Chapter 1
“That is, by far, the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Nate mutters, arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s slouched on the thick carpet he just dragged in from Celeste’s old room, head resting against the side of my bare bed like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You seriously can’t do another private lesson with Humphrey.”
I drop the toiletries bag on my mattress. A beat too late, I realize the zipper isn’t closed all the way. Celeste’s makeup, nail polish, and half a dozen tiny brushes spill across my bed in a colorful mess.
“Really?” I whisper, mostly to myself. I kneel, sweeping everything back into the bag. “I don’t have a choice, Nate. I can’t just stop going. She’ll notice.”
The bag slips from my hands, and everything pours out again. I stare at the pile for a second before letting out a breath and leaving it there. I sink on the edge of the bed and turn toward him. “She has so much stuff. I don’t even know where we’re going to put all of it.”
Nate eyes the growing pile of Celeste’s things like it might multiply and eat him. “Yeah, well. She’s—”
“Completely impossible,” Celeste announces as she walks in, dropping a clear shoe bag beside the carpet with a frustrated grunt. Her arms go to her hips, eyes flicking between us. “If Lenny had just let me borrow the trolley from the potions lab, we’d be done by now.”
Nate snorts. “Pretty sure my spine’s permanently damaged. This carpet weighs more than I do.”
“It’s not that bad,” she scoffs, though there’s no heat behind it. Then her gaze shifts to me. “Wait, what were you two talking about?”
“Hailey’s brilliant plan to keep meeting with Humphrey one-on-one,” Nate answers, gesturing wildly with his hand at me. “You know, casual weekly death wish.”
Celeste’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”
“I am,” I say quietly. “I already told Nate I can’t back out. If I suddenly stop showing up, she’s going to know something’s wrong. And we don’t need to give her a reason to start digging.”
“But we could help you,” Celeste insists, inching closer. “We can go over the material together, keep you caught up.”
I shake my head. “That’s not the point. If she thinks I’m avoiding her, it’ll set off alarms. She’s smart. She will notice if I suddenly make excuses for not showing up to lessons I made pretty obvious I looked forward to. I just… I need to keep things normal. Or at least make them look that way.”
Nate releases a slow breath, leaning his head back against the bed. “And what if she decides to use that alone time to make you disappear? Or follow through with her plan and turn you into a hybrid? What then, hm?”
“She won’t.” My voice is steady, even if I don’t feel it. “She knows I’m not the only one aware of the lessons. If something happens to me, you’ll all point fingers at her. She doesn’t want that kind of attention.”
Celeste folds her arms, quiet for a moment. “I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t either,” I admit. “But right now, it’s the safest and most logical move.”
Celeste drags out a slow, tired sigh, letting herself fall onto the edge of once Ariah’s—now her bed. Her eyes sweep the room, landing on the half-unpacked boxes and the piles of clothes that still don’t have a home. “It’s weird,” she remarks after a beat. “Being in here without Ariah. I keep expecting to hear her complaining about how she needs to stock up with more snacks. Added with the fact that she always had more than enough of it.”
“Bit hypocritical of you, don’t you think?” Nate gives her a pointed look, getting up from the floor. “You hoard clothes and beauty tools like she hoards snacks.”
Celeste sticks out her tongue at Nate and pulls a face.
I pause in the middle of folding one of her jackets, fingers tugging at a loose thread. I feel it too, that weird quiet, like the room itself is still adjusting to the change. It’s not haunted.
Just… wrong.
“Anyway, you better get used to it,” Nate sighs, tossing a bag of hair stuff into the closet without even looking where it lands. “This is your room now, too.”
He leans back against the doorframe, arms crossed, but his voice softens when he adds, “At least it’s something we don’t have to stress about anymore. You’re not alone. Neither of you are. If anything happens… you’ve got each other.”
Celeste nods slowly, eyes distant. “I hope it won’t come to that.”
I want to echo the sentiment, but the words get stuck somewhere between my ribs. Instead, I sit down beside her and ask, “Did Elijah respond yet?”
Her expression shifts just enough for me to know the answer before she says it. She shakes her head. “No. You’ll know the second he does.”
I swallow hard and glance away. That ache in my chest is still there—dull, constant. Even though the bond’s gone, or sleeping, or whatever it is… I still feel him missing like a phantom limb.
Nate, mercifully, breaks the silence. “Okay, I’m saying it. We have to get you a phone.”
I snort, more air than amusement. “Yeah. I know.”
“I mean it, Hails. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t have one. It’s borderline criminal.” He tosses a sock onto a shelf. “Even toddlers have those plastic pretend ones. At least they pretend to be connected.”
