Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

“Obviously haven’t met me before then, have they?” Savannah said, fluttering her lashes innocently.

“My point is, the biggest hurdle is already passed for you, hasn’t it?” Mackie said.

Hannah looked up from her book in mild surprise. “How do you mean?” she asked.

“You’ve already done a Crossing, haven’t you?” Mackie asked.

She raised her voice a bit, and I saw several heads turn to listen.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the spotlight of unwanted attention glaring in my face. “How did you know that?”

“Celeste told us. She said the spirit activity was so intense that you had to get special permission to perform it before you were properly initiated, just to protect yourselves.”

Brenna was leaning on her hand, looking eagerly at us. More heads turned. Was staring openly at people only considered rude in America?

“That’s right,” I said.

“Well, there you go,” Mackie said, clapping her hands. “None of us has ever performed a Crossing before. You’re several steps ahead of everyone else in this room.”

A few of the surrounding faces looked impressed in spite of themselves, which I’m sure was Mackie’s intention. But it didn’t last, of course.

“Oh, Mackie, that’s really not fair,” Peyton chimed in from a few rows ahead, her expression politely incredulous.

Mackie turned to face her. “What’s not fair?”

“Several steps ahead of everyone else? Really? Are we meant to be awed by this vast wealth of experience?” Peyton laughed delicately and turned instead to me. “Look, I know Mackie’s trying to make you both feel better, sweet thing that she is, but I think it’s really much kinder to let you know exactly where you stand.”

Awesome. Here we go. Junior high cattiness rears its ugly head.

“And where’s that?” I asked, feigning polite interest.

“As far outside of this inner circle as you can possibly be,” Peyton said, gesturing around her. Here and there, a smug face nodded in agreement. “We’ve all been groomed for this training since birth. We’ve grown up learning about our history and respecting our traditions. I wouldn’t want you to get a false sense of security about fitting in here just because you stumbled your way through one barely-sanctioned ceremony.”

Mackie glanced over to find Siobhán, but she was occupied with handing out books to the Novitiates on the other side of the room. “Peyton, give it a rest, okay?”

But I held up a hand to silence her. I’d had enough of the mean girls routine. “No, no, please go on,” I said. “You’ve obviously got quite a bit you’d like to say to us, and to be honest, I’d rather you got it over with. I’m not really one for bullshit pretense and snide back-handed comments, so by all means, say your piece.”

Savannah snorted appreciatively.

Peyton’s smirk vanished. “Blunt, aren’t you? How very American. Very well, if you insist. Your family might have been important here once, but those days are long gone. And whatever a few riffraff might have told you to calm your nerves and help you feel at home, you should know that they’re just pitying you. The truth is that we don’t forgive or forget very easily around here. There are some stains that don’t wash away. We all know what absolute disgrace your family wallows in now, and we don’t intend to let you forget it.”

I smiled brightly. “Excellent,” I said. “Glad we had this little chat. I don’t know how we’d ever remember all those pesky details about how we got here if you didn’t feel the need to constantly remind us. We’re just so forgetful, aren’t we Hannah?”

“Very forgetful,” Hannah said, her voice quavering a bit, but her expression determined.

“Oh, we’ll be pleased to remind you as often as necessary,” Peyton said. Behind her, three or four girls laughed.

“Shut up, Peyton.”

We all turned in surprise. Across the aisle, slumped low in his seat, one of the Novitiates was scowling at Peyton. He had long, dark hair that hid most of his face, but what I could see of it was hard and angular.

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up. Leave them alone.”

“And why should I do that?”

The boy clenched his wide, square jaw and hesitated. Judging by his expression, he regretted entering into the conversation in the first place, like he’d done it without thinking. “Because you don’t own this place, and they’re just here to learn like the rest of us. So just…let them get on with it, then.”

Peyton raised an eyebrow. “Getting carried away a bit, aren’t you, Finn? I mean, I know you’re meant to swear an oath of protection to the Durupinen, but you needn’t take it so literally, especially with clan traitors like them. Where’s your family pride?”

“I guess I left it at home, much like your sense of common courtesy,” Finn replied, no longer looking at us.

“What’s happening over here? Not arguing, I hope?” Siobhán said, finally noticing the exchange and pouncing upon it. No one answered her.

We spent the remaining hour slogging through a very long syllabus detailing exactly what we would be covering during the semester. I might not have been at St. Matt’s anymore, but my workload was still going to be impressive.

“At the end of the class, you will all be reporting to your mentor meetings,” Siobhán said. “Details about who your mentors will be and where you are to meet with them are in the folders you received this morning. I will be happy to answer any questions I can before you go. Hannah?”

Hannah, who had been rummaging in her tattered old backpack for her folder, looked up in alarm.

“You have been assigned to me for mentorship,” Siobhán said, smiling encouragingly. “Our meeting will be taking place here, so you needn’t pack up your things.”

Hannah nodded without saying anything, and placed her bag back down on the floor.

I pulled out my own folder and found the mentor information.

“Where are you headed?” Brenna asked me.

“The fourth floor of the East Tower, to meet with Fiona Cassidy. I have no idea how to get there. Savannah, where are you going?”

Savannah started out of a daydream. “Sorry?”

“Where are you going next?”

“Dunno,” she said, and went back to staring out the window.

A cacophonous ringing of bells marked the end of the period while simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of me. I stood up and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. It was much heavier than I had realized, with the addition of the new textbook, and I overbalanced. I stumbled and fell right into the boy across the aisle as he rose from his own seat.

“Ouch, sorry about that.”

He helped me to right myself again, but pulled his hands away at once and shoved them into his pockets, like I had somehow burned or contaminated them.

