Miss Mabel's School for Girls (18 page)

“I know,” I said. “But I have to compete.”

More whispers. More stings.
Barbaric. Callous.

“Compete,” Mama whispered in disbelief, blinking. “You’re choosing the Competition over your own grandmother.” Her hands twisted in agitation. “I can’t believe it.”

Miss Mabel’s words replayed in my mind.

Nothing is ever what it seems.

“I’m sorry,” I said with greater confidence, straightening to meet Miss Scarlett’s gaze. “I refuse to leave. I choose to stay and participate in the third match.”

The room went pitch black.

Several girls shrieked. I stood my ground, waiting with clenched fists. I had a good idea of what would come next, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. 

The wine colored flowers opened in the darkness. Their bioluminescent petals rolled apart, exposing white blossoms inside. My butterfly fluttered by.

 One flower broke away from a vine and floated into the middle of the room. Another followed, and then another. The blossoms gathered in a pile on the floor. Like magnets, the others joined them. Where one left, another sprouted. Soon, a pillar of violet climbed towards the ceiling and lit the room. Flowers flew through the air, sucked into the column.

The pillar shifted, spreading, morphing into the silhouette of a person. The top petals smoothed into lines of long blonde hair. Slender arms formed at the sides. The lights flowed to the ground in electric rivulets of lavender, illuminating a flowing skirt.

The light from the flowers vanished, drenching the room in blackness again. A few students cried out in surprise. When the candles flickered back to life, a stunning woman stood in place of the pillar. Her ebony dress spilled over her beautiful frame and pooled on the ground in an inky puddle of silk.

A pair of sapphire eyes met mine. Then a smile curved Miss Mabel’s blood-red lips.

“Congratulations, Bianca. You are the winner.”

All traces of my mother disappeared. My butterfly landed on my shoulder and evaporated in a poof of powder. I knew I’d never see it again.

I had a sinking feeling that the real challenge was just beginning.

Contracts and Requirements

E
vil never looked so alluring.

Miss Mabel owned the room. Her elegant beauty captured every eye, and she knew it. They watched her move with a grace that belonged in a room far superior to a Network school.

“Darling students,” Miss Mabel’s voice called out, doting. “I’m so pleased to be here tonight. Your support of the Competition has been exemplary. To those who competed but did not win, remember this: if you have learned from the experience, the price was worth it.”

She looked at Elana then, but Elana turned her gaze to the table.

“Tonight we will feast to celebrate! I know dear Miss Celia has worked very hard all day to bring you your very favorite goodies. Make sure to thank her for her hard work.”

She circled around at the top of the room, looking out on the students, silhouetted against the fire. Her dress swirled around her legs and settled with a little sigh.

“Thank you for making Miss Mabel’s School for Girls the most coveted school in the Central Network. Your hard work and dedication maintains our reputation. Continue to listen to your wonderful teachers and work hard to become the best witch you can.”

Miss Mabel looked on all the students with an affectionate gaze, then turned to the teachers. “Miss Celia, you may begin the feast!”

Shock slid off the students like a discarded coat, and the room echoed with their excited cries. Camille turned to Leda and began to jabber at an incomprehensible speed. Leda stared at the floor, chewing on her bottom lip in frustration. I slowly backed away.

No one saw me slip into the hallway. Miss Bernadette startled me by grabbing my wrist as I started up the stairs.

“You aren’t going to enjoy your own party?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. “I was going to collect my things.”

Miss Bernadette smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “It’s okay, I won’t say anything to the students. Parties don’t really seem like your kind of thing anyway. But I did want to congratulate you. This was a big accomplishment.”

“Thank you, Miss Bernadette.”

“You worked hard, and I’m proud of you. You stayed true to yourself,” she hesitated, concern evident in her eyes. “I know you always will.”

The implication of her words stayed with me long after she left, fading into the merry celebration that I had no part in. A flicker moved in the shadows, and Miss Mabel stepped into the light. Her wide blonde curls gleamed where they rested on her shoulders. Although pleasant, her voice sounded like a challenge.

“Are you ready, Bianca?”

I met her gaze.

“Yes, Miss Mabel.”

Her smile appeared approving, but I wasn’t willing to bet on it.

“Good. I believe you and I have a few things to discuss. Follow me, please. I’ll talk to you in the attic. Your belongings are already there.”

•••

“The attic is mine,” she said as we walked. “Miss Celia brings my meals and cleans it from time to time, but other than that no one is allowed. You may go into your room, my office when I give permission, and the classroom.”

A sense of total isolation already wrapped around me, before I had even set foot on the attic floor, and I swallowed back the fear that rose with it.

Miss Mabel’s fingertips trailed delicately along the elaborate iron railing of the spiral stairs. This staircase hid in the back corner of the school, unseen from the main hallway and illuminated by stained glass windows on each level. It twirled through all four stories, ending at the attic. Although the rails looked skinny, the metal black leaves and vines, images of plants native to Letum Wood, that ran through the bars made them sturdy and strong.

“Yes, Miss Mabel.”

“Keep in mind that this stairwell is the only access.”

And only escape,
I thought, my stomach cramping from tying itself into knots.

Once we reached the top of the steps we faced a long hallway. Candles in iron sconces on the wall flickered, throwing light on the old wooden floor. To my right stood two open doors. The one across from the stairs looked into a nearly empty room about half the size of the classrooms downstairs.

“That’s the classroom,” she said, following my gaze. “Your bedroom is here on the left. Follow me. I’ll show you my office.”

