The Coveted (The Unearthly) (2 page)

Chapter 2

I dropped my
bag and slid behind my desk in my anthropology class, resting my head on my folded arms in front of me. I needed a nap like a fish needed water.

“Hey ho,” said a familiar fairy boy. “Where were you this morning? Leanne and I waited forever for your skanky ass to show.”

“Oliver,” I groaned, dragging my head up.

Oliver started at my appearance. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I’d already seen my bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them.

He flashed me a knowing look. “Did you and Andre finally kiss and make up?”

“Is there an off button on you?” I asked. Fantasies of my bed flittered through my mind.

“Oh my God
—
you did, didn’t you, you hot slut!” Oliver squealed. “Give me the scoop! And don’t leave out the juicy details
—
you know they’re my favorite.” We were getting looks as the rest of the class filed in.

I slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened.

“Just
—
shut up for a moment.” His eyes narrowed. If I removed my hand now without an explanation, more sass would pour out of that mouth of his than I could handle.

I lowered my voice. “A girl was murdered last night, and the Politia placed me on the investigation.”

He nodded once, and I slowly I removed my hand. He paused before asking thoughtfully, “Was that before or after you made up with Andre?”

I put my head in my hand. I could already tell today was going to be a winner.

After class got out, Oliver and I parted ways, him to grab lunch with Leanne, and me to sleep.

I wound my way through the busy corridors of Peel Castle. Hundreds of pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns lined the walls. Between them sat enchanted caldrons, which bubbled and steamed.

Every so often I passed a set of knight’s armor. Someone had gone to the trouble of placing witch hats on top of their heads and replacing their swords with broomsticks.

All the decorations were in honor of the upcoming holiday, Samhain
—
more commonly known as Halloween
—
when the doors between worlds opened.

I exited the castle and crossed the expansive lawn.

“Hey, wait up Gabrielle.” Caleb’s voice came from behind me. Unconsciously my muscles tensed.

I paused and watched him jog over to me. He smiled when he reached me and kissed my cheek in greeting. His lips lingered longer than was polite.

“Isn’t it crazy?” he whispered into my ear.

I leaned away from him. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes sparkled. “Being on an investigation
—
together.” The Politia had paired Caleb and I together. Just like my boss, Inspector Comfrey, I didn’t think this was a coincidence. But I’d never voiced my opinions.

I shrugged and began walking again. “It’s definitely creepy,” I said, stifling a yawn.

His hand captured mine, his fingers sliding between my own. There it was again. The subtle signals that he wanted something more from me than just friendship.

So I not-so-subtly removed my hands from his. “Caleb, what do you want?”

But when I turned to face him, he was gone.

***

I entered my room and leaned against the door. Finally, some peace and
—

“I was hoping we could look over the report together.”

I screamed. Caleb stood next to me, stark naked.

“All that is holy Caleb!” I said, shielding my eyes and throwing him a towel to cover himself with. “You could’ve just signed in downstairs.”

“You wouldn’t have invited me up.”

Damn, but he was perceptive. “That’s because I want to sleep.” I glanced out my window. His clothes sat out on the lawn in a rumpled heap.
Huh, I should’ve noticed that.

“We should get a head start on the investigation,” he said, wrapping the towel around himself. “Inspector Comfrey will want to see our progress when we meet next.” He folded his arms over his sculpted torso. I tried not to stare.

“Yeah, I’m all for it,” I said, “but maybe we can do this some other time?”
When you’re clothed.

His lips pulled down at the corners. Like Andre, he wasn’t used to getting rejected. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” All I wanted was a little nap. Just an itty bitty one. Was that too much to ask for?

“Fine.” He walked over to my window and opened it. Outside, a group of girls clustered in front of the building, chatting about the upcoming Witches Festival, a party hosted by
—
surprise, surprise
—
the school’s witches.

Caleb whistled and they glanced up.

Oh. No.

“Hey ladies, can you toss me my clothing?”

A couple of them giggled, and I heard at least one heartbeat stutter. Did everybody but me have a crush on this guy?

