No, she decided. Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, taking a deep scared breath, Elsa spun on her heel. At the entrance to the corridor, a man came to an abrupt halt. She'd only ever seen his portrait - and that didn't do him justice, she decided. His sand-yellow eyes were fixed on her, the only light in a face of stone. He couldn't really have been seven feet tall, but that was the impression he gave. Hairs prickled on her neck as if responding to an electric field of power. Sir Pitch Black smiled. "Elsa Song."
She smiled back, the brightest and dumbest smile she could manage. "That's right. Hi." She flapped the fingers of one hand in a feeble greeting. "You seem to be lost, and it's very late. May I help you?" Nerve-janglingly aware of Flynn behind her, Elsa stepped closer to Sir Pitch. His eyes flickered past her. She stepped in front of him, determined to keep his attention. "Could you, please? No sense of direction, me." He gave a gentle laugh. "It's rather a big place, isn't it? I'll find someone to escort you back. I'm Pitch Black, by the way." "I know. Yes. I mean," Elsa cleared her throat, keeping her smile in place, "I've seen your picture."
His hand clasped her elbow and he guided her to the door of the common room. He seemed kind, but there was that force field around him, of command and potential threat. As they passed the hidden Flynn, Elsa kept her gaze fixed on the door, scared of giving him away. Sir Pitch swung open the door, and drew Elsa into the room. The light was muted, but the common room seemed as elegant as the rest of the Academy. She had an impression of dark-red leather armchairs, baroque lamps, elaborate paneling and paintings rich with colour. She glimpsed people she knew, too: Caroline, Elena, a Russian sixth former from her fencing class. Tyler seemed surprised to see her.
There were others, too, from the beautiful Few, but no Jack. And there was Meredith on an upright gilded chair, a silver cup in her hands, rigid and stupefied. "Elena." Sir Pitch's voice was calm, but icy with menace. The French girl swung round, face paler than usual. "What is Meredith doing here?" "She . . . that is, I -" "Roommates," he hissed, "should be respected." "I was only -" "And I should be informed of all late-night meetings. Should I not?" Meekly she said, "Of course, Sir Pitch. I'm sorry." Much as Elsa disliked Elena, Sir Pitch seemed to be overreacting big time to a midnight feast. His fingers on her arm were like steel.
"Caroline." He spoke silkily. "Clear up in here. When I return in ten minutes, I want everyone gone. You, at least, should know better. Elena: come with us, please. Elsa is lost. You will show her the way back."
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Black Academy
Fanfiction'TRUE GRADUATES OF THE BLACK ACADEMY TAKE LIFE BY THE THROAT, ELSA. REMEMBER THAT!' The Black Academy is a school like no other. An élite establishment that moves to a new exotic city every term, its students are possibly beautiful, sophisticated...
