I joined him in sitting, plopping myself down on the desk beside him, drawing my legs up until I was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce atop the table.

  “I suppose your right.” His mouth opened slightly, and his brows raised in shock. “What?” I tucked a piece of wavy hair behind my ear self-consciously.

  “I can’t believe the Evie Crawley is agreeing with me. I thought you’d be right up there with your mother and every other sodden being in this place – so sure of my guilt.” He threw his hands to the side, as if putting himself on display. With his hands up a sliver of stomach skin peeked out from beneath his shirt. And curse me, but it took everything within me not to stare.

  “I don’t think you’re guilty.” It’s true. I know my mother wouldn't let him see daylight again if he were even the slightest bit guilty.

  “You’re the first person besides my aunt who has said that.” His eyes almost looked sincere – appreciative of my words to him. And they were refusing to give up my gaze.

  I cast my eyes to the side, nervously tucking another strand of hair behind my ear. I ignored the soft chuckle that fell from his lips, but I did notice that this one was devoid of all condescension.

  I could only hope he didn’t have night vision as I did, for I could feel my cheeks heating under his watchful gaze.

  Desperate, I changed the subject. “So...what are you doing in the restricted section?” I asked.

  “Just because your mum is head of the Counsel doesn’t mean you get to be here and I don’t.” He retorted, dodging my question. But then a cheeky smile cracked his austere face. “Why are you here under cover of darkness with an invisibility charm on?”

  “Research.” I blurted, far too quickly. Suspiciously so.

  “Research?” He snorted.

  “Yes, research.” I clutched my book to my chest. “You’ve failed to answer my original question, why is it that you’re here.” He smiled, and, apparently, no amount of trauma or bullying had made him any less charming.

  “Research.” He answered.

  “Cute.” I pinched my face in annoyance.

  “Stop flirting with me, Evie.” He faux scoffed.

  My mouth dropped open in shock. “I-I’m not flirting-” I steadied myself with a deep breath. “You know what – it's not even worth it. I don’t owe you any answers. Let’s both be on our way.” I hopped from the desk, only to catch sight of the book in his hand, Sacred Relics. “I need that book!” I reached out to snatch it, but his athleticism allowed him to evade me.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He clicked his tongue at me. “This is coming home with me.” His eyes widened in clarity as he spotted the book in my hand. “As is that.” His hand reached toward me.

  “Dìon!” I snapped my fingers, casting a spell of protection over the book.

  His hand bounced off the cover, sizzling with an electric sting. “Seven hells, Evie.” Though he had cursed, he wasn’t mad. He sounded awestruck. Impressed.

  He shook his hand out, no doubt trying to shake away the lingering tremors. Once the tingling in his hands went away, he eyed me suspiciously. “You’re looking for the Relic of Gabalter.” His voice contained no question, his statement was as confident as he always was.

  No use in denying it, my mother never said it was a secret. “How do you know about the relic?”

  “My aunt asked me to look for it.” His aunt, Pearl, was nearly as powerful as my mother. They were lifelong friends and Pearl often acted as my mother’s second when it came to matters of witchy importance.

  “If you’re so angry at the Counsel for how they treated you, then why would you want to help them find this relic?” After bearing witness to all his surly, sarcastic, angsty behaviors I would have assumed he’d tell almost everyone to shove it – including his aunt.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just give me the book.” He stuck his hand out again.

  “If you want a chance at having this book you’ll tell me why you’re helping the Witches’ Counsel.” I widened my stance, a physical representation of my determination.

  Through slitted eyes Milo stared at me, looking like he was sizing up my worthiness. Which he must have determined swiftly, because with a heavy sigh he began talking once again.

  “I think this relic thing is stupid, but I was hoping that helping find it would put me back on good terms with the Counsel...and maybe with others here too.” He fell back into the chair once again, though this time his posture was slumped in defeat. “I thought that if I found it...then everyone might trust and like me again.” His aura was so vulnerable – almost uncomfortably so. I had never seen a warlock be so emotionally transparent, let alone Milo Lancaster. The big warlock on campus had fallen from grace – and he seemed desperate to get back up.

  “Thank you for your honesty,” I whispered, uncomfortable with the palpable energy floating in the air around us.

  “You’re welcome.” He stood once again, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Now can I have that book?”

  “This?” I gestured to my book. “No, I need this to find the relic.”

  His mouth dropped open, showing of his perfectly straight teeth. “You said you’d give it to me!”

  “No, I said you’d have a chance...which you will. I’ll give it to you when I’m done.” I turned to walk away, not that desperate to have the book in his hands anyway.

  “Why do you want the relic so badly?” He sidled up beside me, matching my strides easily with his long legs.

  “My mother won't give me my monthly stipend without it.”

  He rolled his eyes, “How noble.”

  “To each their own.” I shrugged, pulling my wand out to unlock the door that would lead me back out into the library.

  Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me into the shadows of the second row of books. Milo cast his shawl around us, concealing us in invisibility and trapping me a mere inches away from him.

