The Oracle's Locket Page 6

  When we reached the football field, Professor Dracoriant marched around the box several times. He placed his hand over the top and shook it just slightly to make the snake hiss again. In response—and to my serious shock—the Professor kind of hissed back, like he could communicate. The snake hissed again, and then Professor Dracoriant burst back, shaking his head.

  “It’s a very good thing you didn’t open this box, young lady,” he said. “The snake within this box was taken from the swamps outside of the academy grounds. It’s terribly poisonous.”

  Fuck.

  He turned completely toward me, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Who would give you this present, Miss Whitestone? Who would do this to you? How did you find it out here?”

  The note. I still had it there in my hand, squeezed tight. Quintin. Quintin—and probably Raphael and Ezra—had done this to me.

  Fuck them and fuck all of this.

  But I couldn’t just turn Quintin in like this. He deserved to be reprimanded, sure—maybe even kicked out of school, given the severity of, you know, trying to kill me.

  But then again, they felt too big to just hand over to Professor Dracoriant. Bullying was one thing, but this was another. A whole other ball game—an old expression my dad used to say.

  “I don’t know,” I heard myself answer.

  Professor Dracoriant snapped a finger. Suddenly, several other members of staff, including Professor Binion, appeared around the box. I bucked back, genuinely shocked at how quickly they’d arrived. Professor Binion’s eyes burned toward mine over the box, as Professor Dracoriant explained the situation. My cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment.

  “We must halt the dance,” one of the professors said. “And instate an immediate curfew. Nobody should be out of their rooms after nine. Not now, and not after break. This is deathly serious.”

  Several of the professors turned toward the ballroom and started their march back to announce the end of the dance. A few others remained with the snake, probably to get rid of it or study it for clues. I felt caught between two worlds. But I rushed after the teachers, begging them.

  “Please, don’t end the dance and put in a curfew,” I said, reaching Professor Binion first. I knew that this would give all the students even more of a reason to feel touchy around me—and I needed that like I needed a hole in the head. Fear wrapped around my throat, and I struggled to draw breath.

  “It’s really the only option,” Professor Binion recited. “After all, we don’t know what else might be out there, lurking in gift boxes.”

  Once inside the ballroom, Headmaster Chesterton bounded up the steps to stand on the little stage toward the far side, near the DJ table. He snapped his fingers and immediately, the music stopped. All students turned toward him, their faces stitched with rage.

  “Good evening. I regret to inform you that we’ve had a very serious and dangerous incident on campus tonight, one that requires us all to head back to our dorm rooms. There will be a campus-wide curfew starting tonight. All students must be in their rooms before 9 p.m. sharp, starting now and going on until after break.”

  A guy student I’d never met cried out across the heads, “What sort of incident?”

  “We cannot disclose what occurred. Suffice it to say; it was an incredibly dangerous and...”

  But the crowd’s mumbled voice overtook him. The lights went on instantly, casting everyone in a really horrible, bright light. Everyone looked sweaty and blotchy and strange, their cheeks sagging with drunkenness and disappointment.

  Chapter Nine

  Already when we returned to the girl's second-year dorm, conversation buzzed about how people had seen me arrive back with the teachers—that it was obviously something else I’d done or about me. Zelda glared at me, her blue eyes monstrous, and muttered, “It always has to be about you, doesn’t it?” then stalked back to her bedroom, her black hair flipping out behind her.

  Although sure, I was pissed that I’d become a scapegoat yet again, my real mission was to track down Quintin. I seethed with rage as I stomped into my bedroom. When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I saw a wild-haired beauty, red lipstick and red cheeks and dark, ominous blue eyes. Celeste appeared in the doorway and tilted her head at me like she’d never seen me like this before.

  “Where the hell did you go for so long? And what happened?” Celeste demanded.

  I shook my head. “I can’t really talk about it. It’s fucked.”

  I rushed toward the window and peered down below. We were only a few stories up, which meant that I could probably ease my way down, where the rooftop angled out toward the side of my window and then connected with a tiny ladder that dropped into a garden area below. I bubbled with adrenaline.

