Cassandra's wand is three inches from my face. The tip glows pale blue, cold enough I can feel it against my cheek.
"Step away from her," she says again. Her voice is ice wrapped around steel. "Now."
I don't move. Can't. Vivienne's still on the floor behind me, her breathing shallow and ragged. The marks on her throat are dark purple, almost black, like someone tried to strangle her with frozen fingers. My fingers. The midnight energy that crawled out of me and went straight for the one person in this nightmare school who's actually tried to help me.
"I said step away."
"She needs help." My voice comes out hoarse. "Not your wand in my face."
"You just tried to kill her."
"I didn't—" I stop. Because I kind of did. I didn't mean to, but that thing inside me didn't care about intention. It wanted her, and it almost got her. "Look, I'm an ER nurse. Was. Let me check her airway."
Cassandra's jaw tightens. The wand doesn't move. "You're the Midnight Summoner. That energy came from you. Those marks—"
"Are going to get worse if you keep wasting time." I meet her eyes. They're grey, the kind of grey that belongs on storm clouds, and right now they're deciding whether to fry me or let me do my job. "You want to blame me after? Fine. But right now she can't breathe properly."
For three seconds, nothing happens. Then Cassandra lowers the wand half an inch. Not away. Just half an inch.
I take it.
I drop to my knees beside Vivienne and immediately check her pulse. Fast but steady. Her airway's open, but she's pulling shallow breaths like each one hurts. The bruises on her throat are already swelling. I've seen strangulation marks before. These look worse. Colder. Like frostbite mixed with blunt trauma.
"Vivienne." I keep my voice low, calm, the same tone I use in the ER when someone's panicking. "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."
Her fingers twitch against mine. Weak, but there.
"Good. That's good. Don't try to talk. Just breathe. Slow." I glance up at Cassandra. "Does this place have a med wing? Infirmary? Anything?"
"The Healing Hall is across campus." Cassandra's still got the wand pointed somewhere between me and the floor, like she can't decide. "But Matron Celeste won't—"
"I don't care what Matron Celeste will or won't do. Vivienne needs ice for the swelling and something for the pain. Now."
"You don't give orders here."
"Then you give them." I look back down at Vivienne. Her eyes are open now, unfocused, but open. The way she's looking at me makes my chest hurt. Like she's afraid. Of me. "Please."
The word comes out quieter than I meant it to.
Cassandra stares at me for a long moment. Then she turns sharply and snaps her fingers. A glowing blue sigil appears in the air, spinning slowly. She says something in a language I don't recognize, and the sigil flares bright before vanishing.
"Matron Celeste will meet us at the Healing Hall," she says flatly. "You'll carry her. I'll have my wand on you the entire way. If that energy tries to surface again—"
"I know." I slide my arms under Vivienne as carefully as I can. She's lighter than I expected, or maybe adrenaline's doing the heavy lifting. She makes a small sound when I lift her, barely a whimper, and I freeze. "Sorry. I know it hurts."
Her hand moves, fingers brushing my collar. Weak. Shaking. But deliberate.
"It's okay," she whispers. Her voice is wrecked, barely there. "Not your fault."
I almost drop her.
Because it is my fault. That thing inside me wanted her. Maybe because she was close. Maybe because she was kind. Maybe because something in this fucked-up magic world saw her light and wanted to swallow it. Either way, I'm the one who brought it here. I'm the one who couldn't control it.
And she's telling me it's okay.
"Stop talking," I mutter. "You'll make it worse."
"Always bossy," she breathes. The corner of her mouth twitches, like she's trying to smile.
I want to scream.
Cassandra's already moving toward the door, wand still leveled in my direction. "Follow. Quickly."
I follow.
The halls are empty. It's still the middle of the night, so most of the students are asleep, but even the usual night-owl stragglers are gone. Cassandra walks fast, her boots clicking sharp against the stone floor, and I keep pace. Vivienne's head rests against my shoulder, her breathing still shallow, still wrong.
"What did you do?" Cassandra asks without looking back.
"I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." I adjust my grip on Vivienne. "I fell asleep. Then I woke up and she was on the floor."
"The Midnight Summoner's power activates during sleep."
"I'm not the Midnight Summoner."
"Then explain the marks."
I can't. So I don't.
We take a spiral staircase down two floors, then cut through a corridor lined with stained glass windows. The moonlight filters through in streaks of red and gold, painting the floor like a church. Or a crime scene. Cassandra stops at a heavy wooden door and shoves it open without knocking.
Inside is a woman in white robes, maybe fifty, with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun. She takes one look at Vivienne and points to a padded table near the back wall.
"Set her down. Gently."
I do.
Matron Celeste moves fast, her hands glowing soft green as she hovers them over Vivienne's throat. The light pulses, warm and steady, and I watch the swelling start to shrink. Not much. But enough.
"Strangulation," Celeste says quietly. "But not physical. This is energy burn. Dark-aligned." She glances at Cassandra. "Midnight."
Cassandra's face doesn't change. "Yes."
"And you brought the source into my Healing Hall."
"I brought the victim."
Celeste's gaze cuts to me, sharp and cold. "You're the new Summoner."
"I'm Alex."
"That's not a denial."
I don't have the energy to argue. "Can you help her?"
"I'm already helping her." Celeste's hands move lower, tracing the worst of the bruises. The green light flares brighter. "But this kind of damage doesn't heal fast. Midnight energy doesn't just hurt the body. It marks the spirit. She'll carry this for weeks. Maybe longer."
My stomach twists.
Vivienne's eyes are closed now, her face pale, her breathing finally starting to even out. The marks on her throat are still there, still dark, but the swelling's down and the worst of the frostbite look is fading. Celeste pulls a vial from a nearby shelf and uncorks it, holding it to Vivienne's lips.
"Drink," she says. "Slowly."
Vivienne manages a few sips before her head lolls back against the pillow. Her hand slips off the edge of the table, fingers curling like she's reaching for something that isn't there.
I catch her hand without thinking.
Her eyes open. Just a crack. Just enough to find me.
"Alex," she whispers.
I lean closer. "Yeah?"
"It's picking people now."
I freeze.
"What?"
Her grip tightens on my hand, weak but desperate. "The dark. It's not random anymore. It wanted me. It knew my name."
Cassandra steps forward. "What did she say?"
I don't answer. Can't. Because Vivienne's eyes are starting to close again, her hand going slack in mine, and all I can hear is her voice echoing in my head.
It knew my name.
Matron Celeste gently pulls Vivienne's hand from mine and sets it back on the table. "She needs rest. Real rest. No visitors."
"I'll stay," I say.
"You'll leave." Celeste's tone leaves no room for argument. "You've done enough damage for one night."
I open my mouth to argue, but Cassandra's already gripping my arm, dragging me toward the door.
"Move," she says.
I move.
We're halfway down the corridor before she lets go. I stop, bracing one hand against the wall, trying to breathe. Trying not to picture Vivienne's face. The fear in her eyes. The marks I put there.
"She said it knew her name," I say quietly.
Cassandra stops walking.
"What?"
"The dark. The midnight thing. She said it knew her name." I turn to look at her. "What the hell does that mean?"
Cassandra's face is unreadable. But her hand tightens on her wand.
"It means," she says slowly, "that you're not losing control."
"Then what am I doing?"
She meets my eyes.
"Hunting."