Gabriella Poole - Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

Cassie sighed as well, all too aware of the stares and whispers of the Few that followed her. The Carnegie Hall story had obviously gone

round the common room like wildfire. Mikhail in particular gave her a filthy glare as he passed. If some of the Few had been unwelcoming

before, she dreaded to think how they’d feel towards her now.

Stretching her shoulders, Isabella bent and tweaked open one bag. Achilles’ blank eyes glowered straight into it.

‘He doesn’t approve,’ remarked Cassie, jerking her thumb at the young marble warrior.

‘That tells me all I need to know,’ sniffed Isabella. ‘He is a man with no heart. Look at the way he treats poor Hector.’ Affectionately she

patted Hector’s cold marble arm, raised in futile protest at his imminent death. ‘Yes. I consider myself consoled. Bergdorf Goodman was a

particular triumph.’

‘Girls, you have been very naughty.’

For a fleeting second Cassie imagined it was Achilles talking, till she saw Richard. He was propped lazily against the statue, one hand on

Achilles’ toned butt. A group of Few girls stared at him, then over towards Cassie, clearly disbelieving and hostile. Richard seemed to

ignore them.

‘Richard!’ Isabella kissed him on both cheeks, before shooting a guilty look at Cassie. ‘That’s the pot calling the skittle black, I think.

Weren’t you at Gucci yesterday when you should have been in French literature?’

Richard grinned slyly. ‘ Touché! Fabulous coat, bella Isabella. Cassie, you’re looking stunning, as ever.’

She gave him a tight smile through gritted teeth, but remained stonily silent. It was all she could do not to throttle him. Isabella’s presence

was pretty much all that was stopping her. So what if he came over all penitent and guilty? She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw—

She cut herself off mid-thought. After the events of last night, that wasn’t such a comfortable metaphor.

Richard unwound a cashmere scarf from his neck, and lowered his voice. ‘Cassie, darling, you have to forgive me eventually.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Cassie snapped.

‘Well.’ He raised a hand at a tall, shy-looking, new sixth-form girl, who blushed and smiled as she swept her overlong blonde fringe out of

her eyes. ‘I fear I must take my leave.’

‘Oh, Richard,’ scolded Isabella, following his eye-line. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘On the contrary, I’m all too probable. And, oh dear, here comes Daniel again,’ sighed Richard as he caught sight of a well-built Israeli boy

making a beeline towards them. ‘I have a stalker, ladies. One little dalliance and now he won’t leave me alone. Once you go fop, it appears

you can’t stop … Farewell.’ With a last flirtatious wink at the blonde sixth former, Richard dodged swiftly out of sight towards the elevators,

leaving Daniel to glare hatred.

‘He’ll never change,’ said Isabella, shaking her head. She looked cautiously over at Cassie. ‘Do you think you could ever forgive him?’

‘No.’

When they reached the elevator, it felt like a haven from the whispers and the watchers. Cassie pressed the button with a sigh of relief. ‘I

wonder if Ranjit’s around.’

‘If Ranjit’s around, I’m sure he’ll find you,’ teased Isabella, lugging her retail haul into their room and dumping the bags on her bed. ‘Hey,

what’s that?’

‘Good question.’ Cassie dropped her own rather smaller shopping bag on the floor, eyeing the scroll that lay on her pillow. It was gilt-

edged – that was new – but it was tied in a familiar black ribbon. A shiver of fear travelled up her spine. Nothing good ever seemed to come

of these sinister messages. Why couldn’t the Academy use email like everyone else?

‘Go on, open it!’

Reluctant even to touch the scroll, Cassie cautiously broke the wax seal on the ribbon. Unrolling it with the tip of a fingernail, she read

the message through in silence.

Isabella had entirely forgotten Bergdorf Goodman. She was watching Cassie with unbearable curiosity. ‘Come on! Give!’

Cassie frowned. ‘It’s from the Council of Elders. Whatever that is.’

‘Sounds good.’ Isabella hesitated, then glanced doubtfully at Cassie. ‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No. It’s a summons to a meeting of the Council next week. Attendance is not optional.’

Angrily, Cassie flung the scroll to the floor, and Isabella lifted it gingerly to read it through herself. She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s rather

curt, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, well I think I can guess what it’s about.’

The girls looked at each other, and neither was smiling. They said the words in unison.

‘Carnegie Hall.’

‘Cassie, hi!’

Ranjit’s face lit up as he raised his head from the pile of books at his desk. It hadn’t been difficult to find him: huddled in a quiet nook of