All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [284]
Fiona sighed.
“But,” Miss Westin said, “I do not accept you missing my classes or final.”
She produced two more papers and slid one each toward Fiona and Eliot.
In the fine print was a list of books—Bulfinch’s Mythology, everything ever written by Cicero, Languorous Lullabies, Golden’s Guide to Extraordinary Books, and on and on, dozens of texts, endless volumes, and ancient scrolls.
“Read these over the next few months,” Miss Westin explained, “and you may then take my makeup final examination at the end of summer.”
This was as much reading as they’d been assigned for the entire year. So much for getting a break.
Fiona had read some of these already, however, digging up background on Zeus and the rest of her Immortal family. Still, even for her it’d be a spend-every-free-moment-of-vacation-with-nose-in-book deal.
“Thank you,” Eliot said, and tucked the paper into his pocket. “You didn’t have to do this.”
If Fiona had been sitting in the seat next to him, she would’ve elbowed him in the ribs. Why did he say that? Did he want her to change her mind?
Miss Westin’s features softened a bit, and she set her hands flat on her desk. “You’re quite welcome, Eliot. I recognize both your unique talents and your unusual circumstances.” Her face hardened once more. “But let me make this perfectly clear: You get only this one chance.”
Fiona swallowed. “Got it,” she said. “We’ll pass the final, no problem.”
Miss Westin took out her pocket watch and glanced at it. “Now, if you children don’t mind, I have another appointment.” She nodded to the door at the far end of her office.
Fiona and Eliot got up. Fiona tried to walk with as much dignity as possible toward the exit. Once she was outside—then she could collapse. How was it that she was able to march into Hell, charge an army of the damned, but almost flunking a few classes turned her to jelly?
She stood straighter. She was a goddess in the League of Immortals, after all. She didn’t have to feel this way.
Besides, there were lots of other more important things to consider than school. She still had to figure out her place in the world. How she fit in among the Immortals . . . and how to stop the Infernals from messing everything up again.
She nodded at the pale boy by the door and he opened it.
Fiona and Eliot walked into the waiting room. She blinked in the sudden sunlight. As her eyes adjusted, she saw two other students waiting for Miss Westin.
Sarah and Jeremy Covington.
Their uniforms were immaculate. Sarah had her hair up and coiffed. Jeremy’s long hair was back and tied with a black ribbon so he looked like a Colonial revolutionary.
“Why, Fiona!” Jeremy beamed and opened his arms wide as if to embrace her.
Sarah stood there, mortified. She looked at the floor.
“ ’Tis a delight to see you back,” Jeremy continued as if nothing were wrong—as if he hadn’t slammed the Gates of Perdition on them.
Fiona finally found her voice, at least a low growl of a voice, and said, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cut you in half—right here and now.”
Eliot, who had been calm and collected all morning, didn’t try to stop her; instead, he merely crossed his arms and glared at Jeremy.
“Ah . . .” Jeremy’s smile faded a bit. “Well, you’d miss my good looks and charm, wouldn’t ye?”
Fiona’s hands twitched and she fingered the rubber band on her wrist. It took all her will to keep her blood from boiling, and from doing something she wasn’t quite sure she’d regret.
The pale boy behind them said, “Pardon me, Masters and Ladies, but Miss Westin would like to see the Covingtons.”
Jeremy tilted his head. “And I suppose because you’d be murdering me in front of the Headmistress?” His impish smile returned.
Fiona hissed out a sigh.
Jeremy’s expression sobered. “Look dearie, what happened at the gate—’twasn’t what I had planned. But you and