  “And why are you at the window?” Celeste asked, her voice rising.

  I whipped around, my hair flashing across my opposite shoulder. “I have to get out of here. I have to figure something out.”

  “Ivy. Listen to yourself. You sound insane. Maybe you should just stay...”

  “Maybe I am insane,” I blurted. “I don’t know. It would make loads of sense, wouldn’t it? All this change so quickly? Maybe I’m actually at some insane asylum near Hillside Falls, and actually, you and Aunt Maria come in and feed me mashed peas and watch TV with me until you get to go back to your normal lives. Fuck it.”

  Suddenly, I whipped up the window. Celeste lurched for me, just as I snaked my way out and stabbed my feet on the windowsill outside. With a flourish, I reached for the ladder and grabbed it, then cranked myself down and down and down to the mossy grass below. When I reached the ground, I blinked up to see Celeste, still peering out the window at me. She struggled to ease out of the window, attempting to follow. I shook my head and hissed, “Don’t. I have to do this alone.”

  With that, I was gone.

  I felt more powerful than even a few days before. I couldn’t explain it. But as I tore across campus in the night, I just knew that I wouldn’t get caught. I had this sense that I knew where all the teachers were, how our paths might cross, and I avoided them completely. With my hands in fists at my sides, I pictured Quintin: his brooding eyes, his thick shoulders. Where was he? I needed to find him.

  With a jolt, I realized I recognized where he stood in my vision.

  There, at the library.

  Our meeting place.

  Had he known that I wanted to see him?

  Of course. He had to know that I was after him. He’d sent me that fucking present—and now I needed answers.

  I shot toward the library, my heart pumping. When I reached the door, I found it to be strangely unlocked. I entered to find it shadowed and grey and strange, the bookshelves eerie and dark in the night. The floor to ceiling windows caught just a glimmer of the moon, dipping in and out of cloud cover.

  I reached the staircase and mounted it slowly. The stairs creaked just a bit, and the bottom of my dress floated around my thighs. I reached the top to find Quintin just where I’d seen him last, when we’d been alone—there by the window in the study area, standing, waiting for me.

  “I knew you were coming here. I could sense it,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  They chilled me. But I felt overwhelmed again with anger. I shot toward him, my eyesight black, and smashed him against the wall, hissing, “What the hell did you want to do? Did you want to kill me?”

  Quintin was much stronger than I was. It was almost like he’d allowed me to press him against the wall like that like he wanted to pretend I had some kind of control. His eyes studied mine and a small smile crept across his face.

  “Don’t you fucking smile,” I whispered, my voice low. “Tell me. Tell me right now, or I’ll kill you. Why did you do it?”

  Quintin arched his brow. “You’ll kill me?”

  I nodded, amazed that I’d even said the words. “I will.”

  “And what do you suppose I did to deserve such a punishment?” he said.

  “You know what you did,
” I returned. “You tried to kill me.”

  Quintin’s face completely changed. He shot both hands up, his palms flat, and he furrowed his brow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  My hand against his chest loosened slightly. “You—you—you gave me that note. And I went out to the football field and...”

  Quintin still looked completely stumped. “What did you find on the football field?”

  I swallowed. “You know what you left. The snake! The one from outside the grounds. Professor Dracoriant said it’s highly poisonous. You—you fucking set me up! You fucking...”

  “Wait! Hold on a second. I didn’t do that. I would never do that. Why would you think I would want you dead?” Quintin demanded.

  It seemed obvious, now, that he’d just come here to fuck with me. I rammed him against the wall again, sick of all of it: of Margot’s bullshit, of the boys’ making me their plaything. I wasn’t going to take it another second.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. He seemed to be taking this way too sensitively. I almost wanted him to fight me, to tell me just exactly what he thought of me—and why he’d wanted to put my life in danger in that way.

  “You’re accusing me of attempted murder,” Quintin blared. “But you won’t listen to any reason why I might not have actually...”

