Amethyst Night - The Secrets of Nightingale Academy - Chapter 1

Magic or Not?

The cobbled streets were dimly lit by gas lamps, even though the streets themselves lay in the centre of modern day London. They had been bustling with people only a few minutes ago, but now lay still and quiet with nothing but the whistle of a bitter cold wind to break the silence. Though earlier you could have heard the sounds of children playing as their parents ran errands in the shops, now the streets were empty and the shops closed. For at this hour nobody would be in a street like this.

Except me.

I looked at my watch again, though the time probably hadn’t changed much since the last time I looked at it, and sighed with frustration. The bastard wasn’t late. No. He’d just decided that he wasn’t coming. Standing up, I brushed the dirt off of my jeans. Who was I kidding? Someone like him was never actually going to come out to meet me. I should have realised that four hours ago, when I was leaving the house to come here. Now I was freezing cold, incredibly embarrassed and on the verge of tears. But I wouldn’t cry. Biting my lip, I forced back the tears like I’d done so many times before. Why on earth should I cry for a prick like him?

I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, about to leave, when a man came out of the shop behind me. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I had assumed that everybody else had all ready gone home, so it had come as quite a shock when he’d come out of the shop. He had a kind looking smile that wasn’t fake, because he smiled with his eyes too, and his look seemed to carry some essence of genuine concern. I smiled back at him to reassure him.

“All right? Probably not,” I admitted. “But I’ll survive.”

“You’ve been sat out here for a while,” he pointed out.

I shrugged, “The person I was waiting for never came.”

He gave me a pitying smile. Then he seemed to look past me at something. Following his gaze, I noticed the only other person in this deserted street for the first time, a woman dressed in a long red coat walking confidently towards us. She had silky red curls that framed her face and startling blue eyes. She looked proud and powerful and carried an air of authority. Her lips were painted bright red and her pale cheeks were rouged to match. She was beauty and power personified, which led me to the conclusion that this woman was a witch.

“My dear Miss Chariot,” the man next to me said cheerfully.

“Hello Russell,” she replied.

I started to walk away. Generally non magic folk stayed away from witches and wizards; they saw themselves as above us and wouldn’t hesitate to make that apparent.

“Excuse me.” I stopped and turned realising that the woman was speaking to me. She smiled at me. “Miss Night?”

I blinked as if that would sweep away the confusion and make this situation any clearer.

“Miss Amethyst Night?” she pressed.

I nodded. “How...?” How do you know that? The words wouldn’t leave my mouth. I blinked again.

The woman glided across the street towards me, holding out her hand, in which was a card. It was a business card, pure white with the grey silhouette of a bird drawn in one corner. I was hesitant. And then I did something that, if someone asked me later, I wouldn’t be able to explain why I had done it; I took the card. She smiled, turned and walked back over to the man across the street. I couldn’t tell you for the life of me why I had taken the card from the strange woman in the street who knew my name long before I knew hers – I just did. It had felt like the right thing to do, as if that paper was meant to come into contact with my skin. I stuffed the card in the pocket of my hoody and started to walk home again.

When I got home I just laid on my bed staring up at my suddenly incredibly interesting ceiling. The events of the evening played out like a movie on the white lumpy surface. My hand slipped unknowingly into my pocket, my fingers brushing the smooth surface of the cars inside. A sudden longing to look at it swept over me, followed by an incredible sense of danger. It was silly, I knew that, but the card scared me somehow. A sick feeling inside me warned me that reading it could lead to something terrible. But it was tempting all the same. My hand slowly closed around the paper.

“Amethyst.” My hand flew out of my pocket empty.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Dinner's ready,” mum called back. I slipped down off of my bed and made my way down the stairs.

The next morning, I got up, got dressed and went to school as if nothing had happened the previous night. It was the last day of the whole year. After today there would be no more school for six weeks – heaven. Having been allowed to wear non-uniform, that morning I had put on my black hoody without even thinking about it.

Arms wrapped around me from behind and a head appeared on my shoulder. Maya made some sort of happy noise as she sang, “It’s the last day of school.”

She released her hold and took my hand, dragging me through the school gates. Maya and I had met on the first day of high school and for the past two years we had been inseparable. We were segregated from the rest of our year group for the simple reason that we were a little different. I generally kept to myself, as a rule, and often my shy nature was mistaken for hostility – it didn’t help that I had a bit of a fiery temper, so whenever people joked around too much I’d snap quite quickly. Maya was the opposite; she got on well with everyone but stayed away from them on purpose and was always pushing me to do stupid or embarrassing things. Thanks to her, I could now proudly stand in front of the entire school population in my old, worn jeans and my David Bowie T-shirt and shout, “I’m different, so sue me,” at the top of my lungs – that is except for him, Luke Jameson.

