At least the atmosphere was a lot happier without Caroline and Elena: the band was good, the mêlée of students was in end-of-term high spirits, and the teachers chatted among themselves, watching the dancers fondly. They avoided Elsa, though. Even Herr Bunnymund had treated her with nervous politeness for the last fortnight. Flynn was a fabulous dancer, and so was Rapunzel, and though they'd tried to include her, Elsa was glad they were so wrapped up in each other. She didn't feel like being sociable, and loitering beside Elizabeth and Clytaemnestra suited her fine. There was no better company for her in this mood.
"Good evening, Elsa." She jumped but didn't turn round. The voice was unmistakable, after all: Burnt honey mixed with gravel. "Hello, Sir Pitch." "You're not dancing?" "No." She paused, then thought: What the hell. "Bonnie doesn't feel like it." There was a long silence while they stood together in the shadows watching the band and the shrieking, laughing students. Meredith was looking well, thought Elsa, if a bit wobbly and tearful after four glasses of champagne. Tyler was nowhere in sight; he'd put in an appearance, then slunk away early. The rest of the Few seemed on top form. She'd been trying to picture each of them in a crimson hood, but it was no use.
"You don't know which of them were involved?" asked Sir Pitch quietly. Elsa shook her head. "No. But it doesn't matter now." "It matters to me." "Well, then, you work it out. Thanks, by the way. I've had a great time." She bit her lip. "Mostly. Except for the bit with the chains and the demons." "Elsa . . ." She waited for him to go on, and when he didn't, she turned her head to examine his face. It was very sober. "You must come back next term," he said. "No, I don't think I must. Thanks all the same."
"You don't understand." He gave her an exasperated look. "Tell me, then." She cocked an eyebrow. He sighed in defeat. "The ritual may have been interrupted, but thee's part of a spirit in you now. It wants to join with you fully. And it won't stop until it does." Elsa shrugged. "Tough." "That's brave of you, my dear, but it isn't enough," Sir Pitch said with dark amusement. "You either accommodate it, or defeat it. You can't run away from it." "I can try." "You'll never run fast enough for that, Elsa." His tone was kinder than his words. "Never."
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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...
