Hex Hall (29 page)

I shifted, wincing as my hand bumped against my leg. "I haven't heard anything about Archer other than what you told me about how he and his family have dropped off the face of the earth.

Apparently there's a big group of warlocks out hunting for him."

And what they would do when they caught him. . . ? I didn't want to think about it.

"Cal thinks he and his family probably ran to Italy," I continued, trying to ignore the pain in my heart. "Since that's where The Eye is based, it seems like a safe bet."

To my surprise, Jenna shook her head. "I don't know.

Something I overheard in Savannah. A few witches were talking about the L'Occhio di Dio contingent in London. There've been a few sightings of a new guy with them. Dark-haired, young. Could be him."

My chest constricted.

"Why would he go there? He'd be right under the Council's noses."

She shrugged. "Hiding in plain sight? I just hope they catch him. I hope they catch
all
of them." Her eyes were cold as she said it, and a little shudder ran through me.

"As for my dad, I don't realy know. The Council always knew he was half demon, but I guess since he'd never attempted to eat anybody's face and was super powerful to boot, they decided it was okay to make him Head, so long as no other Prodigium found out what he realy was."

"And Mrs. Casnoff knew too?"

"Al the teachers did. They work for the Council."

Jenna reached up and started twirling her pink streak.

"So you're not a witch," she said. It wasn't a question. Now my wince had nothing to do with my hand.

I wasn't a witch. I never had been. Mrs. Casnoff had explained that the powers of demons are so similar to those of dark witches that it's easy for a demon to "pass" as a witch, so long as she doesn't do anything crazy, like . . . wel, like drinking the blood of a bunch of witches to make herself stronger.

I'd liked thinking of myself as a witch. It was a lot nicer than demon. Demon meant monster to me.

Jenna suddenly reached over and started scratching the top of my head. "What are you doing?"

"I was seeing if you have horns under al that hair," she said, giggling.

I swatted her hand away, but I couldn't help smiling back.

"I'm so glad my monsterness amuses you, Jenna."

She stopped playing with my hair and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Hey, speaking as one monster to another, I can tel you it's not so bad. At least we can be freaks together."

I turned and dropped my head on her shoulder. "Thanks," I said softly, and she gave me a squeeze in return.

There was a soft rapping at the door, and we both looked up. "It's probably Casnoff," I said. "She's checked on me like five times already today."

What I didn't tel Jenna was that the last time we had talked, I'd asked Mrs. Casnoff what al this meant for me.

"It means that you wil always be incredibly powerful, Sophia," she'd answered. "It means that, like your father, you wil be expected to use this power in service to the Council."

"So I have a destiny," I said. "Crap."

Mrs. Casnoff smiled and patted my hand. "It's a glorious destiny, Sophia. Most witches would kil to have your power. Some have."

I'd just nodded because I couldn't tel her how I realy felt: I didn't want to be Sophia, the Great and Terrible. That sort of thing should belong to girls like Elodie, girls who were beautiful and ambitious. I was just me: funny, sure, and smart, but not a leader.

Sitting there that night with Mrs. Casnoff, Cal stil holding my hand even though al of the magic was out of him, I'd asked the one question that had been buzzing in my brain.

"Am I dangerous? Like Alice?"

Mrs. Casnoff had met my eyes and said, "Yes, Sophia, you are. You always wil be. Some demon hybrids, like your father, are able to go years without any incident, although he is accompanied by a member of the Council at al times just to be cautious. Others, like your grandmother Lucy, are not so lucky."

"What happened?"

She looked away and said, very quietly, "L'Occhio di Dio did kil your grandmother, Sophie, but with good reason. Despite living thirty years without ever harming a living soul, something . . .

something happened to her one night, and she reverted to her true nature."

She took a deep breath and said, "She kiled your grandfather."

There was no sound for a long time until I asked, "So that could happen to me? I could just snap one day and demon-out on whoever is with me?"

And when I said that, al I'd been able to see was my mom lying bloody and broken at my feet. My stomach roled and I'd tasted bile.

"It's a possibility," Mrs. Casnoff answered.

And then I asked Mrs. Casnoff if there was a way I could ever stop being a demon--if I could ever return to normal.

She had studied me for a long time, before saying, "There's the Removal. But it would almost assuredly kil you."

Her answer was stil sitting like a stone in my chest. The Removal might kil me.

It probably
would
kil me.

But if I lived the rest of my life as part demon, I might kil someone. Someone I loved.