Celeste lets out a breath of laughter, faint but discernible. “It would make things easier.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. It’s something so small, but somehow it feels bigger than it is. Like saying I’ll get a phone means I’m finally admitting things have changed. That I can’t keep pretending everything’s normal anymore.
We get back to work, shuffling Celeste’s stuff into drawers, rearranging books, shifting pillows, and picture frames. It takes longer than it should, as none of us are focused, but eventually, the room starts to look less like a war zone and more like a shared space. Lived in.
Safe, even.
By the time we finish, we’re all sweaty, sore, and barely upright. Nate mutters something about needing a reward in the form of food, and none of us argues.
We make our way down to the dining hall in a quiet, comfortable haze. The corridors are dim, and the academy is oddly peaceful. There’s a strange stillness in the air that makes me think, Maybe we’ll actually get one night without disaster.
But of course, peace never lasts long here.
We round a corner, and everything snaps right back into chaos mode.
Luca’s in the middle of the hallway, holding some guy by the front of his shirt, one-handed, with enough force to lift him off the ground. The guy’s feet barely scrape the floor. His face is pale, his mouth open in panicked silence, and Luca…
Well. Luca looks ready to kill him.
His eyes are narrowed, jaw locked, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts. There’s a wildness to him that I haven’t seen before. It’s not just anger, but something colder underneath. A fury that’s been bottled up for way too long.
“Luca!” I break into a run. “What are you doing?”
Nate catches up with me, eyes wide, but it’s Celeste who grabs Luca’s arm first. “Hey! Stop. He’s not worth it.”
Luca doesn’t even blink. His grip doesn’t loosen. He keeps staring the guy down like he hasn’t heard a word we’ve said. “You think so?” he growls, low and dangerous. “You think he’s not worth it?”
“Whatever he said, it’s not worth this,” I agree, moving closer. “Come on, talk to us.”
But he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t even shift. His voice is sharp, almost brittle. “Tell them what you said. Go on. Say it.”
The guy squirms, his voice barely a gust of air. “It was… it was just a joke, man—”
Luca slams him back into the wall so hard that I’m surprised that the plaster doesn’t crack. “Say it.”
“Luca,” Celeste repeats, firmer this time. She wraps both hands around his arm, trying to pull him back. “You’re scaring everyone.”
Luca’s eyes don’t leave the guy’s face. “Good. Then maybe my point gets across to some idiots in this school.”
I inch closer, almost placing a hand on his arm, then withdraw at the last moment, remembering why it’s a bad idea to touch him. “Luca, please.”
His shoulders rise and fall once, hard, controlled. Then he finally speaks again. “Tell them.”
The guy hesitates. His gaze slides to me, and I see it in his eyes, the hesitation, the panic, the cowardice. He’s not sorry. Just scared. “I said,” he swallows, “Ledger’s dad did the right thing. Just… just a pity he didn’t kill him on the spot.”
My breath leaves me like I’ve been punched. “What?”
The guy’s voice trembles as he adds, “He belongs in the dirt beside his sister. Being eaten by maggots.”
For a second, no one says anything.
The silence is louder than anything else. Celeste’s grip tightens on Luca’s arm, Nate goes completely still beside me, and I just… I don’t move. I can’t.
Look. I know everyone is conflicted over the hybrid thing. I get that. Especially being misinformed by the council and Elijah’s dad that they are supposedly dangerous. But to wish something like that on anyone? My lips draw thin as I stare at him.
Luca finally lets go.
The guy drops to the floor with a grunt, stumbling backward as he tries to straighten up. His hand goes to his collar like that will fix anything. But Luca swoops forward again, and the guy shrinks away.
“And what else?” Luca’s voice is a whisper now, but it carries like thunder.
The guy’s eyes flick to me again, then down at the floor. “I… I said Sally deserved to die.”
That’s when Nate moves.
“Well, excuse me?” He practically swoops forward fast enough to make the guy flinch. “You realize that you’re talking about our friend here?”
Though Sally was never our friend directly, she was once a girl Luca loved, maybe still does, and Elijah’s sister. That makes her our friend by proxy alone, even if she’s thrown me with a book or two.
The guy stammers, “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“No,” Nate snaps. “You meant it exactly like that.”
Celeste’s jaw is tight, her whole body coiled. I’m still standing there, frozen, trying to figure out if the buzzing in my head is from disbelief or anger. My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Luca turns to me then, and there’s something raw in his expression. Like he’s been holding this anger in for far too long and finally let it spill. “You tell me that’s not worth it.”
I suck in a breath and say, firm and low, “No, he isn’t. Because he has to live with himself and every rotten thought in that miserable head of his. For the rest of his life. Don’t stoop to his level.”