I stopped so suddenly I almost made Maya fall over.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at me.

I turned away from him before he could spot me. Maya did a quick scan of the crowd till her eyes found the culprit.

“Mr Love Me was a no show then?” she said. She always called him that because she thought he liked to make girls fall in love with him just to break their hearts. She was probably right – his past three girl friends had been dumped by him and ended up heart broken and he flirted with girls that he had no interest in on a regular basis. The only exception to the rule seemed to be Maya – he never treated her like other girls. He never asked her out on dates and, occasionally, he’d even stick up for her when some of the people in our year took a joke too far with her.

“What do you mean?” I said. “I didn’t go.”

“Yeah right,” she said sarcastically. “You’re an idiot, so naturally you went. Even though I warned you and warned you.”

I looked down at the ground, ashamed. I was glad when the bell went because it meant that she wouldn’t be able to pursue the matter any further. I took Maya’s hand and dragged her in the direction of our form room.

Form period was lasting longer today. Our form tutor had organised a mini party for us, but I hated the music and the food, so it wasn’t of much interest to me. Maya was arguing with one of the boys about music or something and I was slowly drifting off into a world of my own. Then it came over me again - that feeling of temptation and danger that I had felt the other day. My hand slipped into my pocket and, sure enough, there it was. I hadn’t taken it out. The card was slightly crumpled from the weight of my school bag but it didn’t seem to be ripped or particularly badly damaged. My hand closed around it and I pulled it out of my pocket. Absently, I smoothed out the creases and looked at it. It was an almost unnaturally pale white and the bird in the corner had its wings spread for optimum majesty. In the centre, there was bright red text in a fancy font. Nightingale Academy, that’s what it said.

Suddenly I realised that Maya was looking at it too. “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said distantly, still completely absorbed by the card. “Some woman gave it to me yesterday.”

“Spooky,” Maya said mockingly. “Hey, maybe she’s a stalker.” She laughed.

I scowled at her. There was definitely something funny about the card and the woman who’d given it to me, but it was scary funny not laughably funny.

“Hey, wait a sec,” Maya said suddenly. She snatched the card out of my hands, ignoring my protests, and examined it closely. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed.

Then he appeared behind her. I turned my gaze to the desk automatically and didn’t dare to look back at him, fearing that he’d know every little detail about the hours I’d waited for him to come. He looked down at the card from over Maya’s shoulder. Then he took it out of her hands and jumped back so that she couldn’t attack him.

“Wow! Would you look at that?” he said so that the whole class could hear.

Oh no.

“Give it back Luke,” Maya shouted, practically flying out of her seat towards him.

“Nightingale Academy,” he continued.

“I’m serious Luke, give it back.” Maya tried to take it out of his hands but he held it up in the air so that she couldn’t reach it.

“Since when did they let non magic folk have one of these?”

“Luke!” the teacher shouted from her seat. “Whatever it is give it back to her.”

“Oh come on Miss,” Luke whined.

I snapped. I stood up, sending my chair flying into the table behind me, walked over to him and snatched the card out of his hands.

“Whoa, somebody got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Luke said.

Ignoring him, I gazed at the card. Nightingale Academy. Why did I have a business card for Nightingale Academy? I put it back in my pocket.

“Just ignore him,” Maya said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

When the bell rang we left form together. Maya was something I clung to in my life; she was a way of grounding myself when I was overwhelmed by the thought that I wasn’t normal, that something about my life wasn’t quite right. Since I had been old enough to understand what a family was I had known that mine wasn’t normal. I had never met my father – my mother had told me that he’d left before I was born. She had told me a few things about him but all I knew was that he was a nice guy and his surname was Night, which was why I was called Amethyst Night. I’d never asked her why I took my father’s name and not hers; I can only assume that it’s because she really loved him. For as long as I can remember I have felt a desperate need to meet him and find out about that side of my family – ever since the dreams started.

“Amethyst,” Maya called out, breaking my train of thought.

“Yeah,” I said distantly.

“You were off in a world of your own again,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear in one smooth motion that she made look so natural. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and folded her arms, resembling a powerful business woman. A playful smile came across her face and made a rather odd combination with the almost cruel look in her eyes, like a cat cornering its prey. “Were you thinking about him?”

I laughed. “I actually wasn’t.” She gave me a doubtful look. “I wasn’t. I was thinking about my father.”

Instantly, she looked guilty and sprung forwards. “Do you think that he has something to do with that card?” she asked.

I shrugged, slumping in my chair and touching each of the legs of the chair in front of me with the tips of my toes. Maya pulled her chair further under the desk, lifting it slightly so that it didn’t make a sound by scraping across the floor. She put her elbow on the table and leant on her hand. I attempted to mimic her, but my arms were placed more clumsily, my back had a larger arch in it and my face scrunched up where it leant on my hand. I gave up and put my hand on the side of my head just above my ear. I often wished that I could have just half grace and confidence that she had.

