Page 112 of Every Shade of Shadow

Not tonight.

Tonight he can fuck his hand for all I care.

We’re done.

I look away and leave, slamming the door behind me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Another day, another murder.

I spent the morning both shocked and sulking at what transpired last night. I half expected the Professor to blast my door down and burn me alive, but there’s been no sign of him. I’m in no mood to be scolded anyhow. Forcing me into Sab’s head like that was…not cool.

And the way I blasted him back? That was power. If I’m honest, it was intoxicating in its own way, to turn the tables.

It’s not long, however, before word begins to filter down the grapevine there’s been a third murder. Lily pieces it together for me from what morsels she’s managed to come across given there’s no big PA announcement or bustle from the faculty.

Lily sits on my desk, swinging her feet. “That creepy governance professor, one with the peg leg, found her first—or one of part of many the killer decided to leave around the second floor.”

“Fuck.”

“Is exactly right, but they’re keeping this one tight—real tight.

“Why?” I ask, scratching at my throat trying not to think about the blade drawing across it last night.

Lily shrugs. “I guess a murder here or there every couple of months…you can sweep that under the rug, but three? Fucking three in such a short space of time? That’s kind of crazy. It’s escalation.”

We head out for morning classes.

Again, no sign of Darkwood.

But there is something different about the Academy.

Students speak in hushed whispers, throw worried glances over their shoulders.

Word has spread.

It’s fear.

It doesn’t matter where you are or who you are, the message is clear: you could be next.

It’s pretty obvious in class, too. No one seems to be in the mood for much. Lumina’s professors seem to pride themselves on student interaction. With that crucial element out of the equation, they labor through each class. Everyone’s just going through the motions.

Even passing smaller groups of students, trivial topics that dominate most academy conversations have been replaced with gallows humor—not that it hits the mark. No, melancholy has settled deep into Academy bones.

I do my best to steer clear of it. I’ve seen enough misery outside the walls of this academy. The girls and I agree to not speculate on the case and continue our training. Whatever might come, we need to be prepared. Our main focus has to be on becoming stronger. Pointing fingers at who we think might be Mortis won’t help.

I grow worried coming into Black Arts that the Professor might make an example of me in class, embarrass me, but he’s absent. Peg Leg takes the class instead, completely out of his depth.

We head to the common room later, which we find oddly empty. It seems like everyone’s decided to barricade themselves in their rooms instead. Probably a smart idea.

Ava stokes the fireplace, prodding at it with a poker. She does strike me as the pyromancy type, burning down schools and what-not.

“I swear I’ve had it with this whole killer thing,” Lily complains, keeping her voice down. “These idiots in the little girls’ room were blaming it all on that Lucian kid, from divination, and yes, he’s creepy as fuck and probably behind a homicide or two inais, but nope. Not here.”

Lily looks over to where Ava is kneeling by the fire. “Surprised no one’s brought up your name yet.”

Ava stands, placing the poker back. “Because I refuse to live by everyone’s stupid societal laws and customs, that I should dress like a barbie doll and ooh and ahh over the boys. Fuck that.”

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