Finally, I managed to drag my thoughts away from Peter long enough to call Angela and check in with her. We chatted for a while, and I listened as she told me all about her choir competition and how her group took second place. Her parents were home from visiting family, which was a relief, but I still reminded her to make sure all her windows and doors were locked before she went to bed.
When we ended our call, I set my phone on my nightstand, and Grace promptly filled me in on everything I’d missed while I’d been talking with Angela. I managed to fall back into the story, and Grace reached across the bed to squeeze my hand. She didn’t need to say anything. The small gesture told me she was there if I needed to talk.
I didn’t want to talk, though. I just wanted to watch our show and forget for a while about all the crazy things happening in my life. I especially wanted to forget how Peter had cut off our communication. I feared I might’ve overstepped a boundary by urging him to reveal things he wasn’t ready to reveal, and I just hoped he didn’t decide to cut me out completely to avoid me discovering more secrets about his home life.
10.
A week went by. My parents and the Guard searched the entire city for the horned demon but found no trace of him. It was almost like he’d disappeared. My life became a strict regime of being escorted to and from school by my father, and training with him a little at night. The rest of my time I spent holed up in my house.
I hated it, not just the lack of freedom but the fact that I wasn’t permitted to be part of the search. I wasn’t the kind of person who was happy to sit back and let others do the work. But I knew after what happened the night I went to Flynn’s pub it was too risky for me to be out there. Not to mention my father would probably try to ground me for an eternity if I disobeyed him again.
After our talk about his parents not paying him for working at Indigo, Peter went quiet on me for a day or two before his voice slowly trickled its way back into my head. I was wise enough not to bring up his job again. Neither did we discuss his father.
Now it was a dreary Monday afternoon and the start of my second week without freedom. It hadn’t stopped raining all day and didn’t look like it would ease up any time soon. In fact, a storm had been forecast for that night.
“I’ll be back at seven to pick you up,” Dad said as he dropped Rebecca and me off outside the school. I pulled up the hood of my raincoat while my sister grabbed her umbrella, and we both made a quick dash into the building.
“See you later,” I said to Rebecca before I spotted Nic sitting on a bench in the foyer. He had a book open on his lap. It looked like the textbook from our Clairvoyance class.
“Hey, Nic. Horrible weather, isn’t it,” I said as I joined him.
“Darya! You gave me a fright,” he exclaimed, and I chuckled. He was so cute.
“Sorry about that. What are you reading?”
“Nothing much. I got here a little early, so I thought I’d do some studying,” he replied.
My attention was drawn to Belinda Williams as she strutted into the building with Anna and Liz. It was almost like they were her bodyguards because I rarely saw her without at least one of them. And yes, I still planned to punish her for casting a harmful spell over me that day in Weapons and Self-Defence. I just hadn’t figured out the specifics yet.
Belinda must’ve sensed me watching because her head turned my way, her eyes hard, shoulders straight. I stared back without expression and saw worry crease the centre of her brow.
Yeah, bitch, I still remember what you did.
She hadn’t apologised for spreading rumours that I killed her uncle even though I was cleared of suspicion. My eyes continued to follow her as she disappeared down the corridor.
“That was intense,” Nic commented. “You two really don’t like each other.”
“We were actually friends when we were little,” I said. “But then she hit puberty and turned into a stuck-up snob, so I quickly stopped spending time with her.”
“People change as they get older,” Nic replied. “It’s one of the inevitabilities of life.”
“Sad but true. Come on, let’s get to class,” I said and stood from the bench.
Later that day, Nic and I made our way to the north end of St. Bastian’s, where we had our twice-weekly Alchemy class with Mrs Kanumba, who may have been related to Clay in some manner given their shared last name.