Ghost Society: Spellwood Academy, #4

By Kate Avery Ellison

After the events of Hollowfell, Spellwood's security has been doubled, and Kyra Solschild is in a haze of depression from the loss of Lucien. To make matters worse, Lucien's best friend, Tryst, made Lucien a promise to look after Kyra. She's not happy about his sudden shadowing of her everywhere, and neither is Tryst.

Meanwhile, all of Spellwood is prepping for the Wintertide Ball, the biggest celebration of the school year. The campus is covered in snow. Music and the smell of cinnamon float through the air. And some people are keeping secrets.

Kyra has almost begun to adjust to her new normal when she uncovers a shocking secret about where Lucien has gone...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Avery Ellison
• Release date: Oct 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798231123643

Book preview

Other books by Kate Avery Ellison include:

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THE SWORN SAGA

Red Rider (The Sworn Saga #1)

Silver Wolf (The Sworn Saga #2)

Black Veil (The Sworn Saga #3)

White Mask (The Sworn Saga #4)

Crimson Heart (The Sworn Saga #5)

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THE KINGMAKERS’ WAR

A Gift of Poison (The Kingmakers’ War #1)

A Bed of Blades (The Kingmakers’ War #2)

A Kiss of Treason (The Kingmakers’ War #3)

A Circle of Flames (The Kingmakers’ War #4)

A Shield of Sorrow (The Kingmakers’ War #5)

A Court of Lies (The Kingmakers’ War #6)

A Reign of Thieves (The Kingmakers’ War #7)

A Knife of Oblivion (The Kingmakers’ War #8)

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All Her Secrets

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THE FROST CHRONICLES

Frost (The Frost Chronicles #1)

Thorns (The Frost Chronicles #2)

Weavers (The Frost Chronicles #3)

Bluewing (The Frost Chronicles #4)

Aeralis (The Frost Chronicles #5)

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The Curse Girl

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SECRETS OF ITLANTIS

Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis #1)

By Sun and Saltwater (Secrets of Itlantis #2)

With Tide and Tempest (Secrets of Itlantis #3)

For Wreck and Remnant (Secrets of Itlantis #4)

In Dawn and Darkness (Secrets of Itlantis #5)

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Once Upon A Beanstalk

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SPELLWOOD ACADEMY

Spellwood Academy (Spellwood Academy #1)

Briar Blood (Spellwood Academy #2)

Hollowfell Huntress (Spellwood Academy #3)

GHOST SOCIETY

SPELLWOOD ACADEMY BOOK FOUR

KATE AVERY ELLISON

Copyright © 2021 Kate Avery Ellison

All Rights Reserved

Do not distribute or copy this book, in print or electronic format, in part or in whole, without the written consent of the author.

This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband, Scott.

CHAPTER ONE

KYRA

LEAVES FELL ALL around me in browns, golds, and reds. Spellwood was in the throes of November, and the world was shedding its color.

The resulting dull gray of the naked trees around me matched the insides of my mind and heart. I felt hollowed out inside. Misted over. Drained.

Lucien was gone, and I had no answers about anything.

I stood alone in front of the Wondering Well, chewing my lower lip as I sorted through the phrasing of what I wanted to say.

What I needed to ask.

The candy bar in my hand crinkled as I clenched my fingers. The Wondering Well was picky, but this was my favorite candy bar in the mortal world, sent by my mom and Grandmother Azalea to comfort me, and sacrificing it to the deep darkness of the well felt like cutting off a finger.

I hoped it would be enough to dredge up an answer to my question.

Because I didn’t have much else I was willing to part with.

I’d already lost so much.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet as I approached the stone lip of the well. Wind swirled around me, making the trees shudder and relinquish more of their brown and gold foliage.

Everyone was losing something, it seemed.

I took a deep, shuddering breath as I reached the edge of the well. A flash of a memory chased through my head—the first time I’d come here, with Tearly leading the way, and how I’d nearly fallen in when she’d half-heartedly tried to kill me and jostled me off-balance.

If she hadn’t been resisting her orders... I peered into the damp darkness below, my heart thumping as I stared at what might have been my final resting place. The words I’d prepared clogged in my throat like wet leaves in a storm drain, and I exhaled raggedly as the wind blew again.

I could do this.

