章 25: 25. Devil in The Belfry
As soon as his feet landed on the awning, Tariq partially shut the window and wrapped the black robe of the St. Legions' University around himself, keeping the strong winter wind from billowing out the fabric and hooking it on the gargoyle statues' horns, spikes, or bat wings tips.
Lifting his fur scarf nearly to eye level, he searched for shelter from the weather under the wide open wings of a griffin gargoyle. A gush of cold air blasted across the prince's face, drying out his lips, eyes, and nose, so violent that it turned his own hair into a lash of thousands of tails and whipped at his skin.
He stayed squatting under the statue, trying to hear more details of the dean and the archbishop’s conversation, but due to the wind and the partly shut window, he had to make do with just the sounds of their gradually fading footsteps, indicating that they were now out of his path.
It was enough, for now, to know that the archbishop had ordered the library bells to be rung at 3 AM. Its chime seemed to serve as some sort of alarm to the creature in the ruins.
*Did they know that the demon is wandering around the outskirts of the university? Did they do it on purpose? Why?*
Tariq waited for a few more minutes, just to put a bit more distance between himself and the two men. Then he stood up and made his way back to the window.
*Shit...*
He shook the snowflakes from his clothes and garments, slowly walking towards his bedroom.
Even if they caught him now, he might very well say he fell in the bathtub and went to the infirmary to have his injuries treated. As long as he was behind them, there was a smaller chance they would accuse him of eavesdropping on their talk.
The first thing Tariq saw when he entered his dormitory was Filip sleeping soundly, drowned in a sea of royal blue velvet blankets, his thick black hair surrounding his head like a crown. Tariq felt as if he had suddenly lost 20 kg, a weight lifted off of his shoulders.
*Even though he might not be the best person in the world...somehow...he acted ethically. He didn't deserve to die like that, and he got into that mess because he was cordial towards me. I feel relieved, now that he's safe again.*
The prince went into their bathing chamber, the bathtub still filled with the water they had heated to pretend he had slipped in it. After boiling another bucket of water and pouring it in, he threw in some verbena essential oil and a handful of chopped thyme. Then, he took off his clothes and submerged himself in the warm water.
He stared at the starry sky through the glass in the large Romanic window frame. Leaning back, he was hit by a twinge of pain from where he’d hit the wall when the monster threw him. The prince sat up straight, massaging his flank.
"Ugh...this shit aches. The bruise will be huge by tomorrow."
*Are you sure ringing the bell will not wake the boys?*
*You have my word they won't be disturbed.*
The conversation between Malek Dvorák and Archbishop De Beenhower kept spinning around Tariq's head, alongside the memory of the three dead boys dumped in the violated sepulchres at the old cathedral.
Tariq leaned against the bathtub again, tilting his head back to stare at the sky.
Soon, he noticed a bright orange star twinkling at him.
It was Unukalhai, the brightest star of the constellation Serpens, the “Neck of the Serpent”.
It was also his born star. A star of psychic strength, power, perception, and experimental knowledge.
*I'll discover what they’re plotting, Father. We must work in the Shadows to serve the Light.*
After leaving his bath and wrapping himself in his bathrobe, the prince sunk into bed, having only enough time to bury himself under his blankets before falling asleep.
***
"Ugh! Arrgh!"
Joseph woke up to a dark, cloudy morning, feeling as his foot was being torn apart; a lacerating, throbbing pain spread up his leg, reaching his thigh.
Apart from his foot, his whole body was sore and tense. The muscles in his back ached as if he had been stoned with boulders. His arms were stiff and irritated, especially the one the prince had broken the morning before.
Turning onto his side and sitting on the edge of the bed seemed to take as much effort as carrying a cow on his back.
"Arrgh!"
"What's going on?"
Mrs. Weber the Elder was already approaching.
"M-my foot..."
She quickly unwrapped it, revealing an irritated red and purple wound. It was oozing so much pus that it was sticking to the bandages. There was a massive lump around the injury. It was so sore that he wouldn't be able to wear a boot without risking infection.
"Oh my God!"
*It was inevitable that such adventure would claim what was due...*
"It's fine, child... I… I'll use a plaster recipe my great-grandmother taught me. I'll let your teacher know about-"
“I want to go to classes. And then go home.”
The nurse looked up, frowning.
"If you keep walking around on this, you'll lose your foot!
Joseph clenched his fists, rubbing his eyes to dampen the wave of stress and exhaustion.
He had been given a large dose of anaesthetic the day before. He’d seen things that would never leave his head, and barely had any sleep.
*I'm so sick of staying here... I need a shower, and I need to sleep for days.*
"Please, Mrs. Weber.”
She kept staring at him, her forehead wrinkling in pity. The corner of her mouth pulled to the side and she stood up.
"Very well. I'll wrap your foot and get you some crutches."
***
"I'll tell the teacher you aren't feeling well."
Filip began to speak, but interrupted himself with a loud cough. “Thanks…" he muttered once he had calmed down.
He was bent over himself in his bed, his eyes barely open. Prominent dark circles sat under his eyes, and his shaggy mass of hair cast even more shadows over his pale face.
He finished drinking the chicken broth with pasta and broccoli that Tariq had brought him for breakfast, and gave him back the bowl. Given how much blood he’d lost, he had to eat as often as he could to recover his strength.
The prince made his way back to the kitchen, then to the classroom. When he arrived, he noticed Dr. Selden's absence and felt a knot in his chest.
*I think it’s better if he has a good rest too.*
Professor Wagner, their Latin teacher for that period, was already there, wearing his powdered wig and reading some notes.
Tariq promptly apologised for being late and explained Svoboda's situation. The older man looked up at the boy from behind thick round glasses and a pair of hairy grey eyebrows with a smile that wrinkled his whole face and made his eyes nearly scrunch shut.
"It's alright, Your Highness! Don't worry about it!"
"Thank you, Professor Wagner."
When Tariq turned around to find a seat, he came face to face with Dvorák.
The Latin classroom was arranged like an amphitheatre, with eight levels. Honza kept following his moves until he chose a place at the bottom of the classroom.
*What the hell is wrong with this jester?*
Even after Tariq took his place and proceeded to scribble notes from the lecture in his notebook, the prince noticed the dean’s son turning his head towards Tariq several times. He whispered God knows what to those sycophants that were always with him, Krk and Matej.
Tariq shook his head, sighing so loudly that the boy at the next desk startled, jumping from his seat.
*That fellow must be obsessed with me...*
When the mahogany grandfather clock near the blackboard marked 10 AM, the professor released them for their 20 minute break. Prince Tariq gathered his belongings, organising them on the shelf under the desk. He looked up as he began to stand, but Honza was already standing in his way, flanked by Krk and Matej.
*Here we go again...*
Tariq slowly stood up fully, less than a hand’s width of distance apart from the other boy.
He stared at Honza like a falcon diving to grab its prey, forcing his way forward. But Honza remained still, returning his gaze.
The prince scoffed out a laugh, shaking his head.
"Are you here to *finally* confess your feelings for me, love?"
"Where is he?"
Raising an eyebrow, Tariq narrowed his eyes.
"Who...?"
"Svoboda. What do you want with him?"
*********
CHANGE IN SCHEDULE:
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