Chapter 115 - Nightingale High School

Nightingale coven headquarters were located in a building that was barely less old than the city it was built in. Based on the style of architecture, I would've dated it somewhere in the late eighteen century. It was, on the first glance, quite unassuming—there were a lot of the old buildings in this part of the city—but as I walked closer, I found it to be just an illusion.

It was all in the glances. Normally, there were no reasons for random strangers to give me looks of curiosity, awe or envy or any looks at all besides occasional leering sometimes. But the closer I went, the more I got of these. From virtual strangers, no less! I even paused for a moment, pretending to check something on my phone and instead looking at them through my well. A few of them were witches—but only a few.

Apparently, gossip spreads real fast around here. My mood, not at its best already with the awful weather and the failed business transaction, plummeted even lower. Shoulders slumped, I walked through a wide double door, hoping that I won't be put through a wringer of public opinion for too long.

As soon as I stepped over the threshold, a blessed coolness spread over my body, like I walked into a grocery store with AC blasting. A low hum of many voices rose momentarily, only to go silent in the next instance. Feeling goosebumps covering my arms from a sudden drop of temperature, I made several more steps inside, past the couple of uniformed security people and looked around.

I was in a lobby of sorts, and it was quite a popular one. A good dozen of people lounged in comfy chairs or on sofas. What looked like a home cinema system—turned off—was on the opposite wall. The interior of the building, contrary to the exterior, looked quite modern. Several potted plants tried to create a homey feeling to it, but what succeeded in it were the empty bottles of cola and packets of snacks lying around the several round tables.

Everyone's eyes were on me. I caught a few familiar faces, though I couldn't fish the names out of my memory no matter how I tried. Just some people who shared my way home yesterday. I coughed, trying to diminish the tension caused by my sudden arrival, and picked a random vaguely familiar and nonthreatening witch out of the gathered ones.

"Hello. Do you know if Elena Dmitrievna is around?" At least I remembered the name of the head witch.

The woman—the girl, even—jumped up with a startled sound that was somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. "Yes! She's been waiting for you, Diana! Can… can I show you to her office, please?"

Of course, MY name was known to everyone here. Though, I was sure that by now it was known to every witch in Russia, and by the next week the rest of the world will learn it too.

"You can't find your own shoes in the morning, Vera!" another, older and much more self-assured woman stepped up and stepped in, raising her chin. "Diana, please, let me show you around instead. I'm sure you don't want to hear her babbling on your way."

I frowned, suddenly pained. This was just like high school, except that then I wasn't the status person everyone wanted their share of. Andrey was. Still, I got enough of my own attention, positive and negative, from the simple fact that I was his girlfriend.

These times. I went through a stage of loving the attention to a stage of hating it and then to loving it again and then to hating it again. That stage was the last, as it corresponded with me breaking with the school and Andrey… Then, in the college, it was all much simpler. I wasn't on top, but neither I was on the bottom. A golden middle ground.

Now I was on top again, and the stage of hating it kicked right back in.

"Just explain me the way. I will find her myself," I said in a no-nonsense tone, putting my hands on my hips and looked back on Vera, prompting her to speak.

She paused for a moment like a mouse caught in the open, opening her mouth but not speaking. Someone used that opportunity to tell something to their pal, snickering at her side. Then that person replied… and a hum of voices grew louder and louder the longer Vera stood frozen.

I sighed, and Vera's more self-assured coven-mate butted in.

"Take the stairs to the third floor down that corridor, then go straight ahead until you see the door with Elena's name on it. Oh, and she prefers herself to be called Elder Elena. My name is Dasha, by the way."

"Great, got it, thanks." I gave Dasha a weak wave and hurried to extricate myself out of this high school drama.

Jesus. What was with people that as soon as there was a social circle going on, they had to do all that prestige-dancing thing? Was it just a coincidence that, from what I learnt, there were about thirty actual full-blown witches in the coven—just like a big school class?

Thankfully, the way was simple enough, and I found the office in no time. The golden plate on the door stated: "Soloveeva Elena D., the Elder". A weird title for a leader of a coven, but then again, how did one call a leader of a coven? Elder was not that much worse than "head witch"… though it WAS worse, in my opinion.

Sadly, no one asked me yet. And, considering that I've already made my good share of requirements before I joined Nightingale Coven, asking to rename the position of the Elder into 'Head Witch' was just too unreasonable.

I shook my head and knocked. A few seconds later, "Come in!" came from the other side, and I pushed the door open. It was time to face my new boss… Sort of boss.