Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Anora and Roundtable

My sleep is restless, plagued with nightmares that feel more like memories.

I’m afraid.

My whole body feels alive, hypersensitive, like a live wire. Everything that should provide a cloak to keep me hidden encroaches like a maze. The wind, the night, the stars, feel like a weight, and I’m moving through it, following a path they created.

But I’m not afraid of them.

I’m afraid of what they left for me.

A warehouse with an ugly yellow light spilling down the front appears before me. A weapon materializes in my right hand. The feeling is familiar, comforting. The blade is a part of me, like my flesh, blood, and bones, and I think—If anything has happened to him, I will kill.

Inside, I find him. A pile of bones and skin and hair crumpled on the floor.

My chest squeezes so tight, I think it might explode.

He’s dead. His soul has already fled his body.

That happens when a death has been particularly traumatic.

That’s the last logical thought I have before I start to hyperventilate and a horrible, searing pain spreads through me. A blade explodes through my front—a curved scythe I recognize. I twist and shove my own blade through my attacker, but even as he falls, another enemy takes his place, cutting me down the front. I fall to my knees when I’m struck on the head.

Struck everywhere.

Over and over again.

Until there’s nothing.

* * *

I wake up with the sound of bones crushing and smelling smoke and jasmine. The taste of tears coats my tongue in a salty sludge. My sheets are tangled around my legs. My clothes cling to my skin, damp with sweat. The aftermath of the nightmare has my stomach churning. Shoving off the sheets, I stumble from bed into the bathroom and vomit. The acid burns the back of my throat and my nose, drawing tears.

“Anora!” Mom calls, and I scramble to my feet, shutting and locking the bathroom door.

“I’m up!” I call.

I should tell her I’m sick and skip school today, but after coming home so late, there’s no way she’ll let me. Last night, it was clear that whatever had been keeping her in her room was over, and she was in full-on Mom mode. Not only had she already told me that I’d be going to school no matter how little sleep I get, but she also said I’m grounded for a month.

Truth be told, I can’t afford to miss school. I have some questions for Thane—like why didn’t he tell me he was one of the last people to see Lily alive?

Standing under a scalding stream of water is cleansing, and by the time I’m finished, my skin no longer feels clammy. The bites on my arms from Lily’s bugs have faded from a bright red to a dull pink. My hand still aches. When I start to trust the Order, I’ll remember the claw and think twice.

I wipe the mirror free of fog. I miss my necklace, miss the weight of its chain around my neck, the press of the coin against my skin. I miss the comfort it brings. Roth took that from me. He touched me—unclasped the chain, let it slide along my collarbone until it was free of me and in his possession.

I squeeze my fist tight. The thread reacts to my anger, pushing at the surface of my palm. I wonder what it means to be the Eurydice with Roth at my back, hanging my poppa’s coin over my head. What plan does he have for me? Shivering, I shove that question from my head. For now, I have to focus on finding the coin and Lily’s killer.

As a reminder, the television is on when I come downstairs for breakfast, screaming a report on Jake’s death. Hearing his name and seeing his pictures on local news make my stomach ache, and I let my cereal turn soggy in the milk. They manage to blame it on a bobcat attack while he was playing a game in the woods. The anchor describes queen’s ransom as a decade-long tradition between rivals, Rayon High School and private school Nacoma Knight Academy, an event that was cancelled by school officials after Lily’s death. The students who chose to play did so of their own accord. Inexplicably, my name is kept out of it, and I wonder if that’s the work of the Order.

The screen cuts to Natalie’s father, standing with Emerson Hall in the background. His hair blows like a wispy cloud.

“We are devastated by all this tragedy,” he says. “It is a horrible time for all of us.”

Then the anchor, “This is not the first death to haunt Headmaster Rivera or the students of Nacoma Knight Academy. Earlier this week, the campus was shut down due to an apparent suicide outside the administration hall.”

The segment transitions into international news where anchors summarize the continued investigation into the London block fire and the Switzerland plane crash.

Mom shakes her head, unable to peel her eyes from the screen.

“All those poor people,” she says. “It sort of feels like something bad is happening every day, doesn’t it?”

