Autumn Rose: A Dark Heroine Novel (3 page)

Feeling self-conscious and a little sick, I wrapped my arms around my middle, knowing that the sword balanced on my hip and the barriers around my mind and the magic in my blood couldn’t protect me from the words that would come.

Spotting the restroom, I dived into it, noticing that for once it did not smell like an ashtray. Neither did it smell of blood, although only a Sage would ever be able to detect that scent. Instead, it reeked of bleach, an aroma that was not much more pleasant.

I gripped the sink tightly, staring into the mirror, endlessly analyzing my hair and makeup. If it wasn’t perfect, they would notice. They always noticed. They would not notice the pimples on Christy’s forehead, or the sunburn across Gwen’s collar, but they would notice my fallen eyelash, or the chipped nail polish on my right thumb, or the scent of the cheap perfume I was now using because I had spent the money I had saved up from work in London.

I sighed. I had to get a grip, and fast. The new school year was beginning and it was my duty to protect all the humans in this school, even if the dislike was mutual.

I needed to be vigilant: I had heard the whispered rumors while I was in London. We all had. The Extermino were getting larger and bolder, and their attack on my town had proved it . . . why else would they bother with a tiny rural outpost?

And then what of the rumor about the dark beings of the second dimension: people were saying the vamperic kingdom had kidnapped a human girl. The second dimension was the only one where the existence of dark beings was kept secret from the humans . . . keeping a human hostage threatened to out us all, and then what? Even in the other eight dimensions, the dark beings lived uneasily. The Damned had lived through years of genocide by the
humans
just because they used blood magic and there were hardly any of them left; the elven fae suffered because of the climate change the
humans
were creating; and we, the Sage, were constantly having to negotiate other dark beings out of difficult situations because a diplomat had said something stupid.

Yet at the moment, unrest gripped the dark beings in a way I had never known in my short life.

I sighed once again, pressing my forehead to the mirror that on this rare occasion was not covered in lipstick graffiti. Things were changing; any dark being could feel that. We were losing ourselves, drowning in velveteen tradition and microchip technology, caught between one world and another—figuratively, of course, because each kind of being firmly belonged in their own dimension, whether the humans liked sharing or not.

Change was brewing, and I feared this was just the calm before the storm. If things did get bad, no amount of treaties could protect us from our enemies . . . ourselves, the Extermino . . . the humans.

Shaking my head, I realized what I was doing and pushed aside all depressing thoughts as my grandmother had taught me to do.
Dwelling on what has and will come to pass is as good as kicking the stool from beneath the future,
she always said.

Assuming that the buses would not be far away, I made my way back out after sweeping one last coat of mascara over my lashes. I cursed myself as I left, wishing I had kept my phone with me rather than casting it to school within my bag—now locked in my homeroom. At least then I could have texted one of the others.

Wandering around, parting the crowd, and doing my best to ignore the stares of the younger students, I did not notice when my feet came to rest at the foot of a dull bronze plaque. It stood beneath a large cherry tree, planted in the center of the concrete-and-plastic-clad courtyard we called the quad. The words on it were clear for all to see, and each and every letter reminded me of why there were no Sage in the area.

THIS
TREE
IS
PLANTED
IN
LOVING
MEMORY
OF
KURT
HOLDEN
,

WHO
DIED
ON
APRIL
23
,
1999
.

STUDENT
,
FRIEND
,
AND
BROTHER
.

TAKEN
TOO
EARLY
BY
MAGIC
.

I knew the story. Everybody knew the story. He was killed by accident when the guardian at the time failed to use proper shields when using magic. The school ceased to host a guardian for years, until the rumors about the Extermino had started and they decided they needed one again. Six months later, fresh out of the Sagean St. Sapphire’s School and still grieving the loss of my grandmother, I arrived.

But everybody remembered my predecessor’s failure . . . and they assumed I was the same.

“You can’t change what happened, you know.”

