Page 11 of House of Ruin
Blaze could recall some of what Gael was saying, though a heavy fog had settled over his mind, making thinking harder than usual.
There were drinks, tons of drinks. The scorching taste of whiskey on Blaze’s tongue. The swaying, dizzying beat of the music. Then, bright green eyes, a delicate face that was pretty and pleasant, but not exactly what Blaze was looking for.
Craving.
“Fuck,” Andro cursed under his breath, drawing Blaze’s attention. His best friend was staring ahead, to the side of the Dean’s building, where in the distance, three dark figures were rushing towards them. “Fuck, dude. This doesn’t look good.”
“We can’t go now.” Gael looked around. “If we can see them from here, surely they can see us from there.”
Yeah, duh. Blaze scoffed to himself but remained silent, his eyes fixated on the figures in the distance.
Of course, out of all the people to find them here, it just had to be Dean Gondalez and Miss Bellthrove. To Blaze’s surprise, Professor Namiad was also with them.
“Mister Leveau,” the Dean said, taking in the boys and the body hanging from the statue. “You did the right thing to call us in for this.”
Call them in?Blaze blinked, frowning.
He had no recollection of calling anyone, let alone the fucking Dean.
Blaze exchanged glances with Andro on his side, his friend giving a curt nod as if telling Blaze to play along.
“This is—” Professor Namiad’s words died in her throat the moment she noticed the little altar by the foot of the statue. “This is unsettling.”
“Oh dear, poor Mr. Riverblood,” Miss Bellthrove whispered, covering her mouth with her palm. Her eyes were wide behind those round glasses, making her look even more cartoonish than usual.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Andro asked, his voice having that light timbre he used when he was trying to sound casual and attentive.
Dean Gondalez glanced at Andro, then at Gael, and finally at Blaze.
His gaze lingered longer over Blaze, his eyes dropping briefly to Blaze’s hands, which he had stuffed in his pockets, hiding the bloodied palms.
There was something Mr. Gondalez was about to say to Blaze. But he changed his mind and silently glanced back at the crime scene.
“Professor Namiad, can you confirm what this is?” he asked the professor, his face set in a grim expression as they awaited the answer.
Professor Namiad took her time inspecting the corpse, the wounds on the face looking as if a wild animal had tried to claw its way into Jack’s skull and carved a hole in his chest. Then she walked over to the altar, squatted, and looked at it from all sides.
Finally, with a grave nod, Professor Namiad said, “Yes, Mr. Gondalez. It appears to be Fanhy practitioners behind this.” She rose to her feet, throwing a glance at their side and added, “Or at least someone trying to imitate Fanhy Coven.”
Blaze scratched the back of his head, shaking his head in disbelief. “What the fuck?”
“Indeed,” Mr. Gondalez chimed in. “There haven’t been Fanhy practitioners in Darly for over fifty years.”
Professor Namiad nodded, about to open her mouth, but then she thought better of it as she once again looked at Blaze, Andro, and Gael.
“I think you better go, boys,” she said. “The police will be here soon, and I’m sure they’ll tell you the investigation is private.”
“They might want to reach out to you, though,” Dean added. His eyes darted between the boys, his cheeks suddenly flushed. “I’ll make sure they contact your parents before that.”
When Blaze whirled on his heel to follow Andro and Gael down the path leading to Main Avenue, he smirked.
Of course, Dean wouldn’t want to bother Snakes’ alumni.
That man knew better than that by now.
5
Unsurprisingly, the lectures at Venefica continued as usual, despite one of the students being brutally murdered in the middle of the campus.
