The young man at the incubus’ elbow let out a hearty laugh. His voice was almost as low and appealing as the demon’s, but one glance at his teeth confirmed he wasn’t an incubus in disguise. His fangs were tapered to a familiar point. And that meant one thing: vampire.

  He had short, wavy auburn hair and eyes so dark, they were nearly black. He’d slipped off his blazer and vest, leaving him dressed in only the white dress shirt of his uniform. It emphasized his lean physique. He didn’t look that much older than I was. Twenty-two tops. Which didn’t mean jack when you were dealing with the undead. He could be fifty. One hundred. A thousand. I’d never know unless I asked, and he decided to tell me the truth.

  “Rejected. Better luck next time, Klaus.”

  The demon threw an elbow at the vampire. “Shut your damn mouth, Rook. I don’t see you scoring either.”

  “That’s because I have no interest in propositioning a witch,” Rook said, eyes flat, tone insulted. He turned unfriendly eyes to me. “Better get going, Carrot Top. Viv is a bitch, and she will leave you here to be eaten by one of us.”

  I resisted the impulse to throw a minor hex at the arrogant jerk.

  “Can’t be seen with a vampire, don’t forget,” he sneered.

  “The length of your teeth doesn’t have anything to do with it, Checkers,” I spat the words back at him, playing on the fact that a ‘rook’ was the castle piece in chess. “It’s more the stench of eau de douchebag that makes me want to vacate the premises.”

  It was Klaus’ turn to laugh. In fact, he laughed so long and loud, his voice echoed through the hall, drawing the eyes of still more vampires and infernals. They were all staring now, and I shifted uncomfortably. Snarking at a single vampire was one thing. Drawing the eyes of all of them was another.

  “Ouch! Better find some aloe, Rook, because that burn looks like it hurt.”

  Rook’s eyes narrowed to slits. He opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get out a word before Vivian bellowed, “Depraysie!”

  I turned on one heel and marched toward Vivian, feeling the stares of a dozen vampires on my back, and the weight of Rook’s fury heavy on the air.

  ***

  Vivian led me down six flights of stairs. The staff had allowed softly glowing ivy to grow over the walls, and it pulsed gently as we passed, shifting from violet to a buttery yellow. We cast long, flickering shadows on our way down, and I jumped every so often when I spotted them, convinced that one of the night students was skulking down the staircase behind us.

  “You would do well not to rile the vampires,” Vivian said, staring down her long nose at me as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “They are unpredictable and dangerous.”

  “I know how vampires are,” I grumbled.

  “Then you wouldn’t have riled them.”

  We walked on in silence for a bit after that as I continued to take in the school around me and tried to talk myself out of getting flustered over my little run-in with the night crew.

  “The map that was sent with my acceptance letter said the dormitories are on the upper floor of the west wing,” I said, frowning, because we were nowhere near the upper floor or the west wing. “Shouldn’t we be heading there? Wanda got a letter saying my things arrived last week and that my room would be ready.”

  “Oh, your room is ready,” Vivian answered with a small, chilly smile. “I was in charge of preparing it and making it special just for you.”

  “Just for me?” I eyed her skeptically.

  She nodded. “It’s not every day we get someone with your background.”

  Special? My background? What the spell did she mean by that? What was so unusual about me that I’d need my own room in the bottom level of the castle?

  We turned down a corridor and descended down another wide staircase before entering yet another corridor, passing several wooden doors. They didn’t look like the heavy oak affairs with antique crystal doorknobs I’d seen in the pictures. Instead, they were plain, unvarnished wood with the cheap metal knobs you’d see in any mundane apartment. We walked all the way to the end of a hall, before she pushed through a swinging pair of double doors.

