Page 13 of These Unhallowed Halls (Equinox Seasons Duet #2)

Eight-Inconvenient Interruptions Come When They Choose, Not You

Temps

“A nd in that way, a spell is simply a desire made manifest. It depends on the concentration, the innate connection with the witch, and the conditions to which reality is being stretched. Theoretically, yes. Anything is possible through the appropriate spell or potion. But like science tells us, energy does not burst into creation nor does it evaporate or die. It transmutes. So, the greater the magical working, the more energy must be transmuted. And just where do you think the spell gets the energy from?”

Professor Harkert scanned over the room, and I raised my hand quietly. The other students were feeling less than enthused this morning, and I had a feeling Lizzie and I weren’t the only people who’d gone out last night.

“Ms. Montgomery.” Harkert nodded at me, gesturing for me to answer.

“From the practitioner, or in the case of alchemy, from the practitioner and the ingredients.”

The barest hint of a smile lifted the corner of Harkert’s mouth, and Lizzie nudged me in the ribs playfully.

Looking over at her briefly, memories of last night swirled in my head.

I’d fallen asleep snuggling with her in my bed, and even when I woke up to roll over, I’d hauled her arm over me to keep us linked.

There was something about being next to her last night that had eased the discomfort I’d felt ever since leaving the carnival.

I still didn’t know what was up with them, but I agreed with Lizzie that it felt off.

“Excellent, Ms. Montgomery. That’s correct. The practitioner supplies the energy, so the greater the outcome, the greater the demand on the caster. Something to be cognizant of, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Mitchell?”

The young woman from the first day of class was continuing to annoy Harkert, it seemed. I didn’t blame him. She gave off the horrible vibes of someone looking to outsmart and outshine the professor. Not a good look, honey .

“I was merely positing the idea as a thought experiment. I certainly don’t intend to—”

The door to the classroom opened, the loud creak startling everyone inside. The dean stood there, her expression dower and stern. Even more so than usual, it appeared, because even Professor Harkert leaned back, eyeing her curiously as his brows furrowed.

“Ugh, thank gods. An interruption to end Blondie’s fucking tirade. ‘I was merely positing—’ Ugh, next.”

Lizzie complained as I tracked the dean as she cut straight into the room and went up to our professor, whispering with her head turned down and her back to the room.

Harkert’s expression was the only one I could see, and just as it dropped, Lizzie sat up straight in her chair, reaching for my hand and squeezing.

“Something’s wrong.”

I nodded, flicking her a glance before I refocused on the conversation at the front of the class. “Yeah. Something tells me we’re about to have an early dismissal.”

After another moment, chatter starting up all around Lizzie and me as we watched Harkert, Dean Owens stepped back, facing the class with her brows raised as Harkert stepped forward.

He scanned over his student, his eyes lingering on me and my stepsister for a moment before he cleared his throat.

He dropped his stare to the floor, then raised it quickly enough to address us.

“Class is dismissed for the day. Unfortunately, there has been a situation that I must assist the dean with. I will see you all tomorrow.”

In a flurry of movement and chaos, the room emptied out, but I was glad to see that Lizzie was on the same page as me, remaining seated as all the other students left, likely to go start their nights early.

“Girls, you’re free to go. If you have a question for Professor Harkert, you can—”

“What happened?” Lizzie cut in. “I can sense that you’re both hella upset? I think we deserve to know.”

I didn’t usually love it when Lizzie lumped me in with her arguments, but she had a point this time. We did deserve to know because Harkert’s expression was more severe than usual, and even I—a person with no empathic abilities—could tell that he was trying to remain calm when he was upset.

“Ms. Chamberlain, I can assure you that we have it well at hand. You’re dismissed.”

Lizzie scoffed and folded her arms, kicking her feet up on the chair in front of her.

“You should just tell her.” Harkert offered, sighing as he came around his desk and narrowed his eyes at Lizzie. “She’s stubborn.”

She frowned. “Hey.”

Standing up, I held a hand out for Lizzie and pulled her up so that we could both go stand down at the front with the professors.

I could tell that for a moment Dean Owens believed I was going to take Lizzie out of the room, but I had no intention of leaving.

Something was going on, and Lizzie was right. We needed to know about it.

“It’s true, Lizzie. But in this case, it’s useful. Please, Dean Owens, perhaps we could help. Four heads are better than two and all that.”

The dean leveled me with a stare, but I didn’t crumple or relent. Maybe it was seeing the carnival and how gruesome even fake life could be, or maybe it was coming to this school and really seeing that I did have power and we could grow it here, but I was feeling damned confident right now.

“Ugh,” the dean sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, the fabric of her tweed jacket stretching around her arm, “at this point, the school will take all the help it can get.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral as I waited with Lizzie for her to reveal the big news. Lizzie still had her arms crossed, and I could see her leaning in a hair toward the dean as she squinted, trying to read the woman’s aura.

“There has been a death. I have asked—”

“There’s been a murder, Rebecca. Don’t sugarcoat it if they’re going to help, which, for the record, is a terrible idea.”

