The Oracle's Locket Page 11

  Chapter Eighteen

  Saturday mid-morning, I sat with Celeste at the breakfast table. The boys remained at the other end of the table, but I’d avoided conversation with them since our little altercation in the hallway a few days before. Their eyes remained on me, boring into me, but I focused on the conversation with Celeste. Normal. Just be normal again. Just feel as normal as you can feel.

  “But that’s why I think you should go with me to the soccer game this afternoon,” Celeste said.

  I realized I’d missed out on whatever it was she’d said before that. I blinked at her, confused, and said, “Can you repeat that?”

  She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”

  “I am now. Come on. What’s up?”

  “Go with me to the soccer game. It’s Lycans versus Fae,” Celeste continued.

  I arched my brow. I don’t know how I’d missed it, but I guess the various human sports that we played at Origins were played in groups of species, rather than boys versus boys, second years versus third years, etc. My eyes flashed toward Raphael, the only Lycan I was close to, and he bowed his head, his eyes glittering.

  “You’re playing today,” I said, some of the first words I’d said to him in a few days.

  He nodded, just slightly. There was such meaning behind his eyes. I knew he needed me there. And really, I knew I had to go. Before I’d changed, I’d had one single great love, and that had been soccer. I hadn’t really played much since heading to Origins. But the idea of sitting at the edge of the field and watching the players cut across the turf, their cleats whipping through the air, the ball sailing into the net. It all thrilled me. I turned back to Celeste and said, “I guess I have to.”

  CELESTE AND I DONNED in Origin Supernatural Academy sweatshirts, which we’d been given during our first week. “It feels exactly like a sporting event at Hillside Falls,” I told her as we rushed down the steps, joining the hubbub of other students en route to the soccer field.

  “I think you’ll find it’s a tiny bit different,” Celeste said with an evil grin.

  Celeste and I got seats up in the stands, surrounded by other second-year girls, like Meghan McMillan, the mermaid. She had a huge jug of water in her hands and beamed at us as we sat near her. “If I don’t swim during the day, I have to drink about two huge jugs of this,” she said, rolling her eyes at her own situation. “It’s so annoying. But I don’t want to miss this game! Lycans and Faes? Celeste, you saw the game last year, right? When Riley almost lost one of her ears?”

  “Ha. Yes!” Celeste said, snapping her fingers. “It grew back on a little weirdly if I remember right. She had a crooked head for a few weeks.”

  “And anyone who made fun of her, Margot nearly murdered,” Meghan said. She slung the bottle of water back and took two dramatic sips. When she finished, she said, “Anyway. It should be good again. The more drama, the better.”

  Meghan asked us to watch her water jug so she could grab us all some popcorn from the little stand below. While she was gone, the Lycans lined up on one side of the field, while the Faes lined up on the other. Raphael stood in the very center of the Lycans: the tallest and the most muscular, apparently their leader. I hadn’t really hung with any of the female Lycans since I’d gotten to Origins, but there they were—four of them amongst the team’s eleven members. Their hair was especially wild and beautiful—think 80s’ music videos, that sort of thing—and they were muscular but oddly feminine as well, the kind of girls who could kick ass and take names and all that, while still being really wantable.

  The Faes was made up of five guys and six girls. Riley Peters was off to the side, her red hair flipping around in a red ponytail. They were sleek and slender, generally speaking, but clearly powerful and cunning. You could just see it in their eyes: they would stop at nothing to destroy the Lycans. And according to Celeste and Meghan, they had a bit of a war going on with each other since the year before.

  “Fuck. I wish I could be out there,” I muttered, feeling nostalgic.

  Celeste sounded doubtful. “I’m not so sure you’ll still think that in a few minutes.”

  Meghan arrived just in time. Professor Springer marched into the center of the field and blew her lips to make a very loud whistle sound, without the whistle itself. I couldn’t tell if this was magic or just her physical ability. She then tossed the ball into the air—and the game erupted from there.

  Okay. Celeste had been right.

  There was no fucking way I wanted to be out on that field.

