Demonglass (2 page)

F
or the second time in six months, I found myself sitting in Mrs. Casnoff’s office, wrapped in a blanket. The first time had been the night I’d discovered that Archer was a member of L’Occhio di Dio, a group of demon hunters. Now my mom was next to me on the couch, one arm wrapped around my shoulders. My dad was standing by Mrs. Casnoff’s desk, holding a manila folder overflowing with papers, while Mrs. Casnoff sat behind that desk in her great purple throne of a chair.

The only sounds were Dad flipping through all that paper and my teeth chattering, so I finally said, “Why couldn’t my magic get me out of the water?”

Mrs. Casnoff looked up at me like she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “No demon could escape from that particular pond,” she answered in her velvety voice.

“There are protection spells in it. It…holds anything it doesn’t recognize as a witch, faerie, or shifter.”

I thought of the skull and nodded, wishing for some of that spiked tea I’d had last time I was here. “I kind of figured that. So the Vandy was trying to kill me?”

Mrs. Casnoff’s lips puckered a little. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Clarice didn’t know about the protection spells.”

She might’ve been a little more believable if her eyes hadn’t slid away from mine as she’d said that, but before I could press the issue, Dad tossed the folder down on Mrs. Casnoff’s desk and said, “Quite an impressive file you’ve amassed, Sophia.” Clasping his hands, he added, “If Hecate offered classes in complete mayhem, I have no doubt you’d be valedictorian.”

Nice to see where I got my snarkiness. Of course, that seemed to be all I’d gotten from him. I’d seen pictures of him before, but this was the first time I’d seen him in person, and I was having a hard time not staring. He was so different from what I expected. He was definitely handsome, but…I don’t know. In a fussy way. He looked like the kind of guy who had a lot of shoe trees.

I glanced over at Mom and saw that she was having the opposite problem from me. She was looking anywhere but at Dad.

“Yeah,” I said, turning my attention back to him. “Last semester was intense.”

Dad raised both eyebrows at me. I wondered if that was on purpose, or if, like me, he couldn’t lift just one. “‘Intense?’” He picked up the file again and studied it over the top of his glasses. “On your first day at Hecate, you were attacked by a werewolf….”

“It wasn’t really an attack,” I muttered, but no one seemed to pay any attention.

“But of course, that’s paltry compared to what came after.” Dad flipped through the pages. “You insulted a teacher, which resulted in semester-long cellar duty with one Archer Cross. According to Mrs. Casnoff’s notes on the situation, the two of you became ‘close.’” He paused. “Is that an accurate description of your relationship with Mr. Cross?”

“Sure,” I said through clenched teeth.

Dad turned another page. “Well, apparently you two were…close enough that at some point you were able to see the mark of L’Occhio di Dio on his chest.”

I flushed at that, and felt Mom’s arm tighten around me. Over the past six months, I’d filled her in on a lot of the story with Archer, but not all of it.

Specifically, not the whole me-making-out-in-the-cellar-with-him part.

“Now, for most people, nearly being murdered by a warlock working with the Eye would be enough excitement for one semester. But you also became involved with a coven of dark witches led by”—he ran his finger along the page—“ah, Elodie Parris. Miss Parris and her friends, Anna Gilroy and Chaston Burnett, murdered the other member of their coven, Holly Mitchell, and raised a demon who just happened to be your great-grandmother, Alice Barrow.”

My stomach twisted. I’d spent the past six months trying not to think about all that had happened last fall. To have it all read out to me in Dad’s emotionless voice…well, let’s just say I was beginning to wish I’d stayed in the pond.

“After Alice attacked Chaston and Anna, she killed Elodie, and then you killed her.”

I saw his eyes drift from the paper and to my right hand. A puckered scar ran across my palm, a souvenir of that night. Demonglass leaves quite a mark.

Clearing his throat, Dad dropped the papers. “So yes, Sophia, I would agree that you did have quite the intense semester. Ironic considering the fact that I sent you here to be safe.”

Sixteen years’ worth of questions and accusations flooded my brain, and I heard myself snap, “Which I might have been if someone had filled me in on the whole my being a demon thing.”

Behind Dad, Mrs. Casnoff frowned, and I thought I was about to get a lecture on respecting one’s elders, but Dad just watched me with those blue eyes—my eyes—and gave a tiny smile. “Touché.”

