In a puff of smoke, the nymph’s clay separates into water and dirt. A notable feat all on its own, but clearly not the parlor trick the teacher wanted.
Ms. Fernren peers at me. “Want to give it a try, Ms. Stillwater? We have five minutes.”
“Sure.” I close my eyes and recall the author’s intent.
Life is a complex tapestry of energy, yes, but each and every life form has a soul. I can’t make a soul out of nothing, so I dig deep into my core and shave a sliver from part of my heart. I then infuse my little guy with energy, aim the sliver like a dart, and throw the jumble at the core of my clay.
A cute tittering, like a warbling bird, clicks, and I open my eyes.
The golem stands up on my lab table, wiggling a short tail, with cute ears, black feathers, a pair of glowing eyes, and impressive wings. I did it. I really did it! My little golem is alive and jumping. He’s a happy thing. But as I look around, he’s not all that happened.
The table looks like a makeshift greenhouse, with four ivy-covered posts growing out of the table. Further inspection reveals the posts are just an extension of the wooden legs that punched through the flat formica table.
On my right, Grim claps with a warm smile. The other students are too stunned to do anything. Ms. Fernren gives me a cold stare, but it’s nothing compared to the glacier frown Tor’s nymph gives me.
I’m rushed with questions from the other students. “How did you do that?” and “Show me,” are among the most common.
The bell rings, and everyone files out, despite wanting answers. My little golem flaps his wings as though trying them out. Then he lifts into the air and circles the room before coming to land on my shoulder. He’s a curious little thing.
“Hey, you.” I pet his feathered head, and he coos as he burrows into my hand. “You need a name.” I think for a moment. “How about Riddle?”
He trills and lets me continue to stroke his head. “Come on. We have to find our next class.” I pull out my schedule and look at it. Two long, slim fingers clamp on the paper and tug it away. I look up and watch as Grim pockets my schedule and smirks.
“Hey, I need that.”
He extends his hand to Riddle as if he’s going to pet him, but the golem jumps up, closes his mouth around Grim’s finger, and then bites the digit off!
“Oh no! No! Riddle!”
Grim stares at his now four-fingered hand while I try to grab Riddle and pry open his mouth. There’s no blood, but a small flame shoots from the missing limb. If I can find the digit, I can suture it back on as long as it isn’t mutilated.
The elemental taps me and shakes his head. The graph of a finger extends out of Grim’s stub, and a fully formed finger reappears. He’s whole once more.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
Grim shakes his head.
Riddle burps flame and sits on the desk, no remorse in sight.
“Be very careful with him, Everly,” Ms. Fernren says from behind me.
I spin around and nod.
“There might be a time when you have to immobilize him,” she says.
“You mean kill him.” I blanch. The idea is so cold, but she has a point. If I can’t keep Riddle from eating body parts, then it won’t be me who ends Riddle’s life. “I know. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, but…” I wave at the little guy.
Grim, apparently one for punishment, extends his hand to Riddle again. But this time the golem mimics the elemental and extends a feathered, clawed foot.
“Whatever he ingests will have a direct influence on him. Be careful,” Ms. Fernren says.
“I will. Thank you.” My sights turn to Grim. “So, are you going to show me to my next class or what?”
He smirks and jerks his head in a nod. That’s a yes. I take it and follow him.
Riddle’s life force is tied with mine, so he has no choice but to follow. And he does—above my head.
The hall is filled with students this time. My golem flaps his wings and lands on my shoulder. Riddle chirps and turns his head a hundred and eighty degrees either direction.
Meanwhile, Grim leads me down another hall, then another. The towers connect at the base, so we don’t have to go out into the dreary day. But archways fill with students running into classrooms.
Finally, Grim points to a class and walks in. “We’re here,” he says.
I look over at Riddle. “Well, here we go.”
He gives me a peep of encouragement and I walk in.
SEVENTEEN♀♥♂♂♂♂EVERLY
The count is asleep. I know this because he’s been quiet for the past four hours during my classes. It shouldn’t surprise me. Sunlight filters from high above, and even though it’s anything but bright, vampires still hide during the day. Well, except for Jean-Claude. He seems to withstand daytime hours just fine. But, still, there’s this weight in my body as if I’m half-asleep.
Sometimes I’ll hear the count whisper things… things that don’t have any meaning. He repeats