  “Fuck off,” I said, tearing through his words. My eyes glittered, heavy with tears that wanted to drop. I wouldn’t let them. “Why should I be so certain that you wouldn’t want me dead? Quintin, the entire school, is against me. You’re one of the kings of this stupid school. Why wouldn’t you be involved? And beyond that, you’re a dragon. It wouldn’t have been an insane thing for you to leave the grounds and find that...”

  “Oh, so, since I’m the closest to a snake, you’re just assuming...?”

  “You. Want. Me. Dead. Admit it,” I glowered. My heart pumped with fear. What could I actually drag out of him at that moment? What could I actually prove?

  And why did he look at me like that?

  “Answer me. Why did you do it, Quintin? Why did you.”

  But as I asked, he tore forward, kissing me. My eyes closed immediately, and I fell against him, my breasts pressed hard against his thick, muscular chest, and his hands wrapped over my back, near my ass. Our kiss was long and deep, and his tongue ripped open my lips hungrily and slipped across mine, competing. I felt his tongue and his teeth and his lips and he seemed to grow hungrier, wilder, until he flipped me around and pressed me against the wall—his hand across my neck, pinning me.

  I broke the kiss and gasped. I wanted to point it out—his hand over my throat, his body over mine—he could kill me whenever he wanted. But his eyes were hazy and then closed again and he kissed me harder, pressing my head against the wall. His hand skated down my neck and then tugged at the strap of my dress, so that first that side, then the other fell down. The dress was, admittedly, a tiny bit big, and suddenly, I was naked before him, in only a black thong, since I’d decided to go without a bra.

  “Mmmm, you’re so fucking hot,” he muttered in my ear.

  When he kissed me again, I tried to trace through his thoughts, his emotions, like I had the last time we’d met up. But Quintin didn’t seem to be as easy as the others. I wondered if this was because he was a dragon—maybe there was a thicker resistance.

  But there wasn’t time to think. Not then. He whipped my naked body over the table and I stretched out, my legs around his waist. He slid his hands up around my breasts again, tilting them, then squeezing the nipples. I let out a low, slow moan. Then, he ripped off his belt and shot his pants to the floor to reveal his thick and rock-hard cock, glistening with a dot of cum.

  It was wild. It all happened so fast: two animals beneath the moonlight.

  He thrust forward, his cock filling me and his body over mine. I wrapped my hand around his neck and moaned loud. The sound echoed through the library, bouncing from the stained glass ceiling. He fucked me hard and fast; the table cranking beneath us. I kissed his lips, his neck, and bit his ear, and he grunted and moaned and whispered, “Yes—Ivy—I...”

  But there wasn’t time for words. Not yet.

  When it was over, he kissed me gruffly. Sweat had bubbled up on his neck, and he looked at me earnestly, almost like he was afraid I wouldn’t live through the night and he would never see me again. I couldn’t explain it.

  I lay in the crook of his arm after that. I felt dizzy with confusion. When I did look up at him, his eyes remained on me.

  “You have to understand something,” he said suddenly. His voice was deep, husky. I wanted to crawl into the sound of it and sleep forever. “Ezra, Raphael, and I don’t want you dead. Fuck. All we want to do is protect you.”

  I studied his eyes, which still glowed much more than usual, so soon after sex.

  “Just listen to me,” he said. He shot up and leaned over me, his nose just a few inches from mine. “I told you that we’d come back from break because we felt called by something. Something we couldn’t understand. But what we didn’t know at the time was—it was you. It was always you. It made sense when we saw you again—but we couldn’t even fucking talk about it until a few weeks after. But we couldn’t tell you. You were so fucking bitter, Ivy. So fucking mad. And it’s not like you didn’t have a right to be. We treated you like shit. And we’re willing to pay that price. We just want you to be safe.”

  I swallowed, unsure of what to say. The intensity in his eyes and voice, the way he pressed his hand against my stomach, so urgently, claiming me—it told me that this all wasn’t a lie. It couldn’t be.

