“Or equally horrific teenagers,” I finished.
We followed Scout through the main administrative hallway and into a narrower corridor that led from it. The offices looked dark . . .
“Students,” a voice said suddenly behind us.
We froze, then turned around. Foley stood in her open doorway, a candle in one of those old-fashioned brass holders in her hand.
“I believe it’s past curfew.” She slid her gaze to Daniel. “Mr. Sterling.” It took me a moment to remember Foley knew Daniel because he was our studio TA.
“Sorry for marching through your territory,” he apologetically said, “but we were on a bit of a mission.”
“A mission?”
“Interlopers,” Scout said. “There were Reapers at the gates, so to speak. Daniel here warded the door, and now we’re escorting him out.”
We stood in the corridor silently for a moment, Foley probably debating whether to let us go. Since she didn’t rush to call the cops about the man standing in the middle of her girls’ school in the middle of the night, I assumed she knew about Daniel’s magical tendencies.
Her voice softened. “You’re being careful?”
“As much as we can, ma’am,” Daniel said. “And—I was sorry to hear about your daughter. She was a good friend—and a good Adept.”
I snapped my gaze back to Foley and the grief in her expression. She’d had a daughter who was an Adept? And she’d lost her?
Foley actually seemed to make more sense now. But before I could say anything, her expression went bossy again. She nodded at Daniel, then turned and walked away. “Get back to bed,” we heard.
We were quiet for a moment until I looked at Scout. “Did you know?”
She shook her head. “I mean, I suspected, given the fact that she was in the community, but I didn’t know she’d had a kid—or lost her.”
We both looked at Daniel. His brow was furrowed. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. Her name was Emily. She was a green thumb Adept—she could grow trees and vines that practically encapsulated buildings.” He paused. “We think it was a Reaper attack.”
“I had no idea,” Scout quietly said.
Guilt settled heavy in my stomach. “I didn’t either. And I was pretty hard on her earlier today.”
“We do the best we can with the information we have,” Daniel said. “For now, let’s focus on the things we can change. Such as getting me out of here.”
Scout nodded, then gestured down the hall. “This way,” she said. We continued the walk in silence, and didn’t speak again until Scout paused in front of an old wooden door.
She jimmied the ancient crystal knob. “There’s no light in here, but you can use flashlights when the door’s shut.”
We stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled out our flashlights. The room was big and mostly empty, and the ceiling arched above it. The floors were made up of old wooden boards, and along one side was a fireplace that took up almost the entire wall. It was made of rough, pale stones that were still stained with soot. A simple wooden chair, the kind with rails across the back, sat beside the fireplace.
I shivered. There was something creepy about this place—the empty chair in the otherwise deserted room. I could imagine Temperance living here alone, waiting for someone to conjure her up. I shivered, then wrapped my arms around my shoulders.
“What is this?” Daniel whispered.
Scout walked to a corner of the room and began feeling around on the floor. “Not sure. I think it was the original kitchen for the nuns before they built the new wing. Mostly no one comes in here anymore.”
“Except bad girls,” I pointed out.
“Except that,” Scout agreed. She lifted up a ring, then pulled open an old door that was set into the floor. “Root cellar,” she explained when we walked over. She pointed down into it. “There’s a door to the yard, and from there you can just walk out the front gate. No alarms or anything.”
Daniel headed into the cellar, disappearing into darkness. I followed him down, and Scout followed behind me.
The root cellar looked exactly how you’d expect a root cellar to look. It was dark and damp, and it smelled like wet soil and plants. The ladder into it was wooden and rickety, as was the door that led to the side lawn. Had the folks who’d changed the convent into a school with fancy classrooms failed to find the rickety door—or had Foley left a secret exit for any Adepts that needed it?
Yet another question, but I was already full up for the night.
The evening was cool, so I tucked my hands into my hoodie pockets and followed Daniel and Scout to the street.
“Thanks for the help,” he said. “I might find some Varsity kids and ask them to take a walk through the tunnels. I think you’ve already had enough close calls for the week.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Scout said. We said our final good-byes, and Daniel took off at a jog toward the street, then turned and headed out of view.
“This has been quite a week,” she said as we headed back up the ladder and into the building. “First teethy monsters, then vampires, and now Reapers.”
I stopped. “What did you say?”
Scout glanced back, then blinked. “What?”
“Just then. What did you say?”
“Oh, uh, teethy monsters, vampires, Reapers?”
“Teethy monsters,” I repeated. “You said it the other day—the rat things had fangs. And vampires have fangs, too, right?”
