with a smirk. “In the late spring. You should visit.”
It must be a heck of a bash if Mr. Mimes recommended it. Robert made a note of that, too, filed away under Things to Do/Party/Spring.
Mr. Mimes paused. “One more thing, Robert. Midterms are today, are they not?”
“Sure. You got some more answers to Miss Westin’s tests for me?”
“Not quite. That was a one-time arrangement we made to get you inside Paxington. The rest is up to you, as I said. Besides, even I would not cross Lucy Westin on her home soil.”
“It’s cool,” Robert said, hiding his disappointment, and allowing his appreciation for Miss Westin to rise a notch. She intimidated even Mr. Mimes. “I’ve hit the books. I’ll pass.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Mimes whispered. “But to be on the safe side. . pack your brass knuckles today, my boy.”
A handful of the popular girls circled Fiona. They nodded as they walked by, but this morning everyone was too nervous to talk to Paxington’s newest social pinnacle.
Fiona pinned the silver rose token to her jacket lapel. She’d started wearing it last week. It had been given to her by the League when she was inducted into the Order of the Celestial Rose. She still didn’t know what that was, but it was pretty, part alive, and part silver, and it smelled as fragrant as the day it’d been given to her.
The entire freshman class had collected outside Plato’s Hall. The doors were shut and locked, and a sign rested on the handles:
MIDTERMS TODAY
Wait Outside for Instructions
Fiona was as nervous as everyone else, but because she was a goddess, she didn’t feel she ought to show it, like that might reflect poorly on the League.
She paused by the Picasso Archway. The portrait had been painted to resemble a real archway that led to a courtyard where anatomically jumbled students listened to a lecture and took notes. It was fascinating, but it also gave Fiona the creeps. Like someone had taken those people apart and put them together. . wrong.
Fiona turned from it and smiled, hoping this masked the fact that she quavered inside. She wondered if she had time to go the girls’ restroom one more time.
Midterms were one third of her grade. Fail this, and she might as well not bother coming back tomorrow.
Where was Eliot?
She scanned the courtyard.
Team Wolf was in the far corner, and they all looked away when she glanced at them. Fiona was sure Donald Van Wyck was plotting something.
She moved her eyes away, searching for her brother. Eliot didn’t exactly pop out of a crowd, but she should have seen him by now. He’d skipped breakfast again this morning and left early. Was it possible he’d chickened out and wasn’t coming?
“Hey,” Eliot whispered.
He hadn’t sneaked up on her; Fiona just hadn’t seen her brother and had almost walked right over him. She didn’t jump, but for a split second she was speechless, thinking she’d seen his ghost.
Eliot stood in the shadows. Something was darker about him, and not just the ambient light.
“Where were you?” she whispered. “I was worried.”
Eliot shrugged. He glanced at her silver rose pin and frowned.
She wanted to say so much. About needing to stick together because they were stronger. How when she studied alone, it was like she had lost half her brain. . well, maybe a quarter. How she had actually missed her brother these last few weeks-and what was he thinking always wandering off on his own?
But she could never say any of those things in public without dying of humiliation.
Why couldn’t Eliot say something? Why was it always she who had to do the talking? After all they’d been through together, he should just
“Let’s stick together today,” he whispered. “I have a weird feeling about this test.”
Fiona exhaled, relieved that no one had to admit to any stupid emotions-now of all times.
“Good idea,” she said. “I’ve got a funny feeling, too.”
Behind them, the archway clicked and slowly swung outward. Behind it was a doorway that so perfectly mimicked the arch in the painting, Fiona had to blink twice to make sure it had depth and was real.
Miss Westin emerged and glanced over Eliot and Fiona. “The Post twins,” she remarked. “What a pleasant surprise to find you on time for
Fiona shivered. Beyond the now-open secret door was a passage of rough, wet granite that spiraled underground.
Miss Westin cleared her throat. “Your attention, students.”
Those in the courtyard who hadn’t noticed Miss Westin turned at the sound of her commanding voice and instantly stopped talking.
“Midterms are one third of your total grade,” she continued, “and there will be
Fiona swallowed and wondered what happened if you were sick today.
“There are three rules for today’s tests,” Miss Westin said. “First, your performance will be individually graded and mapped to a so-called bell curve as follows: For every one hundred students, there will be ten As, fifteen Bs, and fifty Cs.” As she said “C,” she looked as if she had just tasted one of Great-grandmother Cecilia’s home-cooked spinach casserole specialties.
“And, of course, the last twenty-five will be Ds and Fs.”
At this, the respectful silence of the gathered students crystallized into palpable terror.
And something else. . everyone glanced suspiciously at one another.
The camaraderie that Fiona had felt a moment ago for her fellow students-the fact that they had helped one another and studied side by side for weeks-all that vanished.
It was everyone for themselves.
No, actually, it was worse than that: It was everyone against everyone. Twenty-five of them were going to
It was bloody unfair. . but there was no way Fiona was going to be one of those failing twenty-five.
As if a magnetic force had been turned on, the crowd of students shuffled apart from one another.
