The Book of Miranda | gxg | ❖

(30) Ashes To Ashes

I've gotten myself into a situation I don't know how to get out of again. To be clear, this is far from the first time that's happened. But I've also never painted myself into this kind of corner with quite the same stakes, never having tangled with a fallen angel cult before, and all that. I have no special powers. I likely couldn't fend off one of the teachers around me, let alone all four together—and they'd probably call for backup before I threw my first punch.

I almost laugh at the very possibility of punching teachers. What would that even accomplish? I can't carry Barnabas's limp body. I'm cut off from Exie and my other allies. I might land myself another dressing-down from Massingham himself, but I doubt he'd be so lenient a second time if he caught me having eavesdropped on his cult ritual. If his school and colleagues are trying to maintain their illusion of beneficence, they'd do well to silence me.

I still have more matches in my pockets, but there's nothing to light that wouldn't harm me and the person I'm trying to save. I'm not at the point of lighting a teacher on fire directly yet, so that's off the table. The pew and desk in the room, meanwhile, are both hardwood that I doubt would combust without kindling, and the walls, floor, and ceiling are all stone. I don't want to suffocate myself on fire-smoke anyway.

I have no other weapons. I have no backup plan. I can do nothing except crouch and wait, ignore the ever-growing burn in my paper-folded limbs, and wait for something to change around me. I know Exie is probably trying to reach me, but she didn't want to raise too much mayhem with this plan lest the school drop its nice act and punish the whole student population. If she can't get me out, though, I may need to take matters into my own hands. If it comes down to survival, I'm willing to fight. I'm willing to burn things. I'm probably willing to ditch Barnabas to his fate if it's my only way to get away, though the thought puts a whole crown of thorns around my throat. I know we've made it through this whole investigation thus far without any significant failures, but I don't want this to be the first one. Not when someone's life or sanity is on the line.

Which leaves me sprinting in mental circles until I'm nearly startled off the crosspiece of the bed by a knock on the door.

My vision blurs from my suddenly raging heartbeat. If that's Massingham, I might have to witness the whole cult ritual up close and personal, when there's nothing I can do about it. That dove might even misfire and come for me; I've certainly seen evidence that Massingham doesn't have much control over his paper creations if something goes wrong. If it's Exie outside, meanwhile, she might save me from my pathetic position having done absolutely nothing but get Barnabas moved from one locked room to another. If the knocker is one of the school's other students, the possibilities are as varied as the student body itself.

It could be another teacher. It could be the demon himself. I run through seven years of speculation in the seconds it takes one of the teachers to walk to the door and say something through it, then crack it open. In that moment, all my thoughts desert me.

It's Clarice.

The teacher grabs her by the arm and sweeps her inside. There's a dove on her shoulder. The paper dove that Massingham released, its wings a little smoke-stained, but otherwise intact. Time slows down as the teacher locks the door again, and the dove spreads its wings. It hovers in front of my friend—my friend—and I move in slow motion, lurching out from underneath the table, reaching for the demon's paper minion. I scarcely hear the teachers' cries around me. My hands brush paper—

Clarice drops.

There's no sound. No scream. No flicker of recognition in her blank, almost serene gaze as her body crumples over me, taking me to the ground with her. My limbs scramble back of their own accord, leaving Clarice to roll limply to the stones. I freeze beside her. Above me, a fluttering announces the doves return as it coasts down to land on Clarice's chest. I lay a hand beside it. There's no heartbeat. She's just gone.