Excerpt:

The pain was still there by the time Rebecca woke.

It was dark already. She groaned in pain, sitting up in the small bed. It took a bit of time for her eyes to adjust to the dark. A row of identical beds, small white and composed of a metal frame. There were curtains over the windows, and even though Rebecca could not see them very properly, she assumed that they were decorated with a floral pattern.

This was the school’s infirmary.

With each agonizing breath, Rebecca glanced around the room. Was she alone in this room? It seemed like it.

Rebecca gasped, lying back in the bed, trying to shove the pain down. It won in the end and Rebecca pulled her pillow over her head before screaming into it.

That bastard.

This was entirely his fault.

Darkwood.

This pain had only begun when he had her start using magic. Had that blonde woman he summoned do something to her? What sick twisted spell had he cast upon her, which would make her unable to use her magic?

Was this another one of his tests?

Enough was enough. Rebecca would get the answer out of Darkwood, no matter how much pain she was in.

As gently as possible, she slipped out of the bed. Still, she had to grip the metal side bar to stand properly. It hurt to stand by herself. Fumbling with her hands in front of her, she searched the room for something to support her weight. The infirmary would have a crutch of some sort.

Instead of a crutch, she managed to locate her blazer and book-bag. Rebecca pulled them on, and hobbled over to the door.

Once in the hall, she had to lean one shoulder against the wall as she stumbled down the hall. The pain gave her no quarter, making each step more difficult than the last. But Rebecca found strength in that pain. Each step was another reason to hate Darkwood. Gritting her teeth, she reveled in the newfound power of her determination.

Slumped against the wall, Rebecca peered out one of the windows that faced the teacher’s offices. Dr. White’s office was on the first floor. Just as she suspected, there was a glow from behind the blinds. Of course Darkwood was in the office, he had spent the last two nights there.

She was just glad she did not have to walk to the teacher’s cottages.

With a grunt, she pushed off the wall and set out for the stairs.

Darkwood tossed another book to the ground. Currently, the pile on the ground consisted of about twenty or so different tomes, all of them as useless as the last. He ran a finger down the left side of his face, from the corner of his eye to his chin, groaning. Nothing. All of these books. All of these last hours and he had nothing. At least Quinton was in the infirmary. At least he did not have to deal with her while he searched these books.

One of them had to have at least a clue. He shoved away from the desk, rolling back in the chair, and stood. The only problem he could see so far was that there were so many books and he was not exactly sure what he was looking for. All he could do was hope that he would have a sudden moment of inspiration and he would just know what he had been searching for all these long hours.

He pulled Curses and Cures off the shelf and continued running his eyes across the spines of the others on its shelf. Darkwood stared at the cover for a moment, before tossing it behind him onto the desk. Then he went back to searching.

He did not even hear the door open.

“You sick bastard.”

Darkwood turned his head to the figure in the doorframe. Instantly, his head went back to the shelf. There went his peacefully tedious search. He pulled another book down and stared at the cover, before tossing it onto the desk with the other. “Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary, Quinton?”

The girl stumbled into the room and grabbed the back of a chair, using it as support to stand. “What did you do to me?” She spat out through her teeth. Darkwood imagined whatever had caused her to pass out was still there.

“I took you to the infirmary and left you there.” He said, tapping a book on the spine. “How would you describe your pain?” He shook his head and moved onto another shelf. “Be as specific as possible.”

“I’m not telling you anything, until you tell me what’s wrong with me!” she hissed. Darkwood clucked his tongue, running his finger down his face again. What a sudden change in this girl.

“I’m afraid I’ll need to know more about what’s happening to you if you want me to answer that question, Quinton.” Darkwood turned away from the shelf and went back to the books on the desk. He flipped open the copy of Curses and Cures and turned back to Rebecca. “So I ask you once more. How would you describe your pain?”

Rebecca stared back at him in silence, until Darkwood raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m fascinating to look at Quinton, but nothing will come of it.” He could make out the vein throbbing in her neck. She winced and Darkwood lowered his eyebrow. “Really, I can do this all night. I’m not the one who’s been bleeding from places they normally wouldn’t.”

“It’s like I’ve been stabbed.” She cried, flinging herself around the chair. Her hands slammed down on the desk. Darkwood stared in curiosity, before turning back to the book.

“Curious.” He muttered, turning the page. “That’s new. Now, where does it hurt Quinton?”
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” she screamed, flinging one of the books off the desk. Darkwood glanced up.

“I did need that, you know.” He said, tilting his head to the tome she threw. “And I already told you what I did to you.”

“NO YOU DIDN’T!” She screamed and threw another book again.

Darkwood sighed and ran his finger down his face. “Your little tantrum isn’t helping me one bit.” Rebecca screamed at him once more. He glanced up from the book. “Where is the pain, Quinton?”