Facing my fears was healthy, and besides, if I let myself shrink away from every place where I’d almost been killed, soon I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, since the attempts on my life were accumulating rapidly.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have even been at the Wondering Well alone in the first place, but Spellwood had been spelled and warded as securely as a lockbox in the aftermath of my Hollowfell kidnapping, and Headmaster Windswallow assured me I was safe from any outside threats that might seek to cross the border and harm me.

I’d reached a place of numb trust in the wards, because the alternative was never leaving my room.

And I needed privacy for my question to the Wondering Well.

I placed one hand on the chilly stone of the well and cleared my throat.

Was it my imagination, or did the well seem to murmur in response?

I listened.

No, it was only the wind in the trees around me.

I stretched out my hand and unclenched my fingers, letting the beloved candy bar tumble into the darkness of the well. As it disappeared, my heart sank with sadness and somersaulted with hope at the same time, making me feel slightly nauseated.

I leaned forward just enough to speak directly into the well.

Is Lucien okay?

I waited, feeling every thud of my pulse in the base of my throat.

The Wondering Well was silent.

I waited one minute, then two, as the wind swirled the dry leaves at my feet.

No response.

I sagged against the stone, tears of frustration prickling at the corners of my eyes and stinging in my nose. I’d given up my comfort candy and gotten nothing for it. Was my sacrifice not enough?

Last time, I’d accidentally given my locket to the well when it caught on a stone and broke free from the chain around my neck.

I didn’t have another locket to give.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, but the well had nothing to say to me.

Finally, I rose and scrubbed my hands over my face to rub away the threat of tears as a surge of anger filled me.

What a waste.

What a stupid, stupid waste, and it was all for nothing.

Lucien was gone, and I didn’t know where he was or when he was coming back or even if he was alive.

Fighting despair, I headed back for the North Tower while the leaves drifted down around me and the wind whispered nonsense overhead.

~

I returned to the Wondering Well the next day, still angry, but not ready to give up.

Not yet.

I kept my fingers curled gently around the item I’d brought this time, because it was fragile.

Perhaps I needed to give something that made me think of him, if I wanted answers about him.

Once again, I paused at the edge of the Wondering Well.

Once again, memories of Tearly and the near-incident from before ran through my head.

There were other memories of this place. The beginning of the Society War, the air fraught with anticipation and giddy excitement as the representative students of the various societies gathered around the well breathlessly, waiting to begin. I remembered random details with sharp clarity—the orb from Briar sitting surprisingly light in my hands, glowing with its three roses, and Merit and Elome on either side of me. Griffin standing atop the Wondering Well, looking like he wanted to declare himself king, and Fallon shouting for him to get down in her most imperious voice, the same one she used at meetings in the library. Craig of Toadcurdle announcing the alliance with Briar, and the shock his words had caused.

I closed my eyes briefly, remembering how perplexingly happy that time had been. A simpler time, despite everything.

The world was bleak and gray now in comparison, edged in oblivion.

I reached the edge of the well and stretched out my hand. I hesitated, reluctant to surrender yet another precious item to the capricious Wondering Well.

Surely, this one would be enough. It was even more special to me than the candy bar, and this item was more personal. Perhaps that was the missing ingredient the candy bar had lacked.

I opened my finger and let the shriveled mushroom fall, one of the ones I still had in a drawer from my detention I’d shared with Lucien months ago.

The mushroom fell into the depths of the well without a sound, and I leaned over the edge and smelled the damp air that wafted up from far below.

This time, I didn’t hesitate with my question.

Is Lucien safe? I called.

I waited, holding my breath.

The Wondering Well was silent.

I slammed my hand against the stones, hissing an angry curse beneath my breath. Disappointment crushed me, and I sat down hard beside the well and groaned.

Really? I demanded of the well, which again, was mulishly silent.

I sat for a long time on the ground, surrounded by fallen leaves. The limbs of the trees overhead were nearly bare now, and the sky beyond was achingly blue. I slumped back until my back touched the icy stones of the well, and I let my head rest against it as I shut my eyes in frustration and anger.

Now I’d given two special things to the well, and I had no answers in return.

And I still knew nothing of Lucien.

Defeat tasted like ash, but I was angry.

What did I have to give this stupid well to get it to answer me?

Maybe you don’t know, I muttered to the well. Maybe you can’t answer because you don’t have any idea. Aren’t you supposed to know everything? Aren’t you supposed to be magical?

My taunts had no effect. The well was silent.

I pressed a hand to my eyes. I felt like I was going mad. I was already spending way too much time alone. Now I was insulting wells.

