Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Oh my yes, I knew her,” she said, her smile widening in a friendly but somehow unpleasant way. “But of course, this was before you were born. We were classmates right here at Nocturne Academy together. We were coven-mates too as well as friends. Winny and Ginny, people used to call us. We were inseparable.”
I tried to imagine my mom hanging around with this woman and being close to her the way I felt close to Emma and Avery and Kaitlyn but somehow I just couldn’t do it. Also, my mother’s name had been Guinevere and she had always used her full name. I couldn’t imagine her shortening it to “Ginny.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said neutrally and nodded my head at her.
“Ms. Rattcliff is, in fact, the head of the highly decorated Windermere Coven,” the Headmistress said blandly. “When the Healer failed to remove the mark of your hand from Mr. Sanchez’s face, I called her in to help, as a stronger and more experienced witch is almost always able to remove a spell laid by a younger one. But I am afraid she, too, has failed.”
“However did you do it, Megan dear?” Nancy’s mother asked me, still smiling at me in that fake, ‘you can tell me,’ way I didn’t trust a bit. “I know you can’t have learned it here—Shaming-magic isn’t taught at Nocturne Academy.”
“No, it is not,” Headmistress Nightworthy remarked, frowning.
“Exactly.” Ms. Rattcliff nodded in agreement. “But you must have learned it somewhere—did your Aunt Delilah teach you? Because she’s registered as a Null. So I don’t see how—”
“Aunt Dellie didn’t teach me,” I interrupted. “And neither did anyone else. It just…happened. I did it, but I don’t know exactly how,” I confessed, looking at the Headmistress.
I was hoping the question of Blood magic wouldn’t come up, which was apparently how I had accessed my power. But I still really didn’t know exactly how the power I had tapped into had made the blue mark on Sanchez’s florid cheek. All I knew was that I had been angry and that anger had somehow transformed itself into a permanent mark on his face.
“I see.” Mistress Nightworthy tapped one elegantly manicured nail against her cheek thoughtfully. “Well, maybe if you explain the events surrounding the marking, we can shed some light on the matter.”
At this, I saw Sanchez shift uncomfortably in his hard wooden chair. Just as I had thought, he hadn’t told the Headmistress the whole story about why I had marked him. I had a feeling he was in for a rude awakening when she found out.
I explained the incident quietly and without any kind of embellishment—it didn’t need any. The image of Sanchez hitting Kaitlyn in the face with the football and then laughing about it would have made anyone wince.
“And then he came up to her and called her a freak and laughed at her while she was down on the ground crying and hurt,” I said. “And I just got so angry, I—”
“Liar!” Sanchez shouted, jumping out of his chair. “This little—” he cast a glance at the scowling face of Headmistress Nightworthy. “This little witch is a liar!” he finished, scowling. “She’s saying things that aren’t true.”
“Yes, that is the generally accepted definition of ‘liar,’ Mr. Sanchez,” the Headmistress said dryly. “And which part of her statement, exactly, do you contest?”
“She’s acting like I did it on purpose,” Sanchez grumbled. “It wasn’t my fault the freak…er, that girl’s face got in the way of my ball!”
Headmistress Nightworthy’s face darkened.
“You accuse Miss Latimer of lying but you are the one I find myself doubting, Mr. Sanchez,” she said. She looked at Nancy’s mother again. “Ms. Rattcliff, if you would be so kind?”
“Of course.” Winifred Rattcliff turned to Sanchez, who was still standing there with his hands curled into fists and a belligerent look on his face. She pointed one finger at him and spoke a single word. “Veritas!”
Immediately I felt as though a shower of invisible sparks had settled over my skin. I jumped involuntarily and saw Ms. Rattcliff watching me from the corner of her eyes, as though gauging my reaction to the magic.
“Thank you,” the Headmistress said briskly. “Now, Mr. Sanchez, please tell us—did you hit Kaitlyn Fellows in the face with the ball on purpose?”
Sanchez opened his mouth—no doubt to lie—but then a strange look came over his face.
“I…I…of course I did!” he burst out at last. “She’s an ugly little freak and I thought it would be funny to put her down on the ground where she belonged.”
Headmistress Nightworthy’s face darkened but all she said was, “Is that so, Mr. Sanchez? Please go on—what did you do after you had hit Miss Fellows in the face with the ball?”
“I…I went over and laughed at her. Because it was Goddamned funny! She was all crying in the dirt like an ugly baby—fucking hilarious!” Sanchez’s eyes widened even as his mouth worked again and I could tell he was talking against his will.