  “From now on, you won’t make a single move without one of us knowing about it. We’ll develop a system, especially when it comes to notes. The best way is to come up with a secret word. A special one. One that only the four of us know. If you receive a note with that special word in it, you’ll know it’s from us. You’ll know you can trust it.”

  I pressed my lips together, riding the many waves of fear that seemed to crash into me, again and again.

  Quintin traced my lips with one of his fingers. The finger smelled of me, of my pussy and my skin. It was a reminder of how close we’d become, so suddenly—a reminder that I could put my trust in him.

  I didn’t really have another choice.

  “Someone wants you dead, Ivy. Someone’s out for you. Let us protect you. Let us do what we’re meant to do. It’s fate. If there’s anything you’re supposed to know in this world, it’s that.”

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning was Saturday. Most students who headed home for break would be picked up that afternoon or the next, which meant this was a general goodbye celebration—with cinnamon rolls and hearty sausages and pounds of croissants and gravy and grits. I was bleary-eyed when I met Celeste and Peter downstairs, still reeling from everything that had happened in the library and before.

  After we’d left the library, Quintin had insisted on walking me back to the dorm and helping me slip back into my bedroom, undiscovered. He’d then come in after me and slept beside me through the night. “My protector,” I’d whispered to him that morning, as the sunlight had drenched our sheets. I nuzzled against him for a moment more, until he’d dressed and then slipped out the window, going back toward his.

  But by the time I met Peter and Celeste, it was obvious that most students had learned what I’d discovered on the football field. There were hisses in all directions, eyes flashing toward me. People muttered, just loud enough for me to hear, “It’s because of her that there’s a curfew. Who knows how long this shit will last?” “She’s always ruining everything.”

  Celeste leaned across the table and whispered, “Where did you go last night?”

  Peter gave us an incredulous look, then scratched the back of his head. It was obvious that he didn’t want to meddle in whatever weirdness went on. Celeste’s eyes sparkled with fear. I so wanted to tell her the truth—but I didn't know how.

  “Let’s get s
ome breakfast. I’m too exhausted to explain,” I told her.

  But as Celeste, Peter, and I cut toward the banquet line, the muttering and pointed, angry words grew louder. Suddenly, Celeste grabbed one of the empty breakfast trays and smashed it on the ground. Everyone turned toward her quickly, genuinely shocked.

  “What the hell?” someone whispered.

  “Yeah! I should ask you guys the same fucking thing!” Celeste cried. “Obviously, Ivy didn’t ask anybody to leave her a deadly snake as a Christmas gift. And obviously, she didn’t ask for a curfew, either. So, everybody, back the fuck off. It’s Christmas. Enjoy yourselves. Happy. Fucking. Holidays.”

  There was a strange silence after her speech. I gave her a wide-eyed, completely shocked look, then got into line behind her.

  “Um. Thank you?” I said, watching as Celeste piled her plate with biscuits and gravy.

  “Whatever. It just makes me sick to think all these people are blaming you for some bullshit you didn’t want,” Celeste returned.

  I’d never seen her so volatile. I told her this, and she just grunted, then continued, “I should just tell you some other stuff. Because it’s bound to get back to you and you’re my best friend, so. I want to be honest with you.” She sighed, then snapped a croissant onto her plate. “Some students are saying their parents learned about you and your powers. They don’t want their kids at the academy with you here.”

  My heart sunk. I remembered all the things Aunt Maria had said about my powers, about the importance of secrecy and not attracting attention. Then, I remembered how I’d literally left the Halloween party floating naked through the air and well.

  “That whole secrecy ship has obviously sailed,” Celeste said, as though she was the mind-reader, now.

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  I could hardly eat. I placed two biscuits on my plate and added a small mound of butter and jam to each. Then, I followed Celeste and Peter back to our normal table. As we sat, Quintin, Raphael, and Ezra joined us. Each of their eyes burned toward me. For a moment, I could hardly breathe.