Page 12 of After Darkness Falls

"Come," said Blair, interrupting their conversation. "I'll show you the cafeteria."

Chloe wasn't sorry to leave the mailroom.

She smiled as she noticed that the bird was still perched on her—he'd moved from her arm to her shoulder. She was surprised the caretaker didn’t yell at her for that.

"What was that?" Chloe whispered once they were further down the hall.

"That was Martie. He's a nightmare. Mean and temperamental. But everyone puts up with him because he's the only one who can tame those beasts. Blair pointed to the raven on Chloe’s shoulder. "Those birds are not nice, trust me. Martie probably got this one to spy on you."

Chloe glared at Blair before cooing at the bird, "Don't listen to mean Blairy-Bear. She's just jealous ’cause you don't want to play with her."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, right. Are you sure you're a regular, by the way? The raven thing is creepy."

Chloe shrugged her unoccupied shoulder. "Maybe they like regulars.”

This wasn’t the first time that a sup had questioned whether Chloe was a regular, actually. Chelle had even tested her blood once to be sure. She possessed a little bit of magic, but nothing more than a spark. Chelle had said that most of the regular population did unknowingly have a sup ancestor, often a witch. But with so little magic in her, she wasn’t anything special, and couldn’t perform any cool spells.

It was entirely possible that the raven had taken to her because of that little bit of witch blood; who knew? She decided that it wasn’t worth mentioning and turned the conversation to Blair.

“So, you're a witch?"

"Indeed. I actually come from Salem, and I'd sell my soul to never return there. Come, food's that way."

The food was well worth the three-thousand-per-year meal plan—the cafeteria was a large hall with many round tables. To their left, windows provided a view of the training court, and to their right, an open kitchen. Some meals and sandwiches were ready for the day, but Blair was quick to point out that the chef would cook anything they required if they didn't mind waiting.

Blair hadn’t eaten, and Chloe decided to have dinner even though she’d only just finished lunch on the train. It was so cold out here that the pie, mash, and gravy looked incredibly appealing.

She moaned at each mouthful.

"There's a smaller kitchen at the dorm—self-serve,” Blair told her. “If you want your food prepared for you, that's here. They also take special orders—delivery comes every other Tuesday."

"The best three grand ever spent," Chloe stated, astounded.

Once they were done eating, they headed out of the cafeteria and Chloe found her backpack right where she'd left it.

Finally, Blair led her out of the Institute, toward Adairford.

6

Two Sides

Blair certainly hadn't misrepresented the town. Chloe doubted that there were more than a thousand inhabitants in the hamlet, if that.

The town was also quite charming. On the only street’s right-hand side were the businesses—a candy store, a restaurant, a pub, a bar, two clothing stores, a shoemaker, a sporting goods outlet. Chloe made a mental inventory as Blair walked, pointing mostly toward the homes on the left-hand side.

Chloe’s eyes fell on a coat: an ugly thing, puffy and bright yellow. She stared at it longingly. She'd need to stretch her savings to purchase a real coat, at the very least, or she'd turn into an icicle by the end of winter.

"That's old Campbell's place,” Blair said, pulling her attention away from the window displays. “He owns the pub. His family has been here for longer than anyone who doesn’t live on the hill."

The houses were all detached and surrounded by little gardens, but the architecture varied from white rock countryside cottages to dry stone walls and thatched roof croft houses that seemed to be remnants from another era. Campbell owned a two-story brownstone that wouldn’t have looked out of place in NOLA.

“The houses are so different. At least I won’t get lost.”

Blair laughed. “Unlikely. Besides, the dorm is hard to miss.”

She wasn’t wrong.

At the edge of the village, near the surrounding woods, was one handsome Romanesque white hall that distinguished itself. The building would have been the perfect feature in an eighteenth-century romance novel—a Pemberley, standing out like a sore thumb here. It would have fit quite nicely on the hill, however.

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