  The minute the ball floated into the air, the Lycans seemed to flicker in and out of their powers. Raphael burst forward, the hair on his arms and legs much, much thicker than it normally was in his human form. He got the ball quickly and burst past this other, lanky Fae-guy, who sprung into the air and bobbed onto the other side of Raphael, keeping up with him in a way that didn’t seem possible. But as Raphael lurched toward the goal, he whipped his hand out—so that his claws actually slashed through the Fae-guy’s t-shirt. Tiny droplets of blood oozed out of his skin and onto his uniform.

  I gasped. “What the fuck!” I cried, as the rest of the crowd either boo-ed or screamed with delight.

  “Don’t worry,” Celeste told me. “You always forget this, but Faes and Lycans heal really quickly.”

  “Oh.” I knew I sounded doubtful. But dammit—I felt like I was in full view of a huge bloodbath, the kind you might watch in a movie.

  As the Fae-guy kicked back to nurse his wounds, Raphael tore the rest of the way down the field and smashed the ball into the net. He pounded his chest and turned toward the crowd and howled—not like a man, but like a wolf.

  Holy. Shit.

  I felt it again: just like I had when Quintin had transformed. Watching Raphael turn into this monstrous Lycan, his muscles bulging as he descended over the Faes—absolutely annihilating them on the soccer field—made me horny as fuck. My cheeks burned. Celeste glanced at me and noticed and said, “What’s wrong, Ivy? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  I leaned forward. The Faes slowly figured out how to master themselves against the Lycans. While the Lycans had more power, the Faes had more agility—and they seemed to play dirtier as the game went on. Raphael scored two goals within the first ten minutes, which caused Riley Peters to shoot forward, her face beautiful and filled with rage, to yank the ball away from him and cast it far across the field to another of her teammates, who hovered in the air in wait. The second the ball got there, the other Fae snapped his leg forward and cast the ball into the net. The crowd around us absolutely roared, and Raphael fumed.

  “Do they ever pull cards?” I asked Celeste over the howl of the crowd. “Do they ever kick people out for bad sportsmanship?”

  Celeste gave me an incredulous look. “No way,” she said, then gave a funny laugh. “The more violent, the better. You can see it on the teachers’ faces, even. They love it. They don’t want any of us to calm down.”

  The minutes stretched on. I glanced down to the front of the stands, where Quintin and Ezra stood side-by-side, their arms crossed over their chests. They seemed intensely focused on Raphael, a brotherhood that transcended everything else. As I looked down at them, Ezra glanced up. It was like he could sense me. I wrapped my hand around the locket and gazed into his blue eyes, totally overwhelmed, wanting to talk to him—to feel his hand against my back. But just then, Raphael leaped into the air, nearly fully transforming himself as he dragged the ball directly out from under a Fae, then tore through the field, upending turf and even the dirt beneath as he went. The crowd nearly lost its mind.

  Just before half-time, both teams looked ragged and torn-up. Blood spilled freely from at least five team members on either side. Again, Celeste reminded me that the injuries would heal quickly—the way Quintin’s had. I felt doubtful until I watched them line-up for after the half. They looked stronger; there was much less blood. Raphael looked brash and violent and wild, but he also looked a
bsolutely fine. Just before he joined the others, he took a big gulp of water from his water bottle. His eyes flashed up toward mine. They reflected what he felt for me.

  It was too difficult to face.

  As Professor Springer whistled to start the game, I felt a now-familiar jolt: the beginning of a premonition. I reached out and grabbed Celeste’s knee with my gloved hand as hard as I could to stabilize myself. I could hardly hear her screech.

  Images came.

  Raphael. His body, limp. His mouth, frothing. Something, someone, wanted to hurt him—to take him away from me. I tore up and stood, letting out a wild scream. But my scream only joined the others in the crowd and meant nothing. I wasn’t powerful enough. I blinked back into reality, and the locket burned against my chest.

  Something was about to happen. I felt it, just as I’d felt it with Zelda. It wasn’t a matter of days or weeks or months but minutes, maybe seconds.

