Chapter 7 · Untitled Chapter

"Move!" Ivy grabbed Leon's wrist and ran.

Behind them, two hundred pairs of black eyes turned at once. The freshmen surged for the doors before Ivy reached them.

"Not that way." Leon yanked her sideways, toward a narrow arch half-buried behind a banner. "My family paid for this wing. I know it."

"Then walk faster."

They ran.

The corridor beyond smelled of old stone and lamp oil. Footsteps chased them—too many, too even, controlled in a way that made Ivy's skin crawl.

"Left up here," Leon said. "Stairs to the faculty wing."

"You sure?"

"No. Keep moving."

The corridor ended in a wall.

Leon stopped so fast Ivy slammed into his back. He planted both palms against the stone and shoved.

"No. There's a door here." His breath came hard. "I've seen it."

"When?"

"I don't—" His jaw tightened. "I don't remember."

Right. Six hours. Then the slate wiped clean.

Ivy wanted to scream at him, but the footsteps were closing in. She pulled the glowing vial from her pocket. Its blue light pointed straight at the wall.

"They're coming," Leon said.

He had a knife in his hand now, its ornate hilt stamped with a family crest.