Page 59 of Malcroix Bones Academy (Bones and Shadow #1)

The four of us found a table a little ways off from the bar.

I tuned out a little, slowly finished off my drink, and drank part of another.

Miranda leaned against the table next to me and the two of us watched dancers while Draken and Graham made awkward small talk about Skyhunt, professional teams they followed, and The Skulls’ prospects in the next match, which happened to be against California.

“Oh, I think we’ll definitely get it. Barring any self-sabotage,” Graham added under his breath.

Draken grunted. “Yeah. That would definitely help. What the hell happened with that, anyway?”

I couldn’t help but prick my ears, although I didn’t look over. I kept sipping at the glass of champagne I’d pulled off a tray. Miranda did the same, after aiming a quirked eyebrow at me, which made me think she was eavesdropping, too.

“He’s a bloody lunatic, that’s what happened,” Graham spat. “Lost his mind. And completely out of nowhere?”

“The rumor is, you said something that set him off,” Draken said, his voice holding a badly-disguised interest. “That you were talking shit about someone else.”

My eyebrows rose. That was news to me.

“Who knows what sets that wanker off?” Graham shot back, dismissive. “I wasn’t talking to him at all. I was talking to Craven, and out of nowhere, the nutter just attacked me. He started punching me in midair, and when I tried to get away, he went completely mental?”

My lips pursed.

Caelum was a nutter, it was true.

He was hot-headed, had zero impulse control, and an ego the size of the British Empire during its heyday. But would he really just go crazy and attack someone for no reason? In the middle of a tournament?

I had my doubts.

I’d already tried asking Graham what happened myself, in a more roundabout way, but I’d gotten significantly less information off him than Draken was getting now.

Apparently, and to my great frustration, Graham didn’t feel like telling Draken any more than he’d already said, either. He put down his empty cup, and walked over to where Miranda and I stood.

“You ready to go back out there?” he asked, smiling as he motioned towards the dance floor. “Or do you want another drink first?”

“I’m good for now.” I held up my champagne glass. “I need to go to the loo before I tackle dancing again, though.” I looked at Miranda and Draken. “Why don’t you all go? I’ll meet you out there when I’m finished.”

Draken nodded and so did Miranda.

Draken seemed to have relaxed with me, at least. He no longer looked like he was in the mood to murder someone, and his smile even appeared genuine.

Had he picked up on the fact that I wasn’t exactly head over heels about Strangemore?

Listening to Graham rattle off Skyhunt statistics for the past half-hour hadn’t exactly increased my level of interest.

Strangemore glanced at me.

“Do you want me to go with you, Leda?” he asked.

“To the witches’ loo?” I laughed. “No, of course not. I won’t be long.”

I touched his arm briefly, then walked away, heading instinctively in the direction of the main doors.

I’d never used the toilets in this part of the building before, but I was pretty sure I’d seen a sign near the main lobby.

When I got there, however, I couldn’t find anything, and was starting to feel a little dizzy.

I walked in the direction of the east wing, and down a different corridor.

I had a class in the main building of the Mansion. Magical Objects, once a week on Tuesdays. So I knew there were toilets in that part of the building, if worst came to worst.

Why was I so hot?

I found a sign just before I reached the central foyer.

The door was narrow, sandwiched between two lecture halls, and looked old.

I walked in, relieved to see it was lit with those floating faery lights, and that I was alone. I used the toilet, then walked up to the sink, feeling even hotter and more dizzy than I had before. Was it the champagne? Had the combination of the different drinks gone down wrong for some reason?

I washed my hands, and glanced at my make-up in the mirror. I looked pale, even under the gold paint. I would’ve loved to splash cold water on my face, but that would be the end of Miranda’s careful make-up application.

I leaned on the sink instead, glad of the cold tile.

I was definitely done drinking for the night.

I might be done dancing, too.

Right then, I mostly wanted to go back to my dorm.

I slid back out the narrow wooden door and into the dark corridor. The music sounded far away now, and strangely distorted. The high windows on my left were blinding, with moonlight flooding through the glass and onto the stone floor.

The light was too much.

I stumbled, and suddenly found myself up against the window and glass. My hand touched the cold pane, and I was breathing harder, gasping as I tried to slow my galloping heart and breaths.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong with me.

My mind spun backwards, trying to remember how many drinks I’d had…

three? Four? I’d been dancing. I’d felt okay.

Did three… even four… drinks explain this?

And it hadn’t been four; it hadn’t even been three.

One when I first got there. Then another when we met up with Miranda.

Then a half more, with the champagne? Why had it hit so suddenly?

Maybe that champagne hadn’t been champagne.

Or maybe someone put something in it.

Somewhere in my musing, time fuzzed out.

I was outside, on a stone balcony with steps going down on either side.

The moon was stunning, brilliant. It shone over the fountain and the distant lake, dazzling my eyes, half-blinding me. Blue-white diamonds twinkled over the fountain’s spray. My eyes slid up to the moon itself, but I could scarcely see it through my magic.

Green and gold flames licked around my vision, blurring my eyes.

I was still staring up at the sky, at the clouds moving overhead, obscuring and revealing the light, when a hand grabbed me roughly, and yanked.

I turned around, my back to the stone, and gazed up at a looming, simply ridiculously tall form.

The moonlight splayed over the top part of him, and I stared at the gold-painted, muscular body, then the gold, horned mask bedecked in jewels and carved with elaborate designs.

My half-focused eyes dropped down to his furred legs and black, cloven hooves.

He ripped the mask up and off his head and face, and glared at me with his shocking gold eyes. He’d painted the skin of his face even under the mask.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

I stared back at him, muscles tense, my breath already coming harder.

I’d known exactly who he was, even if I’d told myself I didn’t.