  Then we came out into a large room that was lit by torches. A hearth, triple the size of the ones in the headmistress’ office, was lit at the far end of the room. The rest of the room was filled with copper appliances, gas ranges, tables, and counters full of dishes stacked taller than I was. Pots, pans, kettles, plates, and bowls littered every available surface. A plump, white-haired woman was busily tending to something in the corner, her apron covered in flour and other, more suspicious stains. Vivian watched me scan the room, an enormous Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

  “Here we are,” she enthused as the woman walked into the adjoining room, where I could hear the water beginning to run.

  “I don’t understand,” I said after a moment, allowing my attention to settle back on her with a frown. “Why are we in the kitchen?”

  “This,” she pronounced, voice dripping with satisfaction, “is where you’ll be working.”

  “Working?” I repeated, completely failing to understand what in the world she was going on about.

  “Yes,” she nodded and then sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid your scholarship to the academy was yanked when your High Witch was turned into a vampire.”

  “What are you talking about?” Of course, I well knew Wanda hadn’t actually been turned by Lorcan—it was simply something for show to get Rupert and his vampire cronies off her back. Looks like the lie had worked, even if it was causing me a royal headache at the moment.

  “We couldn’t have someone of such dubious moral character attending the academy with a full ride,” Vivian continued as I breathed in deeply and told myself to count to ten because I was seconds away from bopping her right in her pretty, little mouth with my fist. “If you want to stay, you’ll have to work for your education, just like all the children of the staff.”

  “There’s… there must be some sort of mixup,” I started, shaking my head.

  “Oh, there’s no mixup,” she answered in a syrupy sweet tone. “So sorry. You can always go home if you don’t want to work...”

  Vivian didn’t look sorry. She looked like she wanted to point at me and laugh or break out into a victory jig. She was clearly relishing the opportunity to pull the rug out from under me. My face was burning, anger and embarrassment competing to see which won out. I was fortunate that my anger wasn’t tied to my tear ducts, because there was no way in spell I was going to break down in tears in front of anyone, let alone this awful woman. Rook had been right. Vivian was a bitch. Well, I’d make her pay for the obvious glee on her face at some point. But that meant I had to stick around Blood Rose Academy to do it.

  It seemed to throw Vivian off when I didn’t immediately react. Her triumphant smirk slipped a little. Maybe she’d expected that I’d throw a fit? But no, I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a blowup. She’d use it as an excuse to hex me or get me expelled. So, I just gave her a beatific smile, which wiped her own smile away entirely.

  “I don’t mind working here,” I offered with a shrug and a smile that took everything within me. “It’s not like I haven’t had a summer job. This should be a piece of cake. What time do I start?”

  “Sunrise,” Vivian muttered, all the joy now vacant from her expression. “You’ll work until after breakfast.”

  “And after that?” My smile was coming a little more easily now.

  “Runecraft begins at eight-thirty. If you’re late, Professor Hecate will hex the door shut.”

  I nodded, holding the smile in place until Vivian stalked back up the stairs. Then the reality of what had just happened settled over me, and I had to rub my stinging eyes. I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. This was just a setback. I could handle it. No, I would handle it. There wasn’t any other choice. I wasn’t turning tail and running back to Haven Hollow the same night I’d left.

  And it wasn’t the work that was upsetting me. I actually didn’t mind helping out in the kitchen. It was what this job stood for—that I’d been separated, marked, owing to the untraditionalism of my coven. It wasn’t fair.

  “Is the spiteful wench gone?” a woman’s voice asked from my left.

  The sudden sound made me jump, and I spun in the direction of her voice. The plump, white-haired woman was standing in the doorway, and her lined face had creased into a severe frown. Thankfully, it wasn’t aimed at me. She was glaring blearily at the space Vivian had vacated.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I answered shakily. “She’s probably headed to her dormitory to tell her friends all about me. I’m sure they’ll all have a good laugh at my expense.”

  “Those Grimsbane witches are pieces of work,” the woman said with a yawn, stretching her soft arms to the ceiling. Then she stood, brushing flour off her apron. “Drunk on the smell of their own crap, I wager. Probably think it smells like rose perfume.”

