Witch Born - LJ Swallow Page 0,33

if fights break out and people try to kill each other?” I ask lightly but the fear is real.

She smirks. “Some things are sacred—nobody wants to lose the parties, so nobody dares tell the academy. They probably know but ignore us.”

Dorian and Zeke? Do they separate themselves from each other by a brick wall? Because I can’t see how they’d stay uninjured otherwise. They seem to be at stalemate.

The only parties I’ve attended were upmarket affairs filled with politics and over-dressed women. Even if I had one of my hated evening dresses to wear, I wouldn’t. I never had a chance to pack anything apart from everyday clothes—will I stand out by not dressing up the way Oriana has? Oriana wrinkles her nose at my choice—black jeans and a fitted blue cotton shirt—before grabbing my face and smearing lipstick on my mouth. She laughs at my surprise and I begin my evening uneasy.

An upbeat Oriana leads us through the hallways towards an area I’ve not visited before, and I catch a glimpse into a room on my way by. The rooms students live in aren’t nicely decorated, but these are trashed. There’s broken furniture and what looks like blood stains on the wall.

The basement used for these gatherings is at the far end of the hallway and I stop in my tracks when I see a large mid resting against the cracked wall at the top of the stairs leading down.

“We should go back,” I urge Oriana.

“Drey? Nah. He’s probably here to collect the money.”

“What? There’s an entrance fee?”

She chuckles. “I told you, we pay them off. They wait here to ensure they get their cash.”

“I don’t have any.” Relief mingles with disappointment—this could be my excuse to go back to the room. I’ve never attended a normal party with teens before, let alone one filled with criminals.

“Don’t stress. I’ve got this.”

I weakly thank Oriana and hang back as we approach the guy. I’ve seen him around the grounds, another with ursine features similar to Roger. But how is Roger a staff member when these are hired muscle?

Oriana flips a couple of bank notes from her pocket and pushes them into his outstretched hand. He nods at her as we pass and their exchange remains silent.

Apprehension creeps after me as I walk down the stairs. What will I see? I’ve nothing in my past to compare.

I fumble through the dark, placing a hand on the cool stone wall as we move towards a closed door. As we approach, faint strains of music with a heavy beat push beneath the door. This place is well-hidden, that’s for sure. Who’d be in the greatest trouble if these gatherings were busted? The mids or the kids?

“Probably best if you stick with me and the girls,” says Oriana. “And be careful what you take.”

“Take?”

She shoves the door open. “We make our own alcohol and potions. The party isn’t the only thing Ravenhold residents hide.”

Blue smoke clouds the room, circulating from a group huddled on beaten-up comfy chairs in the corner. I wrinkle my nose at the herbal scent and try to place my finger on what the smell is. Potent, for sure, because I’m dizzy after a few breaths.

Oriana guides me across the room and through another door, where the music is louder. A group sit on chairs that are the same as used in the classrooms, beside a small stack of them.

Each brick-walled room is lit by lanterns, but not flames. Battery operated from the mainland? I snort to myself. Half the people here hate humans and now they’re reliant on their non-magical items because nobody can conjure fire.

The group on the chairs are louder and swig from the same plastic cups as the canteen uses. Zeke sits amongst them, raucously laughing as he grabs a bottle and pours more liquid in, toasting his friend as he knocks his drink back.

“What are they drinking?” I ask Oriana.

“Dunno. Some shit they manage to make from rotten fruit and whatever they can steal from the gardens.” She inclines her head back to the room we passed through. “They’re smoking what they carefully cultivate in a corner of the greenhouses. Gardening was never a feature here until Francesca arrived, but a welcome addition.”

“She must know,” I protest. “why else would a group of delinquents be excited by gardening lessons?”

Oriana gives me yet another ‘you don’t understand anything’ look. “Some of these kids have old knowledge. The herbs and plants are innocuous on their own, but a