Authors: Abigail Boyd
He waves his hand across the row of plants, and one by one they perk up and spring back to life, green leaves unfolding and spreading. A beautiful red flower unfurls from the center of each plant. I’m impressed, despite myself. He didn’t even break a sweat. The class claps politely.
He sets a metal box on the table beside the flowers. “Now, if I can have someone help me with the next part,” he says. Most of the others raise their hand. I hesitate, wanting to know more but not eager to be in the hot seat.
“Why don’t you volunteer, Iris?” Melody says, pushing me forward. I glare back at her, then glance surreptitiously at Luke, whose face is carefully free of expression.
I roll my eyes and hold my hand up, assuming he’ll pick someone, anyone else. But Luke presses his lips together, his posture rigid, and nods at me. “Iris. Come here.”
“A little ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you,” I grumble as I come around beside him. I peek at him briefly, and see that his jaw is tensed. I wonder what he’s thinking, but decide maybe it’s better if I don’t know.
I assume that I’m going to bring a plant back to life, but instead, he shoves the pots to the side and opens his box. He retrieves a bundle wrapped in white cloth from inside lays it out on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The subject of today’s lesson,” he says in his velvet-lined voice. He unwraps the bundle with deft, slender fingers. In the center is the plump, gray body of a dead rat.
Bile rises automatically in my throat, but I push it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. “If this is some kind of practical joke, you’re not funny.”
He glares at me again, and then his face softens. “It isn’t a joke. This is how you learn. You can’t be so sensitive about it.”
“I’m not sensitive. I just don’t want to touch a dead rat.”
“It’s not going to be dead for long.” He leans back and assesses me. “I’m not going to let it hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, and when I look back, his jaw is tensed again and his eyes are hard. “I think I can handle it. I just think it’s gross.”
I push my hair back over my shoulders to get the heat away from my face. Everyone is watching us quietly, and Melody has a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Necromancy is a delicate art,” he begins. “You have to maintain a lot of control.” He lowers his voice under his breath and leans in. “Something you don’t seem to be good at yet.”
“Didn’t look that hard when you were bringing back those plants,” I challenge. I know I’m in unfamiliar territory, but I can’t let him get the upper hand.
He smiles coldly, without humor. “See for yourself.”
A hush has fallen over the others as they watch us. His attitude is getting more and more annoying as he shifts his weight and crosses his arms, watching me.
“Put your hands over the corpse,” he says, his voice emotionless.
I move my trembling hands as he says, just a few cringe-worthy inches above the rodent. I grit my teeth as I make contact, touching the stiff little body, covered in surprisingly soft fur.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing back a forceful wave of nausea. Suddenly, his voice is in my ear, low and sultry. “You have to draw life energy back into the body, and to do that, you have to let a little bit of yourself go.”
“How do I do that?” I whisper, resisting the urge to open my eyes.
“Feel it out. Reach out and search for the energy around him, then channel it back into the heart. Expect resistance. Death is stubborn and it doesn’t want to give back what it stole.”
I search for what he’s talking about, but I feel scattered. For the first time since I came here, I can’t draw my powers out. It feels like a ripple of anxiety in my belly, but nothing stronger.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks impatiently. I open my eyes and glance at him. His expression is unreadable as I glare at him with annoyance. “I thought you said it didn’t look difficult,” he taunts.
I attempt to focus on the rat again, tightening the muscles in my hands as I hold them pressed together above the corpse. Beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. It’s no use. I draw my hands away with a mix of relief and disappointment.
Luke takes over, stepping forward and locking both hands together above the tiny body. He lifts them away. The confused rat, very much alive, blinks a little and scents the air, then scurries off the table. I shrink back, feeling like jumping on a nearby chair, but I squeeze my fists together instead.
“Let this be a lesson to you. You shouldn’t act so knowing about things you don’t have experience with,” he chastens me.
I walk back over to the others and stand beside them, feeling both embarrassed and angry with Luke for embarrassing me. I hate to admit it, but he’s right—I’ve been acting cocky, and now it’s biting me in the ass.
________________________
I’m in bed that night, and it seems like it’s taking forever for me to fall asleep. The clock on my beside table ticks off the seconds. My Necromancy failure has bothered me all day. I turn over all the biting, brilliant comebacks I should have said to Luke but thought of too late.
Part of me wonders what Braden is doing, if he misses me, if he cares. Paige said she would send for my things, but I wonder how she’ll handle explaining it to him.
My parents died when I was very young, too young to remember anything about them. It left a hollow impression on my heart. I was bounced from relative to relative, but moved out on my own when I was sixteen. Years of work and great grades allowed me to go to college…but then that all fell apart. My dreams, my future plans.
I’m getting a second chance, at this incredible new life. I’m not going to waste it.
CHAPTER 6
I bolt upright in bed. The clock says it’s just past midnight. Unholy screams are coming from somewhere close. I untangle my feet from the mass of twisted blankets and make my way to the window. The screams continue, shrill and reedy. What is going on? It sounds like someone is being murdered. I rub a circle on the frosted glass, but I can’t make out anything in the dark.
I pull on my robe and rush into the dimly lit, deserted hall. Damn, this place is creepy in the middle of the night. I wander out of the dormitory, trying to follow the screams, but they seem to echo from every direction as I reach the main staircase. No other doors are open and no one else is out—can’t they hear the screaming?
A figure steps out in front of me and I swallow a startled cry and stumble backward. The figure brings a candlestick forward and the light illuminates Luke’s face, his high cheekbones and sharp nose casting hard shadows.