“Watch where you’re going,” he spat, and stalked down the aisle and out the door, elbowing past several of his fellow Novitiates in the process.

I STARED AFTER HIM. “What the hell is his problem?” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. Mackie followed my gaze and said,

“That’s Finn Carey,” as though that explained everything.

“Wasn’t he just telling Peyton to leave us alone?”

“Yeah, but that was probably just because he can’t stand her. They’re cousins; his sister Olivia is the other half of Peyton’s Gateway. That’s her, walking out with Peyton,” she said, and she pointed out a sharp-faced brunette who was clutching her books to the front of a conservative pink wool cardigan.

“You mean he and Peyton are actually related to each other?” I asked.

“Yeah, most of the Caomhnóir are related to one branch of the Durupinen or another somehow. I’ll explain it on the way to the East Tower. I’m heading that way anyway, and it will probably take you until next Tuesday to find it by yourself.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. I turned back to Hannah. “So, I guess I’ll see you in a little while?”

“Yeah.” She looked so tiny and lost in the now empty section of seats. The room seemed to swallow her up.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” she said without conviction.

“She’ll be fine,” Siobhán said, walking down the aisle and sitting on the desk in front of Hannah’s. “We’ll have a nice chat together.”

“Right,” I said, grateful that Siobhán, at least, seemed unfazed by our status as resident pariahs. “Thanks. I’ll meet you at lunch?”

Hannah nodded again, and I followed Mackie out of the room. As we turned into the hallway, I caught Savannah’s voice saying, “Folder? What are you on about? I never got a folder!”

“She’s pretty shy, huh? Your sister?” Mackie asked, cocking her head back over her shoulder. “Yeah,” I said. “She’s hasn’t had a very easy time of it, so she doesn’t trust a lot of people.”

“She’ll be alright with Siobhán. I think your aunt requested her specifically, because she’s not … y’know … “

“A total bitch?” I supplied. Mackie grinned. “Something like that, yeah.”

“What are these mentor meetings for anyway? Is it just to have someone to talk to, like an advisor?” I asked.

“For the most part, yes,” Mackie said. “The mentors are randomly assigned just so that we’ll have someone we can go to if we need advice or help, that sort of thing. But in certain cases, the assignment isn’t random at all. Some of the Apprentices have demonstrated special abilities that need to be explored, so they get paired up with a mentor that has a similar gift.”

“What kind of special abilities?” I asked. “Shit, we see ghosts! Isn’t that special enough?”

Mackie let out a bark of laughter. “It usually has to do with the way we sense the ghosts. Like me, for instance — I’m an Empath. When a ghost is near me, I start to experience their emotions really intensely. We all do it, to a lesser degree, but for me it’s really pronounced. My own mood and emotions will start to change as the first sign that a ghost is trying to make contact. I used to burst out screaming or crying for no apparent reason when I was a kid. That was how my mum first knew I’d inherited the gift.”

“Doesn’t that sort of…mess you up? It can’t be easy, getting flooded with negative emotions that aren’t even yours.”

“Yeah, it was pretty scary at first. I’d be playing in the garden, having a grand old time, and suddenly I’d be running and screaming, hiding behind the shed. But I’ve learned to sort it out, you know, recognize when the emotion isn’t mine. I’m still working on it, though, so I’ve been paired up with the language teacher, Agnes, because she’s a pretty powerful Empath herself. I’m hoping she can help me minimize the effect of spirit emotions.”

“Huh. What about your sister? Does she have any extra abilities?”

“Nope. At least nothing that stands out right now. It is possible something will still manifest. She’s a year younger than me, and she’s only just been getting Visitations within the last year.”

“How do I know if my assignment is random? I don’t think I’ve got any sort of extra special abilities going on.”

“I’d expect yours isn’t random at all. You draw, don’t you?”

I stopped walking. “Yes. How did you know that? Why does everyone here already know everything about me?”

“Calm down, now,” Mackie said. “I was giving a tour yesterday, and I noticed you out on the grounds with a sketchpad.”

“Oh. Right, sorry,” I said. “I’m still just…adjusting to the way things are done around here.”

“I know,” Mackie said, clapping me on the shoulder so that I stumbled a little. “It’s like being tossed into the den of the vipers around here. They make it their business to know your business. But no worries, you’ll get used to it.”

I said nothing. I had a feeling I was rapidly reaching the limit of stuff one person could possibly get used to.

“I mentioned the drawing because Fiona is our artist in residence. She cares for all of the artwork here and produces her own as well. They probably matched you two up because of your art background.”

I perked up at this. An artist? Maybe I would actually get a transferable life skill out of all of this. “Does this mean I might get to talk about art with her?”

“I don’t know her well, but I think you’ll find it hard to talk about anything but art, actually,” Mackie said, a hitch in her voice like a laugh.

We set off along a corridor I’d never entered before. It was hung with a series of tapestries, each depicting a different woman wearing a long, robe-like gown and surrounded with celestial bodies and a number of creatures, some of them mythical.

“Gallery of High Priestesses,” Mackie explained with a flick of her hand. “The royals do paintings, we do tapestries. Creepy, aren’t they? Celeste will bore you to tears with all their names and accomplishments in class, so I won’t bother now, but this one might interest you.”

She stopped in front of a tapestry whose dark-haired occupant stared haughtily down her long, straight nose at us. Something about her features gave me a touch of déjà vu. At her feet I could just make out a name stitched in gold thread: Agnes Isherwood of the Clan Sassanaigh —1486-1543.

It took a moment for the clan name to register. “She’s from my family,” I said in mild surprise. “She was a High Priestess?”