Ever since the night Sean attacked Gage, all I see is Influence’s hold over the world, and since learning I’m the Eurydice, I have a hard time not blaming myself. At least when I start training with the Valryn, I’ll have some control over its strength. I think that’s the only part of this job I’ll actually like. It means I’m doing something good.

Mom drops me off at school early, and it’s the first time I’m able to stroll across campus at a leisurely pace. I notice things I didn’t before, like the leaves changing to red and orange and yellow. The wind is crisp and kisses my cheeks. The air smells like decay—the earthy kind, not the dead kind.

I make it all the way to Walcourt when I bump into Mr. Val in the hallway outside his classroom. He has keys in hand and is locking the door to his room.

“Miss Silby.” He turns to me. I fight the urge to run away. Yesterday, Mr. Val was my least favorite teacher at Nacoma Knight Academy. Today, he is supposed to train me in all things death.

“Is…something wrong, Mr. Val?”

“There is an assembly this morning. Headmaster Rivera thinks it wise to review rules after the events of the last week. You would know that if you ever arrived to school on time.”

“I was on time!” I defend as the first bell rings.

“Let’s not argue, Miss Silby. Shall I escort you to the auditorium?”

Uh, no. I’m perfectly capable of making it there on my own.

“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” I say.

“I’m heading there anyway.”

Great.

I set out with the intention of staying one step ahead of Mr. Val the entire time, but he has longer legs and keeps stride. While I prefer not to hear his condescending tone any more today, there’s a question burning on the tip of my tongue, and before we reach the auditorium, I ask, “Why agree to train me?”

Mr. Val gives me a hard look, and I think he won’t answer, but he says, “I’d hate to lose another student, Miss Silby.”

He leaves me at the doors of the auditorium. I stand just inside, watching as students find seats. I have yet to spot anyone I know—not Lennon or Thane, Shy, Natalie or…Jacobi.

Right. Jacobi won’t be here. He’s still in the infirmary. I’m anxious for an update—had Shy heard anything else last night after he dropped me off? I would text him, but I still don’t have a phone since mine was lost at the graveyard.

Someone crashes into my shoulder and I stumble, catching myself on the arm of a chair. Two girls pass and turn to glare at me. What’s your problem? I want to ask, but someone’s calling my name.

“Anora!”

I turn my head to find Thane standing, waving me to him.

As I approach, he says, “Jesus Christ, you’re out of it today. I’ve been calling your name—” He pauses and looks at me—really looks at me. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” I say mildly, taking a seat beside him. I know from the quick glance I had in the mirror this morning that I don’t look my best: my eyes are sunk in a pool of purple-black. I rub them with the palms of my hands and am surprised when Thane pulls my hand away from my eyes.

“Don’t do that.”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

I explain what happened, including my trip to the Compound, the claw, my trial before the Order, and my new training instructor. I leave out that Roth has taken my poppa’s coin. It doesn’t seem relevant.

Thane frowns and doesn’t say anything, so I do.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were one of the last people to see Lily alive?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” he says and then looks at me. “I didn’t kill her.”

Mr. Rivera takes the stage, microphone screeching as he adjusts his hold, quieting the auditorium.

“As I am sure you all know, we lost one of our own earlier this week.” He clears his throat into the microphone. “Lily Martin is no longer with us, and we will be holding a vigil in her honor this evening. Over the next few weeks, you will see an increase in security on campus. Any who wish may have access to crisis counseling. We will take this time to go over safety procedures, rules, and regulations regarding various locations around school…”

As Mr. Rivera drones on, I notice phones illuminating like lighters across the entire auditorium. Students turn their heads to whisper to one another and twist to search the crowd. Something’s just been posted to Roundtable. Call me paranoid, but I can’t help thinking it has to do with me.

When one person finds me, others do too, and it isn’t long before everyone’s attention is fixated on me.

What is on that stupid app?

If I had my phone, I would download it just to check. I lean toward Thane.

“Do you have access—?”

Even as I ask, he’s opening Roundtable on his phone.

The first headline is: Anora Silby moved to Oklahoma because she killed someone.

A horrible high-pitched sound fills my ears, and my stomach feels sick. Who posted this? There are four people who know my identity. One is sitting beside me, one is in the infirmary, and the other two are Natalie and Shy.

