Glow

By Molly Lavenza

I AM SO SICK OF SECRETS.

Determined to fulfill my destined role, I push past my emotional trials only to learn those who should be guiding me have held back a secret that could ruin all of our lives. None of my choices offer the certainty I seek, but I'll have to live with the consequences . . . and so will those I love.

Will my time at Larkspur end in triumph or tragedy?

*Final installment of Larkspur Academy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Lavenza
• Release date: Oct 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463035801

Molly Lavenza

Molly Lavenza is a student at Kent State University. She loves her home state of Ohio, her cats, little sister, and her boyfriend, whose dark, curly hair and obsession with Converse sneakers was the inspiration for Declan, the hero in The Changeling Covenant.

Book preview

Chapter One

I suck in a deep breath, squeezing my eyelids tight before opening them.

My throat burns, the scorch leading up into my mouth and through my nose as I cough.

Take it easy, Mina. Everything is okay.

Abby’s voice reaches me before I see her face, her neat appearance back just as we are here at Larkspur.

But there was smoke, and a fire, and I was trapped . . .

The door in the floor wouldn’t open, so how did I get wherever I am now?

I turn my head and find myself in a room I’ve never seen before. It’s a little larger than the regular dorm rooms, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a smaller room attached that must be a bathroom.

There is little to say whose room this is, except for a few framed photos on a desk and dresser, and a cream fabric covered jewelry box with a tiny ballerina on top.

The sight makes me smile, as exhausted as I am, and Abby speaks my name again, close to my ear.

Mina, stay awake this time, please. The doctor is here to see you, and she needs you to cooperate for a proper exam.

Is this Abby’s room, I wonder, and when I finally see her, her frown and wide eyes tell me I should listen to save her from worrying further.

Mina. Perhaps you remember we’ve met before.

A woman with a long fishtail braid leans over me, and I stare at her.

She’s the one who came to help Gavin when he fell, or rather, when Georgia pushed him to the cafeteria floor.

I open my mouth to ask where I am, but a croak accompanied by a sharp pain makes me shut it again quickly.

Smoke inhalation. I believe this is the extent of your injuries, but your uncle insists you remain here instead of going to the hospital.

The doctor shrugs, clearly annoyed.

But what do I know? I’m the one who went to medical school, so surely he knows better.

Her words drip with sarcasm, and I manage a faint smile as I lift my arm, using my fingers to mimic writing.

I’ll get you a notebook and pen.

As if I haven’t had my share of notebooks and pens over the past couple of months, but I am asking for it.

I’m sure my penmanship is terrible, but I manage to scrawl out a few words after Abby gives me the materials, and the doctor laughs out loud, easing the tension in the room enough for Abby to smile as she peers closer at the paper.

Need rooms in hospital for non-Larkspur patients

I may be exaggerating, since so far this year there have only been two Larkspur students there, but the joke appears effective and I smile, relieved.

And hopeful my efforts will give me an edge and some answers.

I’m sure you’d like to know what happened to you, and that’s a good question, because I have no idea.

Dr. Nickerson stays in sarcastic mode, but her smile is tight.

It’s difficult to treat a patient without all the facts, but as far as I can tell, you’ll be fine with rest and pain meds, the prescription easy enough for Abby to pick up in town. Lots of fluids, of course.

She examines my throat and mouth, and listens to my chest as I turn my face towards Abby.

Her pale hair is pulled back tight in a bun low on the back of her neck, and her usual outfit, white blouse and black pants, are clean and neat.

But her eyes are bloodshot, her skin blotchy.

I wish I could hold her hand, but we both know better.

As soon as the doctor leaves, shaking her head as I watch her disappear through the doorway, Abby stands, folding her hands at her waist in a familiar gesture.

You’ll be staying here in my room for a bit, until you’re better. Your actions drew a lot of attention, and we were able to contain the small fire that could have been dangerous.

Her smile is quick and sharp before it disappears.

I pick up the pen and start to write again, and she glances around the room as if to give me privacy as I put my questions down.

Where will you sleep? My uncle’s room? How did I get out of the passageway?

The first two have nothing to do with the third, but I know which question makes her gasp when she starts to read.

Oh, no, Mina. I wouldn't, I mean, he wouldn’t . . . we don’t.

She sighs and shakes her head slowly, making me sorry I suggested it.

I’ll be in one of the empty dorm rooms closer to the other girls, but if you prefer I can stay here with you. We have sleeping bags . . .

I shake my head firmly, because there’s no way I’m going to make her sleep on the floor, babysitting me, after all I’ve put her through.

As far as how you came to be in my room, you can thank your sister for hearing your screams and taking it upon herself to go up and get you.

What?

How is this possible?

Abby covers her eyes, and I worry my sister hurt herself while saving me.

It’s not the first time she came to my rescue, and she’s not the only person who has been in danger because of me.

