Page 66 of The Black Witch

She lifts her eyebrows. “Thatistrue, Mage Gardner. But it isalsotrue that they are both Icarals.”

The blood drains from my face. “No. That’s impossible,” I say in a whisper, feeling like the room is beginning to spin out of control. “They...theycan’tbe my lodging mates! They want tokillme!”

“Now, now, child,” she chides, like I’m somehow overreacting. “You’re making yourself hysterical. Miss Wynter wouldn’t hurt a fly. Gentle as can be, that one. Now, Miss Ariel, she can come off a bit scary upon first meeting...”

“Abit?” I cry. “She clawed at this door all night long, telling me every way she wants to kill me!”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Mage Gardner,” she reassures me.

I can’t believe it. How can she be so blasé about Icaral demons?

“Where are they?” I demand, looking beyond her into the foyer.

“Gone, Mage. In class, I suppose.”

“They’rescholarshere?” I cry, not believing this can be happening. But then I remember Aunt Vyvian talking about two Icaral demons. Here at the University.

My lodging mates.

The realization sets my head spinning.

The Urisk woman gets up off the floor and offers me a hand.

I ignore her and get up myself, not trusting her. Not trusting anything.

She lowers her hand, shoots me an unreadable glance, grabs a mop and bucket and waddles out into the foyer.

I hesitantly move toward the door of the closet, half expecting the Icarals to be crouched behind the walls bracketing the door, but when I see the Urisk woman setting down the mop and bucket, humming a tune to herself, I poke my head out of the closet.

The foyer is empty, except for us.

Sunlight streams through a long window halfway up the spiraling staircase. I can see puffy white clouds working their way across a crystal-blue sky. I venture out of the closet on shaky legs, glancing wildly around, listening intently for sound. Then I turn around and close the closet’s door and immediately feel light-headed.

The scratching I heard, the gouging—it was allreal.

The door is completely covered in writing etched deep in the wood by some sharp tool or knife. Over and over, the Icaral wrote “HATE” and “KILL” and a variety of obscenities that cover the entire door. I turn to the Urisk woman.

She’s ceased her humming and is leaning on her mop, studying me calmly.

“Do you see this?” I ask her shrilly.

She makes a clicking sound with her tongue and shakes her head from side to side. “Miss Ariel’s work, by the looks of it.”

How can she be so calm?

“Ariel,” I repeat incredulously. “My new lodging mate. The demon.”

“She’s a bit high-strung, Mage.”

High-strung? Is this a University or a sanitorium?

“Don’t you worry, Mage,” she clucks. “I’ll have that door replaced...”

Not able to stomach any more of her infuriating calmness I stalk past her, fleeing from the North Tower as fast as I can.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tournaments & Tests

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