“My chest!” She thrust her own finger at the spot between her breasts. “HERE! RIGHT HERE!”

Darkwood stared at where she pointed for a moment before giving a little sniff. “Rather typical.”

“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING, DARKWOOD?”

“It’s Professor Darkwood, Quinton.” At least she forgot to throw one of his books this time. “I don’t know.” He simply said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be looking through all these books.” He indicated to the pile with a jerk of his head. “Are you in too much pain to cast spells or block any?”

“Yes.” She stared at him with wide eyes, Eyes full of confusion.

He was quite tired of looking at them, honestly.

“Good.” He said, before holding out one of his hands at her. “Nap time.”

Rebecca’s eyes rolled back into her skull and she fell backwards. Darkwood summoned the chair forward, to catch her. It missed, and she fell to the floor.

“Oh dear.” He said, peering over the desk. Sighing, he turned back to the book. “Well, at least it shut her up.”

Rebecca groaned. The light. She hated the light. She attempted, in vain, to brush the horizontal bars off her face, before slowly stirring and rising.

The floor? She had slept on the floor? Rebecca spun her head around. Dr. White’s office! She had fallen asleep in Dr. White’s office? How?

The last thing she remembered was screaming at Darkwood and…

The pain.

Rebecca clutched at her chest. There was no pain. It had disappeared again, vanished in her slumber. But why had she fallen asleep on the floor of Dr. White’s office?

That bastard, Darkwood.

She shot up and swayed. The blood rushed to her head from the speed she stood up in. Rebecca shoved her arm against the desk to keep from falling over from light headedness. The desk shook and the books piled upon it fell.

Darkwood groaned. His head slowly rose from the pile of books upon it. “Oh no,” he slurred. “Really, I’ll be fine, despite the head injuries, Quinton.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

“The pain’s gone.”

Darkwood grunted and began restacking the book pile on the desk. Rebecca stared at him in silence for a few moments. He never looked up from the desk.

“Why is it gone?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know.” Darkwood said, looking up. He shook his head before opening one of the books. Once again, Darkwood plopped himself into the large chair behind Dr. White’s desk and began to read. Rebecca clenched her jaw before continuing.

“You don’t know what you did to me?”

Darkwood remained quiet, his face twisted in concentration. He tapped the edge of the desk, before pointing at one of the shelves. “Psychosis and Magic.” He said, spinning his finger. “Get me a copy.”

“No.” She said, before sitting in the armchair. “Not until you tell me what you’ve done to me.”

Darkwood looked up from the book, staring at Rebecca with his blank gaze. After a while, he turned back to the book. “I already told you what I did.” He said, flipping the page. “When you passed out, I wiped all the blood off your face and got any that fell onto your clothing off. Then I took you to the Infirmary and told the healer that you had passed out, most likely from exhaustion.”

Rebecca frowned. “I don’t care about that. I want to know what you did to me that caused me to pass out in the first place.”

Once again, Darkwood was silent as he scanned the book, flipping pages at random intervals. Suddenly, he looked up from the book. “Nothing.” He simply said, with a shrug.

Liar.

Rebecca leaned forward in her chair. “None of this happened when Dr. White was here. But suddenly you show up and this happens.” She placed her hands on the edge of the desk. “What did you do?”

Darkwood frowned. “You’re a compulsive note taker, right?”

“What?”

“Your notebook.” He said, pointing to her bag. “You take notes on everything, right?”

Rebecca nodded slowly. “Well, yes. But I don’t see what that has to do with what I asked you.”

Darkwood closed the book in front of him, with a sigh. Leaning forward, he weaved his fingers together. “Were you always like that?”

“Like what?”

Darkwood rolled his eyes. “Notes. Did you always take notes down on everything?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Dr. White got me in the habit.”

Darkwood smiled. “Good. That’s what I was hoping for.”

Rebecca blinked. “I’m sorry… I’m not following you.”

Darkwood stood and pulled his coat on. “Did White keep a journal?”

Rebecca trailed behind Darkwood, trying to keep his pace. Since the question in Dr. White’s office, he had not spoken once. He had not even insulted her. Every question that Rebecca had asked, Darkwood only grunted and shrugged. Something had gotten him riled up. They were headed for the teacher’s cottages.

“Sir, what are you doing?” She asked once more.

Darkwood let out a long sigh. “You said you started taking notes on everything because White got you in the habit, right?” He said, turning his attention to Rebecca.

She nodded. “He said it would be easier to remember things if I wrote them down.”

“You pretty much do whatever he says, I’m guessing. The whole ‘formula explanation’ and this note taking are all traits you picked up from Dr. White.” Darkwood explained, shrugging. “There must be some sort of journal that White took notes in. My guess is that he kept it at home.”

