Page 56 of Wicked Bonds
I wait until they’re both out of sight before I move, keeping to the edges of the building. The administrative wing is usually crawling with faculty, but Drake assured me he’d handle that too. Sure enough, as I approach, I see Mrs. Bright hurrying toward the dormitory, followed by two other staff members I don’t recognize.
The hallway is empty when I slip inside. My heart hammers against my ribs, but it’s not entirely fear. There’s something thrilling about this, about taking control instead of waiting for the Coven and their bloody contract to decide my fate.
Drake materializes beside me as I reach Wickersly’s office door, more solid than usual but still translucent enough that I can see the walls through his chest.
“Nice distraction,” I whisper.
He grins, and for a second, I flash back to last night, to his tongue on my nipples, him inside me, completely solid and real. My cheeks heat, and I look away.
“Stay focused,” he says. “She’ll figure out it’s a diversion soon enough.”
The lock on Wickersly’s door is old-fashioned, and unfortunately I didn’t bring my lock picking tools with me to school. But that’s why Drake is here. He walks right through the door, and I hear a click.
Drake returns to keep watch while I slip inside, closing the door softly behind me.
I start with the desk because if I were hiding important documents, that’s where I’d keep them, close enough to reference but secure enough that casual snooping wouldn’t findthem. The top drawer is locked, but it’s a simple device that takes me less than ten seconds to pop open, nothing magical about it.
Inside, there’s correspondence, mostly boring administrative stuff about supply orders and student disciplinary actions. One letter catches my eye—it’s from Helena Wickersly, who I remember from the handbook is Headmistress Wickersly’s sister. The handwriting is so perfect it looks printed, all flowing curves and dramatic flourishes.
“The bloodlines must be maintained,” it reads. “Ensure proper containment protocols are in place.”
Containment. Fun.
Fuck that. I photograph it with my phone, then keep searching.
The second drawer has financial records, and to no one’s surprise, the academy’s endowment could probably buy a small country. The third drawer is more interesting, ritual components in carefully labeled vials. Dried herbs, crystals, bones, human hair, and baby teeth. I shudder.
“Hurry,” Drake says from his position by the door.
I move to the filing cabinet, fingers flying through folders labeled with dates going back centuries. Most of it’s not useful, but then something stops me. Records of students who were bloodmarked, their years of service, their contributions to the Coven’s power.
Their death dates.
Every single one of them, documented like inventory. Sarah Bishington, 1897-1899, contributed significant earth magic reserves. Thomas Ashford, 1923-1925, source of refined firemanipulation. The list goes on and on, each name representing someone who was used up and discarded.
Then I find it, in its own folder. It’s a map of the academy, but not the academy I know. This one shows additional rooms, passages, an entire wing that doesn’t exist. Or at least, that I’ve never seen in all my wandering.
One area is labeled in red ink. “First Accord. Absolute security.”
My hands shake as I photograph the map. This is it. This is what Drake was talking about. The original blood oath has to be in this place, whatever that is. But looking at the map, the location should be right where part of the flower garden is now. I’ve walked through that garden dozens of times. There’s nothing there.
“Rose,” Drake’s voice is urgent now. “She’s coming back. Now.”
I hear it too, the sharp click of Wickersly’s heels in the hallway, getting closer. But there’s another voice with her, smooth and amused.
Soren.
“I’m simply saying,” Soren’s voice carries through the door, “that perhaps the incident was more prank than threat. Students will be students, after all.”
“Students don’t typically have the power to create atmospheric disturbances of that magnitude,” Wickersly replies, and she sounds seriously pissed. “Someone helped them. Someone with significant magical ability.”
“Go,” I whisper to Drake. I have no idea what Wickersly could or would do to him if she catches him here, but this is my fight andI don’t want him to get caught in the crossfire. The guy is already dead, he’s suffered enough.
They’re right outside the door now. I shove the map back where I found it, softly close the filing cabinet shut, and look around wildly for somewhere to hide. The closet? Too obvious. Under the desk? Too exposed. Behind the curtains? Too stupid.
The door handle turns.
There’s no time. The door is opening, and I’m standing in the middle of Wickersly’s office like an idiot with my phone in my hand. Welp. Guess I won’t have to worry about surviving for the next two years, because she’s going to kill me right now.