We followed Scout through the main administrative hallway and into a narrower corridor that led from it. The offices looked dark . . .
“Students,” a voice said suddenly behind us.
We froze, then turned around. Foley stood in her open doorway, a candle in one of those old-fashioned brass holders in her hand.
“I believe it’s past curfew.” She slid her gaze to Daniel. “Mr. Sterling.” It took me a moment to remember Foley knew Daniel because he was our studio TA.
“Sorry for marching through your territory,” he apologetically said, “but we were on a bit of a mission.”
“A mission?”
“Interlopers,” Scout said. “There were Reapers at the gates, so to speak. Daniel here warded the door, and now we’re escorting him out.”
We stood in the corridor silently for a moment, Foley probably debating whether to let us go. Since she didn’t rush to call the cops about the man standing in the middle of her girls’ school in the middle of the night, I assumed she knew about Daniel’s magical tendencies.
Her voice softened. “You’re being careful?”
“As much as we can, ma’am,” Daniel said. “And—I was sorry to hear about your daughter. She was a good friend—and a good Adept.”
I snapped my gaze back to Foley and the grief in her expression. She’d had a daughter who was an Adept? And she’d lost her?
Foley actually seemed to make more sense now. But before I could say anything, her expression went bossy again. She nodded at Daniel, then turned and walked away. “Get back to bed,” we heard.
We were quiet for a moment until I looked at Scout. “Did you know?”
She shook her head. “I mean, I suspected, given the fact that she was in the community, but I didn’t know she’d had a kid—or lost her.”
We both looked at Daniel. His brow was furrowed. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. Her name was Emily. She was a green thumb Adept—she could grow trees and vines that practically encapsulated buildings.” He paused. “We think it was a Reaper attack.”
“I had no idea,” Scout quietly said.
Guilt settled heavy in my stomach. “I didn’t either. And I was pretty hard on her earlier today.”
“We do the best we can with the information we have,” Daniel said. “For now, let’s focus on the things we can change. Such as getting me out of here.”
Scout nodded, then gestured down the hall. “This way,” she said. We continued the walk in silence, and didn’t speak again until Scout paused in front of an old wooden door.
She jimmied the ancient crystal knob. “There’s no light in here, but you can use flashlights when the door’s shut.”
We stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled out our flashlights. The room was big and mostly empty, and the ceiling arched above it. The floors were made up of old wooden boards, and along one side was a fireplace that took up almost the entire wall. It was made of rough, pale stones that were still stained with soot. A simple wooden chair, the kind with rails across the back, sat beside the fireplace.
I shivered. There was something creepy about this place—the empty chair in the otherwise deserted room. I could imagine Temperance living here alone, waiting for someone to conjure her up. I shivered, then wrapped my arms around my shoulders.
“What is this?” Daniel whispered.
Scout walked to a corner of the room and began feeling around on the floor. “Not sure. I think it was the original kitchen for the nuns before they built the new wing. Mostly no one comes in here anymore.”
“Except bad girls,” I pointed out.
“Except that,” Scout agreed. She lifted up a ring, then pulled open an old door that was set into the floor. “Root cellar,” she explained when we walked over. She pointed down into it. “There’s a door to the yard, and from there you can just walk out the front gate. No alarms or anything.”
Daniel headed into the cellar, disappearing into darkness. I followed him down, and Scout followed behind me.
The root cellar looked exactly how you’d expect a root cellar to look. It was dark and damp, and it smelled like wet soil and plants. The ladder into it was wooden and rickety, as was the door that led to the side lawn. Had the folks who’d changed the convent into a school with fancy classrooms failed to find the rickety door—or had Foley left a secret exit for any Adepts that needed it?
Yet another question, but I was already full up for the night.
The evening was cool, so I tucked my hands into my hoodie pockets and followed Daniel and Scout to the street.
“Thanks for the help,” he said. “I might find some Varsity kids and ask them to take a walk through the tunnels. I think you’ve already had enough close calls for the week.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Scout said. We said our final good-byes, and Daniel took off at a jog toward the street, then turned and headed out of view.
“This has been quite a week,” she said as we headed back up the ladder and into the building. “First teethy monsters, then vampires, and now Reapers.”
I stopped. “What did you say?”
Scout glanced back, then blinked. “What?”
“Just then. What did you say?”
“Oh, uh, teethy monsters, vampires, Reapers?”
“Teethy monsters,” I repeated. “You said it the other day—the rat things had fangs. And vampires have fangs, too, right?”