I take slow, even breaths. Thane keeps scrolling.

Her real name is Lyra.There’s a link to a news article about Chase’s death that uses my name liberally, even has a picture.

Then:

Anora Silby was the last person to see Lily Martin and Jake Harjo alive. It isn’t a coincidence. She’s a murderer. She is a fake.

The app closes without warning. For a moment, I think someone’s managed to take it down, but Thane says, “There are too many people on it right now.”

Great.

The whispers continue, and people turn to stare. I feel like I’m in a room with the walls closing in. My chest tightens, and I can’t take in air. I want to run, and I think Thane knows it, because he keeps his hand wrapped tight around mine.

Who made these posts? I don’t have a very long list of suspects. There are four people who know my background, excluding the Order, and while I won’t put something as petty as this past them, I’m assuming adults weren’t involved. That leaves Natalie, Jacobi, Thane, and Shy. Jacobi is ruled out for obvious reasons, and Thane was sitting right beside me when the information went live. Shy has done his best to protect me from the Order—or rather, Roth—and he hates Roundtable. Those reasons aren’t as strong, but they have more weight than what I have on Natalie, which is nothing.

She hates me.

After the assembly, Mrs. Cole’s voice crackles over the intercom: “Anora Silby, come to administration. Anora Silby.”

I want to sink lower in my seat, but Thane pulls me up.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know that, but most of the Order is on your side, right? They’ll protect you.”

I can’t tell if he’s being snide or not. Nearly half of the Order would rather see me pay for Chase Lockwood’s death. I wonder how many Valryn out there feel the same. On top of that, the student body at Nacoma Knight seems ever eager to believe anything posted on Roundtable.

What had Lennon said about Roundtable? You’ll either retain your rank or fall from grace.

At least I don’t have far to fall.

* * *

My stomach is queasy as I head to the administration office. Mrs. Cole is in her usual place behind the glass. When I tell her I’m here to see Mr. Rivera, she says he’ll be out in a moment.

“Did you find your coin, Miss Silby?” she asks while I wait.

“My coin?” I ask, hysteria rising inside me until I remember I’d asked her to check the lost and found at the beginning of the week. “Oh, my coin.” I laugh weakly. “No, not yet.”

“I’ll keep a lookout,” she promises.

“Thanks.”

A door opens, and Mr. Rivera appears.

“Miss Silby,” he says, stepping aside so I can slip past him into his office. Mr. Val stands there looking out the window.

Mr. Rivera closes the door behind him. “Please, sit.”

I glance at Mr. Val as I do, but he acts like I haven’t even entered the room. I guess he’s here because he decided to take responsibility for me yesterday.

Mr. Rivera takes a seat behind his desk.

“My daughter made me aware of a post on Roundtable that compromises your safety.”

I bet she did.

“We have managed to shut the site down and are working on gathering the IP addresses of everyone who’s accessed it. Still, until we’re sure this leak is under control, you are in danger, Eurydice.”

“Roundtable has put a lot of students in danger. The Order could have, and should have, shut it down. Why didn’t they?”

I suspect I know the answer to that question—the Order needs Roundtable for intel. They don’t want to shut it down. It’s only a problem now because it’s me. Because my soul somehow makes me more important than anyone else who fell victim to Roundtable.

“We’re not discussing other students. We are discussing you,” he says. “We have already made arrangements for you to stay at Temple through the weekend. Just as a precaution, until we can neutralize this threat.”

I blink. Did he just say what I think he said?

“What’s Temple?”

“Temple is home to several Valryn and the temporary home to others. It’s far more accommodating than the Compound. Indeed, there are no cells, just bedrooms.”

Ironic they think to disguise a prison with comfort. I’m not buying it. Thane warned me about this. Besides, I have more important things to do. I need to find out who posted my life on Roundtable, who reanimated Lily and took my coin, but I know their argument: I’ll have plenty of time for that at Temple. Alone. In a room that’s not my own.

“What about my mom?”

“We’ll post guards at your house.”

It doesn’t feel right, to be stuffed away in some sort of supernatural sanctuary while my mom is left out in the open.