  “Guard.” He answered before I could even ask. I nodded my thanks, unsure of how to speak to him now that my nose was an inch from touching his chest and I could smell the peppermint undertones of his body spray. Minutes ticked by painfully slow as my body became acutely aware of just how close he was. I was certain he could hear the rapid pitter-patter of my heart. “What about a compromise?” His masculine voice broke the silence once the guard was gone.

  “What?”

  “A compromise. I’ll share the info in my book and you’ll share the info in yours. We can find the relic together, give it to the Witches’ Counsel, and both get what we want.” This seems reasonable enough, though I’m pretty sure I might have been high off his aroma.

  “Fine.” I pushed out of his shawl, revealing myself to the library once again.

  “Excellent.” He practically purred. “I’ll send you an owl.” He leaned in dangerously close, his breath tickling my cheek when he spoke again. “Leave your window open tomorrow night.” I swallowed down the collection of saliva that had gathered in my throat – so distracted with my own thoughts I didn’t notice he had gotten his wand out. “Falaich,” He whispered, sending tingles throughout my body as he concealed me under this invisibility spell – one I made note to remember. He leaned in again, lips hovering above mine. I told myself there was no way he knew how close we were – you know, with me being invisible. “Simply say, nochd, when you wish to reveal yourself.” He leaned back, casting himself in invisibility as well. “Talk soon, Ace.”

  “Ace?” I asked the empty space in front of me.

  His voice whispered from behind me, “Look it up.” And then I heard his footsteps echoing away.

  I took a few steadying breaths, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened before I exited the library and ran my little witch butt back to my dormitory.

  Chapter Six

  Want to know what sucks harder than a starving vampire? Reading moldy, ancient textbooks on a Saturday night while everyone else is out having fun.

  Also, riddle me this – why write a book about the mysteries and secrets of Gabalter...doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a secret? I mean I don’t know how many copies of this book exist, this could be the only one, but even so, hundreds of people could have read it.

  And the secrets weren’t even juicy!

  Who cares that Iliana Gabalter used to sell herbal remedies to humans to save money to build the school? Not me.

  I had spent my entire Saturday reading and now it was dark. And while I did this, Joey and Circe roamed the town just outside our academy’s walls. They were no doubt knee-deep in milkshakes, and flirting with unsuspecting humans, while I was hunkered down in my dorm bed wearing old sweatpants and reading from a crusty book.

  “The third floor of Iliana Hall has a secret passageway that leads to a private bathing chamber.” I read aloud, dog-earring the page before turning my head toward Nokia. “I spoke too soon, that actually is a good secret.” And was one I hoped was true. The worst part about sharing the all-female Iliana Hall with seventy-nine other teenage witches was that we only had one shared bathroom on each floor. Four mirrors, six toilets, and eight showers was simply not enough for sixteen witches to share.

  A knock came from my dorm window, odd considering I was on the third floor. Nokia squawked aggressively, nearly hissing as she flew to the rafters to hide.

  “Coward,” I called over my shoulder as I made my way to the window. The heavy black latch popped up easily, allowing me to push the window open with ease. A small, all-black owl sat perched outside my window, with a tiny rolled-up piece of parchment in the vial that hung around his neck like a necklace. “Hello,” I cooed to the unfamiliar bird. “Who are you?” He squawked in a friendly manner, ruffling his own feathers to appear big and fluffy. “Handsome boy.” I gave him a scratch and then carefully uncorked the vial to take the message from the bottle.

  You up? Was penned on the paper. No name or anything.

  “Who is this from?” My gaze cast upward to the mystery owl, only for him to fly away. My eyes tracked his flight, which was hard to do given his dark feathers and the lateness of the hour – plus I had glasses on rather than my charmed contact lenses. The small bird swooped down toward Clawson Hall, one of the all-male dormitories at Gabalter Academy. His flight continued until he was level with a second-floor window, where a smiling Milo sat perched and staring at me. He waved at me, a quick jerk of his hand. My knees grew slightly weak, despite the fact Milo was sort of my sworn nemesis turned accomplice. I’d never had a boy send me an owl so late before. Joey had received them dozens of times in the few short years we’d been roommates – but this was my first.

  “Milo?” My lips threatened to turn up at the corners when I eyed the suggestive note once more. Upon looking back up I saw him gesturing to me again, miming writing in the air – asking me to send him one back.

  I felt giddy. “What do I write?” This question was directed at Nokia, which I realize was stupid. Suddenly I desperately wished Circe and Joey were back – but that thought very quickly sobered me up to the fact I was about to owl Milo...the most hated guy in school. I had forgotten his promise to owl me if he found anything the second he’d said it, I had been far too concerned with getting back to my dorm without being caught, but I remembered it now.

  I snatched a purple quill-tipped gel pen from my desk along with a cream-colored post-it note.

  Obviously lmao.

  I wrote before getting second-hand embarrassment for my own self at the thought of him reading it.

  Obviously lmao.

  “Idiot.” I bullied myself as I aggressively scratched my first attempt out and then incinerated the paper before grabbing another piece.

  Yeah, what’s up?