Maybe I was losing it. I’d been under a lot of stress lately. Too much stress for any one person.

After another few minutes spent stewing in my emotions, I stood and brushed off my legs.

I had one more idea to try.

~

This time, I could barely bring myself to approach the edge of the Wondering Well. I cradled the item in my hands like a baby against my chest. My throat squeezed so tight that I could barely breathe.

I was scared. Scared of giving up something and once again getting nothing back. Scared of getting an answer that wasn’t the one I wanted.

The fear threatened to paralyze me, and for an eye-blink, my hands were frozen against me.

I forced myself to unclench, to keep moving.

This was what I had to do if I wanted to get answers.

I trembled as I leaned over the side of the well and unfurled my arms. I let the thing in my hands fall, and I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood as I watched the book—one of my precious favorite books by Margot Drewery—disappear into the darkness below with a flutter of pages like the wings of a stunned bird falling.

I’d chosen The Silence of Loneliness to give to the well. I’d thought it fitting, given the circumstances.

Is Lucien safe? I whispered into the darkness.

And I waited.

A cold wind curled around my shoulders like the sudden embrace of a ghost. The faintest scrap of sound reached my ears from the depths of the well.

A bird on a spit is safe from the hawk

A man who spills blood in secret is safe

Until the dead talk

I leaned farther into the well, heart slamming, straining to catch every echoing word.

The well fell silent.

I slid to the ground, my mind churning as I repeated what I’d heard to myself over and over so I’d memorize every syllable.

A bird on a spit.

A man who spills blood.

The ominousness of the message washed over me, and I shivered with dread.

I knew the well often gave unsatisfactory or indecipherable answers, but... what did this mean?

Was Lucien in trouble? Was he a prisoner, a bird on a spit?

Who was spilling blood?

I rose to my feet with a growl of anxious frustration and started toward the path in the woods. Red and gold leaves drifted around me like confetti as a chilly wind brushed the treetops and made them dance.

ONE MONTH LATER

CHAPTER TWO

KYRA

WINTER WIND RATTLED the panes of my bedroom window in their wooden frames and made the old walls groan and creak. I sat on my bed with my knees drawn up to my chin as I stared out the window. Outside, fat snowflakes swirled like feathers in a storm, coating the gardens below in a thick crust of white.

It was December now.

I remembered when I was a little girl, one of Grandmother Azalea’s friends had passed away. We’d gone to pick up some of her things, and all the furniture in her apartment was covered in white sheets.

The snowfall covering Spellwood’s hedges and lawns made me think of those sheets now.

I shivered, feeling as cold and windswept as the frosty world outside. I had a book in my hand, but I wasn’t reading it. When I tried to absorb myself in the story, the words tumbled out of my head as soon as I’d traced them on the page with my eyes while my mind wandered among memories that whispered and tickled at my mind like persistent ghosts determined to speak.

I sighed, and my breath made a silver spot on the chilled glass. Absently, I drew a frowny face in the condensation before it faded away.

Kyra? What do you think?

Hannah’s voice intruded into my thoughts, and I blinked as I turned to look at her. My friend and roommate stood in the doorway of our room with her hands on her hips and a pinch of concern between her eyebrows as she studied me.

Had she been talking to me this whole time?

I flushed, embarrassed. I hadn’t been listening. I’d been staring at nothing for who knew how long.

I— I’m so sorry, Hannah. What were you saying?

Only that I’m going to the library to do some reading, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? Hannah stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her curly yellow hair formed a halo of gold around her pale face as she lowered her voice. Are you having a flashback about what happened? Should I take you to see Headmaster Windswallow?

About what happened.

Hannah meant my most recent brush with death, a month previously, when I’d been kidnapped and forced into the woods by a hunter intent on killing me. Since then, everyone had been treating me as if they feared I might shatter at the slightest provocation.

Truth be told, I’d had multiple attacks on my life in the past year. The incident with the hunter was only the latest attempt.

Hannah didn’t know that, though. Only a few people, like Headmaster Windswallow and Joras and Kirel, knew the truth about who and what I really was.

I’m fine, I assured her. I forced my lips into a smile, but Hannah didn’t seem to find my expression convincing.

She was clearly worried about me, and her concern made me feel even worse about the fact that I was lying to her and the rest of my friends. I didn’t have a choice about the deception, but still, I hated it.

