she didn’t get some answers soon, there was a strong chance that her head might explode.
Thankfully, after two long and laborious hours, a grimlooking Professor Vanderbilt finally got to her feet and said that everyone in the detention room could go. Emma didn’t need to be told twice, and she hurried over to the library, where Loni had been researching the darkhel. Her friend was waiting outside the entrance idly flipping a tiny ward up and down in the air.
“Tyler’s stuck with Glen Lewis talking about their assignment but he’s going to meet me at the cafeteria in half an hour so he can help me check the wards,” Loni told her as she pocketed the ward. “How are you dealing?”
“I’m fine, aside from the fact that I’m going completely and utterly insane—of course,” Emma added as the light started to fade and the temperature felt cool against her cheeks. “Still, at least I managed to get my homework done. Though why a slayer needs to learn accounting I’ll never know.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone kill a goblin by knowing how to depreciate an asset over a ten-year period,” Loni agreed as she reached out and gave Emma’s hand a comforting squeeze. “And hang in there. We’ll find something out. I know we will.”
“Will we?” Emma paused for a moment, her frustration descending like the surrounding fog. She thrust her hands into her blazer pockets to keep them warm. “It just makes no sense, Lon. This is my mom we’re talking about. So how does this . . . this . . . thing know anything about her? I can’t bear the thought of her having any sort of secret, separate life. I need to find out what went on.”
“And you will,” Loni insisted before she thoughtfully bit her lower lip. “But you know, there’s something we haven’t considered. I mean, if the darkhel knew your mom, maybe your mom knew the darkhel?”
“Except my mom’s dead, so we can’t exactly ask her,” Emma reminded her friend.
Loni shook her short, spiked hair. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just... remember when you first took me back to your house just after we both started at the Academy?”
Emma nodded. Loni had been homesick like crazy and her parents had both been off on a mission in Africa, trying to hunt down a rogue demon, and so Emma’s dad had invited her to come over on a Saturday. Something that had been repeated many times over the years until Emma’s mom died and Emma had stopped going home herself, preferring to spend most of her weekends and holidays at Burtonwood.
“Well,” Loni continued, “your mom took me into her study and she had a zillion ancient-looking books, and I clearly remember her telling me that some of them were the only copies available in the whole world.”
“You think that one of them might mention the darkhel?” Emma asked as a sense of hope started to swell up in her. Loni was right: her mom had a seriously big collection of books, and while she hadn’t been what Emma would call a meticulous note taker, there had been times when she had seen her mom scribbling in a small leather-bound book. However, another thought suddenly occurred to her, and Emma felt her hope slide away like a leaf down a stream. “But I can’t get them.” She groaned. “I’m on detention, remember? I can’t leave campus.”
Just then the alarm on her cell phone beeped and she absently stared at the screen. It was the reminder that she had put in yesterday. The one to tell her she was supposed to meet Curtis in fifteen minutes to work on their assignment.
Emma was just about to delete it, but before she could, Loni, who was leaning over her shoulder to read the message, let out a little squeak of excitement. “That’s it. You already have your pass-out. You just need to ask Curtis if he minds if you swing by your house on the way the back from doing your assignment.”
“What?” Emma yelped in surprise as her last encounter with Curtis suddenly flashed into her mind—with particular emphasis on the fact that she had mistakenly thought he was going to kiss her.
“It’s perfect,” Loni insisted in an excited voice. “You’re allowed off campus for your assignment. So, just make a pit stop afterward. Tell her it’s perfect, Tyler.”
“It’s perfect, Tyler,” Tyler dutifully repeated as he approached them with a bulging backpack slung over his shoulder. “I’m