  “Better.” I nodded my head encouragingly as I rolled the note up. “Nokia.” I clicked my tongue a few times and then held my arm out for her to perch on when I saw her flying down from the rafters. “Take this note to Milo Lancaster.” I pointed my finger toward Clawson Hall. “Open window on the second floor.” Nokia’s tiny black claw snatched the rolled-up paper from between my fingers and she was off in a flash – her white feathers making her much easier to track than Milo’s owl.

  Leaving the window open, I forced myself to go back to my bed, not wanting to seem like an eager weirdo waiting in the window for his next note. With legs crisscrossed beneath me I sat perched atop my black and gold celestial comforter, the only décor my mother had allowed me to pick out, and waited for his note. Nervous energy tingled from the top of my head to the tip of my toes – and I couldn’t really say why. The kind of vibrations I was feeling in my gut should be reserved for crushes – and there was no way I had a crush on Milo Lancaster. He was moody and terse – not to mention someone my parents would hate. For coven’s sake even my friends hated him.

  His owl zoomed through the window seconds later, disrupting my thoughts, flying faster than any bird I’d seen before.

  Let’s use Razor to pass our messages – Nokia’s glaring white feathers aren’t exactly covert

  My fluttering heart sank. I snatched my quill up and penned my note quickly – chucking it into Razor’s vial with precision.

  Why do we need to be covert? People send owls to one another all the time. And how do you know my owl’s name?

  His note returned post-haste.

  She has a tag on.

  And only people who like one another send owls

  Not gonna lie, that stung a little. Was he so arrogant he couldn’t even be seen as my friend?

  Yes, coven-forbid someone mistake me for being your friend.

  And then I hexed the paper with a menacing sensation, so there’d be no context lost as he read it.

  I stood there stewing at the window, awaiting his reply. With bated breath, I watched as he unfurled my note. What he did next was surprising, though. He cast his head back against the window, first gently pounding his head a few times before he leaned up and scribbled his reply.

  It’s you who should be afraid of people thinking you call me friend. Honestly, I dont think you should tell anyone were hanging out..I’m public enemy #1 at this school.

  Oh. My heart sank. Last year Milo Lancaster had been the warlock-next-door. Almost every male wanted to be him and nearly every witch wanted to date him. And now, because of what his parents did, he thought himself undeserving of my friendship.

  My next note was filled with empathy, a message I hoped he would believe.

  I’m not afraid of being your friend.

  His reply was almost instantaneous.

  Maybe you should be.

  Before I could reply he whistled, calling Razor back to him. I was afraid I had upset him – that he didn’t want to talk anymore, but then the tiny obsidian owl flew through my window once again.

  Have you found anything of interest?

  Yes, I found it quite interesting that he had started our owl exchange with, “You up?” and it had turned so morose so quickly. But I knew he meant did I find anything interesting in my book.

  Only if you think the location of hidden bathrooms or Iliana’s burial site is interesting.

  I gave Razor my note, noticing he lacked the pep in his flight he had when we first started our exchange. Little dude was getting tired – which was highlighted by how long it took him to return Milo’s next message.

  Where is she buried?

  I was shocked he wanted to know. Like I said, I hardly found anything in that book to be of interest – let alone helpful.

  In the graveyard behind the orchard. Why?

  I could practically hear the racing of Razor’s little heart as he delivered the next message, resting his tiny owl head against my arm as I read the note.

  Meet me there tomorrow night after the dinner bell rings

  Milo whistled, calling Razor back to him once again – but this time the obsidian owl did not return.

  Meet in the graveyard? I was confused as to why he’d want to meet me, but as he was clearly not going to give me any explanation, all I could do was wait until tomorrow to see what he wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  The dinner bell tolled, echoing through the air just like my footsteps on the pavement beneath me. Soon enough the bells stopped, and the concrete gave way to grass as I made my way through the apple orchard. I had spent the entire day thinking about this rendezvous. Wondering why Milo Lancaster wanted to meet me in a graveyard of all places. Earlier that day, in potions class, my mind went into overdrive when our eyes connected and he smiled at me. No sneer, no eyeroll, no sarcastic chortle...a genuine smile. A smile I felt throughout my entire body, a thrumming heat that felt like a blush. I finally understood why all the witches had chased after him last year. Being under the appraising eye of Milo Lancaster was intoxicating.

  The graveyard started to come into view and, even from a distance, I could see that the doors to the centermost mausoleum were cast open. A dull light, not unlike the glow of a firefly, pulsed inside – drawing me toward it. My hand touched the cold stone wall as I cast my gaze around the graveyard before entering. I had to squint in the dying daylight as I checked around, and once I was satisfied no one was going to catch me entering the mausoleum I scurried inside.

  The dank space reeked of dust and mildew, a nasty combination that threatened to send me into a sneeze attack. Ignoring the smell, I focused my attention on the space around me. Milo’s wand was propped inside a torch holder on the wall, emitting a soft light around the small space. From my spot just inside the doorway, I could see walls that were carved with spells and a narrow staircase disappearing into the floor before me – likely leading to the body of our dearly departed Lady Gabalter. But of all the things I could see, Milo was not one of them.

 

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