He yelled something unrepeatable and leapt away, almost hitting a tree. I jolted back into my body and stared at him.
“Don’t do that!” he yelled. “Jesus!”
“I lost it!” I yelled back. “I almost had it!”
“What the—” But he shut up as Christophe stepped past him, appearing out of thin air with a whispering sound.
“This is not a good idea.” The djamphir’s eyes glowed blue in the shade. Light does funny things this close to dying altogether; the shadows moved like live things over Christophe’s pale skin and turned Shanks into an umber statue. “Come back inside, Dru.”
I searched for the internal tingle that would tell me the touch was willing to show me more.
Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Until a soundless flash filled the whole clearing, lighting it up inside my head like kliegs on a football field. I stalked past Shanks and stopped, kneeling in front of a weird thorny bush. It might even have been a rosebush, but it looked blasted and half-crushed.
A tiny strip of material, no bigger than my pinkie finger, clung to it. Heavy black cotton, from a long black coat. I gingerly tweezed it free, held it up. It had dried stiff, probably because it’d gone through dew falling. “He came this way. Can we—”
“I don’t smell much.” Shanks hunched his shoulders miserably. “They cut the grass earlier today, but I . . .”
I waited, but he just spread his hands. The entire clearing was a thick soup of shadows and a chill that wasn’t just evening creeping up. It was cold, and I smelled intent, like a hex brewing in a dark corner.
My hand turned into a fist around the scrap of material.
“Maybe he just needed to go out and get his head clear.” But Shanks didn’t sound like he believed it.
“There’s nothing we can do now.” Christophe’s hands dangled loosely by his side, but his entire body shouted, Ready to move. “Please, Dru. Inside is better. Especially this close to dark.”
“You can’t smell him?” I tried not to sound like I was begging Shanks.
“Enough to know he came this way. That’s all. He could have just brushed up against it, but he can see in the dark. Like we can.”
I let out a deep, frustrated sigh. Heard footsteps in the distance, and was that Leon calling my name? I guess you really can’t go anywhere in the Schola without being watched.
Who had been watching me all this time? What hadn’t I seen?
“Fine.” But I stuffed the strip of material in my pants pocket. When I had some time to think I could probably figure something out.
Come and find me.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d found someone with just a scrap of cloth. Once you have that physical link, it’s the easiest type of finding.
I let Christophe lead the way out of the stand of trees. The sun was heading for the horizon, disappearing behind buildings.
Time for a Trial.
CHAPTER THIRTY
In the very center of the Schola Prima’s main building, the one all the wings come off of like they’re a spider hugging its web, is a huge open space with a glass roof. I say glass roof when what I really mean is a dome big enough to host a Deep South gun show underneath, made of huge glass panels webbed with stone supports. It was probably a marvel of architecture, but it looked like it might come crashing down at any moment. The space underneath it was stone-floored, except for long runners of dusty red rugs. A high dais in the center held seven iron chairs, three on either side flanking a huge confection of spikes and a big red cushion, hung with swathes of crimson silk.
Two guesses whose that is, and the first one don’t count. Hot bile crawled up my throat. I shuffled along behind Christophe, Leon right behind me, and kept my head down, glancing up in quick spurts.
The wide spaces were filling up with djamphir, most of them older. The younger ones trickled in and stood near the back, and I saw one or two wulfen lingering near the exits. They were gone as soon as I looked twice, craning my neck.
The chairs faced south, and in front of them, set to the left, was a sort of enclosure. Waist-high railings of dark antique wood, carved with crosses and hearts, marched in a square around hard pew benches. Christophe opened a little gate-thingie and pointed me in with a half-bow. “If you please, skowroneczko moja. Stay here.”
Leon followed me, and when I settled down in the first row, he chose the seat right behind me and a little to the left. Christophe leaned on the railing in front of me. “Whatever happens, Dru, don’t worry. I don’t think anyone can harm you with the entire Order in attendance.”
I didn’t say anything. Who knew how many of them had some grudge against me, for whatever reason? Anna hated me, and seeing Christophe wasn’t guaranteed to put her in a good mood either.
I had other things to worry about, too.
If Graves was here we could have a whole conversation in a split second just by giving each other one of those Significant Looks. It’s not just anyone you can do that with.
But there was that scrap of material in my pocket. As soon as I was alone, I could clear my head out and see if it could lead me anywhere. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d found someone using the touch.
It would, however, be the first time I’d found someone without Dad.
“I mean it,” Christophe persisted. “You’re safe. I promise.”
More djamphir trickled in. I could feel their eyes on me. New girl again, for the three thousandth time. Christophe watched my face, searching it like he expected to find gold there.
“Don’t worry about me,” I finally said. “Really. I’m more worried about you.” And even more worried about where Graves is.
“Are you?” A fey smile lit his face, and I caught my breath. It was a shock to see him look so happy. “Well, then.”
Leon leaned forward, I felt the movement even though he didn’t touch me. “Here comes Benjamin. Don’t look surprised.”
Benjamin stamped across the stone, his face a thundercloud. He pushed past Christophe, through the little gate, and dropped into the pew on my other side. “Goddamn it.” It was a jail-yard whisper; his lips barely moved. “Nobody knows anything. What the hell is going on?”
“Have you found Graves?” I didn’t care if everyone heard me. “Please tell me you found him.”
I knew he hadn’t even before he shook his head, dark eyes moving over the crowd. “His personal effects are still in your chamber, Milady. Torn apart and spattered with nosferatu ichor, but still there. Wherever he went, he didn’t take his clothes with him. Shanks was the last person to see him. Can’t find hide or hair of him anywhere. Thomas and George are still looking, but you won’t be lacking protection. I’ve got two other crews on standby, and I’ll vouch for them personally.”
My face tightened up on its bones. If they had what the hell in the dictionary, my expression right then would be the perfect picture. “I know he left his clothes. There was a place, outside the gym—” The words stumbled over each other, trying to get out in time to tell him that I’d seen where Graves went right after—
“Shh.” Benjamin made a quick shushing motion with his left hand. “I think something’s . . . no, I guess not. Not yet.”
A hush fell over the assembled djamphir. The crowd had grown while I wasn’t looking. The glass dome above filled with sunset, pink clouds and orange glow like a blind multicolored eye. Just figures that the ceiling would be staring at me, too. Jesus.
Every time I looked around there were more djamphir. When there’s a whole sea of them looking at you, you can get to see some faint similarities in bone structure, no matter the skin color. Bright eyes, and whispering passed through them. The aspect went in waves over the crowd, fangs peeping out and hair changing shades.