Nate suddenly whisks forward and slaps the guy hard across the left cheek. Then again, on the right. The sharp crack echoes down the corridor, and two angry red handprints bloom on the guy’s pale skin.
My eyes widen in surprise. “Nate?”
He just shoots me a satisfied look, shrugging. “Well, I’m not any better than him, then.”
I sigh, shaking my head.
Luca moves fast, grabbing Nate’s shoulder and yanking him out of the way so he can be in the guy’s face again. “If I see you anywhere near here again—”
“You won’t,” the guy mutters, tugging at the collar of his shirt. His eyes flick nervously to Nate, then Luca. Without waiting for more, he spins and bolts down the hall like a coward who has finally realized he overplayed his hand.
I turn to Luca. “Don’t let him get to you.”
He rounds on me. “Yeah?” His voice is sharper than I expected, and it hits with enough force to make me flinch. Nate and Celeste do too. “You lose someone you love and then listen to some piece of trash talk about them like they were nothing—then tell me how not to let it get to me.”
“Luca…” I start, reaching out, but he’s already walking off, stiff and brewing in his anger, his jaw clenched tight.
Nate watches him disappear around the corner, then looks at me. “Okay, serious question.”
I sigh and rub at my arms. They’re sore from hauling Celeste’s endless supply of stuff up and down stairs all afternoon. “What now?”
He points in the direction Luca went. “He got pretty close to that hybrid dude in Hump—”
Celeste smacks him on the arm. “Shut up, dumbass.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, then leans in, voice lowered. “I’m just saying, he’s been… moody.”
I glance down the hall again. Luca’s gone now. “He wasn’t bitten or scratched. Besides, the hybrid was tied to the wall.”
“Not that you know of,” Nate shrugs.
I shake my head. “No. He’s not turning into anything. He’s stressed. Just like you, by the way,” I say pointedly. “That’s it.”
“Here’s to hoping,” Celeste says quietly. “Because we really can’t handle another mess right now.”
She’s not wrong. But that doesn’t stop the silence from stretching between us like a taut wire, no doubt all of us too tired to keep pretending everything’s fine. After a few seconds, she nudges my elbow gently and says, “Lets get some food. I’m starving after carrying all that stuff.”
“Talk about a workout,” Nate mutters. “Come on.”
Dinner is a blur. I barely taste the bland rice and chicken on my tray. My thoughts are stuck, looping around Luca’s outburst, around the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders locked up before he stormed out. I can’t shake the pit curling in my stomach, the kind that warns me things are unraveling faster than I can catch them.
But I don’t have time to sit and stew. Not with another spiritual lesson with Mrs. Humphrey looming ahead.
Celeste offers to walk with me, but I wave her off. It’s not bravery—it’s the opposite. I need a minute. A minute to gather myself. To breathe. To pretend I’m not about to walk into a room with the woman who runs this place, who’s supposed to protect her students, but is in reality the Master we’ve been trying to stop.
The betrayal still coils hot and heavy in my gut.
Out of everyone, we thought we could trust her.
After dinner I leave the dining hall and walk toward the faculty wing. The noise of the other students fades behind me as I enter the restricted corridors.
The halls are quiet. Most students are in their dorms or tucked away in their rooms by now, lost in books and more than likely, nasty gossip. My footsteps echo off the stone floor as I drag myself closer to Mrs. Humphrey’s office.
My chest tightens the way it always does before a lesson with her, not because I think she’ll fail me, but because she sees too much. Knows too much. And I’m terrified she’s going to figure it out that we’re onto her.
That I know.
But as I round the corner and see her office door cracked open, it’s not fear of being discovered that stops me cold.
It’s the voices.
Angry ones.
I freeze, inching closer on silent feet, pressing myself to the stone wall beside the doorway.
“I warned you not to meddle in things that do not concern you,” Mrs. Humphrey snaps. Her voice is usually crisp and measured, but now it’s fraying at the edges, raw with tension.
A deeper voice cuts back, low and sharp. “You mean like you’ve meddled in Council business? Don’t pretend innocence with me, Selene.”
That voice. My pulse spikes.
Mr. Ledger. The crap excuse of a father Elijah had the misfortune to be born to.
“I protect my students. That is my only concern,” Mrs. Humphrey snaps, trying for control again. But I can hear the strain underneath it.
He scoffs. “You mean the ones who serve your little agenda. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you coddle that girl.”
My heart stutters, crashing into my ribs.
That girl. Me.
I don’t wait to hear more. My knuckles rap hard against the door, louder than I intend. My hand trembles slightly, but I lock it down.
The silence that follows is instant and suffocating.
