Page 111 of Divine Oaths

“And you knew all about this. You let the others rush knowing a murderous wraith was haunting here?”

Kasem looked guilt-ridden, but defiance was an undercurrent in his voice.

“Sianna, everyone knows the dangers of rush in some way,” he said. “The board of trustees. The president. The professors, the alumni who pay for the kids to go here. Ivy House. Rose. Sigma. Theta. All of Greek life. Everyone here except the Poppies. Maybe they don’t know the curse exists, but they know there’s something wrong in this school, something twisted and tied to its past. That’s why the Board works so hard to bury it. To them, appealing to the worst ilk in our society instead of honoring Westfield’s true abolitionist heritage is just collateral damage. It’s the sinister price they have to pay to court donors. And you all, and my family too, are the sacrifice.

“You’re completely removed from the history and horrors of Westfield but still want to buy in. You’re not a legacy, you have roots elsewhere, so you think these four years will be just about graduating with a degree from a prestigious university and that all of the horror and pain will be worth it just for a chance to call yourself a Westfield lily. You’re what keeps the engines running. Your blood, your sweat, your tears. I tried to warn you. Even Luke. That night, I told him to leave. I told him that Sigma was dangerous, and rush could lead to accidents. Even when the other crows were hazing him, even when I tried to stop them, he told me I was ruining his chances of getting into Sigma. He fought me off. Me. Not them. So I stood and watched him sacrifice everything to become a Sigma. And if he’d lived, he’d probably be more welcomed to my so-called brotherhood than I’ve ever been.”

As Kasem spoke, as I held the fragments of glass, rage sparked within me, spilling into my magic as a vision unfurled in my mind.

But instead of getting sucked into the vision, I channeled all of it, guidng the currents of the past at my fingertips. The cowrie bracelet and my scar gleamed bright, and in my palms, the glass lens rewound, slowly piecing itself together to the moment before being crushed by Luke.

“You’ve done it,” Kasem whispered. He beamed at me. He hadn’t smiled at me like that since the night in the shed. Angry tears wet my lashes. He was so hot and cold that it was hard to breathe sometimes. It took every semblance of my self-control not to drop the lens and run into his arms or shake some sense into him.

I handed it to Kasem. It’d taken nearly all of my energy to reconstruct the relic. Yet my mind felt clearer than ever. In the span of these weeks, I finally felt progress, like my powers that had unraveled since the night of the stabbing were being pieced back together. Kasem steadied me as we drew near the worst of the storm.

Luke roared. A gust of wind tore the bark off a tree, and it hurtled in our direction.

Kasem yanked us to the ground as the bark careened over our heads, slamming into a nearby tree with a violent crack, an onslaught of branches and stones ricocheting in our direction. Kasem held me tighter, shielded me from the worst of it.

Inches away, Angelica and Honey trekked toward us, holding Luke’s remains. When, finally, the relic was reunited with him, Vivian and Angelica started chanting, whispering words that slipped beneath the sound barrier itself. I channeled my powers too, concentrating on separating the soul trapped in the relic.

“Honey. Kasem,” Angelica said. “Theta and Sigma are tied to his condition. He died because he wanted be a part of your kinship. You will need to help him cross over.”

Honey pulled a strand of her hair from her head and placed it over Luke’s finger. Kasem bit his fingernail, placing the shard in the pile they’d formed at the center of the circle.

Angelica’s and Vivian’s chanting grew louder. Beads of sweat prickled my brow as I channeled the memories between Honey, Kasem, and Luke and Sigma and Theta that night. It was painful channeling all that torment and hate and anger trapped inside Luke’s spirit from that moment.

The storm reached a crescendo and Luke screamed, covering his ears and dropping to the ground. Yet the more they chanted and the more I channeled, the softer the storm became until suddenly, time settled at my fingertips, pooling like water.

I let it wash over the relic and the bonds that tied it, and slowly, the clearing became quiet again. Luke’s form was no longer corporeal. It was translucent, gleaming in the sun, melding with the rays that streaked into the swamp as if he was made of stardust. Nathan had become this too, when Vivian had emerged with him in the swamp. While Theta practiced banishing wraiths to the realm of the dead, I realized that the Ԑnhye were able to restore their connection with the realm of the living.

There was a calmness to everything, a quiet sense of clarity. Luke glanced at Vivian, Angelica, and Kasem, and then to me.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He turned to Honey and Kasem, the anger bright in his eyes but dimmer than before. “The owner of the weapon resides in the realm of the living. He is a wraith, yet not quite that. As I have no dominion to speak on those on the other side, I cannot answer your question. But can I leave a message?”

“Tell us,” Angelica said.

Honey and Kasem nodded for him to continue.

“Until the true history of Westfield is recognized,” Luke said, “then we will all be victim to the past.”

He pressed his eyes shut, a calmness coming over him. And then slowly, his ghostly form disappeared.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Blood will have blood

AFTER WE RETRIEVED LUKE’S RELIC and remains, Angelica insisted that we bury them. We made a gravesite, and each of us said a few words. But we didn’t linger long. The alligators, and the wraith that led them, were watching. They had let us pass for the moment, but none of us knew how long we’d be granted protection.

And there was the question of Luke’s words.

The owner of the weapon resides in the realm of the living. He is a wraith, yet not quite that.

If this entity we were facing wasn’t a person and also wasn’t quite a wraith, maybe there was someone on campus like Kasem: someone whose soul and body were stuck between realms. If Alaster was behind the attack, maybe he’d used the knife to summon Duncan or the general to help him inherit the estate, something no one in his family had managed before.

It felt like we were at a standstill.

Instead of returning to the medical center with everyone else, I snuck back into Poppy House by myself to sulk.