Sacrifices (7 page)

“When I came to Oakhurst, I fell in love,” Loch said quietly. “And I know he isn’t interested.”

She was so worried about Burke that it took Spirit a moment to work her way through to figure out what Loch meant. She knew he was gay. Clark Howard had thrown it in her face at the Sadie Hawkins Dance, but that was after Loch had already told her. Partly because he knew the Shadow Knights knew. Partly because the two of them were friends.

“You should tell him, Loch,” she says. “Whoever it is. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s just scared of coming out … here. Like you are.”

“Is it paranoia if they’re really out to get you?” Loch asked with a sad smile. “I don’t have to tell him to know I’m right, Spirit. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

That was when it hit her—the realization of who he was talking about.
It’s Burke. He’s in love with Burke.
She’d thought things sucked for
her,
but at least she had Burke. Poor Loch! Spirit felt overwhelming grief and sympathy. “Oh, Loch,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I would never—”

“I know,” Loch said. “I know if it was the other way around you wouldn’t try to get between me and Burke just because you loved him. Same here.”

She smiled at him uncertainly. This was the sort of secret she would have no problem keeping … but why was Loch?…

“But you’re wondering why I’m telling you this,” Loch said, nodding as if she’d spoken aloud. “Because, as the saying goes, the best way to keep a secret is not to tell anyone. Simple. Radial’s going to be declared in-bounds for the Good Children sooner than anyone thinks. In practice, the people who’re going to get Town Privs will be just about anyone they’re still trying to get at—or get rid of. I’m not sure which list I’m on, but it doesn’t really matter: I’m pretty sure Oakhurst is going to set up something to … well …
out
me … and make sure word gets around in Radial. There’s some other guys here that … well, let’s say I won’t be the only one. Unfortunately. And between small-town America and whatever the Shadow Knights do, well … I know I’ve been acting weird around Burke these last several weeks. I just didn’t want … I hope you’ll explain for me.”

“You think you won’t be here,” Spirit said with a cold chill of horror.

“Do you think this whole ‘oh, hey, I’m in love with your boyfriend’ conversation is
easy
for me?” Loch said in exasperation. “Why the hell do you think I learned
parkour
in the first place? I’ve gotten really tired of being dragged off and beaten within an inch of my life! I’ve seen my friends— I saw David—” He broke off, struggling to control himself. “If it goes down the way I think, Spirit, I don’t think they’ll stop with a beating this time,” he finished softly. “Maybe Breakthrough just wants me to be scared enough to join them to save myself. But I won’t. So I just—”

“You listen to me, Lachlan Galen Spears,” Spirit said fiercely. “We’ve gotten this far together. We’ll get the rest of the way together. You’re my friend, and you’re Burke’s friend, and … and nobody messes with my friends,” she finished awkwardly.

“You tell ’em, Rambo,” Loch said with a painful smile.

But she knew he didn’t believe her.

*   *   *

“
We meet again, Guinevere,” Mordred said.

His body was bound in a hundredweight of silver chains, and he stood in the center of a circle that had been drawn on the floor of her pavilion. The air was fogged with the smoke of sacred incense. Knights and priests and Druids stood along the walls, each poised to defend. The precautions were nearly enough.

“You will give me my title,” Guinevere said austerely
.

Mordred Kinslayer sneered. He would have swept her a mocking bow, but when he shifted, his shoulder brushed against the bound of the circle. Lightning crackled and flared, and the air was filled with the scent of an oncoming storm. He straightened with an effort.

“Shall I name you Queen? Arthur cast you out.”

“Do you think so? Day after day you dripped your adder’s poison in his ear, hoping to cause him to set me aside, for you know that he who is my husband—
whoever
is my husband—holds Britain. You meant him to imprison me in Glastonbury Abbey—did you think I would be so grateful to leave it that I would go with you when you came?”

“I think you would go with any man who offered you power … Lady,” Mordred answered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Bedwyr stepped forward growling in fury, his hand on his sword. Guinevere raised her hand. He stepped back.

