The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) (23 page)

“Mr. Tuck! Mr. Fisher! There is a wraith eating Miss Price!”

“Where?”

The tutors all turned, ready for action. Mr. Fisher drew an ornate athame.

“Er…I’m not sure,” Rachel replied. “But there is this wraith. It sticks its hand in her chest, and she turns pale.”

Mr. Tuck ran a hand over his beard. “Miss Griffin. Did you attend the YSL meeting?”

“No.”

“So you were upstairs, sleeping?”

“I was in bed. I was not asleep.”

He nodded knowingly. “Of course, you weren’t…and yet, I believe you have woken from a nightmare, child. If there were a wraith following Miss Price, we would know. It would set off the alarms. Creatures like that are not allowed to wander school grounds.”

“But…”

He put his arm firmly around her shoulder. “Now, let us get you back to bed. You live where? Dare Hall? Of course. You are a Griffin.”

“Yes. Dare.” Rachel murmured dejectedly. She let Mr. Tuck escort her back to the door of her dorm. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good night, Miss Griffin. Sleep tight. May the night bring no more nightmares.”

Rachel slouched into her dorm. Ahead of her rose the stairs. She stopped and stared up the sweep of marble leading toward her room. The resident and the tutors may not have believed her, but she knew someone who would!

Extending her right hand toward the staircase, she gestured. “
Varenga
, Vroomie!”

With a
swish
, the broom whistled down the stairway and flew to her hand. It had worked! She whooped with delight. Leaping on it, she swept across the foyer, up the far staircase, landing on the fourth floor of the boys’ side. Voices came from inside one door. Hopping off her broom, she knocked. The door, which had not been entirely closed, opened.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where…Siggy! There you are!”

The door had swung open to reveal Siggy, Ian MacDannan, and Enoch Smithwyck. From the look of it, they, too, had just returned from the YSL. They were pantomiming exchanging cantrips using random made-up gestures. Enoch straightened up sheepishly when he saw her, but the other two kept right at it.

Rachel burst into their room and froze. Gold coins covered one of the bunks, cascading from the bed to form a large pile around and under it. Necklaces, figurines, and jeweled chalices stuck out amidst the shining coins.

“You really do sleep on gold!” she blurted out, her jaw gaping. Then, recalling why she was there, she cried, “Boys! There’s a girl in the infirmary who is being eaten by a wraith.”

“Let’s go!” Siggy grabbed his robe and threw it over his pajamas.

“You can’t go out,” Enoch objected. “It’s after curfew.”

Siggy grinned maniacally. “I can go to the infirmary if I am wounded. Here, slug me!”

Rachel crouched in one of the magical chambers of the gym, her head pressed against the hot rocks of the sauna. As soon as her forehead felt sufficiently hot, she bolted across the short gap of lawn from the gymnasium to the infirmary. Within, Mylene rested on a bed. Her otter familiar snuggled against her, with one of her pale red braids stretched across its dark fur. Siggy, sporting a huge bruise on the side of his jaw, sat on another. A disappointed Ian MacDannan was being turned away by the nurse, who rolled her eyes at his fake purple spots. She groaned when she saw Rachel. After putting the back of her hand against Rachel’s hot forehead, however, Nurse Moth led her to a bed.

Rachel padded across the green marble and settled down on the firm mattress, watching the nurse examine Siggy’s bruises. Nurse Moth had given Rachel the same bed she had slept in the previous night. Rachel did not blame the nurse for sighing. So far, Siggy and Rachel had both been here once, twice counting this visit, and Nastasia had been here once. That made five visits between three students in three days. She wondered if the school would report to her parents every time she visited the infirmary.

As she sat there, recalling the previous evening, she thought again about her brief conversation with Maverick Badger. He had said witnessing the Raven was a bad omen. But did it count if the Raven thought it was invisible at the time? Or only if it deliberately manifested itself? On the subject of invisibility, Rachel glanced over at Mylene for ten seconds. Then she recalled five seconds back. A shiver traveled up her body. The shadowy entity was still there, its arm stuck deep into the redhead’s body.

Rachel called loudly, “Nurse! There is a spirit creature there. A shadowy thing. It’s hurting Miss Price!”

“What?” Nurse Moth turned. “Where?”

“Right there!” She pointed with her whole arm. “It’s invisible. But it’s hurting her. When it puts its hand in her, she turns pale. It’s been hanging around her for days.”