Her hands are burned from the staircase, but they will heal. She was able to get the door open and drop you both into the hall and through another exit.

Another exit?

These two and their secret ways to navigate the school.

How many other pathways are there behind these walls?

She wouldn’t want you to worry about her, Mina. Just rest.

That won’t be easy as my mind shifts to wonder about the fire itself.

For some reason, I don’t suspect the Bradbury, not when I trust Georgia, who told me signing inside the cover would finish the sealing.

So it can’t be Fahrenheit 451, which means I need to get to my uncle’s library and search for this new culprit before anything else goes wrong.

Just because The Call of the Wild took weeks to strike doesn’t mean this threat will do the same, not when The Great Gatsby and The Hobbit were quick to show themselves.

Those specific volumes of the stories, just like all the rest in the library, are enchanted, or spelled as everyone involved likes to say, and it occurs to me that instead of dealing with each book as it empties its pages, I need to find a way to end the enchantment.

I struggle to sit up, and Abby rushes close with her arms out.

She won’t touch me, but she doesn’t want me to strain myself, her concern for me a constant I’ve come to appreciate.

Books, I manage to bark, and she flinches back, frowning.

I hope she understands I don’t mean I want one to read, and her eyes grow wide.

Carter and I thought the same thing, but we didn’t want to mention it. We can work with clues, but unfortunately, those clues may be something dangerous, as we all know.

She’s thinking of Samantha, just as I am, as well as Helena.

What she and my uncle don’t know is how Gavin came to bash the back of his head on the cafeteria floor.

Even if it wasn’t caused by an escaped text, spellbinding is still responsible for his injuries in the form of Georgia’s devotion to me.

Or rather, to my role as the Spellbinder she and her family revere.

Anything you need to tell us, write it down and save your voice. You’ll heal more quickly if you don’t speak.

Someone sniffles at the door, which I didn’t hear open as I focused on our conversation.

Come in, Abby calls out encouragingly, and Hannah, Sadie, Taylor, and Helena step in, all in a row as if prepared for an inspection.

Hey, Mina, Helena leaves the others behind as they stare at me, and I wonder at how hesitant they are before Helena sits on the bed, close to me.

She rubs her nose with the back of her hand before bursting into tears.

We thought you might die, too!

The others rush in and they all huddle over me, crying, and Abby backs away, turning around to give us time together.

Helena finally sucks in a long breath and I see her discover the notebook and pen.

I guess you can’t talk yet, right? What does this mean?

She peers at the words I’ve written, and I’m glad when she smiles at them.

This is true. We’ve spent too much time in that hospital lately, even if it is one the Reeds practically own. I’m glad you’re not going there.

But do you need to?

Hannah, ever practical, swipes at her damp eyes with her fingers as she stares at me, and I shake my head slowly.

I’ll be fine, tired and need rest

They watch me write and after a moment of silence while they read my reassuring words, Sadie takes my hand.

They wouldn’t tell us exactly what happened or where you were, but we know there was another fire. Maybe they need to get an inspection or something.

Yeah, this building is so old I’m sure it’s a fire trap.

Abby clears her throat and we all look towards her as Helena adds to Sadie’s concern.

Not at all. We take great care in making sure Larkspur is safe, so be assured you aren’t in any danger.

When Taylor rests a hand on her belly, Abby nods to her.

I promise, we do all we can to protect everyone here.

It’s obvious Taylor has spoken with Abby about her pregnancy, but I don’t know if she plans to stay here for the duration of it and return once she’s had the baby, or if she’ll have to leave.

We need to let Mina rest, so your visit must be short, and if we can keep the tears to a minimum so as not to upset her, it would be best.

Abby’s admonition is delivered with a smile, and my friends return it before beginning to pat my arms and shoulders, as if they are searching for injuries.

I laugh, and my throat closes up, making me gag.

Sorry, sorry!

Sadie backs away and the rest of them cringe as well, but I shake my head, wishing they would stay longer.

But before I know it, my eyes start to itch and my head feels fuzzy, and I drift off into sleep as I struggle to stay awake.

I need to get better so I can search the library for the empty book, but I don’t want to waste time sleeping either, not when I can talk to Abby or my uncle through the notebook to get some questions answered ahead of my search.

Maybe Sunny will be able to help me, and I wish I had asked to see her before my eyelids drop shut as if heavy weights press them down.

And Gavin, who along with Sunny, has told me more about spellbinding than my uncle, who is supposed to be guiding me.

The room and my friends as well as Abby disappear, and a familiar room surrounds me now, one I grew up in, one where I feel secure and comforted.

One that no longer exists: my living room in the home my father burned down.

Chapter Two

It’s an eerie sort of song to sing to a baby, though, don’t you think?

My father’s voice is somewhere close as I blink to clear my vision.

