Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(58)

“Wait!” she said. “Look at Brecken.”

Brecken stood up from the other end of the table, grabbed Luther by the back of the neck, and whispered something in his ear. The laughter at the table dwindled. Luther scowled, but his face turned pale beneath his display of bravado. He surrendered the locket to Camille, shoved away from Brecken, and stormed out of the dining room.

Camille grasped the locket in her hand and took a step back, her eyes wide. Brecken sat down and resumed his previous conversation as if nothing had happened.

“Wow,” I whispered, lowering myself back to the bench. “He’s good.”

“Really good,” Michelle agreed.

Camille left the Guardians and walked over to our table.

“Merry meet Bianca, Michelle, Nicolas. How are you?” Camille asked, her eyes distant.

“Everything all right, Camille?” Michelle asked.

“Just grand!” she cried with her usual gusto, but her eyes snaked over to Brecken, who still ignored her.

“Are you angry with Brecken?” I asked.

Her lips pressed together. “We aren’t on speaking terms right now. We had a little argument over algebra the other day.”

“Oh,” Michelle said quietly. I silently offered Camille my roll. She reached right past it to grab my brownie and then bit into it with an angry vengeance.

A shout from the kitchen forced Nicolas to his feet.

“I got ta get back,” he said with a sigh. “Thanks for eating with me, Miss Michelle, Miss Bianca, Miss Camille.” He nodded to each of us, gathered up his plate, and disappeared. Michelle stared at his broad back with a pathetic little sigh. Like Camille, she drifted off into a different place with a glazed look on her face. I turned back to my food, burying myself in thoughts of forest dragons, war, and the Council meeting to come the next day.





Reliable Stella

“May I speak with you a moment, Bianca?”

Merrick and I looked up from our silent walk the next morning in surprise. Stella stood on the garden path in front of us, a long burgundy dress with a dark lace overlay sweeping the top of the stones at her feet. The bright sun shone on her graying auburn hair, making her look very lovely.

“Yes, Miss Stella,” I said, slowing to a stop in front of her. Merrick cast me a questioning look, nodded once to Stella, and continued on his way. She waited until he was out of earshot to continue.

“I don’t have much time,” she said, folding her petite hands in front of her. “The Council meeting to vote over the decision regarding your father is about to start.”

“Yes,” I said, my eyes flickering up to the windows in the West Wing. “I know. I’ve been track—”

“I came to see if you’d ever been to the basement of the West Wing,” she said quickly, cutting me off.

“Yes, I’ve been in there a few times,” I drawled, startled by her question.

“There’s a little office in the lower floors that Mildred and I used to work in long ago. I think there is something that you may be interested in there, if you can keep a secret.”

A small square of paper appeared in her right hand.

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I can keep a secret.”

She smiled. “Wonderful. Then this is all you need. If I were you, I’d head there now.”

I took the proffered slip of paper. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous little edge.

“Be careful,” she said. “And keep your ears open.”

With that, Stella disappeared, leaving me staring at the little piece of paper in disbelief.

???

The paper—which had turned out to be a set of directions—led me to the lowest floors of the West Wing, an area dedicated to storage and offices for the lowliest assistants. No other witch haunted the quiet halls with me, leaving me to run through the silence with the wraiths of witches who once lived there. An unknown drive pushed me, hurrying me along. Whatever this would lead me to, I had a feeling it involved the Council meeting for Papa.

Hurry, hurry, the quiet hallway seemed to say. The Council is starting.

“Right here,” I whispered, stopping at an old door on my left. The ornate carvings around the edges held pockets of dust. The tarnished silver handle and deep groove lines in the wood indicated it hadn’t been visited in some time.

The door swung into the room with a groan. Dust coated the floor and walls, tickling the inside of my nose. Cobwebs swathed the corners, swooping about the bookshelves and tapestries. A dusty light settled through a couple of high windows, muted from grime on the inside of the panes. A feeling of forgottenness pervaded the room, as if the owner had just stood up and walked away without looking back. Feathers, half-opened scrolls, and old books littered the desk.

Elaborate tapestries hung from the stone walls between each bookcase. I couldn’t make out the pictures through the coating of powder, but had a feeling they were rare. The aged, bitter smell of rotting parchment overwhelmed me. If Camille had an office, I imagined it would look just like this.

I looked down at the note.

Beneath the big tapestry. Declan should open it.

I ran my fingertips along the stone wall to find a seam and a subtle rift in the rocks caught my eye. No doubt it hid a secret passage. A castle this old likely held her own secrets. I muttered an opening incantation in the Declan language under my breath, letting my fingers trail along the cool stone facade. A squat doorway soon gave way with a great groan, spilling light into a corridor that surely hadn’t seen it in years.