Glaring slightly at Harkert, I felt Lizzie shift next to me, likely shooting her own glare at the man. But then I turned back to the dean, zeroing in on the distinction that Harkert had made.

“There was a murder? On campus?”

Dean Owens bobbed her head in a nod, her eyes pinned down to the wooden floorboards that creaked under our feet.

“I’m afraid so, though it wasn’t directly on campus. At least that’s not where…the body was found. Staff located it this morning during a sweep of the forest around the grounds. We’ve been increasing them since the previous spellcasting professor was also killed.”

“You think it’s related. You think the professor and this…girl are involved in something. Who would want to hurt them? Did they know each other?”

Glancing at Lizzie, Dean Owens worked to keep the annoyance off her face, her jaw muscles working as she chewed on the side of her lip.

“They were people involved with the school. Witches. That’s all the connection we’ve been able to make so far.

They were not in the same classes and didn’t interact outside of school, at least according to people in their lives.

But…” The dean straightened, pulling on her jacket to shove it back in place.

“...that is why the school board is requesting Professor Harkert’s assistance.

He is quite skilled as an alchemist at deducing things from the residue left on a crime scene.

We take care of the matters in-house, and do not need the mortals finding out about our world because of some awful turn of events. ”

“Was it one of them?” Lizzie didn’t look away from the dean as she asked, her attention utterly focused on the pale-skinned woman who looked admittedly much more frazzled than she had when she first led us to our room.

“A human? I should think not.” There was a nearly imperceptible twist to the dean’s shoulders, her eyes tracking over to Harkert for scarcely a second.

“There are…injuries on the body that look to be consistent with some sort of magic. Now, ladies, we need to get going. Time is of the essence, and—”

“Let us come. My sister has incredible powers of perception, and I am quite skilled with alchemy. I should like to act as the professor’s second set of hands.”

There was an extended pause, the professors exchanging looks with each other, then zeroing in on me and Lizzie again. I didn’t falter, and of course, neither did she. We stood our ground, waiting for the dean to get this show on the road and lead us to where we were needed.

I’d never really thought of myself as the type of person to get involved with something like this, but there was a spark that lit up inside me at the prospect of seeing such an incredible use of alchemy in action.

I’d been so obsessed with the subject for so long.

This was my opportunity to learn, and by virtue, this was my chance to do some good with what I was able to do, and as corny as it might have sounded, I did want to help people.

Sure, I mostly wanted to survive my own life without getting myself into some mortifying situation that would leave me curled up in a ball on my bed, but beyond that, being a force for good sounded incredible.

“You want to be in there? T—Ms. Montgomery, what you’re going to see will be brutal and nothing someone should ever have to deal with. You won’t be able to go back to the place where you didn’t know what a dead body looked like.”

I knew what Harkert was saying, and it made sense. I’d never particularly wanted to see something like that, but this girl had been killed, and whoever or whatever had done it was still out there, based on what the professor and dean were saying. It could happen again.

It could happen to Lizzie.

No, if there were something that I could do to protect her, protect campus, I’d do it.

“I understand, Professor. But I would feel worse if I knew that I could have done something to prevent more deaths and didn’t.

I couldn’t live with myself. I’ve been studying the signatures that magic leaves behind on a person for years in my spare time.

I know a great deal about what can go hidden unless revealed by an alchemical solution.

Please. As someone familiar with your work, allow me to assist you. ”

Harkert’s eyes flared wide, and he stared down at me like he was finally putting two and two together.

Oh, yeah. I know you. You don’t put your picture in the books, so I didn’t before, but you’re that Caleb Harkert. I got into alchemy because of your work.

“Wait,” Lizzie pulled my shoulder so I’d look at her, “he’s that book guy? The collection you’ve been growing for the past few years?” I just nodded. “Well, shit. Small world, huh?”

“You need to do exactly as I say.” Harkert’s voice made me look at him, and I held his eye contact, unwavering. “Understood?”

A single nod. “Yes.”

“And I suppose Ms. Chamberlain is just going to tag along ?” Dean Owens shot Lizzie a look.

“Where she goes, I go. Plus, you said it yourself. You’ll take all the help you can, and I can read the body.”

“What?” The dean’s annoyed expression dropped into concerned surprise.

“Yeah, not a common trait, I guess. But I can…When my mom passed away. I’d seen…what happened when I touched her.”

“You’re a morrighan. I haven’t seen…” Dean Owens shook her head, marveling at Lizzie, and my stomach tightened.

I didn’t like how she stared at her, an awe too close to jealousy.

“...not in years. Well, this changes things. You will come, but as Professor Harkert said, there is no preparing you for what you are about to see. It will be gruesome. I cannot protect you both from that.”

“We get it.” Lizzie nodded as she scooped herself to face me, gesturing toward the door. “Time’s a’wasting.”

The dean cleared her throat, straightening her jacket again, and proceeded to the exit. “Right this way.”