Beneath the Vail

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

A restless night spent tossing and turning on the stiff mattress of my dorm room. My duffle had somehow made it back here, though I hadn't bothered to check it after tossing my flamberge inside, perhaps that's where my misplaced photo ended up. I sat cross-legged at the center of my bed; the slim black parcel sat untouched on the side table.

A pressure headache, the weight of the stolen envelope burdensome for my conscience, its contents even more substantial. I pressed my fingers to my temples fighting the ache, squeezing my eyes a tightly as I could. Maybe I should just return it?

I snatched the envelope up, pacing a small circle at the center of my room. "Careful there darling, you'll wear the hardwood. It is over a century old."

I jumped, quickly turning with the parcel hidden behind my back. One hand on my hip, "Beatrix, really you should learn to knock."

She gave a sort of dismissive wave, "Pish, tosh, I've lived too long now to cater to other people's idea of pleasantries. Besides, I need you, it's rather urgent."

"Can you not bother Vul-commander Payne with it? I lent my services yesterday and that didn't end so well. I'm not feeling particularly helpful today."

She removed her thin-framed sunglasses, unsettling black eyes burning into me, "It's about the dagger you brought back, the one that boy used to attack the two of you." She spun on her heel, leaving no room for negotiation. I stashed the envelope under my mattress, it'll have to be dealt with later. I grabbed my duffel; a change was needed I was beginning to smell myself.

I followed Beatrix her shiny black high heels clicking against the wood floors as she briskly passed hall after hall leading me further into the academy than I'd been. Beyond the professor's quarters, we descended lower and lower until the morning sun disappeared. She grabbed a lit torch from the brass sconce, the hall was completely black apart from the warm glow of our portable fire.

We entered a rather modern-looking hall, to call it a room wouldn't be befitting. The ceiling was vaulted a series of antique chandeliers hung, bright light illuminating even the darkest corners. Several bookcases lined the walls, a large oak table sat at the center, stacks of papers and boxes decorated the top. In the very back corner was a rather large bed, "Welcome to our cozy headquarters. This is where you'll be staying for the remainder of this case."

I nodded, "Very 'The Last Supper'."

She shrugged, "It's not the Ritz, but it's better than that cot the academy provides. And that witches asylum I'm sure." I furrowed my brow electing not to respond to her catty comment.

She motioned to the left of us, "You'll find the shower through there." Our eyes met for a moment, she raised a brow, "You smell quite foul Slayer." I rolled my eyes, I did indeed.

The lavender-scented shampoo intermingled in the steam as I stepped out wrapping a towel around myself. I swiped the condensation from the mirror, looking at my reflection. I don't even know who I am anymore, a Hex, a Sânge, a slayer, a student, a woman? Would it have been better not to remember? Better to not have touched my dagger, or to touch him?

I dressed, lacing up my black combat boots before turning to the mirror once more. Sarah's prints on my dagger, my memories altered, what if she was alive? All this time, all this pain I'd felt, the memory of my sister dying, drowning in her blood.

I punched the mirror, shards sticking into my knuckles, "Fuck!" I punched the wall where my reflection would have been, again and again driving the shards further into my skin, "God! Damn! It! All!"