Hades Academy: Fourth Semester by Abbie Lyons

Author:Abbie Lyons [Lyons, Abbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abbie Lyons
Published: 2019-11-29T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The day had finally arrived to do some good ol’ fashioned necromancy. Sure, we were only going to be using the so-called soup method, which Professor Mantel had warned us was often unsuccessful, but still, there was a part of me that was absolutely thrilled at the possibility of communicating with a real-life—admittedly, maybe not the best phrasing—dead person. I couldn’t wait.

We were stationed in a different classroom today, solely because it would’ve been impossible to fit a cauldron for every student in Mantel’s usual room. Once again, I found myself in part of Hades Academy that I’d yet to explore. This new room was down a random, little stairway hidden in the corner of a hallway. I swear, Hades Academy was like a clown car with all the places it could fit that I had no idea existed. This new room had the feel of somebody’s slightly gross basement—dark and dingy, with an unidentifiable fungus-y smell.

“Welcome to the dungeon,” Mantel called out. “It’s not actually called that, but that’s totally why it feels like down here, right? Choose a cauldron and take a seat.”

Scattered throughout the room weren’t only the cauldrons, but also big wooden chests that looked like the kind of thing you’d find on a pirate ship.

“Inside these trunks, you’ll find possessions of people who’ve recently kicked the bucket,” Mantel explained. “Give them a quick look, and choose one of them. Try to find one that speaks to you in some way, but really, any of these things should do just fine. You can’t go wrong.”

The stuff in the first chest I looked through mostly looked like junk: an old broken watch, a blue necktie, a dolphin-shaped earring, stuff like that. But I reminded myself these boring things once belonged to a demon who was no longer alive. Just knowing that imbued these otherwise unremarkable items with a weird energy

After just a bit of shuffling through the second chest I tried, I landed on a relatively normal-looking red sweater. It seemed like it probably belonged to a man, but it was indistinctive enough that I really couldn’t be sure. Something about it just made it feel like a safe choice. If I somehow was successful in making contact with a dead person, I wanted it to be a nice one. Something about this sweater just exuded Mr. Rogers-style friendliness.

Mostly everybody settled on something relatively quickly and returned to their cauldrons, but Morgan was clearly savoring the opportunity to choose the perfect thing.

“It’s like thrift shopping!” she cheered to nobody in particular as she rummaged through a chest. “I love it!”

“Like I said, it’s not a very important decision,” Mantel repeated, although the smile on her face seemed to indicate that she found Morgan’s antics almost as endearing as I did.

“Just a minute longer,” Morgan promised.

All eyes were on her as she threw various things aside—first a baseball, then a pair of neon green sunglasses, and even a toothbrush.

“This!” she screamed, pulling a leopard print jacket out of the box.

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