The smile threw me, and I looked at the floor when I said, “So are you here to take me to London? I’ve been waiting since November.”

“We can discuss that at some point, yes. But first I’d like to hear about the events of last semester from your perspective. I’d like to hear about the Cross boy.”

Resentment surged up in me, and I shook my head. “No way. You want those stories, you can read the accounts I wrote up for the Council. Or you can talk to Mrs. Casnoff, or Mom, or any of the other people I’ve told the story to.”

“Sophia, I understand that you’re angry—”

“It’s Sophie. No one calls me Sophia.”

His lips thinned. “Very well. Sophie, while your frustration is perfectly valid, it’s not helpful at this moment. I’d like to spend time talking with you and your mother”—his eyes flickered to Mom—“as a family before we proceed to the subject of your going through the Removal.”

“Too bad,” I retorted, tossing off the blanket and Mom’s arm. “You’ve had sixteen years to talk to us as a family. I didn’t ask you to come here because you’re my dad and I wanted some kind of tearful reunion. I asked you to come here as head of the Council so I can get my stupid powers removed.”

All of that came out in a rush. I was afraid if I slowed down, I might start crying, and I’d done enough of that over the past few months.

Dad studied me, but his eyes had gone cold, and his voice was stern when he said, “In that case, in my capacity as head of the Council, I reject your request to go through the Removal.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You can’t do that!”

“Actually, Sophie, he can,” Mrs. Casnoff interjected. “Both as head of the Council and as your father, he’s well within his rights. At least until you’re eighteen.”

“That’s over a year away!”

“Which will give you enough time to understand the implications of your decision to the fullest,” Dad said.

I whirled on him. “Okay, first of all, no one talks like that. Secondly, I
do
understand the implications of my decision. Removing my powers will keep me from potentially killing someone.”

“Sophie, we’ve talked about this,” Mom said, speaking for the first time since we’d come into Mrs. Casnoff’s office. “It’s not a foregone conclusion that you will kill someone. Or that you’ll even try. Your father has never lost control of his powers.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes with one hand. “And it’s just so drastic, honey. I don’t think you should risk your life for a ‘what if?’”

“Your mother is right,” Mrs. Casnoff said. “And bear in mind that you decided to go through the Removal less than twenty-four hours after watching the death of a friend. More time to weigh your options might be a good thing.”

I sat back down on the couch. “I get what you guys are saying. I do. But…” I looked at the three of them, settling finally on my dad, the only person I thought might understand what I was about to say. “I saw Alice. I saw what she was, what she did, what she was capable of.” I dropped my eyes to the faded cabbage roses on Mrs. Casnoff’s carpet, but I was seeing Elodie, pale and streaked with blood. “I don’t ever—
ever
—want to be like that. I really would rather die.”

Mom made a choked noise, and Mrs. Casnoff suddenly became fascinated by something on her desk.

But Dad nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“James,” Mom said sharply.

Their eyes met and something passed between them before Dad continued. “Your year here at Hecate Hall is almost over. Come spend the summer with me, and at the end of that time, if you still want to go through the Removal, I’ll allow it.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What, like at your house? In England?” My pulse sped up. There had been three sightings of Archer in England.

Dad paused, and for one awful moment I wondered if he could read minds. But he just said, “England, yes. My house, no. I’ll be staying with…friends for the summer.”

“And they won’t care if you bring your daughter?”

He smiled at some private joke. “Trust me. They have room.”

“What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?” I was trying to sound haughty and disdainful, but I’m afraid it just came off as petulant.

Dad began fishing in his coat for something, but when he pulled out a thin brown cigarette, Mrs. Casnoff made a disapproving cluck. He sighed and put the cigarette back.

“Sophie,” he said, sounding frustrated, “I want to get to know you, and have you get to know me, before you decide to throw your powers—and possibly your life—away. You don’t even fully comprehend what it means to be a demon yet.”

I thought about Dad’s offer. On the one hand, I was not exactly his biggest fan right now, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend time on a whole other continent with him.

But if I didn’t, I’d be stuck as a demon for a lot longer.

Also, my mom had given up the house she’d been renting in Vermont, so I’d probably be spending all summer at Hecate with just her and the teachers. Ugh.

And then there was England. Archer.

“Mom?” I asked, wondering if she had some motherly input. She seemed pretty shaken up, which was understandable, what with watching me nearly get killed, then having to deal with Dad.

