Page 18 of The Witch & the Wolf

“As they discovered the remains,” Z’Hana reminded the principal, “and extracted information from it, I’d say that they are exactly who we need right now. Isn’t that the case, Raintotem?”

The necromancer inclined her head and looked toward the students. “Tell me, in your own words, what you were able to learn from the remains.” Marisha stared at the two students, her yellow-eyed glare challenging them to speak.

After a brief hesitation, Holly piped up with her version of events with the psychic echoes. When she finished, all eyes drifted to him. He cleared his throat and recounted the experience as best as he remembered. “He seemed confused as to where he was at first,” Arlo remembered. “And the last thing he mentioned was a friend, one I believe he was supposed to meet. He got agitated when the subject of his friend was brought up. He wanted to see his friend. We never found out the name. My magic ran out at that point.”

Marisha Raintotem nodded, taking note of the information. “It’s good that you were still able to find the soul, though I imagine that at this point, you need some time to replenish your magical reserves?”

Arlo nodded unhappily, wondering if this meant the principal might eject him from the room. The principal had made it pretty clear he didn’t want mere students there at all.

All this authority made Arlo nervous. For all his efforts to branch out into his own life, he didn’t want to embarrass his family. He wanted them to see him as a Sixclaw and a necromancer. He was determined to get something out of enrolling at Dreadmor Academy, his chosen home.

“We’ve already informed Archon of the discovery,” Eldan said, his frown deepening. “Thankfully, they seem more grateful and puzzled than angry and accusing. They sent over their records of the investigation and are contacting the Suntooth family now. They are fine with letting us interview the remains since we are the Academy with the highest number of students and alumni relating to necromancers and mediums. Though it is not unusual for them to appear at the other schools, it is just… ours are the best.” He finished that with obvious pride in his voice.

“Lostwithiel Academy might want to challenge you on that,” Marisha said with a wry smirk. “But I digress. I have dipped into the notes on the investigation myself as well since my division handles cold cases within the region. Supposedly, everyone who knew anything was interviewed, but no one knew where Suntooth had intended to go because he lied about his destination and whom he was meeting. Most likely, he didn’t want his family to know or his friends. Though they were not forthcoming in their notes – we didn’t have any solid suspects.”

Arlo shivered. He’d first heard about Charles Suntooth’s disappearance when he was barely six years old. That kind of thing made the rounds of werewolf circles since the Suntooth family was an up-and-coming family that had recently come into an obscene amount of wealth.

When someone like Charles Suntooth went missing from Archon Academy, it made the news. It caused some embarrassment to the academy for not being able to solve the case fast enough, but all the leads dried up in the end, and there were simply no new leads to follow. The case fell into obscurity, except when someone referred to that poor, lost Suntooth heir. The Suntooths, in the meanwhile, were still very much up-and-coming and still without answers. Now, answers were waiting to be extracted from the lost heir’s remains.

Marisha turned to address Holly. “Since Arlo is likely exhausted, you approach the remains. Try to tap into your psychic senses and tell us out loud what you’re able to detect.”

Holly stepped forward slowly, and Arlo felt a small stab of worry for her. The principal was eyeing her with a look that he didn’t put much stock in the power of psychics and mediums.

Looking small and vulnerable, Holly started to dig into her powers. She closed her eyes and threaded a hand through her dark hair in an anxious gesture. At first, nothing happened. The communication seemed ineffectual. Her hand reached out to touch the skull of the fallen Suntooth victim. Instantly, she grimaced. “I… feel anger here,” she said through gritted teeth. Something was warping the air around her. It was not as visible as necromantic magic, but visible, nonetheless. “Despair. Desperation. He… he was tricked, I think.”

This information caused the principal’s eyebrows to shoot up, and he leaned in closer, hanging onto her words as did the others.

“He… it’s hard to pinpoint exactly, but I get the sense that he was seeing someone his family wouldn’t approve of. There’s a lot of hidden guilt and secrecy… the emotions are all over the place. The person…” She paused. “A transfer student?” She shivered as if a cold wind had blasted over her. “A female student who went to Archon, then transferred to Dreadmor. The one he was seeing. He…”

A longer silence followed this time as Marisha hurried to jot down the information. Then, with a tremble, a terrible vibration shook her as if something wicked had grasped and locked her in its arms. Since she seemed unable to move – she let out a whimpering grunt before her head rocked back, and her eyes changed to a shimmering golden color. “He – he’s strong. I…” she sputtered before collapsing to the floor.

Marisha glared cautiously at the fallen medium while Arlo took a half-step forward. He noted her yellow, glowing eyes, so different from her usual green. Holly scrambled to her feet, her eyes darting from side to side. “Where,” Holly snarled, “is she? Where? Where?” Her hands twisted into a representation of claws, and her eyes locked on to Marisha. “Where! She betrayed – they all – they said it was safe. They said it was safe!”

“Charles,” Marisha said, the only one not disturbed by the scene. Arlo, however, was already examining his powers, wondering if he might be able to bind whatever now possessed Holly to the bones instead.

“Who is this she you talk about?” he asked the possessed Holly. “What is the name of the student who transferred from Archon to Dreadmor?”

“Emilia Gold,” Charles hissed through Holly’s lips. “She betrayed me!” Then Holly’s upper body slumped, and she rocked on the balls of her feet. “Or did she? They locked us in. They said it was safe!”

“What was safe?” Marisha urged. “Did you go somewhere? Near Dreadmor?”

“They said it was safe. THEY LIED!” Charles/Holly spat out the last words, then lunged at Marisha. Only at that point did Marisha’s hands begin to shimmer blue. Holly took one more step before falling as if her legs had been cut out from under her. Arlo rushed to Holly now before anyone could protest. With trembling hands, he turned her on her back, heart in his throat, not sure what to do or how to help her and not wanting harm to befall her.

Marisha seemed to wrestle against something, her hands like claws shuddering in front of her before they relaxed, and the blue glow faded. A faint glow lit up the bones until it evaporated without any more attempts to return.

“That was… quite something,” Z’Hana said.

“Quite,” Marisha agreed. “The psychic should be okay. I wrested the spirit away from her, but because it had full possession of all her faculties, she was unconscious when it was removed. She may have a bruise on her knee and cheek from falling.”

Arlo lowered his ear to Holly’s lips, where he heard faint puffs of breath.

Okay. She was still alive, as Marisha said, but not reacting to his efforts to bring her around. He not only felt protective of her, but he also felt his inner wolf pressing against his skin, beckoning to get out.

He hadn’t anticipated those urges. His father had warned him about them. Sometimes, the inner wolf got overly protective, and you needed to sort through it carefully so you didn’t end up suckered and exploited by others. It was a tactic some of the wealthier families liked to employ – a young, pretty, naive woman or man trying to tug on those inexplicable lupine heartstrings.

I need to be cautious here. I shouldn’t allow myself to get carried away… though the resolve and conviction behind that thought felt as weak as cold tea.

Dimly, he noted that Marisha was still talking in her calm, placid way to Z’Hana and Eldan.

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