“Do not measure others by yourself, Kinslayer. My husband was no fool. The Lady of the Lake took me into her care—I went to Avalon, not to Glastonbury, as Arthur and I both intended. And there I prepared
my
army to fight you.”

“An army which came too late!” Mordred cried. “Now Arthur is dead, and my time will come! Imprison me as you wish, False Guinevere! I have been steeped in blackest sorcery since I lay in the womb! My power is greater than any other—I have conquered Death, and I shall conquer Britain!”

“Greater than any, Kinslayer?” Guinevere said softly.

A figure stepped through the doorway of the tent. His hair and beard were white, and though he wore the dark plain robe of a scholar, he was still muscled like the blacksmith he had once been. In his hand was a staff hewn from the wood of the Sacred Oak, and at its top was fixed a shimmering green thunderstone.

He was The Merlin of Britain.

“You’re dead!” Mordred shrieked.

The Merlin smiled coldly. “Did you not wonder where your wench Nimue went when she abandoned you? Do you not wonder into whose hands she gave your secrets? The trap you meant for my tomb could not hold me—but I—
I
will craft a prison that will hold you until the end of Time.…”

*   *   *

Spirit woke to the shrill wail of her backup alarm. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. Her head felt heavy and achy, and everything hurt. Only the sight of the time displayed on her laptop got her out of bed—she had twenty minutes to get to the Refectory if she wanted breakfast, and
didn’t
want demerits.

But even as rushed as she was, she logged in to her email account first. Missing the morning Motivational Message would be dire. She grabbed an armful of clothes and dressed as she skimmed it quickly (important, leadership, the future, sacrifice, milestone, capacity, discovery, challenge, guidance, reward, triumph, yadda). She was about to dash out the door when she saw the next email in the queue was a memo from
FACULTY
. There hadn’t been one of those in quite a while (since Oakhurst had given up telling them whoever wasn’t at breakfast
this
time had “left to pursue other opportunities”), and it wasn’t to
STUDENTS
but to
SPIRIT WHITE
, so even though she was running late, she opened it. The first paragraph was the usual puffery about Oakhurst students being the leaders of tomorrow; she skipped it. The next paragraph congratulated Spirit for being on the Approved List due to her exemplary (more boilerplate; she skipped ahead).

—in pursuit of our ongoing mandate to leverage our core competencies and reach out to the people of McBride County in an ongoing spirit of embracing the unique opportunities—

Radial was being declared in-bounds, just as all the rumors had said. Just as
Loch
had said. Students could work with their teachers to earn “Deportment Points,” which could be used as skips for their academic classes—and to go into town.

Meaning we’re all still going to be used as punching bags, but by working around the clock we can earn the chance to go to Radial and spend money we don’t have on things that aren’t there,
she thought in exasperation. If they were “under siege” the way Breakthrough kept saying they were, giving them Town Privs was close to the stupidest thing she’d ever heard of. (At least next week’s Dance Committee meeting was at Oakhurst so she didn’t have to freeze to death while she argued with Juliette Weber about what colors the Spring Fling bunting should be.)

She slammed the lid of her computer to put it to sleep and headed for the door at a dead run. She got to the Refectory just as they were closing the doors. She skidded inside, panting just a little, and headed for the breakfast line. When she got there, she saw Addie was a few places ahead of her. She looked completely exhausted. She was talking to Maddie Harris (another Water Witch), and from eavesdropping, Spirit found out she’d been in the pool being drilled by Madison Lane-Rider until almost one this morning.

Spirit felt a spark of jealousy that Addie was talking to Maddie about her horrible night instead of to her, but she knew it was unfair. Addie
could
talk to Maddie without risking having her vanish. Or worse.

She got her tray and walked to her table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loch at his new table. He looked as if he’d dressed in as much haste as she had. He was talking to a dark-haired boy Spirit knew slightly. Both of them seemed intent on their conversation, and Spirit felt a pang of … not jealousy this time, but worry. Oakhurst didn’t like it if you made friends; Breakthrough positively loathed it.