“I’d miss you like crazy, but your dad makes a good point.” Her eyes were bright with tears, but she blinked them back and nodded. “I think you should go.”

“Thank you, Grace,” Dad said quietly.

I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I told him. “I’ll go. But I want to bring Jenna.”

She didn’t have anywhere to go this summer either, and I wanted at least one friendly face if I was going to spend a whole summer embracing my demon-ness or whatever.

“Fine,” Dad said, without hesitation.

That took me by surprise, but I tried to seem nonchalant as I said, “Awesome.”

“That reminds me,” Dad said to Mrs. Casnoff. “I was wondering if it would be all right for Alexander Callahan to come with us as well.”

“Who the heck is Alexander Callahan?” I asked. “Oh, right. Cal.”

It was weird to think of him as
Alexander
. It was such a formal name. Cal suited him a lot better.

“Of course,” Mrs. Casnoff said, all business again. “I’m sure we can manage without him for a few months. Although without his healing powers, we’ll certainly have to invest in more bandages.”

“Why do you want to bring Cal?” I asked.

Dad’s fingers strayed to his suit pocket again. “Council business, mostly. Alexander’s powers are unique, so we’d like to interview him, possibly run a few tests.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, and something told me Cal wouldn’t either.

“And it will give the two of you a chance to get to know one another better,” Dad continued.

A sense of dread slowly began creeping up my spine. “Cal and I know each other well enough,” I said. “Why would I want to know him better?”

“Because,” Dad said, finally meeting my eyes, “you and he are betrothed.”

I
t took me a good thirty minutes to find Cal. That was actually a good thing, because it gave me plenty of time to come up with something to say to him that wasn’t just a string of four-letter words.

There are a lot of freaky things witches and warlocks do, obviously, but the arranged marriage thing was one of the grossest. When a witch is thirteen, her parents hook her up with an available warlock, based on things like compatible powers and family alliances. The entire thing is so eighteenth century.

As I stomped across school grounds, all I could see was Cal sitting with my dad in some manly room with leather chairs and dead animals on the wall, chomping on cigars as Dad formally signed me away to him. They probably even high-fived.

Okay, so it’s not like either of them are exactly the cigar-and-high-fives type, but still.

I finally found Cal in the potting shed behind the greenhouse, where our Defense classes were held. His talent for healing extended to plants, and he was running his hands over a browned and drooping azalea when I flung open the door. He squinted as a shaft of late afternoon sunlight flooded in behind me.

“Did you know I’m your fiancée?” I demanded.

Cal muttered something under his breath and turned back to the plant.

“Did you?” I asked again, even though I clearly had my answer.

“Yes,” he replied.

I stood there waiting for him to say something else, but that was apparently all Cal had to say.

“Well, I’m not going to marry you,” I said. “I think this whole arranged marriage thing is gross and barbaric.”

“Okay.”

There was a bag of potting soil by the door, and I scooped up a handful to fling at his back. Before it hit, he raised his hand and the dirt froze in midair. It hovered there for a moment before floating slowly back to the bag.

“I just can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell me,” I said, sitting on an unopened bag.

“I didn’t see the point.”

“What does that mean?”

He dusted his hands off on his jeans and turned to face me. He was streaked with sweat, and his damp T-shirt was clinging to his chest in ways that would have been interesting if I wasn’t so irritated with him. As usual, he looked more like an all-American high school quarterback than a warlock.

His face was blank, but Cal always held his cards pretty close to his chest. “It means that you didn’t grow up in a Prodigium family, so I knew you’d think arranged marriages were—what did you say?”

“Gross and barbaric.”

“Right. So what was the point in making you all freaked out and hostile?”

“I’m not hostile,” I protested. Cal gave a pointed look to the potting soil, and I rolled my eyes. “Okay, yes, but I was mad that you didn’t tell me, not that we’re…engaged. God, I can’t even say it. It sounds too weird.”

“Sophie, it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s like a business contract. Didn’t anyone explain that to you?”

Archer had. He’d been betrothed to Holly, Jenna’s old roommate, before she died. Of course, now that I knew he was an Eye, I wondered how legit that had ever been. But I didn’t want to think about him right now.

“Yeah,” I said. “And we can, you know, break it off, right? It’s not a done deal.”

“Exactly. So are we cool?”

I drew a pattern on the dirt-covered floor with my toe. “Yeah. We’re cool.”

