Page 22 of SIN Bone Deep

At this stage, they would bury me in it, I thought ruefully.

I slid into the front passenger seat as Callista adjusted the rearview mirror.

“Ready?” She glanced at me.

“As ready as I can be,” I shrugged.

“Nonsense,” she coaxed the Corniche down the driveway. “You’re more ready than you think. I know what’s going through your head, Nyx. You are worthy of this scholarship and this position in the Academy.”

“I guess,” I wasn’t concerned about the scholastic side of attending the academy. I had always been a good student and enjoyed the subjects that I would be taking. I wasn’t even that worried about making friends – I had attended school in Mortensby for half of my education, after all, without them.

My real reason for concern seemed foolish.

“I’m sure that you will make friends. You have to remember that many of these students aren’t from Mortensby. They won’t be as steeped in fear, discrimination, and hate. They will be more likely to look poorly upon that behaviour from the locals who also attend. You will make friends,” the way she said it had a hint of a charm behind it, and I slid her a look under my eyelashes.

“No magical aids,” I cautioned her.

“Of course not, my darling,” she replied airily.

“It’s not making friends…” I trailed off as we passed the spot where the girl had died, and I had encountered my grim reaper. Ender? I asked myself again. “It’s… Bishop House.”

“Ah,” she nodded.

As we passed through the town in the Corniche, people interrupted their conversations to follow us with their eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was due to word circulating about the funeral, or because they were wondering where we were off to in the Corniche.

“Don’t mind them,” Callista drew my attention back. “If Mortensby didn’t have the Vossens to gossip about, they would all be very bored.” She waved loftily as the greengrocer paused, clutching a crate of lettuce heads against his green apron. “Arsehole, just like his father.”

I smothered my giggle.

“We had a bad year in the garden when I was a child,” she continued. “My mother always suspected that someone was sneaking up the hill and pouring salt water into the soil - as if it were not struggle enough to grow anything so close to the ocean, they had to be malicious on top of it. And then when she was forced to supplement what we had with produce bought from a grocer… Well, Roger Milton did what men normally do and when she turned him down, he would have given her the worst of the store and probably overcharged her for it, but she walked us straight out and drove the two-hour round trip to the city instead.”

“I always wondered why he hated us,” I commented mildly, not revealing my curiosity as to the segue in our conversation.

“It’s not hatred, Nyx,” she replied. “Or, at least, not initially. And that is the reason I am telling you this story. What happened with Roger Milton, happens time and time again... It’s desire. And when that desire is thwarted then the hurt male ego quickly turns desire to hate. Because many men can simply not accept that when they want someone that badly, the feeling might not be reciprocated. Often when they realize that they will not be able to have the object of their desire, they seek to destroy it so no one else can have her either...” She trailed off and I wondered if she was thinking of Fennel and her burns.

“Okay,” I drew the word out slowly. “So…?”

“That is what happened with Bishop Hargreave,” she told me. “Men like that don’t like to be refused. And when faced with a sustained refusal, it sours within them and becomes a poison that festers and rots their soul. He tried to destroy Charity. Roger Milton tried to destroy my mother. Logan Tilbrook tried to destroy your aunt Fennel…”

“Fuck, Aunt C,” I frowned at her. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“None of these men succeeded,” Callista replied as we began to climb the hill towards Pinegrove Academy. “That is what I mean, Nyx. They tried to own and possess something that was not theirs to take and ultimately failed. There is something heartening in that, isn’t there?”

I raised my eyebrows and looked out the window. “The men might have failed,” I told her. “But the women didn’t escape unscathed, did they?”

She hummed her agreement with a sigh. “Which is why, although we must take heart and not be afraid of men and their symbols such as Bishop House, we must also remain wary and always vigilant, Elenyx. Always.”

“Yes…” I wasn’t entirely sure that I understood, or how it was supposed to make me feel less uneasy about attending school in a house that had such a dark history with our family.

“Why did you choose Pinegrove, Nyx?” Callista asked sensing my uncertainty. “Why Pinegrove if its history worries you?”

“I didn’t want to leave Vossen House and my family,” I told her honestly. “I wanted to stay here. Anywhere else, and I would have needed to leave. And…” I shrugged slightly. “I’m curious. I’m a little… nervous, yes. Bishop House has always been a bit like the scary haunted house in movies, because of Vossen history. But at the same time… Something is fascinating about it, don’t you think?”

“Hmm,” she glanced out of the side of her sunglasses. “The darkness can be very alluring to many witches. Perhaps you are one. I am flattered that your choice of further education was made according to proximity to Vossen Homestead, Nyx, but I hope you didn’t limit your choices for that reason.”

“Pinegrove has an excellent academic reputation of producing graduates who go on to have influential and successful careers in a wide variety of fields,” I replied verbatim from the brochure. “It is an excellent choice of school, offering state-of-the-art resources, excellent recreational facilities, attentive staff, and support services for its students. And,” I slid her a grin. “A full ride.”

She laughed a little under her breath. “Very well then, Nyx. If you are happy with your choice, I am happy for you. We also provide attentive staff and support services for our students at Vossen Homestead, and we’re very pleased to have you amongst our community.”

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