Page 60 of Things Get Dark

She’s technically right, since it had gone midnight when I crossed through the veil. I tap my finger against the tip of her nose playfully. “Yes, but you hadn’t slept yet, so it didn’t count.” Trying to tug the blanket up over her face as I hold it tight in my fists, she grumbles. “Why do you look so chipper this early?”

“Early? It’s 10am already…” Letting go of the cover, I chuckle as she almost hits herself in the face. “Also, Halloween is basically like crack to demons like me. So much energy and power just in the air. I can taste it on my tongue. It’s exciting.”

Sitting upright as if I’ve given her an electric shock, she stares at me, eyes wide. “Shit, 10am?! I’m late!”

Scrambling out of bed, only stopping to blush when we both notice the faint smearing of blood on her thigh, she throws a strappy velvet dress on from her extensive selection of …black velvet dresses. Did she never wear a color? She would look so pretty in a deep emerald green, one that matches her eyes. Or even a rich ruby. Against her pale porcelain skin, it would look downright sinful. Decadent. I purr, the noise low in my chest at the thought of her wrapped in crimson sheets.

“I don’t care what you do today, but just lock the door behind you. I can’t let anyone see…this.” She waves one hand at the room as she pulls one of those knee-high socks on with the other.

We both look around at the scorch marks on the floor from where the energy peaked last night. The glass in the windows is either shattered, cracked or hanging on for dear life.

Wiggling my nose Samantha-style, I arch a brow as my clothes melt away like wisps of smoke before they reform into something more suitable. Her mouth drops open. “Why are you dressed like Britney Spears?”

Twirling, I check out myself in the cracked mirror. “Isn’t this what all good little schoolgirls wear?”

“For Goddess sake! At least conjure some underwear with it.” Finger combing her hair, she grabs a small satchel from near the door. “And I’m not a school girl. I’m a witchling, so don’t make me sound like some twelve-year-old innocent you corrupted.”

Flipping one of my bunches over my shoulder, I grin at her. “But my sweet little spook, compared to me, youarevery young.”

“You’re a pervert.” Poppy slips her back shoes on and gives me another once over. I know she likes it; I can feel it cracking in the air between us. It’s her latent magic, trying to reach out for me. “An exasperating pervert.”

“Exasperating? Was that the thing I did with my tongue?” I know I’m being flippant and it drives her crazy, but life is boring when you take everything so seriously.

There she goes again, rubbing her temples like she’s having growing pains from a set of horns or something. “Just…just be quiet. You’re not coming to class with me. Master Garon will have a coronary.”

“He won’t be able to see me.” I shrug, liking how my pleated skirt rises up my thighs when I do. “No one can unless I want them to–except you. You’re my contractor.”

“This is going to go horribly wrong, isn’t it?”

I wink, “You won’t even realize I’m here!”

Chapter Five

Poppy

“Nice of you tofinally join us, Ms. Alderidge.” Master Garon looks down at me with his eyes narrowed. I’ve always hated his gaze. The pale blue irises are almost cruel. Lifeless. Flat. They remind me of ice. “Some students here take their learning seriously. They show up on time.”

He’s turned away, as if I'm not even worth the scolding.

Bowing my head, I shuffle towards my seat. “Apologies, Master Garon.”

Halewood Academy was like a school, with desks and workspaces in each training room. But unlike a normal crowded school with a sea of faces passing through the doors each day, there were only a handful of students in each class. At least the low numbers meant I was able to have a desk all to myself. Well, if you ignore the pink demon currently perched on the edge swinging her feet like this is all a game.

“Sit down properly,” I hiss between gritted teeth, earning me a few looks from Fenella Lawton and her little sidekick, Cordelia Spruce. Fuck them. I don’t have the headspace to deal with theirlittle taunts or savage stares. If one of them puts spider silk on my chair again this week, I swear I’ll set fire to their broomsticks.

Manon seems to agree with me as she slides off my desk and wanders over to where they’re sharing a space. I watch, partly horrified, partly thrilled, as she conjures a dark green slug creature with these luminescent little swirls and stars down its body and places it on the brim of Fenella’s pointed hat. We’re only supposed to wear those hats when we’re casting spells, but since Fenella has recently been recruited as an active member into the Coven, she wears hers everywhere like a boast. And Master Garon allows her. She’s the definition of a teacher’s pet, flipping her perfect blonde curls every time she answers his questions and earns yet more praise.

Pressing a finger against her lips, Manon warns me to stay silent as she does the same to Cordelia before returning to drop down into the seat next to me. How no one sees the chair move is beyond me. She must have created some sort of illusion or glamor spell.

“Pssst,” Anette, a kind witchling who’s a year younger than me, leans across the gaps in our tables to offer me a small smile. “Happy birthday Poppy!”

My returning smile is tight and forced. Birthdays were never a cause of celebration in my family, since they simply served as another reminder that I was nothing but a failure. A powerless witch. Except…this year, I wasn’t. I had power. Somewhere. Buried inside me. Maybe this time father would actually look at me over dinner.

Manon clicks her fingers, and I see some sort of shimmery bubble fall down around us. I assume it’s a privacy shield as she turns to glare at me.

“It’s your birthday?” she whispers, looking annoyed as she crosses her arms. The pout and the position are ridiculous, because it looks like her tits are going to burst out of her shirtif she breathes a little too heavily. I swear, if a button pings off and hits Master Garon, I will kill her with my bare hands. “Hmmmmm, I wonder if that’s why you were bound.”

“Bound?” Frowning, I suddenly stiffen, my body feeling heavy. I know what she's implying, but I need her to confirm it. “The knots…they were done on purpose?”

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