Page 13 of Wicked Ends

At the front, Jasmine beams. She waits, lets the volume of the crowd build, and then raises a hand. Instantly, the room goes silent again.

“Let me be clear,” she says. “There will be no second chances. If you fail your trial, you are out. No appeals. No excuses. I will not tolerate weakness.”

A ripple of angry voices rises up. The pampered, entitled student body of Serpentine Academy, the children of the wealthiest of the wealthy, are pissed that the rules have changed overnight.

One girl, tall and slim with long, wavy red hair, pushes forward. “You can’t do this! My father?—”

Jasmine doesn’t even blink. She tilts her head, and the girl’s voice cuts off mid-word. Just gone. The girl tries to speak, butonly smoke pours from her mouth, curling up and dissipating into the air. She clutches her throat, eyes wide with horror.

The rest of the crowd shuffles back as if the smoke might be contagious.

Jasmine watches, fascinated by her own handiwork. “No interruptions.”

The girl staggers backwards, her friends grabbing her, but the damage is done. No one else breathes a word.

Jasmine’s eyes sweep the room, lingering on every face until even the bravest look away. She lets her gaze land on me for a half-second, and I see it in her eyes, the madness.

This is a new level of crazy.

“I expect great things from all of you. Don’t disappoint me.”

She turns to Ash as if inviting him to say something. For a second, I think he might step up, take control, but he just nods. Silent approval. His eyes go to mine, the tiniest warning.

Jasmine claps her hands. “Dismissed!”

Everyone scrambles for the exits, desperate to get away from her. Even the teachers don’t wait, and they’re pushing past the students, pretending not to notice the girl who can’t speak, or the way Jasmine is singing to herself and swaying back and forth to the tune as she watches them go.

I glance at Thorne. She’s frozen, staring at Jasmine with something dangerously close to admiration. Like she’s just met her new role model.

Soren sighs. “She’s efficient, I’ll give her that.”

Lucien shakes his head, dark eyes troubled. “She’s unpredictable. That’s worse than her sisters.”

I look at the dais, at Jasmine, and I know he’s right. This new world order is built on fear and whatever Jasmine thinks passes for fun. I slip out of the Hall, blending into the crowd, keeping my head down and my eyes open.

Six

Rose

The crowd exiting the assembly is uncharacteristically silent, with all of us moving fast, no one making eye contact, and everyone pretending not to be terrified. Lucien has a death grip on my arm, and Soren is right next to him, his warm hand splayed low on my back.

For a second, I let them corral me. Mostly because my knees feel like overcooked noodles, and if I dropped right here, I’d get trampled by a mob of witches in designer boots. But as soon as we hit a side corridor and most of the traffic has peeled away, I dig in my heels.

“I’m heading back to my room,” I say. My voice sounds like it’s been sandblasted.

Soren gives me a look that’s half lecherous, half genuine concern. “You sure you don’t want company? I promise to behave.”

Lucien glares at him. “You should eat before you sleep. You’ve been through too much.”

“I’ll swing by the dining hall,” I say. “Scout’s honor.”

Lucien’s brow furrows. I’m not sure he knows what Scout’s honor even means, but he gets the gist. “Promise?”

“Promise,” I say, and I mean it. Not because I’m hungry. The idea of food makes my stomach turn. But I know Lucien, and he’ll be insufferable if I don’t eat something.

Soren leans in, dropping his voice. “If you need anything.”

“I’ll call. Or scream. Depends on the situation.”