“Great,” he said. “So there’s no need for things to be awkward.”

“Right.”

Then we sat there awkwardly for a moment before I said, “Oh! Almost forgot. Dad wants you to come to England with us this summer.” Briefly, I told him everything that had happened in Mrs. Casnoff ’s office. He looked surprised when I told him about the Vandy, and he scowled when I mentioned the interview-and-testing part of his summer vacation, but he didn’t interrupt me. When I was finished, he said, “Well, that sucks.”

“A bunch,” I agreed.

He got up and walked back to the azalea, which I guess was my cue to leave. Instead, I said, “Sorry I tried to throw dirt at you.”

“It’s fine.”

I waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I pushed myself off the bag of soil. “See you back at the house, honey,” I muttered as I left. He made a sound that might have been a laugh, but it was Cal, so I doubt it.

The sun was beginning to set when I walked up the front steps of the crazy half-antebellum mansion, half-stucco institution that was Hecate Hall. Crickets were already chirping, and frogs croaked around the pond. A gentle breeze that smelled like honeysuckle and the sea breeze nudged the vines that climbed the walls of the school. I turned and looked back at the lawn. I’d hated this place when I first came here, but I was actually going to miss it this summer. So much had happened to me since Mom had steered that rental car up the drive for the first time, and, as impossible as it would have seemed then, Hecate Hall almost felt like home.

Something furry brushed my arm. It was Beth, a werewolf I’d met my first night at Hecate.

“Full moon,” she growled, nodding her muzzle toward the darkening sky.

“Right.” Weres got the run of the place during the full moon. Glancing behind me, I could see a handful of them gathering in the foyer.

“Can’t believe the school year is almost over,” Beth said, in that voice that sounded like a teenage girl who had a throat full of broken glass and lug nuts.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

Her eyes were bright yellow, but I could see the affection in them as she said, “I’m gonna miss you this summer, Sophie.”

I smiled. Just a few months ago, Beth hadn’t trusted me, thinking I had to be a spy for the Council or something. Luckily, nearly dying had cleared me of that suspicion. I reached out to pat her shoulder. “I’ll miss you too, Beth.”

Then she leaned forward and licked the side of my face.

I waited until she had loped off before wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. “Yeugh.”

Okay, so I wouldn’t miss everything about Hecate Hall.

I headed up to the third floor, where all the girls were housed. There were a few people gathered in the lounge on the landing, but for the most part, things were pretty quiet tonight.

Taylor, one of the shifters, saw me and waved. “Hey, Soph! Heard you went for a swim today,” she said, taking in my still-bedraggled appearance. “Why didn’t you change your clothes?”

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I, uh, didn’t really have time.”

Taylor laughed, the sound surprisingly throaty for such a delicate-looking girl. “I meant with magic,” she said.

Oh, right. “With the way things have been going lately, I didn’t wanna risk it.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Oh, I understand. Especially after the Bed Thing.”

The Bed Thing had happened two months ago. I’d wanted to move my bed, and decided to use magic to do it. Instead of scooting over a few feet, the bed had gone flying out the window, taking out a big chunk of the wall with it.

Mrs. Casnoff had not been amused.

Especially since the Bed Thing had followed the Doritos Incident. Jenna had wanted chips; when I’d tried to make them appear, I’d flooded the hallway with Doritos. There were still traces of cheese dust in the floorboards. Before that, there was That Time With The Lotion (the less said about that, the better). Ever since Alice and Elodie, my magic had definitely been…off. As a result, I’d pretty much stopped using it.

After saying good-bye to Taylor, I continued on to my room. A few more students called out greetings, or commented on my date with the pond. It still caught me off guard, this newfound popularity. At first I thought that word must’ve gotten out that I was a demon, and everyone was being nice to me because they were afraid I’d eat them. But according to Jenna, who was a champion eavesdropper, everybody still thought I was just a superpowerful dark witch. Mrs. Casnoff had done a bang-up job covering up the truth of Elodie’s death, which meant there were all kinds of rumors about what happened to her. The most popular one had Archer sneaking back onto Graymalkin Island and me and Elodie trying to fight him off with our mad magic skills, Elodie dying in the attempt.

Too bad the truth was a lot more complicated. And a lot sadder.

I was nearly at my door when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Hecate Hall was full of ghosts, so we were always catching glimpses of them like that. But when I saw who it was, I froze.