Rebecca nodded. “That’s nice, but how is this supposed to help me?”

Darkwood paused in step. “Why does everything have to be about you?”

“I’m just saying that…”

“You’ve been with White for three years, right?” Darkwood asked.

Rebecca nodded.

“Are you aware of how private instructors, like White, receive students?”

Rebecca nodded once more. “They either hand-pick a student, or are assigned one if they can’t choose one for themselves.” She frowned. “Why?”

“My guess is that White hand-picked you. This probably means he observed your habits and personality for a while, before he decided you’d be the perfect student for him.” Darkwood explained, before he began walking again. Rebecca followed once more. “If there’s really something wrong with you, he might have noticed and kept notes about it.”

Rebecca paused. “You think he picked me out of pity?”

Darkwood shrugged. “Either that or just straight-forward curiosity.”

Rebecca frowned. “You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

“Not really.” Darkwood replied.

Darkwood turned suddenly. Rebecca realized that they had already made it all the way from Dr. White’s office to his home. Darkwood sure moved quickly. She paused on the steps. She had never been inside Dr. White’s cottage. She dashed forward to catch up with Darkwood. She would not miss this chance to see inside.

Darkwood was staring at his hand on the doorknob. Rebecca frowned, and looked up at him.

“Something wrong, Profess…”

“The door is unlocked.” He stated, plainly.

“Did you forget to lock it or…”

“The door is unlocked, Quinton.” He repeated, before glancing around. He held a finger to his lips and looked at Rebecca. She got the message and took a few steps back from the door, hiding behind Darkwood. He raised one of his hands before him, emulating talons, before swinging the door open.

He dropped his arm instantly and Rebecca peered around him.

She had often imagined entering Dr. White’s home. In her fantasies, it was a neat, cozy place, just like Headmaster Woodmaste’s office. It would be almost like his office, with shelves of books, where Dr. White would unwind after a long day with a good book and a crackling fire.

Dr. White’s house was severely under-furnished. From what she could tell, the whole house seemed to comprise of two rooms. The main room served as a living room, bedroom and kitchen. The other room had to be a bathroom. But the worst part of the entire thing was that the house was a complete mess. Books were thrown from the shelf to the floor. Furniture, what little of it there was, was thrown about, toppled over or half destroyed. She stared in absolute horror at the scene before her.

“What’d you do to this place?”

Darkwood sighed. “Why do you think everything’s my fault?” He stepped inside and around the debris that littered the floor. “It’s been ransacked, Quinton. Whoever did this was after something of Dr. White’s, I’ll imagine.” He stopped in front of an overturned suitcase and a large pile of clothing. “Or perhaps something of mine after all.” He groaned and turned back to Rebecca.

“Go back to your room, Quinton. We’ll talk later.”

“But Professor I…”

“Later, Quinton. I have much more pressing issues now.”

Rebecca let out a long exhale, before turning on her heel and storming out. Darkwood was just getting rid of her again. He probably had done all of that earlier, in case she ever followed him home. Perhaps he had left the door unlocked and used a spell from the front porch to destroy the room.

Whatever it was, Rebecca would get her answers about what Darkwood had done to her eventually.

Her anger failed to dissipate from the long walk to the teacher’s cottages to the girl’s dormitory. In fact, she knew that the terrible décor would just make her even more irritable at the current situation. Stacking a sight as terrible as the light pink wallpaper would just make her feel worse.

She bounded up the stairs, avoiding direct eye-contact with any of her fellow students or the walls. She stopped at the end of the hall, staring at the cart outside of her room. A cart.

Rebecca slowly walked down the hall, her eyes never leaving the cart.

It was the Maid’s cleaning cart.

The maid never cleaned her room. Rebecca’s room was not on the cleaning list. Maids were not allowed to clean her room.
Rebecca dashed down the rest of the hall to her room. The maid might have moved her things, or thrown away the things on her wall. She paused in front of the door. It was closed. Why would the maid close the door if she had to go back and forth between the room and cart?

Why would the maid be cleaning her room?

Rebecca twisted her doorknob and shoved the door open.

She stepped back, covering her mouth with a hand.

The maid was face-down, sprawled out across her bedroom floor. Her long black hair had fallen over her face, hiding it from Rebecca’s view. In her hand, she clutched a cleaning rag.

Rebecca took a step forward and removed her hand. “E-excuse me?”

The maid made no response.

Rebecca’s eyes widened and she took another step back. Suddenly, she lunged forward and slammed her door shut again, before racing back down the hall. Two girls were shoved out of her way by her outstretched hands. They shouted something at her as she descended the staircase. Rebecca did not hear one bit of it, as panic had taken over all of her senses.

The only noise she made was the slam of the front doors as she dashed through them.