I spent the next few minutes watching the girls try to throw Caleb’s clothes up to him
—
try being the key word here.

“Why don’t I just push you out the window?” I said, eyeing Caleb’s exposed back. “Then you can just turn into a bird and fly your way out of my room.”

He swiveled to face me. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea.”

Caleb stretched his arms over his head. The skin rippled and shrank. Feathers sprouted along his skin, until his arms became wings, and his face acquired a beak.

An eagle stood on top of my towel. It cocked its head at me and screeched.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth all day,” I joked.

Caleb ruffled his feathers, just to let me know I wasn’t that funny, and then hobbled over to the windowsill. Letting loose another shriek, he dived off. I closed my window behind him, muffling the girls’ surprised screams as he swooped over them and collected his clothes in his talons.

I stretched and yawned. Just another normal day at Peel Academy.

Behind me I heard Caleb’s squawk and the tap of a beak on glass. I guess he thought he was coming back in. Ha, sucker.

I took my shoes off and slid under my topmost sheet, the woolen blanket I’d snatched from Andre.

Andre. My heart did something funny in my chest. I’d placed my phone on my nightstand next to my bed, and now I stared at it. It had been almost two months since that fateful night at Bishopcourt, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

I should get over it and call him.

This was no longer just about me; there was a dead girl involved. But then a creeping thought snuck up on me. Did he think I did it? It had to have crossed his mind. And if it had, then why hadn’t he contacted me?

I swallowed my unease. We couldn’t go on like this forever
—
I was going to have to call him.

Eventually.

***

The next evening I worked on my enchanted engineering homework when Oliver and Leanne came into our room.

“A little birdie told me you had a naked man in your room yesterday,” Oliver opened. “And I do mean
birdie
literally.”

Leanne ignored him. “Whatever plans you had for this evening, drop them,” Leanne said, “and come with us.”

I twirled the pen in my hand. “Where are you guys going?”

Leanne smiled. “A séance.”

***

The séance was being held in one of the main library’s back rooms. As Oliver, Leanne, and I passed the rows of cloth-bound, gold-leafed books, I saw Lydia Thyme, Peel’s head librarian. Our eyes met and she winked at me. I smiled and nodded back.

Not so long ago she’d helped me when I desperately needed it. I wasn’t sure which side of good and evil she fell on, but I also wasn’t sure I had the luxury of defining my world by such absolutes any longer.

At the back of the library there was a series of doors, one which was propped open. The three of us slipped inside.

A group of students already sat in seats placed along the edges of the room. Leanne, Oliver, and I grabbed three of the remaining seats and waited for tonight’s activities to begin.

I leaned into Leanne. “Remind me again what a séance is?” I asked, studying the round table in the middle of the room. Resting at its center was a crystal ball.

“A séance is a gathering of individuals who attempt to communicate with the dead.”

That’s what I thought. I was just wondering why this was a good idea. There were plenty of people I knew who were dead, and only a couple I’d be okay communicating with. With the exception of my parents, I seriously hoped none of my deceased acquaintances showed up.

“Séances are strongest when done close to Samhain,” Leanne continued, “hence tonight’s event.”

I eyed the ground. Under the table someone had drawn a large pentagram within a circle. Five unlit candles rested at each point of the star. Considering my last foray with candles and old buildings didn’t go so well, I desperately hoped these would remain unlit.

A few minutes later, after more students trickled in, Madame Woods entered the room, her velvet dress trailing behind her.

“Welcome, welcome,” she said, steepling her hands together and bowing to us.

She straightened up. “I am Madame Woods, and my work is in the field of mediumship. Tonight I will be conducting a séance, a communion with the dead. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my procedures, I will first step into the protective circle I’ve created and light each of these five candles.”

Well, there goes my earlier hope.

“That,” she continued, “will activate the circle. Then I’ll seat myself in front of my crystal ball and hypnotize myself. Once under hypnosis, those spirits that want to be heard will communicate with me, and I will pass along their messages.”

