All That Lives Must Die

Dallas who on the battlefield was fighting for her life-a fire full of power and life and passion.

Then Fiona blinked. . and noticed the table by the stairs was empty.

She raced after her brother. That rat! He’d grabbed both lunches!

49 ELECTIVES

Eliot and Fiona entered the Grand Spring Ballroom. It was the size of an aircraft hangar, filled with crystal chandeliers and miniature lights that mimicked the stars on a clear summer solstice night. Floor-to-ceiling tapestries of courtly dances, pastoral scenes, and major battles covered the walls and made the place seem even larger.

Freshmen usually weren’t allowed in here. Eliot shuddered. Good thing, too-because some freshman girls might get the idea they were supposed to have dances.

Miss Westin probably wanted her freshmen focused on studying (and surviving) their first year. For once, Eliot was grateful for homework.

In the center of the ballroom sat a dozen executive desks spaced ten paces apart. Around them students queued, waiting to sit and talk to the adults at the tables. It wasn’t just freshmen here, but Paxington upperclassmen, too.

He spotted Amanda, hair in her face, not exactly confident as she’d been the last time he saw her in gym glass-but still a long way from the shy and scared creature she’d been that first day of school.

He’d heard one of the dorms had caught fire over the break. Three students had been hospitalized. Amanda stayed in the dorms, and he was glad to see she was okay.

Eliot and Fiona started toward her, but then it was Amanda’s turn in line and she sat at one of the desks.

Eliot examined the adults at the tables. They were dressed in business suits, and each possessed that indefinable air of superiority he’d come to associate with people of power.

“Those must be our counselors,” Fiona whispered.

“Teachers?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “We’ve never seen the other teachers before, though. I mean other than Mr. Ma and Miss Westin.”

Jeremy and Sarah Covington sat at one table. Jeremy spoke vigorously to the little old man on the other side of the desk. Jeremy stood and paced, gesticulating wildly. . although still smiling. The old man smiled, too, but kept shaking his head.

Sarah fidgeted in her seat. She made eye contact with Eliot and looked away.

The funny thing was, Eliot didn’t hear anything from their table. . none of them, actually. Like the sound didn’t travel.

A group of girls spotted Fiona. “Oh, Fiona!” one called out. They all moved toward her.

That was her pack of admirers. They were always trying to make small talk and find out what it was like being a goddess in the League.

Fiona sighed, but nonetheless smiled and waved back to them. . trying to move on, but she was too slow and they intercepted her.

Eliot dropped back.

How was it that everyone loved Fiona (or at least loved the fame, money, and immortality they thought she represented) but not one of the students at Paxington had made the connection that Eliot, her brother, her twin, might be in the League of Immortals, too?

It was like last week when he had followed Jezebel to the Market Street BART station. When he stayed in the shadows, no one saw him. Like he was invisible.

At school. . he wasn’t invisible, not optically anyway. For some reason, though, he seemed to be socially transparent.

Maybe it was some Infernal power, a sort of mental sleight of hand that he was doing without thinking about it.

He looked for Jezebel, but saw not a trace of her platinum curls among the crowds. Jezebel didn’t blend well. She would have had a crowd of boys around her. That would be okay with Eliot-just to know that she was here, safe.

No luck.

And no Robert, either. Although if he had wanted to blend, Eliot was sure he couldn’t have spotted him. He made a note to ask how Robert did it. . and compare notes on social invisibilities.

“Hey!” someone called out.

Eliot looked. Across the room, Mitch Stephenson waved at him.

So much for the “invisibility” theory. Mitch saw him just fine.

Eliot waved back.

That was a mistake, a humiliating one. Mitch had waved to get Fiona’s attention-not his.

He noticed Eliot waving like a complete dork, though, and shifted his glance a notch. His waved at Eliot, too, trying to make it look like that’s what he’d been doing.

Eliot appreciated the gesture, but didn’t feel any better about his near-zero social status.

“Mr. Post?”

Eliot turned to the deep baritone voice behind him.

Harlan Dells stood there, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a funeral director today in a black suit and tie, his blond beard braided into a single tight cord.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Dells. How are you?”

“Fine, young man, but you and your sister have an appointment now. And your counselor is not known for her infinite patience.”

Mr. Dells gestured to Fiona. She saw him even while surrounded by her pack. The other girls saw the Keeper of Paxington’s Gate as well, and all simultaneously shut up.

Fiona trotted to Eliot’s side. “Hello, Mr. Dells. What can I do for you?”

“There.” Mr. Dells nodded to the far corner of the ballroom. “Do not keep her waiting, more than you have already.”

Eliot squinted into the shadows. There was some light in the corner: four candles floated in the gloom. No. . as his eyes adjusted, he saw the candles sat on the corners of large desk, almost hidden in the folds of black curtains.

And sitting, watching them, her glasses reflecting flames, was Miss Westin, her hands steepled on the desk.

“She’s our guidance counselor?” Fiona whispered.

Miss Westin looked like a spider in the center of a dark web. . one that no student dared get close to. Just like the repellent field that Eliot seemed to have around him. Maybe he and the Headmistress had something in common, after all.

“Come on.” Eliot crossed the room, moving deeper into the dark, away from the crowds. He settled into one of the high-backed chairs across the desk from her.

Fiona caught up and sat in the other chair.

“Good morning, children,” Miss Westin said. She pulled out two file folders with their names printed on the sides and set them down.

“Good morning, Headmistress,” they said in unison.

“No sound may leave the confines of this desk,” Miss Westin said. “This session is completely confidential even from your parents.”

Eliot glanced at Fiona and she shot back the same curious look. Why the secrecy? It was just their class schedule. Like Audrey wouldn’t know what it was in a few hours anyway.

But maybe that was the point: Their mother would know in a few hours, after they’d signed up for their elected classes. . and too late to make any objections. This would be entirely their choice. How often did that happen?