In response, Sullivan pulled a slender phone out of his pocket and slid it across the table to me, sans introduction. I looked at him questioningly and he just gestured with his chin to it. 'Read the unsent texts.'
I clicked past the stock photograph on the wallpaper and through the menu until I got to the unread text section. Fifteen unread texts. Every one to me. My mouth felt dry as I scanned the words. i miss talking like we used to i saw more faeries. luke was here everything isn't ok i killed someone i can hear them coming now
And finally, the worst, because it was exactly the same as the text message I'd sent before school started. i love u.
I just stared at the screen for a long moment before slowly closing the phone. I was aware of a bird singing a repetitive, ugly song outside the window and of a misshapen P on my left hand and of the minute pause between when I exhaled and when I began to inhale again.
Normandy said, 'So I think you can see why it's time for you to confide in us.'
'No, how about this,' I said. I heard how my voice sounded, flat and not like me, but I didn't try to change it as I kept staring at the screen of the phone. 'How about you guys tell me what we're all doing here. Here at Thornking-Ash, I mean. Not in wishy-washy 'we're watching out for you to make sure nothing happens' terms. Like in, 'why the hell did you bring us here when you don't even know what's going on under your own noses' terms. Like you told me that you knew something was up with Dee, right at the very beginning, and now she's obviously totally screwed, and you should've done something--'
I stopped speaking then, because Normandy was saying something and I was realizing that I wasn't angry at him at all. I was angry at me.
I stared at my hands.
'James,' Sullivan said. I heard the sound of Dee's cell phone scraping across the table as he picked it up.
'Look. You're not an idiot,' Normandy said. 'I thought I was pretty clear when we met. We--we being myself and a few of the other staff members here--founded Thornking-Ash after we realized that They were more likely to harass or kidnap teens with incredible musical talent. Like my son.'
I dimly remembered hearing something about this, back when
I'd first applied to the school with Dee. I just stopped myself from saying 'the one who killed himself.' It sounded too tactless, even for me.
'He was stolen,' Normandy said, his voice very even. 'That was before I knew about Them. I knew I couldn't let that happen to anyone else. So we created the school to find at-risk students and keep them under a watchful eye.'
'And the thorn king?' I asked. 'Obviously his trekking about behind the school isn't a coincidence, given the name of the school.'
'He's a canary,' Normandy said, with a sort of flat-lipped smile as if the statement was supposed to be funny, or had been funny once. 'A supernatural canary.'
I looked at him.
He explained, 'Miners used to keep a canary down in the mines, to let them know when the oxygen was getting low. If the canary died, the miners knew to get out of the mine shaft.
Cernunnos is our canary. If one of our students can see or hear him, we know they're particularly susceptible to supernatural interference.'
Sullivan's eyes bored holes in the side of my head.
'Well, obviously your system worked out great,' I said.
Normandy ignored the sarcasm. 'Yeah, actually, it did. We haven't actually had any notable incidents with the Good
Neighbors'--he said this last bit with a glance at Sullivan, making me wonder if there was a story there, or if he just knew about Sullivan's history with Eleanor--'for years. In fact, we've just been a premier music school for several years. Until this year--when we've had more of Them show up on campus than in all of the other years combined. Patrick tells me it's because we have a cloverhand here, though I didn't think they existed anymore. And my instinct is telling me that Deirdre is that cloverhand. Now, I've told you everything about the school, so maybe you can tell me this: am I right?'
There wasn't any reason to lie. 'Yes. I think it started this summer for her.'
Sullivan and Normandy exchanged looks. 'So she's been drawing every single one of Them to the campus,' Normandy said.
'What does that mean tonight's going to look like? Are They satisfied now that They have Deirdre? Or is she part of something bigger?' Sullivan asked.
'Bigger,' I said immediately. I didn't say anything about Nuala; I didn't think Normandy knew about her.
Sullivan said, 'I think the other staff need to be notified. There's ways to get her back, but we have to be prepared.'
'They'll be resistant. It's been years since we've had to do anything like this.' Normandy used the table to push himself to his feet. 'Patrick, come with me.'
Sullivan hesitated, letting Normandy start off without him.
After Normandy was out of earshot, he turned to me. 'Keep
Nuala out of the way and try not to do anything stupid. Just stay inside. In Brigid, maybe. If I don't see you beforehand, meet me by the fountain when the bonfires are starting.'
I'm left sitting at the table, goose bumps crawling up and down my arms. 'What about Dee?' I asked.
'We're handling it. Worry about Nuala.'
He didn't have to mention that last part. I already had it covered.
James pushed open the red door to Brigid Hall and stepped aside so I could walk in first. 'Nope,' I said. 'Ladies first.'
He gave me a withering look, which was a welcome change from his previously strained expression. 'Charming.' But he went in before me anyway. The folding chairs were set up exactly the same as last time we'd been in here, and James walked down the aisle between them, his arms held out wide.
'Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, his face flatteringly lit by the half-light through the frosted glass windows. He kept walking down the aisle; I imagined a cloak billowing out behind him. 'I'm Ian Everett Johan Campbell, the third and the last.'
'Spotlight following you up the aisle,' I interrupted, falling into step behind him.
'I hope I can hold your attention,' James continued. He pretended to pause and kiss someone's hand sitting along the aisle. 'I must tell you that what you see tonight is completely real.'
'Run up the stairs,' I said. 'Music starts once you hit the bottom stair.'
James leapt up the stairs onto the stage, the recessed lighting onstage turning his hair redder than it really was. He spoke as he walked to his mark. 'It might not be amazing, it might not be shocking, it might not be scandalizing, but I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt: it is real. For that--' He paused.
'Music stops,' I said.
James closed his eyes. 'I am deeply sorry.'
I joined him on the stage. 'When you do the scene where they call you out, when they say what you really are, someone will have to cue the music to go with the sentence. Don't forget that part.'