  Celeste stood with me and gripped my shoulder. “Ivy? Ivy, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  I sputtered. Ezra glanced up at me and lifted his wrist, showing his glowing bracelet.

  “One of them is in trouble,” I whispered, my voice raspy. “But it’s not me. And it’s not Quintin or Ezra. They seem okay. They seem...”

  “Don’t you think it’s possible that whoever’s out to get you could infect the magic between the three of you?” Celeste demanded, making a very good point—one I hadn’t considered. “I mean, even if one of the boys is in danger, it’s probably just a trap to get you away from safety.”

  “I have to stop this...” I whispered. The locket burned harder now, which meant the danger was closer than ever. I staggered down the steps of the bleachers, abandoning Celeste.

  I could hear her grunt and sigh as she ambled after me. I swept down the steps, still fizzing with the memory of my premonition.

  But I didn’t even reach the boys in time.

  Just a few feet away from Quintin and Ezra, I heard a horrible scream from the field. This scream was different than the others. It wasn’t a battle cry; it was proof that we’d fallen off the rules of the game and into something much darker. My locket burned brighter and hotter than ever. I swear it could have scalded my skin.

  Raphael was just as I’d envisioned him. He was stretched out in the center of the field. The soccer ball still lay between his feet, as though he wanted to guard it despite his being largely unconscious. He convulsed into seizures and frothed at the mouth. Several of his team members dropped to their knees, seemingly afraid to touch him.

  But the boys and I couldn’t wait. Ezra and Quintin and I rushed out from the stands, pushed past the teachers and onlookers at the edge of the field. As we ran, I reached out and grabbed Quintin’s hand. It seemed impossible that I could even keep up with either of them, as their legs were longer and more powerful—but I felt strength come over me I couldn’t understand.

  When we reached Raphael, he was still in the middle of his convulsions. Professor Springer and Headmaster Chesterton hovered over him, muttering incantations. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I hardly noticed them.

  First, Quintin. Now, Raphael.

  I’d been right to try to keep the boys out of my life. But it hadn’t been enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

  I dropped to my knees and shimmied between the others, who seemed to get the hint and buck up and move away. Soon, it was just me next to Raphael, my heart pounding. I stretched my hands out over his chest to steady him, the gloves still on. I closed my eyes and felt this immense love come over me. It seemed to flow in every part of my body, coming up from my stomach. On instinct, I yanked off my gloves and placed my hands over his muscular chest. I wanted him to feel this feeling. I wanted to give it to him. I hardly knew if it was possible.

  It wasn’t clear what stopped the convulsions. Professor Springer and Headmaster Chesterton kept up their manic incantations, as I pressed my hands against him with my eyes closed. As I did, I felt this overwhelming knowledge.

  My eyes opened immediately and I glared at Headmaster Chesterton. “I think someone tampered with his water bottle,” I said.

  Raphael coughed a few times after that. Headmaster Chesterton balked at me, his face shimmering with confusion. I slipped my gloves back on my hands and curled against Raphael, whispering to him as I stroked his hair.

  “Baby, wake up. Come back to the world with us. We would be nothing without you. We’ll figure out who hurt you. And I’ll never let it happen again. Ever.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bit by bit, Raphael returned to the world of the living. When he did, a stretcher appeared in mid-air beside us, and his body floating onto the stretcher thanks to Professor Springer little magic trick. The little straps collected themselves over his chest and stomach and held him in tight. I tried to stay there with the stretcher, pleaded with Headmaster Chesterton, but he still seemed a bit aghast about my whole, “check his water bottle” thing and told me he’d prefer it if I, Ezra and Quintin wait a while. They would alert us when Raphael was ready to see other students.

  In the meantime, Headmaster Chesterton demanded which of the water bottles Raphael had been using. One of the Lycans collected it from the sidelines and passed it to Headmaster Chesterton, who wrapped it up in something to protect himself and then headed off to the main building. As I watched him go, Professor Binion caught my eye near the stands. I hadn’t thought he was the sort of guy to appreciate something like a sporting event. Course, he probably got as bored as the rest of us, stuck there on campus as the rest of the world went by.

