Gone Ghoul by Dorie Sarina

Author:Dorie, Sarina
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon.com
Published: 2021-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Son of a Fae

Vega needed to see what had happened to Amelia up close and personal. At ten o’clock at night, after students had made it into their beds for curfew, Vega locked herself inside her classroom.

She infused music into her voice as she incanted, “Show me blood. Show me death. Show me where once was breath.”

Ghostly blue specters took form before Vega, students seated at desks. The faint residue of the scene before her should have been more solid considering how well practiced Vega was at it. She had good eyesight and was well used to examining subtle energies.

Vega shifted closer to the place Amelia had been seated, but a different student sat in her chair, one she didn’t recognize. As Vega examined the students, she realized this wasn’t her class. Demeter Winters sat in Kelly Sparrow’s seat, paired in an activity with another student. The class was busy constructing wards.

Vega wasn’t the teacher at the head of the classroom either. It was the former wards teacher, Mr. Rupert Jahandar. He had been Vega’s teacher when she’d been a student, though she’d heard he’d retired last year—thus why there had been an opening at the school. He was young with a sexy French accent. It was a mystery why he’d retired.

At least, it was a mystery until Vega saw him walk by two students constructing a ward that blew up in their faces.

Literally.

Mr. Jahandar stumbled back, waving the smoke from his face. Vega’s gaze was riveted to his hands. He no longer had fingers, only charred stumps. His flesh crumbled from the bones of his palms, hanging in burned clumps that dropped to the floor as he waved his hands. Even his face was speckled with burns.

Vega’s stomach lurched. She had liked Mr. Jahandar.

The specter of Mr. Jahandar from the past stopped waving his stumps. He stared at his palms, and his face contorted into a scream. The two girls who had been practicing wards were slumped over their desks, burned beyond recognition.

Students in the classroom opened their mouths in screams. It was a relief Vega couldn’t hear the past with the spell.

This carnage wasn’t the death Vega had hoped to witness. Typically, this incantation was used to see a murder, but it worked on anything especially grisly. The more emotional charge in the room, the longer the residue would linger. When twenty-five hormonal teens were present, that created a strong image on the fabric of a space.

Vega would have thought Amelia’s death might have left the same kind of fingerprint, but no one had noticed her disappearance. She had gone willingly and had been complacent; there was no trauma caused by her departure. Her death had occurred inside a book that had probably been working as a portal. She hadn’t actually died inside the classroom.

Vega wondered what kind of ward Mr. Jahandar had been teaching the class that had resulted in such a colossal explosion. Most wards simply tangled students in threads of magic, like a cat that had been playing with a ball of yarn.

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