Black Academy

Chapter 20 - Part 1

It wasn't weakness. It was strength. Elsa was suddenly alert, completely alive. Madame Bennett's scrawny neck was so close she couldn't focus properly, but she could see blue and purple veins bulging and throbbing, could feel the old body beginning to jerk and tremble, and she could taste rotten flesh. Their mouths were still locked together but she no longer felt sick. Elsa knew that with the strength given to her now, she could use her powers, but she wanted more strength for a more efficient burst of power.

She felt strong. The distant shriek came again, and Madame Bennett released Elsa's head abruptly, clenching her fists until the knuckles showed bone-white through thin skin. Elsa expected her head to smack down onto the stone table, but it didn't. There was power in her neck; it didn't even hurt to keep her head up. Nor did she lose contact, even as the ancient body squirmed and the woman tried to twist away. Another agonised wail, as if it came from very far away, and Elsa knew that Madame Bennett wasn't making this racket out loud, only inside Elsa's head.

The grip on her arms loosened a little, and Elsa strained hungrily upwards. For an instant, Madame Bennett broke the contact, and Elsa had a glimpse of her white, tortured face. Caroline snapped out a word, and her arms were released. Elsa lunged up and grabbed Madame Bennett's head. Yanking the old mouth back down to her own, she twisted her fingers into the silvery white hair. She needed it. It needed her. No problem . . . Something was burning her shoulder blade, a concentrated, intense pain, but she didn't mind.

What she had to do was keep contact. Keep the old woman close. Nothing else mattered. Hot needles in her shoulder. No, no. Didn't matter . . . Another scream. Not in her head, though. It was real and close, and it seemed terribly familiar. Irate. Tempestuous. Drama-queeny. Italian . . . Something hard whacked into the side of Madame Bennett's skull, snapping it away. Elsa grabbed at the old woman as she slumped silently to the side, but with her own legs still restrained she couldn't catch her.

As the body crumpled to the floor in a dry, dead heap, a twist of translucent white drifted from the old woman's lips, spiralling towards the ceiling with a high, squealing wail. Caroline snatched at the escaping wisp. "Fools!" she howled. "What have you done?" Elsa's sentiments exactly. Her fingers clawed at the fleeing mist as well, until with a cry of frustration she curled up, tearing at the chains. Then she froze, breath caught in her throat.

There he was.

Jack stood in front of her, cold and still, facing the rest of the Few. His back was to her but she clearly heard his grim murmur. "You bitch, Caroline. What have you done?" Caroline hunched, spitting with rage, but didn't reply. So Jack wasn't in on this unofficial ceremony? As if Elsa's head wasn't spinning fast enough already . . . Did this mean he was on her side? In which case, what the hell had kept him? To her left, Elsa caught a glimpse of Flynn slashing Elena's weird knife in a broad warning arc at the snarling Few. Rapunzel had clambered onto to the stone table and now stood above Elsa, threatening all comers with what looked like a very long, very whippy hammer.

"Where did you get that?" shouted Elsa, rubbing her temples fiercely, fighting to focus. "This?" Rapunzel swung at a hooded figure as it made a lunge for her, cracking her weapon into its head. The figure dropped like a stone. "I bring this to school every term, Elsa! I knew it would come in handsome." "Handy," said Elsa, shaking her head clear at last. "I told you," Flynn called over his shoulder, his focus still on the semicircle of malicious Few, who eyed his knife with extreme wariness. "Yeah, yeah," said Elsa. "I know. Killer with a polo mallet."

Wrapping one ankle chain round her fist, she strained at it, but it was hopeless. Jack's voice was low but clear. "Flynn. The chains. Use the knife." Flynn threw him a mistrustful scowl. "Like that's going to –" "I said, use the knife!" With a last suspicious glower, Flynn backed up, then turned and slammed the knife down on the chain. The links shattered, but he had already turned to warn off two more of the Few, who had sprung forward to within striking distance. They hesitated, snarled, retreated one step. Then another.

Flynn glanced down at the knife in shock. "That's some blade." Jack took no notice. He stood perfectly still, and none of the Few dared to approach him. His focus was all on Caroline, something crackling between them. Lust? Fury? Hatred? Oh, who the hell cared.