Gabriella Poole - Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

muscles trembled. She slumped back into her seat.

Sir Alric had spoken. At last.

‘Brigitte is right in one respect. We do not know what Cassandra is capable of. None of us do, and that includes me.’ Thoughtfully he

turned a pen in his fingers, his unsmiling eyes meeting Cassie’s. ‘But may I respectfully suggest that this fact alone renders the Confine an

unsuitable place to hold her.’

‘But—’ Vaughan had turned crimson.

Sir Alric ignored the FBI man. ‘She would be best monitored in an environment where she is entirely under the supervision of

experienced Few. Where her power can be measured and controlled, and if necessary turned to our advantage – rather than constrained

and possibly warped against us. Where she can be taught the self-control she so clearly lacks. I propose to the Council that there is only

one appropriate place to keep her.’ He paused and looked at each of the council members in turn. ‘At the Academy. Under my supervision

and control. For the foreseeable future.’

Murmurs rose from the Elders, but Cassie could make none of them out: only that some were angry and negative, some relieved and

supportive. Her head was buzzing. Could the man have left his intervention any later? On the other hand, his timing had been mighty

effective …

But Brigitte wasn’t about to give up.

‘Ah, Sir Alric,’ she said, her voice dripping contempt. ‘Perhaps it is you who should be under supervision and control. It’s your

responsibility to keep Academy students in line and out of the limelight. Something you seem to have singularly failed to do in this case.’

Sir Alric smiled thinly, but Cassie could have sworn she saw sparks whirl in the depths of his eyes.

‘Until what happened at Carnegie Hall, none of us had any idea that Cassandra’s powers were so … unique. I can hardly be held

responsible for failing to see a threat that escaped the wisdom of the whole Council. I have many talents, Brigitte, but the ability to predict

the future is not one of them. My proposal stands.’

Brigitte’s voice trembled with thwarted rage. ‘There are then two proposals before the Council. We shall put them to a vote.’

Sir Alric’s face was impassive as they began to vote. Cassie couldn’t look at him, so she stared hard at the floor. Cowardly, maybe, but it

was better than watching the expressions on the faces of the Elders, trying to count the votes for and against her. By the time Marat had

gathered the voting slips and they had been counted, and recounted – then counted a third time – Cassie was dizzy with suspense and fear.

‘By a majority of one …’ Brigitte halted.

Cassie’s head snapped up to stare at her. The woman’s lips were tight, her teeth gritted.

‘By a majority of one, the Council has decreed that Cassandra Bell will return to the Darke Academy.’ She rapped her gavel so hard

Cassie was amazed the table didn’t shatter.

Marat was at her side. It was over. Getting to her feet, Cassie shot a grateful glance at Sir Alric, but once again he was ignoring her. There

was nothing for it but to gather her dignity and follow Marat from the room in silence. There was no point trying to make conversation with

the little brute. He looked more sullen than ever. Disappointed, maybe.

It was only as the door closed behind them that she heard Brigitte’s voice rise once more, over-sweet and clipped, and, Cassie suspected,

made clear enough for her to hear.

‘We move on to the next item of business.’ A rap of the gavel. ‘The Johnson boy.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The Johnson boy …?

Cassie stopped in her tracks as Marat moved ahead of her through the reading room. The place was still in near-darkness and the

shelves were high to right and left.

Jake.

Glowering ahead, it must have taken Marat a while to register that her footsteps had stopped. He was ten metres away when he finally

turned.

For a moment they eyed each other warily. Marat took one step towards her.

‘I need to go to the toilet!’ yelped Cassie. Before Marat could react, she had turned and run into the shadows between the bookshelves.

She had to get back to that room.

One thing about being Few, she thought appreciatively: it made her fast. Fast, and nimble on her feet. Her heart pounded as she switched

direction and darted between the shelves.

In the deepest shadows, she paused. She could see Marat in between the stacks, searching for her. She hoped her own heartbeat wasn’t

as loud as it sounded.

Dodging through the bookshelves, she alternately crept and sprinted silently, retracing her steps in an elaborate circle. By the time she

spotted a familiar sign to the Trustees’ Room, she couldn’t hear him any more. Holding her breath, she peered into every corner, but there