Even as a ghost, Elodie was still beautiful. Her red hair waved around her face, and her skin was translucent. It sucked that she had to spend eternity wearing her school uniform, but then again, Elodie made even that look good.

She was doing what all the ghosts seemed to do: wandering around, looking confused. They weren’t technically in our world, but they weren’t in the afterlife either, so they were just…stuck.

I’d seen Elodie’s ghost a lot, and every time I did, a wave of sadness washed over me. Her death had been her own fault. She and her coven had raised a demon in the hopes that they could bind it and use its power. They’d even sacrificed Holly for it. Still, Elodie had given me her last spark of magic. Without it, I never would have been able to kill Alice.

Now Elodie drifted past me, her eyes searching for something, her feet not touching the ground.

It seemed wrong that someone as vibrant as Elodie would be reduced to this pale, sad spirit, forever wandering the place where she died. “I wish you could just go on to wherever you’re supposed to be,” I whispered in the silence of the hallway.

The ghost swung around and looked at me.

My heart lodged in my throat.

That was impossible. Ghosts couldn’t see or hear us. That was why I should’ve known right away that Alice wasn’t a ghost like she claimed. But Elodie was staring at me, the expression on her face no longer lost and bewildered, but annoyed, with just a touch of disdain.

The way she’d always looked at me in life.

“Elodie?” I barely murmured the word, but it sounded deafening in the quiet. She kept studying me, but she didn’t reply. “Can you hear me?” I asked, slightly louder this time.

A pause. Then, to my disbelief, she made a tiny nod.

“Soph?” My door opened, and Jenna peeked out. “Who are you talking to?”

I whipped my head around, but Elodie had already vanished.

“No one,” I said, trying hard not to seem irritated. It wasn’t Jenna’s fault she’d interrupted me in the middle of talking to a ghost, a ghost who wasn’t supposed to be able to communicate at all.

“Where have you been?” Jenna asked as I slumped on my bed. “I was worried.”

“It’s been a really long afternoon,” I answered before launching into the Tale of Casnoff’s Office again. Unlike Cal, Jenna had a lot of questions, so the story took a lot longer to tell. I left out the part about Cal and I being betrothed. Jenna was already practically wearing a Team Cal T-shirt. I didn’t want to give her any more ammunition. By the time I was finished, I felt too tired even to go down to dinner, usually my favorite time of day.

“England,” Jenna breathed when I was done. “How awesome will that be?”

I laid an arm over my eyes. “Honestly, Jen? I have no idea.”

She tossed a pillow at me. “It’s going to be superawesome. And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me come too. I thought maybe you’d want some time alone with your dad.”

“Are you kidding? You were the deal breaker, my friend. No Jenna, no England. Those were my conditions.”

She smiled brightly, shaking her head so the pink stripe in her bangs fell over one eye. “I’m not sure that island is big enough for the two of us. Oh! Do we get to use some sort of sweet witchy transportation to get there? Like, a traveling spell or a magical portal?”

“Sorry,” I said, forcing myself to get up and change. After all, my uniform still had the distinct odor of Nasty Pond. I would need at least a thirty-minute shower before going to bed tonight. “I asked Dad. We’re taking a plane.”

Jenna’s face fell. “That’s such a…human thing.”

“Look on the bright side,” I told her, tugging on a clean Hecate-blue skirt. “It’s a private plane, so at least it’s a rich-human thing.”

That cheered her up, and we started planning our entire wardrobe for the summer as we made our way toward the dining hall.

But once our plates were filled and we were sitting at our usual table, Jenna’s face grew serious. “Sophie,” she said.

“What?”

She pushed her food around and seemed to be debating what to say. Finally, she just decided to be blunt.

“Archer’s in England.”

The piece of ham I’d been chewing turned to sawdust in my mouth, but I forced my voice to be light as I said, “Allegedly. I’m not sure the word of two warlocks—who were drunk off their butts, from what I hear—can be taken as fact.” Except that that hadn’t been the only sighting. There was the werewolf who’d seen a guy matching Archer’s description when The Eye raided a den in London. And the vampire who’d fought with a young dark-haired Eye three months ago a few blocks from Victoria station.

Mrs. Casnoff had a file on Archer in her bottom desk drawer. Her desk was protected from spells, but apparently not from nail files and elbow grease.