The room filled with gasps, and Alex opened her eyes to find Linton’s bench flipped over and his feet up above his head. Every spirit with the misfortune of sitting near him had also tumbled backwards. Alex’s head pounded.
Had she done that? She could barely hear Jonas over the sound of gongs crashing in her head.
“I wonder why they didn’t pick you to go with the movers.”
“Huh?” she asked, massaging her temples distractedly.
Jonas pointed to the front of the room where Jack was exiting.
“How come Jack and Calla aren’t a part of that little clique, then?”
Jonas snickered. “Have you met the Bonds? Jack isn’t exactly the class president.” He paused, watching Alex. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” The pressure in her head became a dull ache. She glanced at Linton guiltily.
Van Hanlin narrowed his eyes and the lights brightened around him. “Enough foolishness. Please listen carefully for your name and direct yourself to the appropriate mentor.”
Madame Paleo stepped in front of him again. She had a pencil behind one ear and a director’s clapboard in her hand. She beamed importantly. “For those students on my list, please remain here in the Hall and migrate to the back of the room. We will be using the stage to reenact murder scenes from history, which will be performed throughout various rooms in the house while the guests venture through.”
Kaleb was the only familiar name to be called.
Alex waited while the professors announced several more groups. Gabe left with the newburies who would train to be “stalkers.” It was difficult to imagine sweet Gabe pursuing guests and pretending to be an axe murderer. By the time Van Hanlin took the stage again, only a handful of students remained, Alex and Jonas included. He led them outside, where he sliced the air with this arm, dividing the group in half. He was quiet for a moment, assessing his students. His eyes came to a rest on Alex and lingered there.
“Each year we have to shake things up a bit,” he began. “Perhaps the scariest aspect of the house this season is actually outside of the mansion, because the guests are going to think they’re lost. They will be chased through the woods, where we will be guiding them through a predetermined course.”
Skye raised her hand. “What will we be hunting them with?”
“Weapons.”
“That’s nothing new, is it?”
“The chase? No. The difference this year is that invisible spirits will track them as well, filling their heads with whispers. You will use voice boxes,” said Van Hanlin, holding up a small device. “They operate with the use of Voix stones. I want the whispers to come from all around them: left, right, above, below. That should scare them all the more. If a guest strays, use the voice box to get them back on track.”
“How do we know they’ll listen to us?” Jonas asked.
Alex pictured herself floating after some kid running in the wrong direction with his arms flailing above his head. That would be just her luck.
“When a human is scared, it is in their nature to scream, tense up, blink, and even skip a heartbeat. You will use that split second to redirect them.”
“Are you sure they’ll listen?” Reuben asked, eying the trees.
“Yeah,” Joey Rellingsworth agreed. “Because they could end up so lost.”
“They will pause,” Van Hanlin replied with certainty. “The human brain can only withstand a certain number of commands at once. When frightened, the mind tries to refresh itself when it overloads. You are going to command it instead, and your memorization of the routes will make the operation foolproof.”
There were a few nervous murmurs throughout the group.
“I’ll be supervising,” Van Hanlin said pompously. “Nothing will go wrong.”
16
Chase worried how long they were going to detain him. If it was a month ago, even a year ago, he wouldn’t have cared whether he was detained at the Dual Towers, or stuck in some workshop at Brigitta, or truly dead. It didn’t matter where he was. He wouldn’t feel whole if he was separated from Alex.
It was so strange. She was there in his head. He could sense her. He could feel her now. He felt her anxiety when she first arrived in Eidolon. He felt fear several minutes later. And he felt a burst of happiness soon after, and he wondered which of his brothers had warranted such a reaction.
He knew his newfound talent had resulted in his confinement. When he looked at someone, he could see their desires, their grief, and their passions. Whatever happened to be flowing through them at the time, he could see the color of it.
He should have kept his mouth shut, but when Ellington arrived, and Chase asked him why he was surrounded by flashes of pale yellow light, the cat was out of the bag. And the spirits keeping him here were trying to tame his gift.
They treated him well, pampering him if anything, but they studied him, used him, and forced him to accompany them during interviews. At least, they called them interviews. Chase figured they were more like interrogations.
It interested him how one question could cause a spark of new light. He couldn’t hear the questions. He could only see the reactions. From muddy blue to metallic gold, Chase would transcribe what he saw. He wasn’t quite sure what every variation meant, but he was beginning to learn. Ellington, who continued to visit Chase for his regularly scheduled therapy sessions, claimed this was a good thing. According to him, it took some spirits years to figure out how they might fit into this world.
Chase already knew his purpose, however. The only light he was interested in seeing was Alex’s. He had an advantage now. The moment he was close enough, he’d been able to see her true colors. He’d finally know how she felt about him. Her heart would no longer be closed off.
That was the only place he truly wanted to fit.
Van Hanlin had mapped out the routes in the haunted house woods so well that by the time they finally visited the mansion, Alex and her group needed less than an hour to memorize the miles of trails. Van Hanlin strutted around the campus, boasting pretentiously about his leadership and efficiency until finally Paleo intervened. She irritably suggested he put himself to use and disperse his newburies to assist the other professors.
Alex was sent to the kitchen, where Professor Duvall stood stirring a thick, red substance in a black pot. It smelled wretched, and Duvall gave Alex the creeps, so she turned on her heel to escape. Before she could scamper away, Jack’s voice came from the corner of the room. “Alex, hey! Where are you going?”
Alex cringed. Hadn’t he realized she was ducking out? Why would he yell her name?
Professor Duvall whipped around. The cooking spoon in her hand splattered red goo across the cabinet. “Whoops,” she sang, zeroing in on Jack with a grimace. “Bond, why are you loitering in the doorway?”
He shrugged. “The movers wandered off somewhere.”
Alex doubted it was a coincidence that he’d been left behind.
“Well,” huffed Duvall, “go help set up the Porta-Potties on the front lawn. They were delivered last week, but they’re arranged too close to the road.”
“Porta-Potties?” Alex interrupted. “What do we need those for?”
“They aren’t for us. Patrons are encouraged to relieve themselves before entering the house. In the past, many have lost their ability to function because of their fright.”
“Ew.” Alex wrinkled her nose.
“Bond, Porta-Potties! Go!”
“Fine,” Jack grumbled and exited the room.
Professor Duvall muttered something about where he belonged, and then her attention traveled to Alex, and she seemed to shudder a little, though a smile spread across her face. “My dear Alex, follow me.”