She rose. “Hello, everyone.” She held out her hands over a mahogany coffee table. “Aren’t you all just lovely!”
Fiona didn’t feel lovely right now. She wanted to be back in the Adepti room on her beast-embroidered rug, drinking tea and practicing spells with Tobias. If there was a spell for winding back the clock several months, she would really like to know it.
“Hello, Mrs. Ranulf,” a few students murmured.
There was an herbal, medicinal smell in the air, and silver trays holding glasses of a thick green liquid lined a coffee table.
“Why don’t you all sit down.” She motioned to the assortment of wooden chairs, and her eyes lingered with concern on Mariana’s decorated arms. “Isn’t it horrible what those terrorists did? We were worried out of our minds. You must have been terribly frightened. Well, I just want you all to know that you’re safe here. There’s a gate around us, and we have the guards. I’m told the students from the other grades were permitted to relocate as well.”
She picked up a tray of drinks and began offering them around. “I made a nice refreshing smoothie to help you all feel better after that long car ride.”
Fiona frowned at Mariana. Hadn’t Tobias told them that Munroe was part of a blood-drinking cult? The Purgators, they were called, with a long legacy of persecuting witches. She watched as Tobias grabbed a glass from the tray, taking a sip. He didn’t seem concerned about its contents.
The woman was in front of her now, grinning and holding a tray with a few glasses left. Fiona forced herself to smile and picked up a glass. “This looks good. What is it?”
“Kale purée, coconut milk, and lime juice. It’s a perfect antioxidant mixture.”
Maybe Tobias was wrong, and the Purgators weren’t all a sinister cult. Maybe they were just irritating health-food fanatics. After she took a sip of the pulpy concoction, she couldn’t decide which was worse.
“I’ve learned all about nutrition since I found Doctor Mellior. You’ll all be meeting him for your therapy.” Mrs. Ranulf continued to hand out drinks. “It’s why my son Harrison is so advanced. He loves reading books.” She nodded toward a shelf of dusty volumes opposite the windows. “His only problem is that none of the other three-year-olds are clever enough to keep him interested.”
Munroe rolled her eyes. She’d clearly heard this all before.
“I saw that, Munroe,” Mrs. Ranulf cautioned. “It’s a shame I didn’t know about purity of diet before I had Munroe. She’s very pretty, of course, but unfortunately she didn’t inherit the Ranulf brains. I let her eat too much sugar when she was younger, but I didn’t know any better. It causes learning difficulties.”
“Mom!” Color rose in Munroe’s cheeks.
Fiona was beginning to think Munroe’s mother could achieve the impossible. She might actually get Fiona to feel bad for her daughter.
She swallowed hard. Whenever she felt slightly tense in group settings, she tended to fixate on the most inappropriate things she could say or do. All of the things she knew needed to remain unspoken burned in her mind like wildfire, and Fiona struggled to douse the flames. During an ice-breaker game at the start of the school year, her health teacher had asked each student to stand and state a “fun fact” about themselves. Fiona couldn’t stop thinking of the worst thing she could say, and so she’d risen and declared, “Once I saw a dead body with no face,” before plopping back in her chair. There was a visit to a counselor after that.
And now, she’d seen lots of dead bodies. More fuel for the fire.
Mrs. Ranulf smoothed out her layered dress. “We have some very bright sparks here, I know. I was particularly impressed with your test scores, Fiona. You’ve obviously been blessed with a very strong memory, even if you haven’t worked up to your potential. We’ll soon remedy that.”
Fiona tensed. “Those tests are bullshit.”
Mariana smacked her arm.
“Sorry, Mrs. Ranulf,” said Fiona. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Mrs. Ranulf blinked. “Grief does unfortunate things to the mind. I suggest that you all rest as much as you can. One of our assistants will show everyone to their rooms. The boys will be staying in the north wing, and the girls in the south. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that you cannot go in the north wing if you’re a girl, and vice versa. Your parents entrusted you all to us, and I can’t send any of you home defiled. You may use this drawing room for co-ed study under our supervision.”
Defiled? This kept getting weirder, but Fiona still wasn’t getting the impression of a blood-drinking cult. They seemed more like the type of people who’d host really boring parties to fund the opera.