  I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, probably. Have you been listening this whole time?”

  She nodded. “Thought it best I didn’t let Vivian know she had an audience so I snuck off. She would’ve made things worse for you, just to put on a show.”

  She was probably right. It seemed exactly the sort of thing that Vivian Grimsbane would do. Anything to grind me harder into the dirt.

  “Thanks. I’m Astrid, by the way. Astrid Depraysie.”

  The woman seized my hand in her large, calloused grip, giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Astrid. My name is Madea, but most people call me Mads. I’m a brownie.”

  “Oh, nice to meet you.” I glanced around the kitchen. “Do you run this place?”

  She nodded quickly. “That, I do. You keep your workstation clean an’ do yer job, and we won’t have us any problems. Slack off, an’ you’ll see me go bogart.” Then she laughed at that. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see that.”

  I swallowed nervously. I’d heard of bogarts and from what I’d heard, she was right. I never wanted to meet one. “Understood, ma’am.”

  She laughed that deep chuckle again, then reached up to muss my hair in an almost grandmotherly fashion. “No need to be so formal. Call me ‘Mads’. After the way you handled Vivian so well, beatin’ her at her own stupid game, I think you an’ me’ll be right friends.”

  “I hope so,” I said, laughing.

  “You’ll do just fine down here. You came at a good time. One o’ my Summer faeries, Shasta, left, so I need me an extra hand. C’mon. I’ll show you to her old room.”

  Mads waddled off behind the ovens to another door at the back of the kitchen. I dutifully followed as she led me out the double doors, halfway up the hall, until we reached the third door from the stairs. Then she produced an old-fashioned, skeleton key and slotted it into the lock. The mechanism clicked a moment later, and she stepped aside to let me enter.

  The room beyond was around the size of a walk-in closet, hardly big enough for the twin bed, end table, hope chest, and bookshelf it contained. My bags had been piled haphazardly on the bed.

  “Now I know it’s small,” Mads said. “But I didn’t get much notice you were comin’. I wager they thought you’d up an’ leave when they told you about yer new job.”

  “I’m made of tougher stuff than that.”

  She smiled at me and then sighed at the room again. “Not like we got us a lot o’ extra space down here, anyway.” She shook her head. “Ah, never mind that. You ever worked in a kitchen before?”

  “I’ve done lots of babysitting. Then I took a summer job at a candy store back home in Haven Hollow. It’s not exactly the same thing, I know, but it’s something.”

  “It’s better than most witches o’ yer age an’ station. We’ll make it work.” She paused at the door and gave me another kind grin. “Night then, Astrid. I’m sure there’ll be plenty o’ time for introductions during the daylight hours.”

  After she turned to leave, she quietly closed the door, all the while muttering profanities about unthinking professors beneath her breath.

  I waited until I no longer heard her footsteps against the wood floors before shoving my bags off the bed. Then I curled into a ball on top of the white and nearly threadbare duvet cover and buried my face in a pillow, feeling sorry for myself. I should have expected something like this from a school full of witches. Scapegrace wasn’t exactly well-regarded in the broader community. Still, part of me had hoped for a normal education.

  Mads was right though. I’d make it work. But tonight, I’d indulge in a pity party, getting the hurt feelings out of my system. Then I’d hold my head high, daring any of those stupid girls in class to laugh at me. I was a Depraysie witch, and we didn’t surrender. We got even.

  That meant I’d study, I’d work hard in the kitchen, and I’d outstrip them by a mile. The best revenge in this case was a perfect attendance record and the top scores in the school.

  I’d show up the headmistress’ daughter if it was the last thing I did.

  Chapter Four

  Poke. Poke. Poke.

  Someone with long, witchy nails was poking me in the side and calling my name. I rolled so my back was to them, burying my head in my pillow, moaning, “Five more minutes, Wanda.”

  “Sorry,” a soft female voice said. “But I can’t let you stay in bed any longer. Sunrise is in ten minutes and Mads will expect you at your workstation before then.”