I sighed, a small smile just upturning the corners of my mouth. “It doesn’t hurt to wish I could.”

I turned and came face-to-face with one of the few people who had never uttered a bad word against me: Tammy. Nevertheless, she contradicted everything I said, thought my taste in everything from music to boys was strange, and hated my ability to read her thoughts. We were apples and oranges, but she didn’t judge and I appreciated that.

I gave her a quick hug. She withdrew before my hands had even met behind her back, a very visible shiver passing up her spine.

“So how was your summer?” I asked, rueful, knowing I would not have to ask that question if I had spared the time to meet up with her.

“I have so much to tell you.” She didn’t wait for me to answer, but continued, her words merging into one excited gush. “I kissed someone.” She snatched the sleeve of my blouse, tugging me beneath the privacy of the tree, lowering her voice. “I didn’t just get my first kiss though.” She pointed to the top button of her blouse, resting on her totally flat chest and petite frame.

I inhaled a sharp breath, sensing images from her consciousness of what she and this guy had been up to.

“And look.” She swept aside her tight, dark brown curls from the back of her neck, revealing several blotchy red marks, coated in what looked like powder. “I tried covering them with foundation, but it hasn’t really worked, has it? It just felt so, you know, nice, when he kissed my neck, I didn’t want to stop him.”

“Sure he wasn’t a vamp?” I asked, intending it to be a joke.

She shot me one of her glares and a sarcastic smile, her shoulders hunching like they always did when she was getting defensive. “I think I’d know a vampire if I met one.”

“Not necessarily,” I replied, but let the subject drop as I heard the high-pitched cackle of Gwen and the quieter chuckles of the other two, Tee and Christy, as they weaved their way between the benches toward us. Gwen’s dark hair shone against the late-summer sun, a grin spread across her face from ear to ear as she made squeezing—and not very subtle—motions with her hands in the air, opening her mouth to speak as she got close.

“So how is our deflowered girl today then?”

Tammy blushed bright red. “I didn’t actually do
it
with him! Honest!”

“Sure.” Gwen nodded, proceeding to make crude gestures with her fingers that I hoped the younger students could not see.

“I didn’t! Gwendolen, stop it!”

Gwen stopped immediately and scowled as she always did when someone used her full name.

The two of them descended into bickering, their circle closing. I gladly stepped back, focusing on filtering the chaotic thoughts of hundreds of teenage humans and allowing the barriers I had relaxed over the summer to rebuild, brick by brick, around my mind. I did not even notice my eyes close as my thoughts cleared and I was able to break past the excited chatter of students and the coffee-fueled grim resolve of the teachers. I felt my consciousness skim the green pasture of the fields that surrounded the school and rush like a torrent down the rolling hills toward the river that separated me from home. In the town, perched on the mouth of the river, the cobbled streets were lined with tourists and a second ferry had been laid on to cope with the rush. On the railings that lined the embankment, the gulls waited like vultures, knowing an easy feast was on its way.

The sound of my name forced me to release the image I had formed, and like the tide rushing out to sea, I returned, opening my eyes.

A hand much darker than my own tugged at my fingers, and round brown eyes stared up at me from behind a mass of tightly curled black hair, partly twisted into braids.

“Tee,” I said, greeting the younger student beside me. The girl, barely twelve, wrapped her wiry arms around my middle, clutching me like I was a sister—sometimes I felt like I cared for her as though she were a sibling. I might be inadequate at preventing the bullies from taunting me, but I hadn’t been able to stand the racist remarks that were casually thrown at Tee by the older students. In return for my sticking up for her, Tee’s cousin, Tammy, had sought me out as a friend and steered me toward Christy and Gwen.

“How was your summer?” I asked as Christy stepped around the chattering group, joining me.

“Quiet with lots of rain,” Christy replied, referring to the particularly bad summer we had endured—endless storms, broken by odd days of sunshine like the one we were lucky enough to be experiencing, lightening the blow of returning to a school regime. Tee nodded in agreement, lips raised at one corner into a glum expression I was sure I shared.