“That woman knew your name,” she said, leaning towards me. “Maybe she knows your father. Maybe she can tell you something. Maybe...”

The teacher wacked the desk with a ruler. “Maybe that work isn’t going to suddenly decide to do itself and you might actually have to do it, Maya,” he said angrily. Then he turned and walked away.

“Sorry sir,” Maya called after him, giggling.

A lot of other people in the class also laughed. The difference between me and Maya was that they were laughing with her, whereas they would only ever be laughing at me. If I was completely honest, Maya would be a lot more popular if she didn’t spend so much time with me.

“So, whose house are we having the Thank-God-it’s-the-End-of-the-School-Year Party at?” Maya asked, as we walked out of school together. “My vote is for yours.”

I looked at her disapprovingly. “We always go to mine,” I moaned.

She gave me her best puppy dog look and even whimpered slightly. I sighed. “Fine,” I said.

She cheered and danced around me happily as I led the way to my house. “If you don’t stop dancing around then I’ll change my mind.”

She stopped and walked beside me instead. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started humming the tune to School’s out for Summer. Maya heard me and joined in. Suddenly, she was singing and eventually I couldn’t help but join in, getting gradually louder until we were singing the lyrics at the top of our lungs as we walked down the street. Mum must have heard us coming, because she was stood in the doorway laughing when we arrived. She led us into the house and started sorting out drinks, while Maya shouted joyously about the end of school and the fun we’d have over the next few weeks. I joined in with her laughter and let her pull me to my feet and dance me around the room. Mum joined us, sharing our joy and cracking jokes about lying in and leaving homework till the very last day of the holidays. She offered up cake and, Maya being Maya, there was a fight between the two of us over the biggest piece. The cake being for my birthday, I won.

“You’re so lucky,” she told me, pouting. “My mum never makes a cake for my birthday.”

“She didn’t make it,” I said. “I did.”

“Oh,” Maya said, sounding slightly disappointed. “In that case, maybe I don’t want a piece.” She pushed her plate away jokingly.

I pushed her playfully into the chair behind her and she burst into another fit of giggles. It had been my birthday the previous day, and after having made my cake with my mum I had spent it getting colder and colder and more and more depressed as I waited for Luke and he didn’t turn up.

Mum asked us about our last day and Maya reported back to her about how the “Evil Mr Hopkins” had made us do maths. Punctuating her anger, she stabbed her fork into her cake and shovelled one mouthful after another into her mouth while trying to speak around her food. She moaned about the awful end of year assembly that we were forced to sit through, mumbling something about the headmaster’s monotonous voice through a mouthful of cake. The light hearted conversation continued for a few hours and at some point we put on some music and made complete idiots of ourselves. I got lost in a blur of spins and twirls as I was passed between my mum and my best friend. We ended up just talking and laughing for hours, completely losing track of time, and I managed to forget about the events of the last two days. Before I knew it, time had flown past us and Maya had to leave. I showed her to the door and my mum called from the kitchen, “Come again soon.” Maya was always welcome in my house – she was like a sister to me and had always got on well with my mother. She’d spent a lot of time at my house over the past two years because her relationship with her family was damaged; I’d never asked why because I didn’t want to bring up any painful memories.

Once Maya was gone I went back to the lounge and popped my head round the door. Mum was sitting on the sofa staring at something in her hands with a stern look on her face. She looked worried, as if she was looking at a ghost from her past and it was truly haunting her.

“Why have you never told me anything about my father?” I asked.

My mother looked up and I saw what she was holding – it was the card for Nightingale Academy.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “I must have told you something about him.”

“No. You’ve never told me anything about him.”

Her eyes went back to the card as she lied to me. “Well, there isn’t much to tell. He was just a fling. I only knew his name, and even that might be a fake.”

I chose to ignore the fact that she was lying to me. I couldn’t be bothered dealing with this now. I knew that she wasn’t going to tell me the truth – that I would have to find out myself. So, for now, I would pretend that I believed what she was saying.

“Should I call them?” I asked.

She looked up at me again. “If they gave this to you, you probably should,” she said awkwardly. She put the card down and offered her arms out for a hug. I smiled contently and wrapped my arms around her. Then she pulled away and left the room.

I looked over at the card resting on the table beside me. Slowly, I reached out and took it. Under the school name was the name of the woman I’d met in the street, “Miss Chariot, Headmistress,” and under that was a phone number. I picked up the phone, marvelling at how heavy it suddenly seemed, and, slowly, I dialed the number. Listening to the shrill rings coming from the speaker, I waited and tried to steady my breathing.

“Hello?” Miss Chariot said.

I froze.

“Hello,” she repeated. “Hello…Amethyst?”