Awakened (Unbound, Book 3)

Chapter Forty-Three

What an ass.

Mr. Corbin wasn't doing what Devland had commanded. Sure, he'd apologized, if what just happened could be construed as that, but he sure as hell didn't make sure that my peers were aware that I wasn't the one who pulled the pranks. In fact, the way he'd handled getting me to the office made it look like I was still to blame, even though there were students in the outer office that overheard our conversation.

As I walked away, I consoled myself with the fact that it would come out eventually.

Although I disagreed with the majority of what Devland did, he was going to be annoyed that Mr. Corbin didn't follow his instructions exactly. He didn't strike me as the forgiving type. Hell, I knew that Devland wasn't. Putting up with being blamed for a little while longer was almost worth seeing how Devland was going to react to being disregarded. Though I wasn't okay with public displays, especially if I was the one at the center of attention, I was looking forward to watching Devland make Mr. Corbin complete his edict.

Calin had said that the Council trumped principal.

Did that mean Devland could oust Mr. Corbin?

Smiling at the thought, I walked by Mr. Jenzen's office without stopping and headed to the corner to go to the towers. As much as I hated my fifth period class—mostly, just the teacher—I wanted the extra time before class began in order to feel the energy coming from the other classrooms on the third floor. It still surprised me that I found it relaxing after spending so much energy trying to avoid the Craft, but I was going to own it. It made me feel good when there was little else that did.

I had time to walk a full lap of the corridors before the first bell rang. I only had to backtrack two doors in order to make it to Mrs. Hendrey's room, and I took my seat in the front row, keeping my head down and my eyes on the floor. In less than an hour, I can go home. It became a mantra as though by saying it, time would move more quickly. Then I really could go home. In less than an hour. Maybe I could ignore her and not make the day worse?

The second bell rang, and Mrs. Hendrey closed the classroom door, still not allowing latecomers to enter.

"Okay, we're going to pick up where we left off yesterday," she announced, and I looked up, groaning.

My eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on Mrs. Hendrey's desk. I sucked in a breath and slowly looked back to Mrs. Hendrey. How had she gotten more? Did Calin even drop off the books as I had asked? Or had he told me what I wanted to hear? I had made only enough to go to the people I tried mailing them to, and Calin had said he'd been able to get them to all of the recipients.

What the hell is going on?

"So, let's talk about what death means to people who practice the Craft," Mrs. Hendrey continued. "Some cultures believe that when you die, you go to Heaven or Hell. Some believe you become reincarnated—take on life as a whole new being—or become angels or spirit guides. Other cultures believe there's nothing after death. Whatever happens, happens, and when you die there is nothing. You simply cease to exist as though perpetually sleeping. Like the ultimate rest.

"The tradition we'll talk about today believes in reincarnation. The Craft, which you are all familiar with by now, believes that when you die, you spend a period of time in between. This is called the Summerlands, a place that is lush and green and filled with beauty. It is where you wait for the next full moon before Hecate comes to ferry your soul to whatever comes next. This is usually reincarnation. This could mean being reborn as another human, an element of nature, an insect—the possibilities are endless. Alternatively, if the person is worthy, this could mean a metamorphosis into a higher being."