Hex Hall (19 page)

"Do you think the teachers are hard on me because of my dad?" I asked Archer, looking up from the textbook spread across my lap.

"Probably." He hoisted himself onto an empty shelf.

"Prodigium have pretty big egos. Not al of them are your dad's biggest fan, and Casnoff wouldn't want the other parents to think you're getting special treatment just because your dad is practicaly their king."

He raised an eyebrow. "Which makes you Crown Princess."

I roled my eyes. "Oh yeah. Just let me polish my tiara and I'm set."

"Oh, come on, Mercer. I think you'd make a good queen.

You've definitely got the snotty part down."

"I am not snotty!" I nearly yelped.

He leaned back on his elbows, a wicked smile on his face.

"Please. The first day I met you, you practicaly had a layer of permafrost covering you."

"Only because you were a jerk," I retorted. "You told me I sucked at being a witch."

"You did suck," he said with a laugh.

And then, in what was becoming a running joke, we said in unison, "Bad dog!" and smiled at each other.

"You're just not used to meeting women who don't fal al over your ass like you're in a boy band or something," I said when our laughter had subsided a little.

I'd turned back to my essay, so I had to look up when I realized he hadn't answered me.

He was looking at me with a smal smile, a strange glint in his eye. "So why didn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Wel, according to you, women are always faling over me.

So why didn't you? Not your type?"

I took a deep breath and hoped he didn't notice. Weird little moments like this one were getting too common with Archer and me.

Maybe it was al the time we spent together alone in the celar, or how familiar we'd gotten with each other's bodies while kicking the crap out of each other in Defense, but I was beginning to notice a subtle shift in our relationship. I wasn't delusional enough to believe that he actualy liked me or anything, but flirting had definitely entered the picture. It left me feeling strange and totaly unsure of myself in moments like these.

"Nope," I finaly said, striving for a light tone. "I've always had a thing for the nerdy type. Arrogant pretty boys don't realy ring my bel."

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up."

I needed to change the subject. "What about your family?" I asked.

He looked up, startled. "What?"

"Your family. Do they like my dad?"

He looked away quickly and gave a half shrug, but I could see something was wrong. "My family pretty much stays out of politics," he said. Then he held up his list. "Have you seen Vampire Fang: D. Froceli?"

I shook my head.

As I turned back to my essay I wondered what the heck I'd said to freak Archer out so much. It occurred to me that in the past six weeks we'd been working together, Archer hadn't talked much about his family. It had never realy bothered me before, but of course now that I knew he didn't want to talk about it, I was consumed by curiosity.

I wondered if Jenna would know anything about Archer's past, but then I quickly tossed the idea. Jenna was barely speaking to anyone and was clearly going through some major crap. The last thing she needed was me pestering her about my crush.

By the time the Vandy came for us, I'd already finished most of my essay, and I decided I would do the rest of it in the morning before class.

I walked back to my room, but as I did, I passed Elodie's open door and heard Anna's soft, lilting voice say, "Wel, I'd be suspicious if it were my boyfriend."

I paused just outside the door and heard Elodie answer, "I would be if she weren't such a freak. Trust me, if Archer had to be stuck in the basement with any girl at this school, I'm positively thriled it's Sophie Mercer. Archer wouldn't look at her twice."

It's funny. I knew that Archer wasn't interested in me, but actualy hearing another person say it realy, realy sucked.

"She does have big boobs," Anna mused.

Elodie just snorted at that. "Please, Anna. Big boobs are not enough to compensate for being short and plain. And that hair!"

Even though I couldn't see her, I imagined Elodie gave a shudder at that. I, meanwhile, was starting to feel vaguely nauseated. I knew I should walk away, but I couldn't stop listening. I wonder why it is that we always want to hear people talk about us, even if it's horrible stuff. And, you know, it's not like Elodie was saying anything I didn't know. I was short and plain and I did have crazy hair. I'd said these things about myself lots of times. So why were hot tears stinging my eyes?

"Yeah, but Archer is weird," Anna said. "Remember how mean he was to you first year? Like, didn't he cal you a shalow bimbo, or something? Or dumb--"

"That's in the past now, Anna," Elodie said tightly, and I had to suppress a laugh. So Archer had apparently once been sensible.

What had changed? Did Elodie actualy have some depth to her, like he'd said? 'Cause I sure wasn't hearing anything deeper than a bedpan.

"Anyway, even if Archer was insane enough to have a thing for Sophie, after the Al Halow's Eve Bal, he won't even think about looking at another girl."

"Why?"

"I've decided to give myself to him."

Oh, gross. Who says stuff like that? Why didn't she just say

"delicate flower" or "carnal treasure" or something equaly stupid?

But Anna, of course, squealed. "Omigod, that is so romantic!"

Elodie giggled, which was a weird sound coming from her.

Girls like Elodie should cackle. "I know, right?"

I'd definitely heard enough, so I tiptoed away and softly opened the door to my room.

Jenna was, as usual, curled up on her bed, one of her hot-pink throws puled over her. She was doing this a lot now, pretending to be asleep so that I wouldn't talk to her. Normaly I just gave her what she wanted and didn't attempt a conversation. But tonight I sat on the edge of her bed hard enough to bounce her a little. "Guess what I just overheard?" I singsonged.

She puled down one corner of the blanket, and one eye blinked owlishly at me. "What?"

I repeated the conversation between Anna and Elodie, finishing up with, "Can you believe that? 'Give myself to him'? Ugh.

What's wrong with just saying
sex
, you know?"

I was rewarded with a tiny smile. "That is pretty stupid,"

Jenna said.

"Totaly stupid," I agreed.

"Did they say anything about Chaston?"