My shoes echoed on the bare wooden floor as we walked.

For a witch of such power, her nondescript office surprised me. Blood red drapes and a window behind her large cherry wood desk drew my attention first. Bookshelves marched along one wall and half of another. An aged map of the Network filled the wall next to her desk. One exit, two windows. The sounds of the school weren’t there anymore, even when I strained to hear them. It would be a very quiet world, existing almost completely apart from the rest of the girls.

She motioned for me to have a seat, but I resisted in a quiet voice.

“No, thank you.”

Unbothered, she walked to the other side of her desk. Away from the adoration of the students, I thought she would be different, but I was wrong. She was as gracious and attractive in her own office as the dining room, inviting in the most dangerous way.

A few papers bearing my name, written in the same script as the letters I’d received, sat on her desk.

“I must say, Bianca, you surprised the entire school.” Miss Mabel looked at me with a quick flash of her eyes. “Did you see the looks on their faces when you refused to leave? They hated you for being so selfish. It was lovely.”

Lovely, or damning. They surely would hate me now. Their barbs attacked me anew.
Barbaric. Callous. Heartless.

“I wasn’t paying attention to them.”

She gave me a blithe smile.

“I’m sure you weren’t. I would have. I’m always aware of who’s staring at me. Then again, most people always are. I’m dying to learn how you figured it out.”

“I didn’t know until the very end when you appeared.”

She tapped her fingertips on the top of the desk. “The deception spell of your mother gave it away, didn’t it?”

“Nothing gave it away, Miss Mabel.” My lie came out with frightening fluidity. I wasn’t absolutely certain until I’d seen Mama wringing her hands. The curse made her joints too sensitive for that kind of movement and pressure. “My response was sincere. I wanted to stay in the Competition.”

A gleam came into her eyes.

“You erred on the side of loyalty to me, a very smart move. That was the main point. Your grandmother is fine, Bianca. She is not in any more danger of dying than usual. Didn’t Miss Celia give an impressive performance the other night? She completed the task I asked of her, something I very much admire in someone who works for me. Although I will admit she felt terrible for lying to you about Hazel.”

I took that in without a word, sensing that it would be important at some future date, but not knowing why.

“Do you want to know why I challenged you the way I did?” she asked.

I did, but I wouldn’t admit how much. Understanding why she did things formed the pulse of my plans.

“Yes, Miss Mabel.”

“Loyalty is a difficult thing to find these days. I can’t afford an Assistant whose aspirations for other things are greater than their desire to work with me. Not even their family.”

Or their life,
I thought.

Seeing my unease, she straightened up with a smile that would have been reassuring if I hadn’t known how diabolical she could be.

“Priscilla wasn’t so lucky. She gains a few pounds, loses some skin integrity, and the girl comes unglued. Goodness. If anyone has the right to be vain around here, it’s me. Now, we have only to go over the terms of your contract before we sign it and make this arrangement final.”

Here it was. My only chance. I clenched my clammy fingers into my palms.

“I’d like to negotiate our contract, Miss Mabel.”

A sly, enchanting smile crossed her face.

“Of course you would.” Her voice had the slow drawl of someone enjoying a long-lost memory. “How delightful. It’s about your grandmother Hazel, isn’t it?”

My throat tightened like she had a grip on it. There was something unnerving about exposing the truth to her, even if she already knew it.

“Yes.”

Miss Mabel spun around, giving me her back as she looked out the window behind her desk. I breathed easier, grateful to escape those sapphire eyes.

“She had an Inheritance curse if I remember correctly.”

“She received the curse attending school here,” I said, controlling my tone. The corners of Miss Mabel’s lips twitched.

“That’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. Her family conspired against the High Priestess and she wouldn’t even deny it. Oh, don’t be upset. It wasn’t my fault Bianca, truly. Hazel showed disloyalty to the High Priestess. This a Network school, so we had to expel and curse her. It was the punishment of choice at the time. That’s outlawed now, of course. Unfortunately. Happy families make me about as sick as weddings.”

My neck felt hot. Grandmother
had
conspired against the High Priestess at the time, Evelyn. A murderous leader, brutal and fiendish, reigning with fear, terror, and taxes. Our current High Priestess, Mildred, gathered a Resistance and overthrew Evelyn. My family had been part of the Resistance and staunch supporters of Mildred.

Unfortunately it earned my grandmother a curse. Not even Mildred could undo an Inheritance curse from before she took power, nor force the witch to reverse it.

Miss Mabel was just playing with me now. She remembered exactly what happened.

“If it wasn’t your fault then take the curse away,” I said through gritted teeth.

Miss Mabel laughed.

“Oh, Bianca. Don’t you know the first rule of being an adult? Always keep a little leverage where you need it.” She turned to me with a calculating gaze. “How old was Hazel when she received the curse?” 

“Seventeen.”

“Oh,” she said with a soft croon. “An Inheritance curse passes on to the first-born daughter of every generation. That means the curse took affect with your mother at that age as well, yes?”

“Yes, Miss Mabel.”

Her eyes sparkled. She lifted a perfect eyebrow.

“That means the curse will activate when
you
are seventeen.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

You heartless gargoyle.

“And you’re the third generation.”

Her implication hung in the air. I never broke eye contact.

The rule of three says you’re going to die.

“Very interesting,” she said in a low tone. “You have less than a year to try to get rid of the curse or your life is over. Poetic. Is this why you competed?”