Chapter 5

The Cauldron Room

Ever After High did not look like your typical campus. Perched on a bluff, the school itself was a hodgepodge of halls, rooms, and towers that rose high above the Village of Book End. Some of the towers were so tall that they pierced through the clouds. All the balconies provided breathtaking views of the surrounding forests, farmlands, and meadows. Trees were welcome to grow inside, and so they became part of the structure, supporting ceilings with their branches and cementing the foundation with their roots. It was a living building of sorts, filled to the brim with energy and magic. And stairs.

Lots and lots of stairs.

Duchess and Lizzie stood at the end of a hallway, in front of a narrow door with a sign that read, TO THE DUNGEON.

“Ugh,” Lizzie said. “I hate dungeons.”

“Me too,” Duchess said. The dungeon back home had a few ancient skeletons and smelled like rotten eggs. She’d gone down there once, on a dare from the cook’s boy. She never went again.

It made perfect sense that a class specializing in villainy would be held in a dreary place. At least she wouldn’t have to spend more than a few minutes down there. She’d get Mr. Badwolf’s permission to transfer and be on her way.

The stone stairs were steep and slippery. “Did I miss the hext about wearing hiking boots?” Lizzie grumbled as she clung to the wrought iron railing. Her red heels were not designed for this sort of terrain. Duchess’s shoes weren’t much better, but she wasn’t going to take them off and risk stepping on a spider, or something worse.

Just above their heads, stone hands stuck out of the wall. Each hand held a lighted torch. The flames cast strange shadows. Cobwebs sparkled between the stones. Something darted in front of them. “Was that a rat?” Duchess cried.

“A rat… a rat… a rat,” echoed down the stairs.

“A rat the size of a cat,” Lizzie said. Shuffle squealed and burrowed deeper into Lizzie’s bag. “Oh my wand, there’s another one. Professor Piper needs to clean this place up.”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell, only to find another set of stairs, this one even narrower and steeper than the last. Lizzie groaned. “You’d think that Headmaster Grimm could at least put an elevator in this place. Seriously. Don’t the villains deserve better?”

There was some truth to that. Villains were just as welcome at Ever After High as the heroes. Both had equally important roles to play in fairytales. Without darkness, there couldn’t be light.

“An elevator would be nice,” Duchess said as she brushed a cobweb from her nose. She couldn’t wait to be in the fresh air again. Neither her ballet side nor her swan side wanted to be underground. Dancers jump; birds fly. Dancers leap; birds soar. They do not tunnel!

Another sign waited at the bottom of the second stairwell.

“Cauldron room,” Duchess said, pointing. With Lizzie still in the lead, they hurried down the dimly lit corridor. Dampness glistened on the stone walls. Pairs of small red eyes glowed from the ceiling. The girls doubled their pace.

The door to the cauldron room had been propped open by an empty cauldron.

“It’s hot in here,” Lizzie complained as they stepped inside.

The feather on Duchess’s headpiece immediately wilted. It was like stepping into a sauna. The source of the heat was a fire burning in a large stone hearth. Three cauldrons were suspended over the flames. The first bubbled with thick green swamp water. The second popped and sizzled with blood-red lava. The third swirled like a whirlpool of mud.

Lizzie and Duchess both peeled off their jackets.

“It’s much cooler over here,” a girl called. Her name was Ginger Breadhouse. She was sitting on a wooden stool, as were three other students. The remaining two stools were empty.

The bell rang. Lizzie hurried across the stone floor and grabbed one of the stools. She set her book bag on the floor, then waved for Duchess to join her. But Duchess decided to stand by the door and wait for the teacher. No reason to get comfortable if she wasn’t staying.

A deep clearing of a throat startled Duchess. Mr. Badwolf entered the room, a clipboard in his hands. He was immaculately dressed in a three-piece plaid suit, a pocket kerchief, and a bright red necktie. His gray hair hung in thick, luxurious waves. He sniffed the air, then looked at Duchess with his yellow canine eyes. Her heart fluttered for a moment. Wolves are hunters. If she turned into a swan at that very moment, would he pounce on her?