Come with me, she pressed. You’ve been spending a lot of time reading by yourself lately. You should do something social. Something fun.

Fun, I repeated, and raised an eyebrow. I put as much sarcasm as I could into the word, so she would believe that I was fine. Aren’t you going to the library?

Hannah straightened, indignant. You like libraries! You love to read!

Yes, but not when it’s homework. We’d given up trying to convince her that nobody did the reading—clearly, at least one person at Spellwood did in fact do the reading, and her name was Hannah.

You can bring one of your books. The botany ones you’ve been so obsessed with lately. She was giving me a look full of unspoken concern, like she was debating what was safe to say to me. Like she was choosing her words carefully, so she wouldn’t accidentally shatter me.

I didn’t like it when people gave me that worried look, and I’d been getting it daily from everyone for more than a month now. And she was right—I’d been doing a lot of reading by myself, trying to make sense of the bits and pieces of the puzzle I had yet to solve: the identity of the one who wanted me dead.

I could do that just as well with Hannah in the library.

I’d love to go with you, I said, hoping to ward off a further discussion of whether I was really fine.

I stood and grabbed my coat from its hook by my bed. I gathered the top couple of books from the precarious pile at my feet. Lately, I’d been reading everything I could find about the unseelie courts, looking for clues. I stuffed the books into a satchel.

Come on, before the snow gets any worse.

I neatly avoided considering whether I might shatter if Hannah said the wrong thing. I didn’t want to think about that at all.

No, the library was a better choice.

The halls hummed with excitement as we descended the staircase for the foyer. Students flitted from door to door, chattering and giggling.

The winter solstice was nearly here, and Spellwood had descended into an aura of festivity. Already, the tantalizing smells of mulled cider and slow-cooked stew filled the halls, and whimsical, red-hatted gnome statues stood at doors and along the paths, holding candles that lit themselves when darkness fell. Winterfell was one of the favorite fae holidays, or so I was told. Parents and family would visit from the mortal realm and the fae courts. Presents would be exchanged. The school was having its annual winter ball, with mulled cider and cake and dancing until midnight. Even the elite students weren’t too sophisticated to smile about the upcoming events.

I felt like a ghost in the midst of everyone else’s glee as I followed Hannah across the foyer and to the door. Hannah kept sneaking glances at me when she thought I wouldn’t notice. I pretended I was too fine to realize she was worried.

Snowflakes blew inside when Hannah opened the groaning door to the garden. We clutched our coats and stepped into the wind with startled gasps at the cold. Snow had already erased all the footprints from the path and was still falling steadily.

Isn’t this snow amazing? Hannah gazed at the sky as we set off in the direction of the library. I’m from Miami. The snow is almost as magical as everything else at Spellwood.

We don’t get much snow where I’m from, either, I said. It feels like a movie set.

The snow soaked up sound, making the world feel oddly cushioned and hushed as we walked. The lampposts were all glowing even though it was daytime; the sky had turned dark with clouds. A few students were having a snowball fight on the main lawn, and a snowball whizzed past our heads. Hannah made an indignant sound and bent to gather a handful to lob back at the laughing students, and I caught a glimpse of red hair among the scarves and coats.

My stomach suddenly felt full of stones.

Tryst, Lucien’s best friend, had red hair.

Hannah’s snowball found its mark against a dark coat and exploded like a bomb of powdered sugar, spraying snow into the face of the one who’d thrown the first snowball. She grinned, triumphant.

I was still reeling from that glimpse of red hair even as I told myself it could be anyone. Lots of students had red hair. It probably wasn’t Tryst—

My breath left my lungs in a quiet exhale as my eyes locked with the red-haired student, and Tryst and I studied each other in a bubble of silence as the world flurried around us, the sounds of crunching snow and bubbling laughter dulled to my ears.

I hadn’t seen much of Lucien’s friends since he’d disappeared—they’d kept to themselves, and so had I—but we were bound to run into each other eventually.

He looked wan and drawn, with bluish shadows under his eyes and a new pinch to his mouth. He looked the way I felt.

Hollow.

Lost.

Tryst and I held gazes another second in a tunnel of mutual silence. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t seem to think of any words that made sense. The elite boy lifted one eyebrow as his mouth turned down in a frown. Was he acknowledging my pain? Or indicating that he thought I was somehow to blame?

Then, another snowball struck Tryst in the side of the face, and the moment was gone.

Let’s get out of here, Hannah gasped, and