The Book of Miranda | gxg | ❖

(28) Melliford Anarchy

The tunnel is empty. Not that there's any reason it wouldn't be; we heard Massingham and Mrs. Hardwick leave. But my mind has flipped a switch now, and every sound in the hallway is a threat as me and Exie tiptoe up it once again. We both tread lightly and keep a hand to the wall; by unanimous decision, I haven't relit our candle. I can't shake the terror that I'll step on a body in the darkness, but I'm so used to that fear by now that I can focus on other things than useless paranoia. Also, Exie's still holding my hand. Which is probably more responsible for my anti-dead-body defenses than my own willpower, to be honest. I'm trying not to think about it.

We reach the backside of the portrait without bodies, screams, or stubbed toes, a triple win not at all attributable to any competence on my part. We're just moving slowly. Too slowly, maybe, but if there's anything this encounter has instilled in me, it's the settled understanding that we're dealing with a demon here. We cannot, under any circumstances, afford to get caught. Exie still wants to move faster, I can tell, but she defers to the pace I set and I don't question it. At the end of the day, I think I do still have more stealth experience. If Exie's trembling hand is to judge, I'm certainly less scared than she is.

I listen through the portrait for a count of ten before pushing it open a crack. Predawn grey leaks through, but that's not all; shouts reach us immediately. Exie and I exchange a glance in the gloom. She pushes me lightly. I nod back and swing the portrait open far enough for both of us to dart through. In a moment, we've plunged into the shadows beneath the school's second-floor balcony at the hall's edge. Lady Luck decides to come out of her hermitage and bless me today; nobody lurks around the ash-smear where we burned Barnabas's dove. Everyone's occupied at the school's other side.

I can smell smoke, and it's not my doing. It could yet be a hell-spawn passing wind, but a couple pyromaniacs seems a more likely explanation. The dorm end of Melliford Academy has devolved into anarchy. Exie and I creep back towards it and blend seamlessly into the crowd. Students mill about the school's empty spaces, looking lost, and I can't see the source of the smoke-smell. Given that nobody's evacuating, it must be a small burn—the type a fire-fingered delinquent would light for fun in the excitement of having overwhelmed the functional authority of our academic overlords.

Two teachers guard the door to the room Barnabas occupied when we exorcized the demon living rent-free in his head. I can't tell if his roommate is still in there somewhere. The door is closed, and there's a crowd outside that would really like to open it. Another, bigger cluster has formed just a short jog from the school's library, marking the infirmary before I have to search. The popular kids I faced down yesterday are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of three teachers blocking the door. The girl has adopted her best posh-angry-stern stance. The boy—Gilbert—stands with arms crossed in an attempt at intimidation much better achieved by the burly kid mirroring him one step behind. He's recruited a bodyguard.

There's yet another student cluster by the common room, which they seem to have barricaded. A stray student hammers on a dorm door I know for a fact is not his, and is let inside. Another boy slips past me, grinning. By the lumps under his blazer, he's made off with something expensive from the school's currently-unguarded library. There's no sign of Clarice anywhere.

Our problem here isn't going to be finding the infirmary; the student body has already taken care of that. Our problem is going to be getting in. I pass this news to Exie, whose face has lost a little of its pallor now that we have plausible deniability for being awake despite the sun still groaning at its own celestial alarm clock outside.

Faced with a new problem to creatively solve, Exie's brow creases. Then she points to my hands. "Take those off."

I stare at her.