Page 154

I hate him. I love him. I hate him.

I threw myself into my assigned seat, fidgeting.

I wished I had brought even a single flower with me. I needed something to keep me hoping, and even a little bit of false floromancy could do. Fumbling inside my schoolbag, I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and started tearing it into pieces.

Papyrumancy should still work, right?

I took out another sheet of paper from my bag and began tearing it into pieces as well.He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

When the last strip would have ended on a negative, I stripped the last one into two.

He loves me.

I repeated the words to myself even though I knew it was a lie.

WE ARRIVED ATKey Moartea little before dawn. There, I met up with my friend Rhapsody, who was part of another class. I didn’t have a hard time looking for her. It was just a matterof finding someone who looked like a life-size porcelain doll, thanks to her ebony hair, expressionless face, and exceptionally fair skin.

“Rhapsody!” I found her standing under one of the trees lining the boardwalk.

She returned my wave by moving her hand...once.

I frowned. “You okay?”

“New places make me uncomfortable,” was all she said. “I’ll get better in a bit. I just need to...acclimatizemyself.”

Big words for an eighteen-year-old, but they were pretty much the usual for Rhapsody.

“Your Master is not with you?”

I glared at her.

“But did he not promise you—-”

“Our school doctor needed a word with him about important stuff.” I couldn’t make myself say her name. “So I thought it was better if he just stayed behind rather than waste his time babysitting.”

“Ah.” My friend nodded knowingly. “You cut your nose to spite your face again, did you not?”

“Shut up.” I snatched the book she was holding and started flipping the pages. I needed something to distract me from the truth, needed something to—-

The photo on the page caught my eye, and I swallowed at the sight of it.

Oh, drat. Here we go again. I really should be more careful about what I wished for. Most times, they came true, but in the most nightmarish forms.

“What is this?” Even though the photo was sickening, I forced myself to take a closer look.

The grainy image was of a broken, fire-scarred, wooden life-sized doll. It was missing one eye, and red paint had been smeared haphazardly on its lips, creating the illusion of a bloody, crazy smile.

It couldn’t be a voodoo doll, could it? We had studied about voodoo last week as part of our defense class. Although a pet’s main responsibility was to provide blood for her Master, LSL took pride in teaching its students various healing arts that enabled them to keep their Masters alive in more than one way.

Rhapsody peered at the book over my shoulder and shook her head. “How can you not know that?”

I was even more stunned. “I should know about it?”

“It’s what this trip’s about.” She tapped on the page. “That’s Elsa, the most infamous haunted doll in Key Moarte.” She took the book from me. She’s our case study.”

Oh God, she was talking gibberish as far as I was concerned.Haunted dolls? Case studies?Where was I when all these had been tackled?

As if hearing my question, Rhapsody said matter-of-factly, “You were probably in your rebellious phase when Professor Martin discussed this.”