“Come in,” Mrs. Humphrey answers, tone forcibly even.
I push the door open and step inside. The air feels electrified, thick with something unspoken. Mrs. Humphrey stands behind her desk, arms crossed so tightly her nails dig into her sleeves.
Mr. Ledger looms in front of her desk like he owns the place—tall, stiff, and smirking like he’s already won something.
“Well, well, Miss Woods, your timing is impeccable,” he sneers.
I ignore him.
“Sit,” Humphrey orders, gesturing toward the lone chair across from her.
I hesitate, flicking a glance at Mr. Ledger. His eyes narrow, and he takes a lazy step back, giving me just enough space to walk by. I sit stiffly, back ramrod straight, pretending I don’t feel his breath brush the top of my head as he pauses behind me.
“I will not have you harassing my students,” Mrs. Humphrey snips coldly, the ice back in her voice.
Mr. Ledger laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I asked a simple question.”
Then he moves again, drifting to my side like smoke. “As a matter of fact,” he murmurs, “I have a few questions for this one in particular.”
“Another time,” Mrs. Humphrey snaps. “She has a scheduled lesson. One that will be on the exam.”
Mr. Ledger turns toward her, slow and deliberate, like a predator deciding whether or not to pounce. “Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?”
Mrs. Humphrey doesn’t answer. But something in her tight expression, something in the flicker of fear that crosses her eyes, says enough.
We all knew he could take her position as headmistress from her if he wanted to. Which, admittedly, might not be a bad thing, knowing what I know now.
Not that I want him here. Although my dislike for him was personal, it might be safer for all students living here ultimately.
Mr. Ledger turns back to me, and before I can brace myself, he’s in my space. I lean back on instinct.
“You know exactly where he’s hiding,” he states. It’s not a question.
I shake my head, answering anyway. “I don’t know where Elijah is.”
His mouth twists, and he practically growls, “You may have fooled the Council, girl. But you don’t fool me. I see it all over you.”
“I don’t,” I say, louder this time. “Even if I did—”
But I don’t get the chance to finish. He reaches into his coat pocket, and something inside me seizes.
He pulls out a glass vial filled with swirling red smoke. The same potion he used to expose Elijah’s hybrid nature. I shot to my feet, heart in my throat.
“Why—!”
He uncorks it. Thick, crimson smoke spills into the air like blood underwater. It swirls around me, clinging to my skin, wrapping itself into my hair, my clothes. It burns my nose, and I fight the urge to gag.
Naturally, it doesn’t affect me. But it certainly amps up my annoyance. “Are you done?” I snarl, refusing to flinch.
He grins. “Can’t be too safe.”
He corks the vial and tucks it back into his coat like he hasn’t just ambushed me with magical smoke. I start to lower myself into the chair again, but he isn’t finished. “And before I forget…”
I freeze. “What the hell are you—”
Then I see it.
The needle.
Small. Jet black. At the tip is a sharp stone darker than midnight, as if it were carved from a piece of void.
My blood turns to ice.
“No—don’t—!”
But he grabs my hand before I can pull away. His grip is brutal—the needle jabs into my palm.
Pain erupts, hot, sharp, unnatural. I cry out, yanking my hand back, blood spilling instantly from the tiny puncture.
“What the hell?!” I gasp, cradling my hand.
“Mr. Ledger!” Mrs. Humphrey barks, rushing around her desk. But she doesn’t touch him. She’s not allowed to. He’s still, unfortunately, the Alpha.
He shrugs, brushing a drop of my blood off his sleeve like it’s a nuisance. “If Miss Woods won’t tell me where Elijah is… I suppose I’ll just have to let her lead me to him.”
Lead him?
My breath stutters. I stare at my hand, still bleeding, still burning.
“What did you do to me?” I ask, staring incredulously at him.
Mr. Ledger doesn’t answer. He turns and strolls out of the room like he didn’t just hex me with something. At least, I assume that was what he did.
The door closes behind him with a soft click that feels louder than thunder.
I look down at my hand again. Blood drips steadily, snaking in deep crimson down my palm and around my arm.
Mrs. Humphrey curses under her breath. She grabs a tissue from her desk, kneels beside me, and presses it hard into my palm. Questionably hard, too. But I don’t point it out. It dawns on me that she didn’t react to the smoke like the others, which confirms she isn’t a hybrid.
I shove that tidbit of knowledge away for myself.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper, my eyes on my hand again. “What was the needle?”
She doesn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know exactly. But I know what kind of magic that was. Those needles… they’re used in dark rituals. Illegal ones. Dangerous.” Her voice falters for just a second. “Whatever he just did… it’s not good.”
A shiver tears through me. Dark magic. Great.
