Page 146 of Depraved Boys

In one simultaneous movement, I opened the door, dove out of the car and squinted at the number plate. P155ER 69. There was no need to memorize it. The abducting wretch had bought a personalized plate that looked like ‘Pisser 69.’

With my stomach still heaving and vomit on the hem of my skirt, I trudged back to the academy. It took an eternity to walk up the slope, around the turns, and down the long driveway. But when I reached the courtyard outside the imposing Georgian building, I could have knelt and kissed the ground if my limbs weren’t so already stiff with cold.

The double doors of the main entrance were locked, so I walked around to the side and let myself in. Warm, beeswax-scented air filled my nostrils and made my nerves endings tingle with a mix of relief and pleasure. Dim lights from four sets of stairwells illuminated the hallway, and I walked toward the one leading to the west wing.

“Who’s sneaking about out of curfew?” asked a harsh voice.

“Mr. Blunt?”

The caretaker emerged from an alcove, holding a powerful flashlight. He took one look at me and staggered back. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

“Call the police… please.”

He scrambled into the back pocket of his overalls, pulled out a phone, and made a stuttering call to the emergency services. “Um… You’d better sit in the infirmary while I wake up Miss Claymore.”

“Thanks.”

The caretaker scrambled down the hallway, nearly tripping as he looked at me over my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around my middle and ambled to my destination.

The absence of biting cold in the building did nothing to warm me. My joints felt stiff as I lowered myself into the infirmary seat, and I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to preserve some body heat. I needed a pile of blankets and a pile of naked kings.

Miss Claymore was the first to arrive, wearing a thick fleece dressing gown that reached her ankles. Long, black hair hung down to her shoulders in a way that made me think I’d seen her like this before. I shook off those thoughts and focussed on the deputy headmistress’s stricken expression.

“Miss Evergreen, what’s happened?”

“Someone hit me over the head in Mrs. Benazir’s office and moved me out of the academy.”

Her eyes widened. “When? I found her passed out and was there all afternoon and in the evening.”

“It happened just after she fell.”

She placed a hand over her mouth. “You were early to our meeting?”

“I—” My numb hands dropped to my lap. “I thought I’d been on time.”

“Alright. Did you see who attacked you?”

I shook my head. Whoever hit me from behind hadn’t even made their presence known. “I woke up in a cave on the mountainside.”

“Where?”

“B-beneath a blasted oak a few miles away from the school.”

Miss Claymore’s face dropped, and she lowered herself into the seat next to mine. Her dark eyes darted in all directions, as though she was making rapid-fire calculations. “In which direction?”

“South.”

“Are you sure?”

My stomach tightened. Had I said something wrong? Or was there something significant about a tree blasted in half by lightning. “Why?”

She shook her head.

Before I could press for details, Mr. Blunt arrived with a tray laden with steaming mugs of tea and a plate of sticky buns. “In case you need warming up, Miss.”

“Thank you.” My fingers were so numb, and my hands shook so much, I could barely wrap them around the mug.

“Here.” Miss Claymore picked up the mug and held it to my lips.