I’m in someone’s arms, someone much bigger than I am, and we’re rocking back and forth.

The view of the ceiling is one I know all too well, one I’ve shared with Kane as we rolled around on the carpet groaning over homework, during breaks from schoolwork or hanging out, watching movies and throwing popcorn at each other.

But it’s blurry, and I’m wrapped in something soft, bound tightly so I can’t move my arms and legs.

Natalie smiles at me and I stare up at her as she sings, my father’s protest notwithstanding.

At peace, return to the frame of your creation.

She slips into a children’s rhyme immediately after repeating the binding spell a couple of times, and as I listen, I understand what my father has said.

And I realize why I knew this spell, why I recognized it when I heard Gavin speak it in the woods.

My mother sang it to me, as she must have to Sunny as well.

I’m dreaming, and I relax into it, enjoying the comfort of her arms and the movement of the chair, which must be the one my father kept in our basement all those years.

They’ll have to learn it sometime, but maybe not if I can help it.

Her arms tighten around me, and I panic, suddenly thinking of my uncle’s words in the car when we left Moon Lake.

Natalie tried to kill my sister and me?

Why would she do that?

I vaguely recall more details that were shared with us, but they’re like dandelion fluff escaping from the edges of my mind as I reach for them.

What was wrong with my mother?

She leans over and kisses my forehead, and someone speaks my name softly.

It isn’t Natalie.

It’s Gavin.

Hey, Mina. Wake up. I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, but you’re crying.

His hand is warm on my cheek, and I turn into it, feeling the heat of my tears smear on my skin.

I blink myself awake, and find Gavin staring into my eyes, his head down and level with mine as he kneels beside Abby’s bed.

Never a dull moment here at Larkspur since you’ve arrived. Just what I’d expect from our Spellbinder.

Coming from him, who wants the role for himself and the Elara family, that’s rich, but I can’t help smiling at him.

He smooths my hair back from my head, and I realize I probably look awful.

I must not smell too great, either.

"So, this fire. I mean, you signed Fahrenheit 451, didn’t you?"

When I nod, he sighs with obvious relief.

What now, then?

He shakes his head and I shrug, the effort monumental.

I’m guessing Georgia or Sunny told you about the signing aspect of binding.

It’s the first time he’s mentioned this, and he looks sheepish before turning his gaze to the open window.

Without waiting for me to answer with a nod, he goes on.

I should have told you, but I guess a part of me assumed Dr. Reed or Abby would have explained that. Maybe that’s just an excuse.

He shakes his head and stands up, and I immediately miss his touch.

It was dangerous and selfish of me to hold back such a vital piece of information. I put you and everyone else affected by the blank books at risk, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.

He’s the one most adversely affected by this situation, considering his injuries.

Except, of course, for Samantha, and he wasn’t responsible for her death.

I am.

You’ve had quite a few visitors, Mina. Are you getting any rest in spite of that?

Uncle Reed comes in without knocking, and I wish he would turn around and walk back out.

His refusal to tell me everything about my family, leaving me to discover the horrors of the past from devastating visions, only makes me distrust him, when I need him to share more.

I’ll go, Mina. But if you need me . . .

I shake my head at Gavin, and he stops speaking as my uncle points to the door behind him.

Good idea, Gavin. I’m sure she can see you after she’s had more sleep.

When I take the notebook and pen, they both come closer, putting me on the spot as I scribble quickly.

Don’t go

I point the pen at Gavin and ignore my uncle, who stands taller, setting his shoulders straight.

My own feel full of lead, and while I want to move on the bed, I can’t seem to shift them.

Only for ten more minutes, then no one comes in except Abby or me for the rest of the afternoon.

Without allowing for a response, my uncle leaves, closing the door firmly and loudly behind him.

I’m surprised he’s giving us privacy, but even he must admit Gavin would never do anything to deliberately hurt me.

Rival or not.

Do you have any ideas as to which book it is this time?

I roll my eyes at his question, and while they feel sticky, the movement makes him laugh.

Just asking. Sometimes it’s like the most obscure details are what come out, what make themselves known. And then others . . . well, it only seems obvious after the title is discovered.

Any fire will immediately make me think of Fahrenheit 451, but I don’t think my uncle would have two volumes of the same book, although I can’t be sure.

I write this on the notebook paper, and Gavin nods.

That’s my understanding. Carter started collecting the books when he was young, maybe nine or ten, and his family’s fortune allowed him to do this as a hobby, or so they called it. As the story goes, he wanted to have them all together, so spellbinders and affinities wouldn’t have to travel in search of them.

Is that how this worked before my uncle took up this obsession?

It sounds impossible, the very idea anyone would have to search the world for a troublesome book, especially considering how difficult it is for me to figure out which one causes problems now, when they’re all under Larkspur’s roof.