“Do you think that of me?” he asks, his eyes bright. He doesn’t look hurt at all by my question.
I swallow hard and drop my gaze. I do not think that of him at all, and the way he’s staring at me makes me feel as if he can see straight through me to my very soul.
“Come on, man, before I rip off your wings,” Sage growls from outside.
I giggle. “Go. Don’t hit him too hard.”
Damon holds out his hand. “Who says I’m going to hit him?”
“Hmm.”
He winks and then flies out of there.
Magic still works inside the cottage, thankfully, and I shapeshift into a bug. The first class of the day should start within a half-hour. We figure it'll be easier to get the professors out of the office building now versus later during the day with classes resumed, mostly because there aren't as many guards around before the first class is to begin. Right now, our biggest fear lies with the guards, not the professors. If the guards think we're up to something, we might be arrested, and I will not go to Dark Fae Penitentiary for trying to solve a crime.
Even if I am willing to commit a crime or two in order to solve the murder.
Look at me. Justifying crimes with ease. I really do have some darkness inside me, and honestly, this bit of darkness doesn’t alarm me one bit.
As a fly, I dart out of my cottage. Just having both boys in my room had given me all kinds of ideas, reminding me of dreams that have long since gone away. I think the stress of everything has affected both my sleep and my subconscious. I’ve been eating better, but my sleep has gotten so much worse lately.
I make sure that I fly about haphazardly. Flies don’t always fly in straight lines, after all, and I do not want anyone to notice me. The boys are just ahead, throwing real punches, and more are connecting than not.
Their shouts overwhelm me, and I don't bother to listen to their words. Already, several professors fly out of the building. Guards are heading this way too, and I ignore all of them and head straight to Professor Luna’s office. I had been here once a few weeks ago, when I asked her if she thought I needed a tutor because I wasn’t doing nearly as well in her course as I would have liked.
“You are blocked, that’s clear to see,” Professor Luna said.
“How do I get unblocked?”
“Something is preventing you from opening up your mind fully. Magic can only do so much if the heart isn’t willing.”
“I’m willing!”
"Perhaps your subconscious isn't. Fear can also hold back a great many fairies."
“I don’t have anything to fear,” I protested.
She just tilted her head. “Being honest with oneself is the single most important tool a fairy can use.”
“Even more than magic?” I asked, my tone becoming a little drier than it should’ve considering who I was addressing.
“Yes, even more so than magic because if you aren’t honest with yourself about why you are using this spell or that magical technique, then why should you be doing that spell at all?”
I took her words to heart, or at least I tried to, but I think my block comes from my heart. I can’t open that entirely, which is why I can’t pick one of the boys. Fear is affecting me, even if I try to pretend it’s not.
Her office is smaller than some of the other professors’. Pictures of landscapes and even seascapes line the walls, hung up by vines. It’s so beautiful. Her desk and chair are both made from tree stumps, the desk obviously a much higher one. Folders and papers sit in neat piles on her desk, and I grimace. As a fly, I can’t possibly try to rifle through them. Using shapeshifting might get me caught, but I’m already thinking I’ll have to use other magic in order to learn what went on shortly before Professor Luna died.
I can’t hear anyone else nearby, and I quickly turn back into myself, although I try to keep my height about half what it normally is so that I can hide easier if someone were to come in here.
As I suspected, the papers and folders provide no information that could give a hint as to what caused her to be killed.
There’s a tiny engraving on the tree trunk. It almost looks like a lock, and I use the vine from the wall holding up the pictures to form a kind of key to press against the lock mechanism. A tiny part of the bark opens up like a drawer. Inside is…
Nothing. Nothing at all. If it contained anything important, I'd never know. Did the police or guards find it? Had the killer taken it? Maybe Professor Ivy herself removed whatever had been in here.
Voices seem to be growing louder. I don’t have much time. I might not have any time, but I’m not leaving just yet.
Quickly, I shove the bark drawer back into place and close my eyes. My breathing slows as I focus on my beating heart, the sound of it drawing me deeper and deeper into my subconscious even while I remained of sound mind.
Illumination is difficult enough when you are trying to tap into the innermost parts of yourself, but that’s not what I’m attempting here. No, I’m trying a form of illumination in an attempt to get into the professor’s head. The last time she was here or maybe the last time she taught class… or maybe her last moments. Whatever I can manage.
Now, I focus on my nose, on the scents in the office, picking out the aroma that had been hers. Her voice echoes in my mind, and abruptly, it feels as if the ground opens up beneath me. I’m falling into someone or something.
Professor Luna. She’s dead, but her consciousness had been here. She had