With that, she stepped inside the chalk circle and began to light each of the five candles.

When the fifth and last candle was lit, Leanne inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” I whispered to her.

“I can see the contours of the protective circle
—
it’s actually a sphere,” she said, her eyes never straying from the middle of the room. “The top half of it is visible; the bottom half must be underground.”

I followed her gaze, but I couldn’t see anything. The air was still as invisible as ever.

I shivered. There was something in the room that I couldn’t see. The thought made me feel vulnerable. I wondered what other unseen things lurked just beyond my five senses and whether they could peer at me.

Madame Woods sat down in her chair. Rather than waving her hands around the crystal ball
—
which, I’ll be honest, I was kind of hoping for
—
she folded her hands in front of her and stared into it.

For a long time nothing happened. Just as students were beginning to get restless, she spoke. “Does anyone have a deceased relative whose first name starts with a ‘J’?”

When no one answered, she continued. “This is a female presence, and she’s telling me she was young when she died. I’m seeing water
—
either she drowned or . . . something to do with water.”

An audience member cleared her throat. “I think that may be my younger sister, Jacqueline. She drowned in a lake on our property when she was ten.”

Something about this moment, this confession, made me profoundly uncomfortable. I shouldn’t know about this stranger’s painful past, and I sure as hell didn’t want to share my own.

Madame Woods focused on the girl who spoke. “Your sister wants me to tell you that she knows you carry around a picture of you two in your wallet. And on bad days you sometimes pull it out.” At this the audience member began to cry.

“She wants me to tell you that she loves you very much and to not worry about her.”

The tearful girl smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Madame Woods nodded and turned her attention back to the crystal ball. This time, we all waited patiently for her.

“An older woman is coming through. Her name begins with an ‘A,’ and it’s an unusual first name. Adele? Arianna?”

Leanne made a noise in the back of her throat. “Adelaide?” she asked.

“
Yes
,” Madame Woods said empathically.

“That’s my grandmother.”

I looked at Leanne sharply. My impression had always been that her grandmother was still alive. After all, her grandmother was the one who had tipped Leanne off about the persecution tunnel in the basement of the women’s dormitory.

“Oh, I like her,” Madame Woods said. “She has a mischievous personality.”

I watched the smile spread across Leanne’s face. “She does.”

“She’s been gone for awhile now, right?” Madame Woods said.

Leanne nodded. “She died when I was eight.”

At this, I felt my eyes widen.

“Hmm,” Madame Woods said. “She’s making it sound as though you two still chat often.”

The skin at the corners of Leanne’s eyes crinkled. “We do. I dream about her often.”

“She wants me to tell you that she enjoys those conversations immensely.”

The medium’s face darkened. “She also wants you to know that things are changing. You need to trust your abilities now more than ever. Because you can see what others can’t, you are more vulnerable to attack. Protect yourself.”

Leanne sucked in her cheeks. “Okay.”

Once more Madame Woods focused on the crystal ball in front of her. I studied the way her unblinking eyes watched the ball. Slowly her lids began to droop. Then they slid shut and her body went slack.

Somewhere in the room a clock ticked rhythmically. Students glanced at each other, no one sure what to make of the medium’s limp body.

The candles in the room flickered, and Madame Woods gasped to life.

Only, Madame Woods was no longer Madame Woods.

“Where is she?” The voice was unnaturally deep and gravelly. Unfocused eyes searched the room. The students shifted. A couple whimpered. Around the room I saw wide eyes.

“Where is the devil’s consort? I smell her.” The eyes roved around the room. Until they locked with my own.

“
You
.” The beast controlling Madame Woods strode towards me.

What had the thing called me? The devil’s consort? Ew. I mean seriously
—
ewww
.

The chalk line was only two feet in front of me, and that white line was all that separated the medium from me. Right about now I was having trouble believing an invisible wall separated us. But I sure hoped one was.

“He’s watching you now, just as he always has.”

I stilled. It seemed that even my heart slowed. Whatever lingered behind those eyes was ugly and twisted. And it knew about the man in the suit.