Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) (12 page)

“Owen,” Bri cries, holding his bloodied hand to her tearstained face. “Owen, open your eyes!”

Lady Ysolt’s suddenly next to her. Her face strains as she lifts Owen in her arms and carries him away.

“Tell Daphne to get the surgical room ready,” she tells Percy, who sprints away.

As they hurry by, I call out Bri’s name, but her paper-white face doesn’t register any of her surroundings. A hand grabs me by the elbow and helps me up.

“How about you?” Arthur asks, his hazel eyes scanning my face.

“Owen—” I start to say.

“Do you need to go to the infirmary too?”

I shake myself free. “I’m fine. But what about my friend? Is he going to be all right?”

Arthur looks away, his brow furrowed. I notice that he’s still holding the metallic box in which he’s placed that stone; the stone that used to be a magical bull.

“I don’t know,” he says. “We’ll have to wait until Dr. Cockleburr’s done with him.” He takes another quick look at me, seemingly satisfied. “You should still get a checkup.”

I think instead about Bri waiting for news of her brother. No one should ever have to face that sort of ordeal alone, and I’m not going to let her. I take a shaky step after her and nearly pitch forward.

Keva appears at my side, a dreamy look on her face. “Amazing those three, aren’t they?” she says, keeping me steady. “And right when Arthur and Percy had just had a grueling match to boot! But it’s to be expected from the Triumvirate.
⁹
There’s nothing they can’t do.”

“Can you just shut up?” I say. “There’s more important things going on right now.”

I take another step and wince as my ankle twists. I must have injured it when Arthur dragged me out from under the bull’s hooves. Biting on my lower lip, I proceed through the now-quiet field as fast as my injury will allow.

“You, page!” says a sharp voice behind me.

A few paces back, her golden hair streaming in the breeze, is Jennifer. Her pale blue eyes are staring at me, emotionless but for a cold anger I don’t understand.

I point at myself. “Me?”

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“To the infirmary.”

The remainder of the crowd stops its exodus to train hundreds of questioning looks on me.

“You should be cleaning the mess you’ve created,” Jennifer says.

I lower my fists to my sides before I can punch her. She may be beautiful, but she’s really starting to get on my nerves.

“I can’t,” I say, proud of myself for my unusual diplomacy. “My friend needs me.”

Jennifer stalks up to me. “And I,” she says, “need you to clean this area up, page.”

“My name. Is. Morgan.”

Before I can go berserk, Keva nudges me. “You’ve got to listen to her,” she whispers, fear and awe in her voice. “She’s higher ranked than we are.”

“Why?” I ask. “Because we’re only freshmen? For your information, I’m probably old—”

Keva shakes her head, then taps the cross on my jacket’s front pocket. “No, we are pages. She’s a knight. Pages have to follow orders from everyone above.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. “What is this nonsense?”

But Keva’s moved away from me before Jennifer can unleash her anger on her as well.

“I will have you clean the entire practice field, on your own,” Jennifer says, her full lips curling up scornfully. “And nobody’s to help you. Got it?”

With a toss of the head, she strides away, drawing the remaining crowd along with her.

“You better get to it,” Keva says. “You’ve got to take all the equipment down to the armory, and there’s a lot of it.”

I stare at the empty stadium, taking in the discarded weapons strewn about the dirt floor.

“But, isn’t it dangerous?” I ask, darting glances about. The sun’s low on the horizon now, and every shadow seems longer and deeper than before. What if there’s another Fey monster lurking somewhere around here?

“Don’t be stupid,” Keva says with a smirk. “That Fey escaped because its iron restraints shattered, not because it appeared out of nowhere. Besides, they can’t just come to Lake High without permission. Really, I can’t believe I have to be your roommate.” She shakes her head and starts to go after the others.

“But I’m going to miss the boat back home!” I tell her.

She stops. “You think they’re going to let us go home after what just happened? This is a state of emergency. Nobody leaves until it’s all been cleared up.” She pauses to consider something, then adds, “And you better not make Jennifer go after me, or you’ll really regret it.”

I grab the last of the equipment and place it inside the now-thousand-ton basket. My back’s aching, and my ankle’s so sore I can’t feel my foot anymore. The worst part is going up and down the stadium’s seats for any additional gear I might have missed.

With a mighty huff, I sit down, leaving the basket aside. Of course, with a prat for a president, it’s only normal the rest of the student body wouldn’t learn to put their own things away.

The wind nips at me, mocking my plight, and I shake my fist in the air. “It’s all your fault!”

A questioning meow startles me. I find a cat sitting a few levels up from me, its golden eyes almost glowing against its raven-black fur. I extend my hand toward it and make small, friendly noises.

To my utter annoyance, the cat royally ignores me. Fuming, I grab the first thing from the basket I can find and throw it at the feline. The cat easily dodges the projectile, a glove with iron meshing, spits at me once disdainfully, then, tail held high, trots away.

“Yeah, just leave me behind,” I grumble. “Let me do all the work on my own, like everyone else!”

Joints stiff, I slowly make my way up to retrieve the gauntlet, regretting my burst of anger—as if a cat could actually understand me.

“What an odd thing to wear…” I say, turning the glove in my hands.

