Chapter 15 | Mirror Mirror

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In the days that followed, Asher visited the Riley home often for dinner and Latin lessons, but he learned far more about the Rileys in a matter of days than he'd learned in Latin all quarter. It wasn't as though he didn't appreciate the help; he'd definitely have flunked if not for Jackal. But rather, it was difficult to focus when they were alone in his bedroom, Jackal pacing with a book in his hands, Asher lounging on his bed with his cheek in his palm, trying to peel his eyes away. There was too much magic in the Riley home to think about Latin.

Jackal had other things to teach him anyway. Things about stones and energy and meditation and which herbs were good for a cold and which ones could kill you, and how to graft two plants together to create something new, and how to cleanse items in Himalayan salt and sunshine.

And then there were things Asher came to learn on his own, like how Mrs. Riley had a jar atop the fridge that she put a dollar into each time she cursed. He learned that Kat Riley's full name was Katherine, but don't you dare ever call me Katherine. I am a free spirit, not a nineties housewife with a cinched waist and no aspirations of my own. He also learned that Jackal's favorite phrase was shut up, Kat. And that Kat could throw a pillow from a room over and hit her brother square between the eyes. He learned that the smoky smell Jackal wore was the scent of sage-or at least, the sweetness left over when the burning was done. He wasn't so fond of the smell that came before-especially when Jackal moved around him with a burning bundle of the stuff. To purify, he said. It was important that everything in the Riley home was cleansed regularly. That part he didn't understand so well.

He had learned, above all though, that he would be spending more and more time with the likes of Mr. Riley. Stuck in the dean's office, slumped in his leather chair, bored out of his skull.

The dean sat at his desk, scratching in a notebook and pushing his hands through his pepper-gray hair until it stuck up wildly and made him look like an unhinged professor on the brink of an epiphany. Down the hands came to rub at his eyes, then up, up into his hairline.

"Can I go to class?" Asher asked, trying terribly not to fall asleep where he sat.

The dean waved a hand in the air. "In a moment. I need your energy."

It had been this way for several days. The dean had politely requested Asher's presence. It helps me focus, he said. Your energy is like antidote to a cloudy mind.

"Don't you have your own familiar?" Asher asked.

The dean glanced up, but did not reply. His eyes lingered, steely and curious. He sat up some. "A little birdie's informed me that you see spirits. Is that right?" His voice tilted up an octave. "How do you see them?"

"What do you mean?" Asher asked. "Listen, can I just go to second period-"

The dean opened his drawer and slid a piece of chocolate toward Asher. "A little birdie also told me you enjoy sweets."

Asher stared at the chocolate, utterly offended. "A little birdie needs to shut its beak. You can't buy me with chocolate."

Dean Riley raised his chin and knit his pepper brows. "What's your price, Greenly?"

"For what?"

"To answer my question."

"A gilato from the cafeteria," Asher said.

"You could have that any day."

Asher shook his head. "Hell no."

"And why not?"

"You barely allocate me enough food money for a protein bar at breakfast. Those things are like fifteen bucks."

"Very well," the dean said. He pressed a button on his office phone and a mousy assistant fluttered out of his door, nudging her glasses up. He held a credit card up to her. "Tammy, run down to the cafeteria for me-grab the largest gilato you can."

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