Page 29 of Switching Graves

No visiting the beach on a nice day . . .

No walking around town . . .

All the things Poppy and I talked about during those late nights when we were plotting our grand plan.

I’m stuck on this campus. Imprisoned by the fancy iron gates and picturesque landscape. Apparently, with a bunch ofgiftedpeople.

“It’s not meant to scare you,” Abigail assures, reaching across the desk in a feeble attempt to comfort me. My panicked thoughts must be showing clearly across my face.

“Are you sure?” I blow out a humorless laugh, my eyes darting around the room for something—anything—to make this trapped feeling let up.

“Absolutely. Ravenshurst has everything you could need. And technically, by next semester, you’ll be considered a junior with your credits. We’ve only implemented this rule to prevent students from taking jobs away from the people of Nocturne Valley and to prevent any residents from trying to take advantage of our students.”

None of this makes me feel any better, but I force myself to smile and nod—if only to get out of her suffocating office.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her brows pulling together in concern.

“Yes, yes. Sorry.”

“Okay, good. Let me grab that work study list and we should be all set. We can discuss everything else another day.”

Mercifully, she returns to her laptop and I get a moment to regain my composure. I have no idea why the rules have affected me so much. I’ve been here for days now and it’s been so busy, I haven’t thought of venturing into town once. But there’s something about this campus that unsettles me. Perhaps it’s the proximity to the woods or the constant sounds of the black ocean waters. It may even be Nocturne Valley itself. I haven’t felt right since my taxi broke through the wooded road and revealed the quaint little community for the first time.

Whatever it is, I don’t like it. And I don’t like being given rules for where I can be or when. Not when I’ve spent most my life caring for myself.

“It looks like Professor Whitlock has an open student assistant position,” Abigail announces excitedly, hitting one lastbutton before her printer roars to life. Slipping the sheet of paper toward me, she offers a broad smile—all the awkwardness from before is completely forgotten. “We may be able to get you into something good, after all.”

13

Sonny

The Landry library is just a small library in the main building that’s packed with retired textbooks, inches of dust, and horrible lighting. I spent most of my weekend pouring over everything I could find about the bloodlines Abigail talked about. My books have remained sprawled out across the singular table they’ve got set up, and only one other student joined me over the course of two days.

Even the librarian looks like she doesn’t want to be there.

Abigail wasn’t lying about the legacies being tied to specific bloodlines and gifts. It appears that was the entire reason all those people followed the Landry family here in the first place. But they all passed on from a fire and their piece of the bloodlines withered away—a major event in Nocturne Valley history that seems to have very little information published. The university was created to train the young and gifted individuals how to use their special powers in a safe environment. They figured that was a better alternative to hiding away and leavingit up to family members like they always had done in the past. It was a way of preserving what was left.

Aunt Divina’s bloodline—Valeria—is empathic. At their most basic level, they can sense other people’s emotions. At their highest, they can manipulate them, read thoughts, and even infiltrate dreams.

I wish I was joking.

How many times has she used these gifts on me? How many times has Poppy tried them on me?

While I’m horrified to discover there are people out in the world with unchecked power, I’m relieved to find a reason behind the weird things that happened to me. Random instances that I’ve glimpsed pieces of the past that were connected to certain objects. I’m also doubting the integrity of every interaction I’ve had, including the ones with my mother. I have to wonder if she ever planned on telling me about any of this.

Why would she kill herself right before my gifts matured?

My mind is like a hamster wheel of constant, maniacal thoughts stringing together.

It took almost no time to figure out which bloodline is ours: The Aeternum. A family line with the ability to manipulate time and perception. It was given away by one specific trait: violet-hued eyes. While rare, they’re most notably known for the odd physical attribute. With that, on top of a few accounts of people experiencing the exact phenomenon I’ve dealt with for half my life, I’m fairly certain that’s where we land.

I haven’t told Poppy about any of this yet. Mostly because I’m not fully convinced any of it is real, but a small part of me is also terrified that it is, and she’s known about it all along.

But I can’t deny it any longer. The information is all right here, printed in ink and bound together. There are hundreds of students supposedly preparing to practice their gifts when classes start this week. The thought of interacting with peoplewho can read my mind or manipulate time makes me want to take the first flight out of here.

I’m so grossly underprepared for this.

On the other hand, I’m hungry for more information. I want to see some of these gifts in action. Can an aerokinetic descendant of the Primaris bloodline truly conjure up a tornado from thin air? Will a member from the Viridian bloodline be able to heal a broken bone within minutes? It feels like I’m under a spell that will be broken if I step foot out of this odd little town.

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