The door opened, but it wasn't Mrs. Casnoff standing there.

It was my mom.

"Mom!" I cried, leaping out of my bed and throwing my arms around her. I could feel her tears as she buried her face in my hair, so I hugged her even tighter and breathed in her familiar perfume.

When we broke apart, Mom tried to smile at me, and reached down to take my hands. I couldn't hold back a soft cry of pain, and she looked down.

I thought Mom would cry again when she saw my hand, but she just raised it to her lips and kissed the palm, like I was three and had a skinned knee.

"Sophie," Mom said, smoothing my hair away from my face,

"I've come to take you home, okay, sweetie?"

I looked back over my shoulder at Jenna, who was trying realy hard to ignore us, but I saw the hurt look flash across her face.

If I left, Jenna would have no one. So much for being freaks together.

I took a deep breath and turned back to my mom. I didn't know if I would be strong enough to look in her eyes and tel her what I had to say, what I'd known I had to do as soon as Mrs.

Casnoff had given me her answer.

Then, before I could say anything, I saw Elodie walk by my doorway.

Rushing out, my heart in my throat, I wondered if Cal had saved her after al. Maybe she'd been recovering in the school this whole time, and they just hadn't told me.

The hal was empty except for her, and she had her back to me. "Elodie!" I cried, running up to her. But she didn't look at me, and I realized I was looking through her.

She walked on, pausing in doorways like she was looking for someone--just another Hecate ghost stuck here forever. I knew she deserved it, in a way. She and her friends had summoned a demon and paid the price.

I watched her for a long time, until she finaly faded into the late afternoon sunlight. We'd never realy been friends, but she had given me the last little magic she'd had inside her so that I could defeat Alice, and I would never forget that.

And in the end, it was seeing Elodie that gave me the strength to turn to my mom and say, "I'm not going home. I'm going to London, and I'm going through the Removal."

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

W
riting a book has been compared to crossing the Atlantic in a bathtub, so I'm very grateful to have had the folowing people on my "crew"!

First and foremost, a HUGE thank you to my agent, the incomparable Holy Root, the first person not related to me to fal in love with Sophie & Co. Your enthusiasm and kiler sense of humor make you the definition of a dream agent! Also, to Jennifer Besser, Emily Schultz, and everyone at Disney-Hyperion Books, al of whom are freaking geniuses and made this book so much better than I thought it could be.

Big neuroses-laden hugs to al my writer friends in The Tenners, namely Kay Cassidy, Becca Fitzpatrick, and Lindsey Leavitt. Writing can be a lonely business, and you always gave me a shoulder to cry on (or an inbox to fil).

Thanks, too, to Saly Kalkofen and Tiffany Wenzler, who were my first readers, and whose questions, comments, and encouragement helped shape
Hex Hall
into something actualy resembling a book. And to Felicia LaFrance, whose cupcakes helped me write the last hundred pages. You rock, friend!

Few people are lucky enough to have had the same best friend for more than twenty years, so I am very grateful for Katie Rudder Mattli, who's been reading my stories since 1987, and is probably even now plotting to sel them on eBay. Thank you for your unwavering faith, and for always "validating" me!

Because I always promised I'd do this if I got published: Hi, Dalas!

Thanks to Crys Hodgens, Alison Madison, Debbie McMickin, and Amber Wiliams. Y'al are phenomenal teachers, and even better friends.

I was lucky enough to have some pretty phenomenal teachers of my own. Alicia Carrol, Alexander Dunlop, James Hammersmith, Louis Garrett, Jim Ryan, Judy Troy, and Jake York were al mentors and friends, and their guidance is much appreciated.

A special thanks to Nancy Wingo, who made me enter writing contests, and compete in English tournaments, and go to Southern Literature conferences. . . . You're the best, and this book truly would not exist without you.

So much of
Hex Hall
is about the power of women, and I know few women more powerful than the formidable WOS--Tammi Holman, Kara Johnson, Nancy Wingo, and my mom, Kathie Moore. You ladies are an inspiration in more ways than one!

For my parents, Wiliam and Kathie Moore. I would have to write a whole other book just to express a fraction of how thankful I am to you. You have supported me even when my path took some crazy turns, and I love you more than I can say.

John and Wil, you are the brightest part of every day.

Without the two of you, none of this would've been possible. I love you both "infinity"!

And last but not least, thank you to every student who sat in my classroom from 2004-2007. You guys were the reason I came to work every day, and I'm so thankful that I got to be a part of your lives. This book is for al of you.