But no pouncing occurred. Nor did he ask Duchess why she was standing alone by the door and not sitting with the others. He adjusted his tie, then strode across the room. “Welcome, future villains,” he said, his voice deep and growly. “I am your instructor, Mr. Badwolf.”

“Excuse me,” Duchess said as she followed him. “But there’s been a mistake.” She held out her letter. “I’m listed in this class, but I’m not supposed to be here. My name is Duchess Swan.”

“Yes, I know who you are,” he said, his pupils narrowing.

“Oh, great. Well, then I’d like your permission to transfer to another class. Something more fitting.”

“More fitting?” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Are you not good enough for this class, Ms. Swan?”

One of the students giggled.

Duchess squared her shoulders. “Of course I’m good enough. I’m good enough to do anything,” she said proudly. “But I’m not evil. I mean, there’s no evil in my bloodline. So I don’t think I should be in a villain class.”

“Is that what you think?” He took the parchment from her and wrote in big red letters: TRANSFER DENIED. Then he handed the parchment back.

“But…”

Mr. Badwolf growled. It wasn’t a ferocious, loud growl—rather it was soft, as if given as a warning. “Sit down, Ms. Swan.”

Duchess gasped. Then, with angry footsteps, she marched over to the last stool and sat with a loud hmph.

Lizzie whispered, “Bet you’re feeling a little bit evil now.”

She was. She wanted to give Mr. Badwolf a piece of her mind. She wanted to tell him that not only was she good enough for this class, but also that she was better than this class and everyone in it!

Mr. Badwolf stood with his feet wide apart, holding the clipboard behind his back. “Does anyone else have any personal issues they’d like to bring to my attention?” He was clearly being sarcastic, but Lizzie’s hand shot up anyway.

“Yes, I have a whole list of issues. I would like this class to begin later. It’s soooo early and I need extra time in the morning to find everything because my playing-card army is back in Wonderland. I also think we need to have an elevator installed. I cannot be expected to hike up those stairs every day in my heels. And the rats are scaring my hedgehog. I’d like you to do something about that.” She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for his response.

The big wall clock tick-tocked. The cauldrons bubbled. But none of the students said anything. They sat, waiting to see what Mr. Badwolf would do. Duchess figured that if he helped Lizzie with some of her requests, then surely he’d reconsider Duchess’s request for a transfer.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at Lizzie. “If you are worried about rats, Ms. Hearts, then I suggest you and your hedgehog each get a rabies shot. I get mine every year.” He jangled a tag that hung on a chain around his neck.

The only boy in the class laughed. His name was Sparrow Hood. Lizzie shot him a nasty look. Then she said, “I have no intention of getting a rabies shot. I got all my shots back in Wonderland. I’ve been vaccinated for walrus warts, teapox, and March Hare madness.”

Mr. Badwolf ignored her. He removed his pocket kerchief and brushed dust from the edge of his desk. Then he sat. “General Villainy is one of the most demanding classes at Ever After High. If you manage to get an A grade, you will join the ranks of students before you such as the Wicked Stepmother, the Billy Goats Gruff Troll, and myself, of course.” He smiled, revealing a row of sharp canine teeth.

An A was the highest grade in each class. Duchess had a perfect score of A’s on her transcript.

Mr. Badwolf continued. “Each of you has been hand-selected by the headmaster himself to attend this class because each of you has the honor of being the son or daughter of a confirmed villain or being closely related to someone evil.”

Duchess’s hand shot up. “Um, excuse me, but—”

His eyes flashed. “Interruptions are not allowed in my classroom,” he snarled.

Her hand fell to her side. What a grouch.

“As I was saying, each of you is here because you come from an evil bloodline. Or”—he looked at Duchess—“you have the capacity to be the first in your family to go bad.”

Go bad?

A chill ran up Duchess’s spine.