Page 47 of Twisted Elites

I jogged toward them with Leopold on my left and Prakash on my side and muttered, “They’ve turned it into a freak show.”

“This lot wasn’t here when I found her,” said Leopold.

I was about to ask how he had found her body, when a first-year boy ran out of the crowd, screaming about zombies. A lot of younger students fled around the building, leaving plenty of room to see the spectacle.

A dark-haired figure, still clad in the bottle-green uniform, lay face-down in her own blood. The pool froze around the edges, turning pink where it touched the frost. From the way her arms and legs twisted at different angles, I could see why Leopold had said she had been pushed. I gazed up to the east tower, past the four stories and up at the roof, where the windows were smaller and would require her to stand on furniture if she wanted to jump.

A dull ache formed in my chest, and I breathed out my sorrow in a long sigh. I hated Bianca, but I wouldn’t wish something like this on an enemy. Whoever did this must have despised her.

“Is she alive?” someone shouted.

A fourth-year scholar prodded her leg with his foot.

I clapped my hands to my chest. “Stop that!”

“You there!” Cormac roared from the other side of the crowd. “Go to Mrs. Benazir’s office and report yourself.”

“She called me a filthy little sell-out!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to assault the injured,” I snapped.

“She’s probably dead, anyway.” The fourth-year sprinted a wide circle around Cormac and disappeared around the side of the building.

I huffed out a cloud of condensation. This was hardly the time to hold a grudge.

“Pick her up,” said one person.

“Turn her around,” said someone else.

More students piled out through the double doors and side entrances, and I looked out for signs of the staff. Not even Mr. Blunt, who seemed to be everywhere, had shown up. So much for Mrs. Benazir’s proclamation that there would always be a member of staff to help a distressed student.

Prakash placed a comforting arm around my shoulder, enveloping me in his warmth, while Leopold slid his arm around my waist.

I let my eyes flutter closed and sucked in long, deep breaths, trying to calm my frantic heart. How many students had died in this past year? Corrine, Bruce Wilmington, Jarrett Riley, and now possibly Bianca.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. If Miss Claymore was still the deputy head, one of those casualties would be me.

Leopold turned to Prakash. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Not without exacerbating her injuries,” he replied. “If she’s still alive.”

Cormac crouched at Bianca’s broken form and placed his blazer over her torso and shoulders. I assumed it was to keep her warm while the ambulance took its time to arrive. He stepped back and wrapped both arms around his chest.

“Bianca!” Geraldine screamed from the door. “My soulmate. Dead!”

Cormac, along with everyone else, gave Geraldine a sympathetic look. Two younger, blonde sycophants I recognized from Ashley’s initiation propped her up by the forearms. She staggered across the frost-covered gravel with her head lolling to the side as though faint with grief.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and relief loosened my muscles. The space down the side of the building was wide enough to fit a truck.

Cormac spread out his arms. “Everybody stand back. Give the emergency services space to work.”

An ambulance car and a matching truck arrived, followed by two police cars. Prakash let go of my side and backed away, while I wrapped my arms around Leopold’s middle to steal his warmth. I guess whoever called the nine-nine-nine operator thought it was murder.

Everything happened at once. Some of the younger students tried to reenter the building, paramedics rushed out of their vehicles and crouched at Bianca’s side, and four police officers emerged from their cars. I didn’t recognize any of them, but a huge officer with a neatly trimmed beard looked directly at Prakash.

“Police,” Geraldine screeched from the edge of the crowd. “Arrest Willow Evergreen. She’s been blackmailing the Byrd family. Maybe they stopped paying up, and this is her revenge.”

I curled my hands into fists. “Of all the times to talk shit, why now? Are you trying to cover your own tracks?”