“I keep telling you, I didn’t do
it
!”

A shiver traveled up my spine. My gaze darted to the blossom of the autumn-flowering cherry tree, eyes trailing the frail pink petals as they descended, spiraling in slow circles toward the ground. A breeze stirred my hair.

“Gwen, I don’t want to talk about it.”

I wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling the chill the breeze brought tease out the goose bumps along my uncovered wrists. Above, the sun was snuffed as low, callous clouds clawed their way across the blue sky, leaving behind an ashen trail that betrayed them as coming from the direction of the sea.

Tee shuddered. Tammy untied her school jumper from around her waist and slipped it on.

“Tammy, you don’t need to—”

“Gwen, shut up!”

“I was only—”

“No, look at Autumn!”

The outlines of the tree and the people blurred, air gathering where there should be white shirts and bark. Only the falling blossom remained crisp: a rotating plume, falling, slow, slower, slow enough that I felt I could reach out and catch each petal from the air.

“Shit! Autumn, say something!”

I could hear every step of every student, falling into a rhythm, regular. The rise and fall of my chest filled in the pause between each beat, struggling to remain steady. My hand tightened, a finger at a time, around the hilt of my sword, tips tracing a ridge, feeling the grip worn from the years of practice mold to the shape of my palm. Between the metal and my flesh, sparks sprang, words forming on my lips as I prepared to cast.

“Autumn!”

In my empty hand I held a heart, my grip tightening and slackening to the rhythm of its pumping, knowing that the beat I felt belonged to something—something that wasn’t human; something that was nearing, fast.

Death danced on my lips and I allowed my magic to drain from my system into shields around as many of the students as I could manage. Then without tearing my eyes away from the falling blossom, I let go of the sword and slipped a small knife out of the scabbard instead. I gripped it in my right hand, curse balanced in the left; waiting.

Panicked, fearful babbling faded away, leaving only the thumping heartbeat of whomever—
whatever
—was coming.

I didn’t have to wait long. I heard breath behind me; felt another’s magic; heard a voice.

“Duchess.”

I spun around, lifting the dagger until it rested beneath the defined jawline of a man not much older than me. But it didn’t get any further.

Half-formed on my lips, a curse that would kill was snatched away by the wind that whipped past, replaced with a sharp intake of breath; then a silence that was only broken by the clatter of my dagger striking the ground. Thrust forward, my hand hung in midair, fingers sprawled from where I had let the blade fall.

I wet my lips, shock turning to realization. The seconds fell and neither of us moved. After a minute, it occurred to me to drop into a deep curtsy, onto one knee, aware of how high my skirt was hitching; aware of how the trees whispered
treason.

“Your Highness,” I managed, eyes fixed firmly on a blossom petal, partly crushed below the edge of my shoe.

“Duchess,” he repeated quietly so only I could hear. I raised my head, risking a glance, but did not allow our gazes to meet.

Always remember your place, Autumn. Etiquette, child, is everything.

My mind fought with itself.
He should not be here. He has no reason to be here.
But I could ignore neither the leather satchel resting at his side nor the planner in his other hand, the school logo printed on the hard front cover. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I knew the sixth form didn’t have to. A lump formed in my throat.

“Do you always greet people like that, or am I the exception?” His accent, Canadian, rang over the whispers of the students around us—they weren’t stupid. They read the magazines and watched the news. They knew who was standing before them.

“My apologies, Your Highness, I was not expecting you.”

“No, forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I nodded to the ground, feeling the urge to reach out and snatch up my dagger. I knew better.

The bell sounded, yet nobody moved.
The Athenea.
Not now. Not here.
Movement only began as teachers started to cross the tarmac, late and unhurried as they always were to homeroom. If they were surprised by the scene before them, they didn’t allow it to show.

“Good, I see you’ve met each other.”

The sound of the headmaster’s voice straightened me up; fingernails buried into my palms to help me keep control.