Surprised, I said, "Uh . . . no. Not that I heard, at least. But you heard what Mrs. Casnoff said at dinner a few nights ago.

Chaston's fine and resting in the Riviera or some other glamorous place with her parents. She'l be back next year."

"I just can't believe they're gossiping about boys when one of their coven is dead, and another one nearly died just three weeks ago."

"Yeah, wel, they're shalow jerks. Not exactly news, that."

"Yeah."

I stripped out of my clothes and puled on a Hecate-issue blue tank top and a pair of pajama pants my mom had sent me last week. They were white cotton covered with tiny blue witches riding brooms. I think they were her way of saying she was sorry for the fight; I was sorry too, and had caled her to tel her so. It felt nice to be on good terms with her again.

"Wow, I realy bruised your shoulders," Jenna said, sitting up.

I glanced down. "Oh . . . right. No big deal. They don't even hurt."

They did stil hurt a little.

Jenna's eyes were bright, and I think she was trying not to cry. "I'm stil realy sorry about that, Soph. I was just so freaked out and hurt, and . . . and sometimes I lose control."

Icy fear ran down my spine, but I tried to ignore it. Jenna was my friend. Yes, she'd vamped out on me, but she'd snapped out of it immediately.

But you're
her
friend. Chaston definitely wasn't. And
who knows about Holly?

Nope. Not going there.

Instead I said with mock confusion, "Lose control of what?

Your bladder? Because you might want to get that checked out. I'm
so
not loaning you any sheets."

"You're such a freak." She giggled.

"Takes one to know one!"

For the next couple of hours, we chatted and attempted to study for Magical Evolution. By lights out, Jenna seemed almost like her old self again.

"Night, Jenna," I said when the lights finaly blinked off.

"Night, Soph."

I stared at the slanting ceiling, my head ful of thoughts: Archer, Elodie and Anna, Jenna, that conversation with Cal by the pond. I fel asleep wondering if Archer knew he was about to become the proud recipient of Elodie's virginity.

I didn't know what time it was when I awoke to find the girl in green standing at the foot of my bed. My heart in my mouth, I was sure I had to be dreaming, that there was no way this could be real.

Then she gave a exasperated sigh and, in a British accent, said, "Sophia Mercer. What trouble
you've
been."

I
sat up in bed, blinking.

It was the girl I'd been seeing since I'd started at Hecate, but she didn't look anything like a ghost; she looked very much flesh and blood.

"Wel?" she asked, raising one perfect eyebrow. "Are you coming or not?"

I glanced over at Jenna. Al I could make out was a dark lump. By the sound of her steady, even breathing, I knew she was stil asleep.

The girl folowed my gaze. "Oh, don't worry about her," she said with a dismissive wave. "She won't wake up and sound the alarm. No one wil; I've taken care of that."

Before I could ask what she meant, she turned and swept out the door.

I sat frozen until she reappeared in the doorway and said,

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Sophia, let's
go
!"

Now, I knew that folowing a ghost was a Very Bad Idea.

Everything in my body said that. My skin felt clammy and my stomach was in knots. But I found myself pushing off my covers, grabbing my Hecate blazer off the back of my chair, and catching up to her at the top of the stairs.

"Good," she said. "We have a lot of work to do and not much time."

"Who are you?" I whispered.

She flashed me that irritated look again. "I told you, you don't have to whisper. No one can hear us."

She stopped on the stairs and threw her head back, shouting, "Casnoff! Vandy! Sophia Mercer is out of bed and up to mischief with a ghooooooooooost!"

I instinctively crouched down. "Shhhh!"

But just as she'd promised, there was no sign that anyone had heard her. The only sound was the muffled ticking of the grandfather clock in the main foyer and my own hard breathing.

"See?" she said, turning to me with a bright smile. "Taken care of. Now come along."

She ran down the last few steps, and before I knew it, we were outside on the front lawn. The night was cool and damp, and the grass squished unpleasantly under my feet. I looked down to make sure I was only standing on grass and noticed that my feet seemed a weird shade of green. Then I noticed I could see my shadow even though there was no moon.

I whirled around to look back at Hecate and gasped. The whole house was encased in a huge opalescent bubble that glimmered with dul green light. The bubble was in constant motion, undulating and shooting off pale green sparks. I had never seen anything like it; never even read about a spel like that.

"Impressive, isn't it?" the girl said smugly. "It's a basic sleeping spel that renders the victims totaly insensible to the world for at least four hours. I just . . . enlarged it."

I didn't like the way she said "victims."

"Are they . . . are they okay?"

"Oh, perfectly safe," she answered. "Just sleeping. Like in a fairy tale."

"But . . . Mrs. Casnoff has spels al over the place. No one could just come in and do a spel that big."

"I can!" the girl said. Then she grabbed my hand. Hers was as solid and real as mine. I was sure Mrs. Casnoff had said ghosts couldn't touch us. But before I could ask, the girl started puling me away from the house.

"Wait. I can't go anywhere with you until I know who you are and what you're doing here. Why have you been folowing me?"

She sighed. "Oh, Sophia, I had hoped you were a little more perceptive. Isn't it obvious who I am?"

I studied her knee-length flowered dress and bright green cardigan. Her hair was shoulder length, curly, and held back from her face with bobby pins. Glancing down, I saw that she was wearing heinous brown shoes. I felt a little sorry for her: ghost or no, no one should have to go through eternity in ugly shoes.

But then I looked into her eyes. They were large and wide set, and even though the green light was reflected in them, I could tel that they were blue.

My eyes.

British, from the forties, and had my eyes.

"Alice?" I asked, my heart in my throat.

She smiled broadly. "Excelent! Now, just come with me and--"

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, holding a hand to my head.

"You're teling me that you're the ghost of my great-grandmother?"

That irritated look again. "Yes."