  He nodded toward me, his face somber. He knew that whoever had attacked Raphael had wanted to lure me out to attack me, too. But by the time I’d gotten out to the field, there had been too many people around.

  But did this mean that whoever had attacked Raphael also knew about the lockets? They’d known enough that maybe the premonition would have lured me into the field?

  God, it was so troubling. I pressed my face into my hands and wanted so badly to cry. There was so much else to do, so much else to know. When I lifted my head back up, I fell into Ezra’s powerful arms.

  But by this time, the other professors had decided that curfew would begin immediately for the day. It was only 2:30 on a rather warm January day, and the thought of sitting inside while all this was going on seemed like the worst torture. The professors corralled us like cattle, pushing us back toward our dorms. Ezra and Quintin stayed on with me as long as they could. When we reached our break-off point, Quintin muttered, “I’m sure they’ll figure out who did this. You’ll be safe, Ivy. Don’t worry for a second about it.”

  But there was an edge of doubt to his voice. For all his talk about protecting me, there was really a lot about this that none of us could fully understand. I lifted my chin and gave him a soft kiss, wanting to thank him for his empty words.

  Back inside, Celeste came into my bedroom and watched me pace for a while. She was good about that, sometimes: knew when I just needed to be quiet and stir in my own thoughts.

  “Look, the convulsions stopped,” she said finally, after about twenty minutes of this strange and empty silence.

  “But someone poisoned him,” I returned. “It must be what Aunt Maria said. Someone has infiltrated someone from campus. And they’re after everyone I’m close to.” I stopped and turned toward her, my eyes enormous. I hadn’t realized that Celeste could very well be next.

  Celeste probably saw this fear reflected in my eyes. She shivered and muttered something under her breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just hate when you get that bug-eyed look. You never used to do that until Origins.”

  “Sorry. I know it’s my only change so far. I hope it’s not too hard to deal with,” I said sarcastically.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I rushed to it to find Professor Springer on the other side. She looked ominous, like those police officers who arrive in the middle of the night in movie
s to deliver bad news.

  “Ivy? I need you to come with me,” she said.

  Celeste burst up behind me and said, “Ivy needs me to come with her. As a witness.”

  Professor Springer rolled her eyes. “No, she doesn’t. Raphael is absolutely fine. We just want to ask her a few questions.”

  “I still think...” Celeste began, never one to be pushed back.

  “It’s okay,” I told her, my voice low. I couldn’t have her anxious emotional energy rolling around me as I dealt with these other, greater issues.

  I followed Professor Springer through the living area. Several of the girls sat out there and ogled me as I passed. Margot cast me a dark look, then dropped her eyes. Had she had anything to do with this? Why had she been so quiet recently? It fucked with my head.

  When we got outside, I heard myself ask Professor Springer where they’d taken Raphael. She turned back and arched her brow.

  “We have a little hospital here on campus,” she informed me. “Usually, we don’t need to use it. The shapeshifters tend to heal themselves so quickly; it isn’t necessary. But this... we wanted to conduct some tests.”

  When we reached the hospital, Ezra and Quintin were already there, standing alongside Headmaster Chesterton. They peered in through a large window, which showed Raphael seated upright in a big, white bed, as Professor Binion spoke to him. The water bottle sat on the table beside Raphael. It looked so normal, just an everyday human water bottle.

  Headmaster Chesterton turned toward me and boomed, “Ivy. Do you mind if we have a quick word? There’s a small office down the hall.”

  Ezra and Quintin stepped toward me. “We’ll come with her if that’s all right,” Ezra said.

  Headmaster Chesterton rolled his eyes. He seemed to try to come up with some reason why this wasn’t all right but came up dry. He shrugged and led us toward the small corner closet-like office, with an empty place on the front of the door where a name should have been. There was a desk in the center, with a single lamp on top. The afternoon had shifted, becoming dark and chaotic and stormy, which made it difficult to see in the tiny room. Headmaster Chesterton waved his hand over the lamp to ignite it, which helped a tiny bit.