I slip it on. It’s too big for me and jingles when I move. Lodged inside the metallic rings, I notice a small emerald-green jewel. As I angle it toward the remaining daylight, a strange symbol flashes just below its surface. I shake the gem around like it’s a Magic 8 Ball, but nothing more appears, and I wonder if my vision’s playing tricks on me.

I put the gauntlet back in the basket and pick up a dagger instead. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for: set deep within the handle are three small round stones of a creamy white tint. I drop the knife back in and grab another weapon. Again, I find what looks like a ruby set into the blade itself.

I squint in the near darkness. What are these things? A picture of Arthur propelling himself into the air during his practice fight with Percy comes back to me. Are these the sources of power I’ve been hearing about, those things called oghams?

I grab the glove again and put it back on. “How, exactly, does this work?”

Tongue stuck out, I point my hand out, as far away from me as possible. The last thing I need now is to lose an eye or an ear because I don’t know what I’m doing.

I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the green flash coming out of my hand. Nothing. Tentatively, I open an eye, then the other. Maybe something happened, but I didn’t see it because my eyes were closed. I concentrate again, pretending laser beams are shooting out of the gauntlet. Still nothing.

“Open sesame,” I say, shaking my arm.

I tap on the stone, but no symbol appears, not even the tiniest bit of a glow.

“Stupid thing’s broken.”

I fling the glove back amongst the rest of the gear and lug the basket back into the armory. It takes me another half hour to put everything away, but, finally, the task is done, and I dust off my hands.

All I need now is a hot bath, a warm meal, and heaps of sleep. I limp to the door and freeze at the sound of something rattling.

“Is-Is someone here?” I call out.

Stillness greets my words, and I slowly let out my breath.

As I open the door, the sound comes back again, louder. I fling myself against the wall, wary of any attacker. I gasp as a large trunk in the opposite corner hops and shakes furiously, bouncing over the tiled floor. I feel the blood drain from my face. Is this another demon beast?

I inch outside the room, then waver. Keva was clear that what happened to Owen had been an accident and that no Fey could enter the school uninvited.

Unable to decide what to do, my thoughts grind to a painful stop, until, at last, I make up my mind. Slowly, I tiptoe up to the chest, unfasten the lock, then carefully ease the cover open.

Something small and black bounces out of it. It lands on my head, sharp claws digging into my face, then latches on to my hair. I shriek.

“Gerroff! Gerroff!”

I reach back to find scruffy fur, then try to pull the thing off of me. Finally, after much effort and many tufts of hair lost, I hold before me the hobgoblin from my first morning here.

“Puck!” I say, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

The little creature flinches, and I soften my tone.

“What were you doing in there?”

I glance down and notice the bottom of the box is strewn with small shards of glass and spilled…

“Milk,” I say. “Did someone play a prank on you?”

The small creature’s shaking so badly that I’m afraid to let it down. Despite my initial disgust, I cradle Puck in my arms like I would a small child.

“There, there, you’re fine now.” And if I ever get my hands on the one who did this to you, it’s going to be someone else’s turn to lose hair!

A few moments later, the hobgoblin falls asleep in my arms, snoring peacefully. I look around, but quickly realize I cannot leave him in here, not after what’s been done to him, so I take him with me.

“Incoming!” someone yells.

I duck as a jet of water blasts into the wall next a foot from my face. An older boy laughs as he runs past me, his uniform soaked. He then turns around and punches the air. A blue glow surrounds his hand, then propels itself into another boy, farther down the corridor. Some girls squeal as water splashes onto them.

“Enough!”

The two boys disappear around a corner as a plump woman hurries behind, her hair undone from too much running.

“Ewww!” says one of the splashed girls as I head their way. “What’s
that
thing?”

I instinctively hold Puck closer to myself. Avoiding any eye contact, I try to hurry past them but they block my way.

“It’s Puck,” the second girl says with a grimace. “How disgusting!”

The first girl chuckles. “What are you doing with it? Breast-feeding?”

All three girls laugh at that. I want to ignore them, prove that I’m above petty insults like these. But I’ve never been good at being the center of attention, mainly because it’s never been for a good reason, like now.

“Just leave me alone,” I say.

I try to push through them, but one of the girls grabs my arm and jerks me backward, hard. I wince and drop Puck. I try to catch him again, but the hobgoblin lands on the stone floor with a sickening crunch. For a moment, I feel like the whole world’s stopped spinning, and I hold my breath. But Puck seems merely stunned and shakes his head as he sits up on his furry hind.

“Look at that filthy thing,” says the girl who grabbed my arm. She kicks Puck in the ribs, sending him flying a few feet away.

“Stop!” I cry, horrified.

“Or what?” the girl asks with a smirk. “What are you worried about a demon for?”

She makes to go after Puck again, but I yank her by the hair. “I said stop!”

The girl shrieks like I’ve just stabbed her, and, quite frankly, that’s exactly what I want to do. But I let her go. The girl starts crying, and her friends glare at me.

“How dare you go against your superiors?” says one of them.

I grit my teeth. “You? Superior to me? Please!”

But the girl points at me. “You’re just a page, a gofer. You have no right to do this to those in higher stations than you. You ought to apologize, right now!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Puck get back up, then scramble away. I grin at her. Is she really hiding behind a stupid high school standard to tell me what I ought and ought not to do?

“Make me,” I say.

When none of them make a movement, I spin around and march away, back to the dorms. Different country or different world, it doesn’t matter. People can be as loathsome here as anywhere else.