Snow Dyed Red

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I get to my race class early the next mournig. I’m going to use it as a sort of study hall to go over the information Nicollo and I collected last night. I plan on telling Ryan when he gets here. Normally we go on some sort of adventure to another class, or outside exploring but not today.

The bell rings and no one comes in. Mrs. Len sits at the front of the class reading her spell book as usual, not at all bothered by the missing student. He probable just called in sick. I wouldn’t be surprised with the weather were having.

I settle into my chair. Fey, also known as fairy’s, they have magical powers that often align with a certain season. In this case were looking for the winter fey. The only problem is that from what I can see, they are kind creatures, not aggressive or territorial, or anything that would explain this type of behavior. They are often secluded too, so there’s not much chance for others to provoke them either. Does this mean were looking for some sort of radical fey group? Are there even such things?

By the end of the class I have papers scattered everywhere taking full advantage of the empty desks around me. I had planned on leaving a good ten minutes at the end of the class to clean it up but the time slipped away.

“Do you need help?” Amir leans against the door frame just as the bell goes off.

Despite the mess I’ve made, and the total wrecked state I’m in I tell him, “No I’m fine.”

He pulls me away from the pile of papers, firmly holding my waist, “You don’t look ok.” He raises one eyebrow. I push him away from me and continue doing my job. “I haven’t seen you in a very long time, at least say hello,” he leans over so our faces are directly in front of each other, his nose touching mine.

I can’t help but smile at this, “Do you really need my company anymore. You’ve gotten cozy with Amelia. Doesn’t that sound adorable, Amelia and Amir?” I tease him.

His eyes darken, “That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about you. You’re my first wife, she’s just a concubine.”

“This isn’t a harem, and I’m not yours,” I laugh and push my way out the door, all of my research packed into my bag.

I meet up with Nicollo later that day, and show him what information I’d gotten the night before, “It’s not much, but I think what we’re looking for is some sort of cult group within the winter fey, small but made up of incredibly powerful people,” I hand him a list of groups I collected.  They’re the ones that pop up throughout history, but I have no way of knowing if they still exist, and no way of finding out about the new ones.

“What do you suggest we do?” I ask him. One road block after another, I wonder if we’ll ever reach our goal.

“Your angle is interesting, a cult group. I wouldn’t have thought of it,” He says as he looks over my list. What he needs to do right now is answer my question. What to do next.

“Well?” I ask him again. “Do you have any magical powers? Maybe we can pinpoint exactly where this magic is coming from.” I suggest to him. If he can’t do it there are plenty of other magical beings in this school. I can ask one of them, the only problem is keeping the safe afterwards.

Nicollo stares of into the distance with an expression I’ve come to notice over the past few days as concentrating.

“It could work,” he finally says after a good deal of thinking, “The snow is killing the plants, so I have a connection. I will have to find were the death is strongest.” He hands me back the list of names I’ve collected and points to one at the end of the list. “This group is dangerous. It is most likely the one were after. Be careful Giselle,” He says and leaves, I’m guessing to work out his magic. I too have work to do researching this group. He was right in telling me to be safe. I could get myself into a lot of danger just digging up information.

Ionescu

Not the most conventional name. I’m not sure how to pronounce it. Can’t the things have easy names like death snow, or winter storm they sound cool-ish. Doesn’t have the same sinister vibe but at least it’s easier to say.

Before I start my research, I should probably visit Ryan. If he’s sick he’ll probably need help with something, if not I haven’t seen him all day. I stop by the school store to pick up gallon of mint ice cream; he told me it was his favorite, and aspirin. Hopefully this will do.

I set my foot in the school dorms for the first time this year. They look incredibly nice. The floor is covered in a beige carpet, no doubt vacuumed daily. The hallways are finished with hard wood. None of the brick painted yellow that most schools like to do.

I go up to room 304 and nock. No one answers. This is the right room. I’m sure of it. Ryan told me repeatedly, to the point that he had me put it in my phone under contacts. I try nocking again. He must be really under the weather if he can’t manage to get up out of bed.

I stop a student who’s walking out of his own room, “This is Ryan’s room, right? Do you know if he’s in?” I ask the random student. He doesn’t know, but he hasn’t seen him in a while. The student directs me towards the dorm supervisor.

“Hi, I’m Giselle. My friend lives here, and he didn’t come to school today. I wanted to give him this to help with his cold,” I hold up my plastic bag, hopeful that she’ll let me in. I don’t have any proof that Ryan is sick but she doesn’t need to know that.

She smiles at me kindly, “Of course dear, why don’t you leave it here and I’ll give it to him later,” She points to the mail boxes that line the wall.

“I don’t think I can do that,” I say as I hold up the ice cream.

“You must really care for your friend.” She leads me up back up to his room. She uncertain at first, I know it’s against the rules for her to let me in, but she’s a kind lady. She unlocks the doors wither her master key set and lets me in. I thank her and slip into the room.

“Ryan, are you here?” I ask despite the fact that I would be able to see him in the small room wherever he is. I put the mint ice cream in his small refrigerator, and start to tidy up his room. Where ever he is, he shouldn’t be there, that’s for sure. As I’m making his bed his phone drops out of the blankets. It’s dead. I plug it in. How long have you been gone for Ryan?

On the floor drawn in a blood is the pattern I saw in my dream. In the middle is the Ionescu symbol. Tears escape from my eyes. Ryan is dead, isn’t he? I fall to the floor, making smudges in the perfect patter on the ground, and ruing my white uniform in the process. Blood doesn’t come out.