“What are you doing out of your room? You’re not supposed to be in the corridor after bedtime,” he says gruffly. The light flickers across his hard, gorgeous features, the shadows accentuating the pout of his mouth. His eyes are a stark contrast against his pale skin. I feel the muscles in my lower stomach traitorously clench.
His eyes travel down my body and back up, just like the first day I met him, and an ache coils in between my thighs. I clamp them together, cursing my body’s unfair reaction.
“Cat got your tongue?” he whispers. I suddenly blush at the realization that I’m in my pajamas, yet part of me can’t help but enjoy the way he’s drinking me in with his heavy-lidded gaze.
The screams sound again, echoing through the otherwise still night air. I glance at him pointedly and cock my brows. “I came out when I heard those screams. It sounds like someone’s being murdered.”
His sensuous lips curl into a cocky smirk, and I narrow my eyes in response to his attitude.
“Those are just the foxes,” he says.
“Foxes?”
“Yes, red foxes. They live out in the woods, but sometimes they make an awful racket at night. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I frown. “I didn’t say I was afraid. I was worried.”
He purses his lips skeptically. An unwanted urge to suck his bottom lip into my mouth flickers into my head, but I push it away. I don’t like his assumptions, and my body’s betrayal is getting old.
“We’re all used to it by now,” he says.
“I had no way of knowing that.”
“Now you do. You’ll get used to it, too. You need to go back to your room.” Without asking, he puts his hand on my elbow and steers me back into the hallway. His touch on my bare skin sends shivers up my arm, but his controlling manner is spiraling my temper.
“I can walk by myself, thank you.” I tug my arm away from him, but he follows me down the hall. The screams seem to taper off as we reach the girl’s dorm.
Luke glances over his shoulder, then back at me. “See, it’s all safe for you to go back to bed.” He makes no attempt to conceal his distaste for me.
“What is your problem?” I hiss, my own temper simmering beneath my skin. “You’ve been on my case all day.”
His eyes flash with a cunning, hard look. “I don’t like people who don’t follow the rules. There’s always one new witch, fresh in the knowledge that they’re special, who wants to test the limits. I think you’re going to give me trouble.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” I tilt my chin up at him. “I don’t think I’m special. I do, however, think you’re an ass.”
For the first time, he truly smiles, showing off his pure white teeth and the hint of a dimple tucked into his cheek. Despite its beauty, it’s a cruel smile.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” he says coolly, and glides back down the hallway.
________________________
Every move I make the next week is determined by anxiety. I can’t connect with my powers anymore, and I don’t know why. I wonder if my brief adjustment period was a fluke, and ponder the life back home that I left behind so irrationally. My head is a minefield of scattered thoughts and I can’t think in a straight line anymore. When I attempt a spell, it doesn’t turn out the way I want.
In Spellcraft on Tuesday, I’m trying to make a tea with herbs to allow me to focus more clearly. The professor suggested it. I wave my hand over the cup counterclockwise three times, and chant, “My sight is black, my mind’s not free, let me have light, in all I see.”
The cup glows green and then gives off a cloud of putrid smoke. People in class cough and wave their hands in front of their faces, glaring at me.
“Sorry,” I mutter, as I dump the contents of the cup down the nearby sink.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m determined to get back on track. I spend all of my off hours practicing my spells, but it seems like the more I practice, the worse I get. I almost set the curtains on fire in my room trying to light the fireplace. After I stamp out the flames, I open the window to let out the smoke and stare outside, looking at the witches walking down below.
Maybe I don’t belong here after all.
CHAPTER 7
I’m getting for a shower the same evening, and I slip off my jewelry, including the opal ring that Astrid gave me. I hold the band between my thumb and forefinger and turn it over, the black opal gleaming in the mellow light. Too bad it isn’t actually good luck. There’s a quiet knock on the door, and I turn and frown. Who would be here this time of night?
I peek out and see Melody shifting excitedly from foot to foot, wearing her cloak with the hood up. She bounces on her heels and casts a glance down the hallway before sliding into my room. I close the door partway.
“What are you doing here?” I inquire.
“You want to get a little fresh air?” she asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me and some friends are going to have a little party in the woods. I thought you wouldn’t want to be left out.”
I have to admit, I’m awfully bored. “Won’t we get in deep shit if we get caught?”
“Of course we will,” she says impatiently, tugging on my arm. “But we’re not going to get caught. C’mon and follow me. It’s cold out, you’ll want your cloak, too.”
I snatch mine from the coat tree and join her at the end of the hall, wondering how we’re going to slip out unnoticed. A garish painting hangs here, featuring a group of cherubs cavorting on pink-tinged clouds. Melody checks to make sure no one is watching, then pushes the corner of the painting’s frame. It sinks in, and part of the wall slides smoothly away, revealing a hidden passageway lined with brick.
My mouth drops open in surprise, and she grins at me. “There’s tons of secrets you have yet to find out,” she whispers, with a giggly tone to her voice. I have to remind myself that Melody is younger than me; her immaturity can’t be helped. She reaches her hand out and snatches mine. “Let’s go meet the others.”
We enter the passageway and the door clicks shut neatly. It’s almost pitch back inside, but I hear Melody snap her fingers. A bright, periwinkle orb appears, floating in the air and lighting the way.
“Better than a flashlight,” Melody says.
“You’ll have to teach me that one.”
I follow her through the narrow passage as it loops around. It’s a tight fit, but we make our way around the curves in the walls and down a steep set of stone stairs.