Page 139 of Every Shade of Shadow

I point back to where we’ve come from. “You were just in there defending me, weren’t you, before I arrived?”

He takes a step closer. “The Headmistress is right. What you did was reckless. Revealing your powers in the open like that,” he tuts, his tongue clicking between his lips. “Which is why I shall prepare an extra-special lesson for you tonight.”

I tense. “Another trial?”

He simply smiles and nods. “Enjoy your classes, Annabelle.”

He walks off leaving me standing there none the wiser.

*

It’s funny how your mind works against you when there’s a question of ambiguity about what will happen later.

Not that anyone’s concentration in class has been particularly good, but I find myself unable to focus on even the most minute of things as the day passes.

I also notice people steering clear of me, hushed whispers when I pass. Even Lily and Ava are keeping their distance, Leo dodging me like I’ve developed some strange venereal disease.

I’m thankful when midnight arrives.

I make my way to Damien’s unseen.

I’ve become more than familiar with this bundle of nerves waiting for him to open the door, but tonight is different.

When the door opens, those nerves become a beehive. I don’t know what he has planned, but given what he said earlier, I imagine it will test me more than ever before.

“Little lamb,” he smiles, his scar pulling with it. “Please.”

I enter, the also-familiar ashen-sweet scent of him as I pass. The passage leading downstairs to the dungeon is open, Darkwood moving before me and descending downwards.

But this time, when we arrive at the dungeon proper, the Professor ushers me past the usual implements of torture and towards a fixed black door at the back of the room. He waits at it, pushing it open as I arrive and following me through.

This room is smaller than the dungeon itself, though the roof itself is higher, and for good reason.

There is only one thing in this room.

A guillotine.

For a moment I’m choked with fear as I stare upon the giant structure. It rises from the ground like a wooden colossus, the blade at the top glinting in the candlelight.

“Isn’t she beautiful,” Darkwood muses, leading me towards the erection as my heart gallops ahead.

The shadows are heavy here—almost palpable.

Inevitably, questions rise in my head. What has this bore witness to? What foul deeds have occurred here that imbue this space with such evil?

The Professor leaves me standing as he walks around the guillotine, running his hand over the wooden columns that support it.

“My darling,” he says, stroking it, “I have brought you a gift.”

He turns to me. “Did you know this very guillotine was designed by a harpsichord maker? Though I must confess, I much prefer the music this machine makes.” He points to the crossbar and angled blade that hangs from it. “As you can see, the blade design is much refined. It is placed at a perfect forty-five-degree angle so as to sever the neck cleanly,” he claps his hands together, “fully, efficiently, as is the French way.”

A knot the size of my fist has been caught in my throat. I gulp it down, my head swimming with a mix of dread and curiosity.

“Typically, the condemned would be brought to it at dawn, a crowd summoned, and the execution carried out for all to witness, but you, witchling, are no prisoner.” His eyes slide to the area between my heaving breasts, the coat having fallen apart and desire already licking between my legs. “No, for you this will be a rather more private affair. Allow me to demonstrate.”

He selects a melon from a basket beside the machine. I hadn’t even noticed it. I realize the melon is the same size as my head. He places it in the lunette and clamps it down. With a pull of the release lever the blade drops and the melon is split in two, half of it rolling away towards the shadows that swim in the corner of the room.

The Professor pulls the blade back into position, the rope straining against the weight of it. When it hits the crossbar at the top, he ties the rope back and once more the guillotine is set.

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