Page 39 of Validus Vale Academy 1
Fuck it. It’s a waste of time re-reading this over and over. Another waste of time? Lunchtime faculty meetings.
A one-paragraph email would do the job just as well. It’s not like anything of substance is ever discussed. Matters like why Maximus Larsen disappeared into thin air nearly a year ago, or why, only days later, Dean Dartmouth handed in his resignation and left immediately, with no forwarding address.
The two things are connected—I can feel it.
When I reluctantly arrive in the faculty lounge for today’s meeting, Tina-Maria, the school registrar, bats her eyes and shuffles on the sofa, indicating a space she’s saved for me. Gods.
I know she could have access to useful information, but she's beyond annoying, and I don’t have it in me to flirt. I ignore the registrar and lean against the back wall as Larissa Crankshawe claps her hands together. “Oh, good, we’re all here,” she coos. “Now, you should all have the agenda and last week's minutes in your inboxes, so I’ll hand over to Professor Amos to chair.”
The elderly teacher starts to drone on about department budgets and standardized testing. It’s a shame he’s nearly senile; Amos used to be a big name in the elemental energy world, but now he’s too unreliable to tap for information.
It's not until the end of the meeting that something catches my attention. “So, we are now at the ‘any other business’ portion of the agenda,” Amos says. “Anybody?”
Crankshawe immediately raises her hand. You’d think she was a schoolgirl rather than the dean. “I’ve just one thing,” she smiles, but then her face drops into a serious expression. “The board informed me this morning that, after an eleven-month investigation into Maximus Larsen’s disappearance, they’re closing the case.”
My spine stiffens, and I have to concentrate to keep my features looking disinterested.
“The school will not be found at fault in any way whatsoever,” Crankshawe continues, “because Maximus is now officially listed as a runaway. This will come as no surprise, given his, er, reputation for kicking against authority. I’m sure you all remember the incident with the compressed air bottles. But, I’m sure you’ll join me in sending good thoughts to that troubled young man, wherever he may be, and of course his family, who will have to come to terms with a new reality.”
Anger boils inside me, and though it’s unwise, I can’t help but speak. “And what about the fact that all of Larsen’s belongings were left in his dorm room?” I hiss out.
Crankshawe raises an eyebrow. “Ah, Professor Feniks. Of course, you weren’t here at the time of Larsen’s disappearance. It was concluded early on that his identity documents and a significant amount of cash were missing from his desk. That certainly ties in with a runaway, does it not? He’d hardly make a stealthy exit carrying suitcases.” She gives a little laugh like she’s being fucking funny. My fingers fizz with magic, and I imagine shearing the tongue from her mouth.
Must. Stay. Calm.
But really? Fuck that. The board should come up with a better story if they are going to keep peddling out lies. For a start, there are magical wards around the perimeter that Max couldn’t have breached; this place is like the fucking Fort Knox of academies. And on top of that, there are cameras on every entrance and exit, not forgetting security guards on the gates. No one leaves without being recorded.
And there is no record of Max leaving, with or without a fucking suitcase. It’s a nonsense answer to an inept investigation. There is so much more to this.
How do I know?
Because Max called me the night before he disappeared. Like arunkka, I hadn’t answered the phone, but later in the evening I listened to his excited message.
“Alexis! I’ve found out something crazy—like boom, mind-blowing. This fucking academy, fuck, I want to tell you in person, not leave a message. Call me back, Lexi!”
I’m the only person Maximus regularly calls. The rest of the family can’t handle his particular brand of crazy.
Students scatter as I storm through the halls after leaving the staff meeting. In the five months I’ve been here, I’ve already acquired a reputation as a hard ass. Or maybe just an ass, either way, I don’t care. Rounding a corner, I walk smack into a hardbody. Cosmo fucking Drakeward. He raises his chin, looking down his superior nose at me. Or at least he tries to, but we are much of a height.
“In a rush, Professor?” he sneers. The way he says my title, without any respect, pisses me off. I’m not in the mood for his shit.
“You weren’t in physical fitness class today,” I tell him. “Detention tomorrow, six am in the gymnasium, don’t be late.” I notice a bruise on his cheekbone and give a silent tip of the hat to whoever put it there.
His jaw twitches. “I don’t do detention.”
“You do now,” I reply, a grin breaking over my face. Finally, something is giving me a little joy. “See you in the morning, or you will be in detention for a month.” I smother a smirk, step around him, then jog up the flight of stairs that lead to faculty offices.
As soon as I close the door, Cosmo Drakeward leaves my mind, and Maximus fills it again.
The contents of Max’s room had been shipped back to my aunt months ago. I’d searched the bags and boxes with every ability I had. The only thing I’d been able to pick up was a faint, dark magical energy coming from the soles of his sneakers—the aura was unlike anything I’d ever come across.
Those sneakers were now in the bottom drawer of my desk. For the millionth time, I pull them out and study the red and white leather kicks. Shit. The strange charge is hard to detect now, but with a lot of effort, I can still feel its signature.
My working theory, taking the voicemail into consideration, is that Max, literally, stumbled onto some kind of dark power—aka whatever the crap is on the soles of his shoes, then called me. He’d have known I’d be interested.
But after that? Had Maximus stumbled upon a secret?
If so, he may well be dead, and I have to be realistic about that. But whoever killed him will pay the price—painfully, for a very long time.