She’d just picked up her fork—she had no appetite this morning, but if she didn’t eat she knew she’d regret it—when Ms. Corby came in with her clipboard.
Ah, it’s the morning announcements,
Spirit thought wryly. She took as much pleasure as she could from Ms. Corby’s sour expression. She’d always acted as if dealing with a building full of teenagers gave her about the same level of thrill as cleaning up toxic waste, but since Breakthrough got here she looked about ready to spit nails. Spirit started to tune her out—anything really important would be in email—when the phrase “class reorganization” caught her attention.

Oh, that isn’t fair!
she thought a moment later, setting down her fork. Her
Systema
class had been moved to right after breakfast—and it was going to be one of the new extra long ones, too. Her Norse Folklore class had been moved to just before lunch (she was starting to wonder if Madison Lane-Rider ever slept), and in the afternoon, there was an Endurance Ride—which would take the whole afternoon, and kill her if Ovcharenko didn’t manage it this morning.

I wasn’t supposed to be stuck with Endurance Riding again until next week!
she thought angrily.

The Endurance class could only accommodate twelve riders at a time, so they only had it every third day. The lucky class scheduled for a Thursday ride got four days between rides, not three—but thanks to “class reorganization” she had it again this afternoon!

I remember hating Mr. Wallis’s gym class. I’d give anything if he were teaching it now,
she thought dolefully. There was no point in eating breakfast now. She’d just end up puking all over the gym.

“Awww …
kitten,
” Muirin said with fulsome mockery. “You’ve got to turn that frown upside down!” She leaned against the edge of the table.

Spirit just shook her head wearily. Muirin was dressed for
Vogue,
not for Oakhurst, and getting here in time for breakfast was clearly not an issue with her these days.

“Madison was telling me about her new boutique, and it’s going to be so awesome—she says she’s going to talk to the Fashion Institute of Technology about showcasing some of their student designers—light-years better than all those Sixth Avenue hacks!—and even have Breakthrough fund an FIT scholarship for Oakhurst students! She’s going to completely redo one of those vacant shops in Radial as her flagship store and maybe even do a fashion shoot at the Spring Fling—you know, because just about everyone there’s going to be wearing one of her dresses? I know I am—and it’s going to be fabulous! No more of this tacky makeover crap from the Isle of Misfit Prom Gowns—and the Dance! I really don’t know why you guys are bothering with the Dance Committee—Madison told me she’d consider it an
honor
to take over the whole design—”

“Madison told me.” “Madison said.” Don’t you know any other words, Muirin? How can you think she’s going to keep a single one of her promises?
All this was absolutely insane. Why would anyone who intended to start a fashion line showcase their stuff at a hick town dance? Well, the answer, of course, was that they wouldn’t, if starting a fashion line was really what they were doing. But if it was all part of a recruiting scheme, well, it didn’t matter how crazy something sounded as long as the fish swallowed the bait. Madison Lane-Rider—and Breakthrough—were dangling everything Muirin had ever wanted in front of her, no matter how crazy it sounded to Spirit, and Muirin was smart enough to know she’d only get those things by doing what they wanted.

The question was—exactly what would Muirin Shae do to get all of her dreams handed to her on a silver platter?

QUERCUS told me we’d be safe if we kept our heads down and didn’t stand out, but I don’t think that’s going to work much longer,
Spirit thought as Muirin babbled on. She didn’t seem to care whether Spirit was listening or not.
But things are getting really bad really fast, and I’m starting to think we
can’t
escape—if we try it, we’ll just vanish like all the others, and I really don’t want to know where to.…

QUERCUS was the only thing that let Spirit hold on to the hope that they might—possibly—live through this. In January, Oakhurst had arranged a field trip to Billings. Muirin hadn’t been on the list of students authorized to go, but she’d stowed away, partly for the chance to pick up some contraband—she’d been smuggling harmless (but forbidden) items into Oakhurst since before Spirit arrived. She’d asked Spirit to sneak her items into the school with her own purchases—knowing Spirit’s bags wouldn’t be searched—and of course Spirit said yes.

That was when the Ironkey flash drive had mysteriously appeared. At first Spirit had thought it belonged to Muirin, but Muirin had never asked her for it, and when she plugged it in to her computer, Spirit could get past the Oakhurst firewall.