  Mads? Workstation? What?

  “I’ve got your work uniform ready,” the irritating voice continued. “You’re wearing one of mine until we can order yours. I’d have loaned you Shasta’s, but she was around ninety pounds of dandelion fluff. Your boobs alone would burst the seams.”

  The words jolted me awake as realization dawned on me like being doused in cold water. The events of the night before flooded back in sound and color, and I bit back a groan. It hadn’t been a bad dream. I really was on the headmistress’ shit list and demoted to what amounted to a fast-food worker.

  Astrid Depraysie = the modern-day Cinderella. Astridella.

  Wonderful.

  I cracked one eye open and craned my neck to see who had woken me up. A petite girl with mousy brown hair hovered near the end of my narrow bed, clutching a candlestick in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

  “Where are all the woodland creatures?” I grumbled.

  “What?” she asked, understandably confused.

  “Nevermind,” I groaned as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

  The girl watched me through wide, wary eyes as she set the candlestick on the dresser and began to back away.

  “I’ll let you get changed,” she said quietly. “Just don’t take long, okay? I’d hate for you to get in trouble on your first day.”

  “Wait,” I called after her. “I... uh... don’t know your name.” And I was still debating whether or not I should thank her for the wake-up call. I mean—she was saving me from getting in trouble, but she’d still woken me up way too early.

  The girl blinked, lips parting in surprise and dismay, as though she couldn’t believe she’d let her manners slip. “O-oh. Right. My name is Elly.”

  “Astrid,” I said, peeling the covers away so I could reach for my work uniform. I hadn’t bothered to change out of the uniform I’d donned the night before, too tired and discouraged to do more than wallow in my own unfortunate circumstances until I fell asleep. “Nice to meet you, Elly. Maybe we can talk and get to know each other while we work… and whistle,” I added with a little dry chuckle as I realized I was getting my fairy tales confused.

  Her lips trembled like she might smile, but it didn’t bloom. She looked uncertain, like she expected me to start flinging hexes at her for daring to enter my room. Which, when I thought about it, might be the case. We witches didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation outside of our own little self-obsessed culture.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Then she backed out the door, shutting it hurriedly behind her. I sighed. So much for making friends.

  ***

  The kitchen uniform turned out to be a pair of loose-fitting khaki pants, a polo shirt with the academy’s logo printed on the left side, and a crisp white apron. Wanda would have had a conniption if she saw me wearing even one element of this ensemble, let alone the whole thing. She’d always been fashion forward and she would have found the plebeian style insulting. I wasn’t too thrilled about it either but it wasn’t like I had much say so I put it on. It was better than staining my school uniform.

  I exited the room in time to join a line forming at the kitchen doors. Elly was near the front and offered me a half-hearted wave when our eyes locked. I returned it with more enthusiasm than necessary, earning myself a few odd looks, and felt my cheeks heat. They were probably wondering what was wearing me as a skin suit. Witches weren’t friendly on the whole, and the ones I’d met here were particularly nasty. Though two was a small sample size, I felt pretty confident in my assessment. When the headmistress’ daughter didn’t like a witch, the rest would fall in line after her. It was simple survival when you ran with a coven.

  And that meant my time here was going to be all kinds of fun.

  A moment later, the front doors banged open and Mads appeared in the gap. She’d pulled her snowy hair into a tight knot at the base of her neck and tucked it beneath a loose hair net. She looked upbeat, despite the early hour, which was a crime against nature, if you asked me. Morning people were the worst, always trying to get you to roll out of bed and do things with them at ungodly hours.

  “Time to earn your keep, you lot!” she called out with a big grin. “Inside then an’ on the double! We’re making omelets, bacon, and breakfast potatoes this morning. I’ll divide you up into groups of three. You’d better get chummy with whoever you end up with, because they’ll be your work buddy for the remainder of the semester. No complaints. Got it?”