“Let’s go, Lucky!” Siggy leapt up and sprinted toward Mylene’s bedside. The dragon swept after him. Spooked, her otter darted under the bed. Its whiskered nose poked out from beneath the sheets and hissed at them.

“Where is it?” Sigfried looked around. “Even I cannot burn something I can’t see!”

Mylene glanced around, frightened. She spoke with a French Canadian accent. “You mean a wraith? There is no wraith here. My father is a professional wraith hunter. I know all the signs. There is no tell-tale extra shadow. Or the feeling of biting cold.”

Rachel jumped to her feet on the bed, still pointing. “It’s right there. I can see it.”

The creature angled its shadow-like head in her direction. Slowly, it began to glide toward Rachel. She glared at it. Similar to breaking an obscuration, she soon found she could see it without having to actively think back. It resembled a dark floating cloak.

It came closer and closer and closer. Then, it was upon her. Immediately, she began to feel weak. She pushed at it, but her hands went right through its substance. Two points darker than shadow regarded her from where its face might be. She stared back fiercely, undaunted.

“Okay. Now it’s eating me,” she announced. “It’s right here.”

She felt strangely calm, not frightened at all. Her thoughts had become entirely clear, as they did when she flew at high speed. She whistled sharply. A blast of wind blew away from her. The silver sparkles did not so much as ruffle the wraith.

“Boy, you don’t scare easy, do you?” Siggy ran toward her, impressed. His eyes seemed to be tracking the wraith. “Lucky, Griffin’s being eaten by a wraith. Yet, she’s sitting there, cool as a cucumber, and reporting what is going on!”

“She’s one brave cookie,” said the dragon. “I’m going in, Boss.”

Lucky sped through the air, mouth open to breathe fire. Outside the window of the infirmary, there was a flapping of wings. Lucky’s eyes dulled. He began chasing his tail like a cat. Then, he zipped away through an open window, off across the campus.

“Lucky! No!” Siggy cried. “Lucky! Talk to me? I can’t hear him in my head. He’s turned into a dumb animal again! I think he’s heading for the menagerie to eat people’s familiars! That’s what he tried to do last night!”

Hear him in his head
?

Rachel did not have time to wonder about this.

“It’s the Raven,” she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. Her heart thumped. “He’s here.”

The wraith loomed over her. Rachel felt lightheaded, but she refused to give in to fear. She stubbornly glared back at the specter. The more life it drew from her, the more substantial it became. Its cloaked form solidified, becoming visible even to Mylene. Siggy charged toward it, shouting. Mylene cowered away. Her familiar clambered up on her bed, hissing at the wraith. It rubbed its damp nose against the side of Mylene’s face, comforting her.

“What is that?” Mylene murmured. Her otter’s whiskers tickled her, causing her to giggle slightly in spite of her fear. “It doesn’t look like a wraith.”

Music filled the room, lovely music. The nurse, her eyes wild, stood in the center of the infirmary, playing her flute. White sparkles spun in the air, weaving their way toward the intruder. It grabbed at its head, or where a head should be, and howled, a high eerie noise that made hairs stand up all over Rachel’s body.

Mylene covered her ears. “That
is
a wraith! Their cries are unmistakable!”

The music grew louder, more glorious and insistent. White sparkles swirled throughout the chamber, accompanied by the scent of roses. The fragrance reminded Rachel of walking among the flowering trellises in the warmth of a summer’s day at Gryphon Park. She recognized this as the kind of enchantment used to bind evil. The creature howled again and dashed through the wall, out toward the commons.

Drawing his steak knife from his robes, Siggy ran from the infirmary and sprinted after it. Rachel wanted to go, too, but her legs gave out. She sat down hard on the bed, feeling woozy. A minute passed before she felt well enough to stand. The nurse hovered over her, passing her scrutiny sticks up and down Rachel’s body. Nurse Moth announced that she had an elixir that would help strengthen her and retreated into the back room. The moment she was out of sight, Rachel ran.

She burst from the infirmary and onto the lawn. Her legs felt shaky, but she did not slow down. She extended her hand and shouted. “
Varenga
, Vroomie!”

A
whoosh
, and her broom, which she had left by the gym when she heated her forehead, came swooping across the lawn. Oh, she dearly loved the
varenga
cantrip!

Leaping on Vroomie, she swept off after Sigfried.

