Page 19 of Sweet Nightmare

I’ve got about ten minutes before class starts, so I text Serena again to see how her interview went. Surely, she’s done by now. I also make a mental note to call her tonight so I can hear the whole story. If things are good, we can celebrate, and if they aren’t, I can listen to her cry.

But she still hasn’t answered by the time I get to Brit Lit, so I shove my phone in my pocket and take a few deep breaths to calm the overactive butterflies that have suddenly taken up residence in my stomach.

A couple of vamps walk by as I do, eyeing me like they’re contemplating what I taste like. I’m sure they can smell my bleeding wounds, but I have absolutely no energy for dealing with their shit today, so I keep my gaze on the ground as I start into my class.

But before I can walk inside, someone calls my name.

I turn to see Caspian coming up behind me, a concerned look on his face.

His dark-brown hair is tucked into a black baseball cap with Calder Academy spelled out in the same bright red as his polo shirt, shoes, and backpack. Basically, he looks like a walking billboard for this damn school. Which—now that I think about it—is exactly what he is.

Then again, if I knew I was getting out of here in nine months, I might like the place more myself.

“Oh, God!” He runs a hand over the back of his neck as he looks me up and down. “You already heard.”

“Heard what?” I ask as I start to brush past him. I’m not in the mood for Caspian’s over-the-top drama today. Plus, I’m still pretty bitter over the college announcement, even if it’s not his fault.

But he blocks the door, and the second my eyes meet his, I realize something is actually very wrong. His eyes are wide and dark with concern, even before he throws his arms around my shoulders and says, “I’m so sorry.”

Instinctively, I go onto tiptoes to wrap him in a hug. “Sorry about what?” I ask, completely confused. He looks—and sounds—like he’s about to cry.

“What happened?” I demand even as a dark, restless feeling invades my chest. “Tell me.”

It’s not a request, and the look on my cousin’s face says he knows that. But he still presses his lips together in a show of reluctance that is totally unlike him. Usually, Caspian loves nothing more than to prove he’s more in the know than everyone around him.

Which is why his hesitance has a chill running down my spine—one that directly belies the fact that the humidity from the incoming storm has completely overwhelmed the building’s ancient air conditioning.

He sighs, then—in an even more alarming gesture—takes my hand in his. “There’s no good way to tell you. It’s about Serena.”

“Serena? What’s wrong with Serena?”

Terror strikes like the lightning outside at the sound of my friend’s name, eviscerating my insides and sending shocks through every part of my body as I wait for him to say what I so desperately don’t want to hear.

Not Serena. Not Serena. Not Serena.

Please, not Serena with her laughing brown eyes and too-big smile and even bigger heart.

But all I can think about is being stuck on “Read” since last night.

Please, please, please, not Serena.

My cousin shakes his head sadly. “We just got the news this morning. She died last night. She was conjuring a spell and lost control. By the time the authorities could get to her, she was…”

My knees go liquid at his words, and for one, terrifying second, I’m afraid I’m going to hit the cracked tile floor. But then I manage to lock them in place.

No weakness, I remind myself.

I curl my hands into fists, dig my fingernails into my palms, and let the tiny pricks of pain keep me from spinning completely out of control as Caspian’s voice trails off before he even finishes the story.

But then, he doesn’t need to finish it. I already know what happened. The same thing that happens to so many Calder Academy graduates when their magic comes flooding back, unchecked, and more powerful than ever for being suppressed for so long.

The same thing I’ve been fearing since she graduated and went off on her own—determined to learn everything about her magic and make up for the four years she lost on the island. But a good luck spell? It doesn’t get much more ironic—much more cruel—than that.

The thought has tears clogging up my throat, but I shove down the urge to cry. Then I lock my shoulders and my jaw as tightly and emotionlessly as I can.

Caspian searches my face for several seconds.

I try to tell myself it’s because he’s concerned, not because he’s looking for a reaction to report back to my mother, like the good soldier that he is. We’ve always been close because we’re cousins—because we’re Calders—but loyalty? I don’t really know how far that goes. I do know that I don’t have any desire to test it right now. Especially not when everything inside of me feels like a crystal vase that’s already hit the ground.

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