“Can’t I just go home? You’ll have guards there anyway.”

“We can protect you better at Temple. Rest assured, no harm will come to your mother.”

What he’s saying doesn’t make sense in my head. If that’s true, why can’t I just stay home? But I get it… It’s a way to control me.

“And what happens if you don’t contain the threat? Does a few days turn into a week, then a month, then a year?”

“Miss Silby, we do not wish to keep you there any longer than you wish to stay there,” Mr. Val says, turning to face me. “But we will do what we must to keep you safe.”

“Good luck convincing my mother,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

“We have already taken the liberty of contacting her,” Mr. Rivera says. “She believes you are attending a student retreat for extra credit.”

My heart falls. They cover all their bases. And as mistrusting as my mom is, she’s not going to question the headmaster of my school. She needs me to make it work at Nacoma Knight.

“But…what about the vigil?” I ask. I want to go for a lot of reasons, and it also gives me enough time to think of a way out of spending the weekend at Temple.

Mr. Rivera and Mr. Val exchange a look.

“Of course you can attend,” Mr. Rivera says. “But with a guard.”

“You want me to walk around with a shadow knight?”

“We are ravens, Miss Silby,” Mr. Val says. “We’ll be watching.”

I hate shape-shifters.

* * *

Campus looks like a still from an Alfred Hitchcock film. Ravens hang out in the grass and trees, on electric lines and roofs. They spread their wings as if stretching, like they’re stiff from perching. Sometimes they caw together, like one of them told a joke and everyone thinks it’s hilarious. They watch me as I go from class to class. They’re just as bad as the students, who can’t seem to keep their eyes to themselves.

I use class to consider my options for escape. There aren’t many. I’m convinced Natalie posted my past on Roundtable, Shy will side with the Order, and I prefer to keep Lennon out of this mess. That leaves Thane.

It’s times like this I wish I had a car.

In history, Lennon nudges me with her elbow, her body swallowed by one of her many huge cardigans. “You okay?” It’s her way of asking me about Roundtable. I’ve been waiting, wound tight.

I let out a breath. “Yeah, I guess.”

She nods, pursing her lips. She looks pale today, and a sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead. I start to ask her if she’s okay when she asks, “So…is it true?”

I don’t look at her as I admit, “Parts of it.”

She nods and keeps her gaze on the teacher at the front of the room. “I’ve been following Chase Lockwood’s case since it broke national news.”

“What?” I exclaim. I can’t help it. She’s known about Chase this whole time?

Everyone’s eyes snap to me, and Mrs. Wilson frowns. “Is everything all right, Miss Silby?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

She glares at me before returning to her lecture.

Lennon waits a few moments longer to explain. “When a shadow knight dies, it puts everyone on edge, even death-speakers.”

Wait. “You’re a death-speaker?”

“Technically? No. I didn’t inherit my mother’s gift of seeing the dead.”

I’m still reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

She raises a shoulder. “It didn’t seem like you understood any of it. I figured you’d talk to me when you were ready and I’d explain then.”

Part of me is hurt Lennon knew what I’d been going through and didn’t offer to help, but the other part of me understands. She’d tried to reach out. She’d invited me to hang out this week, and I blew it off.

“I’m guessing you’re the reason for all the ravens?” she says.

I nod once and give a shortened version of what happened last night during and after the forced queen’s ransom and the Order’s belief I will be safe at Temple this weekend. I leave out Lily’s resurrection and that I’m the Eurydice.

After a moment, Lennon asks, “Do you want to escape?”

Yes…but something keeps me from saying that out loud.

“I can help you,” she adds.

“Why? They’ll just come after you.”

She smiles, but it’s a strange smile—challenging, as if she’s saying I’d like to see them try. I shiver.

“I hate shadow knights,” she says at last. The use of the word hate surprises me, but then she says, “They killed my mom.”

Her words slice through me and settle in my stomach, sharp as knives, and yet my brain can’t comprehend. Did she just say a shadow knight killed her mom? Why? When? How long has she lived with this secret? How long has she known she’s surrounded by shadow knights?

“Lennon…I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says quickly. “Just don’t trust the Order.”