The wind rushed by her ears. She flew toward the center of the lawn. Ahead, Siggy faced the wraith. His knife did nothing to the insubstantial creature, but that did not stop him from acts of insane courage. He stabbed his hand into the wraith’s life-stealing substance again and again. She shot up beside him, hovering.

“Have at thee, varlet!” Siggy shouted, stabbing the thing yet again.

The wraith plunged its hand into his chest. Siggy’s face turned pale, but this did not stop the frenzy of his attack. Rachel wanted to help him. She tried
tiathelu
, but the insubstantial creature did not rise. Nor could she paralyze it or blow it away. Rapidly, she looked around. If she could not affect it directly, could she help another way? She flew off in search of aid. Maybe she could find a proctor.

As she approached Dare Hall, she heard music. She flew toward the sound, shouting, “Help! Help! Wraith!”

Down the path pelted four older boys, followed by a panting Ian, whose face was rosy with exertion beneath his painted purple spots. The older boys carried violins, flutes, and pan pipes. They wore baldrics from which hung wooden stakes and garlic. What had Gaius said about “crazy enchanter boys from Dare Hall obsessed with hunting vampires?” These must be the boys he meant. How clever of Ian to go get them!

“Wraith!” Rachel waved her arms again, relying on balance to keep her on the steeplechaser. “This way.”

The boys did not hesitate. It was as if they had lived their whole lives for this. Rushing across the lawn, they formed a rough circle around the wraith and began to play. They were classmates of her brother Peter, seniors in the upper school. The leader was Abraham Van Helsing, a tall, stern young man who was a distant descendent of the Van Helsing who vanquished the vampire that used to rule part of the Starkadders’ country. Abraham blew into a set of pan-pipes he wore suspended from a brace around his neck. He carried a crossbow that shot sharpened wooden stakes.

Across from him was one of Ian’s older brothers, Conan. He had red hair and a rascally grin. As he played his fiddle, he danced an Irish jig. The white sparks issuing from his instrument danced to his tune. He was flanked on one side by Max Weatherby, a rangy dark-haired boy with a big chin, who played a flute, and on the other side by Alex Romanov, the princess’s brother who had slugged Joshua March. Alex also played a violin.

Max put a crystal vase on the ground. Rachel recognized it as a spirit-catching vessel. Two cats, presumably the boys’ familiars, came forward and sat warily, one on each side. The four boys continued to play. Their music was similar to the nurse’s, only wilder, leaping and rising until Rachel could hardly stay still. The urge to jump and twirl and throw herself about grew so strong, she could not resist. She flew rapidly in a circle, chasing the shining twinkles of white light that issued from the boys’ instruments, circling the wraith. So swift did she fly that it was as if the air itself glowed with a pale sparkling fire. Dancing white glitter lodged in her hair. The more the boys played, the brighter and thicker the bands of sparkles grew. The air smelled like roses and honeysuckle.

Rachel knew what was supposed to occur. She had seen her father and mother do this once to capture a ghoul that had been troubling their farmer tenants. The glittering strands of sparkles should constrict around the wicked creature, bind it up, and suck it into the vase. However, nothing happened. The strands seemed unable to grasp the shadowy cloaked form. One of the cats got bored and left the jar to bat at the twinkling lights.

“That’s not a normal wraith!” cried Abraham Van Helsing. “It is resisting our binding.”

“It is warded,” Conan MacDannan called in his rich Irish brogue.

“Warded?” Max Weatherby shouted, lifting his mouth from his flute for an instant. “Are you out of your tiny Irish mind? How can a wraith be warded? That makes no sense!”

“Nonetheless,” Conan called back lightly, “we’ve got to break the ward, if we want to capture the nasty beastie.”

“What breaks that kind of ward?” Alex Romanov asked, his Australian accent carrying across the lawn. Rachel tried but failed to picture his gracious princess of a sister out here shouting and wearing garlic. Perhaps this slugging and vampire-hunting brother took after their wombat and Vegemite-loving father. “Mold? Bells? Will its ward go down if it attacks us? Most wards do.”

“Don’t know. Try firing something at it,” Conan suggested. “Maybe it will strike back. That might do it.”

Abraham lifted his head from his pipes. “A stake won’t do jack. Look at the crazy kid with the knife. And none of us have wands.”

The more the wraith drained Sigfried, the more substantial it grew. Sigfried’s knife actually caused slight ripples in its form now, as he stabbed it.