by Sarah Piper
My words fade away, and suddenly my thoughts no longer feel like mine. The classroom vanishes, leaving only the good doctor and me, standing on that moonlit beach.
Wordlessly we join hands, the waves lapping our toes. In the distance, a wolf howls into the night, and Dr. Devane pulls me into a passionate embrace, his lips on my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Our clothes fall away, and we kneel in the sand, our kiss unbroken as we tumble backward…
The class bell chimes, and the vision falls away instantly.
I’m back in the classroom, breathless, completely disoriented.
Dr. Devane is still sitting behind the desk, and still staring at me, just like in the vision. But instead of the desirous gaze of a man devouring his woman with kisses, Devane’s eyes are full of red-hot fury.
That’s my cue, thanks for playing along, bye for now!
I rush back to my desk and grab my bag and tablet, then scoot toward the exit to file out with the rest of the class.
But I’m not fast enough. In a low whisper that slides across my skin, he says, “Miss Milan, a word, please.”
I wait until the rest of the students leave before finally turning to face him.
“Explain,” he demands, his eyes fiery once again. “Now.”
“I was hoping you could explain.”
No response.
“You’re the one who wanted a word with me,” I say defensively. “So what’s up?”
“You’re playing a dangerous game here, Miss Milan. A very dangerous game.”
“I was doing what you asked. Defending my position.”
“That little charade you just put on?” He barks out a laugh. “I hardly call that defending your position.”
“I completed the assignment, did I not?” I shrug, hoping he doesn’t spot the tremble in my body. Maybe things didn’t go exactly as I intended—honestly, I was just going to ramble on with a little sexy paint-by-number story for the class, see if I could make Devane uncomfortable or embarrassed. He’s such a freaking rule-follower, I expected him to shut me down and move on to the next lesson before my story even got close to the naughty parts.
But then the words no longer felt like my own, and suddenly I was tumbling headlong into the same vision I had with him back at the prison, each second evolving into something much more intense.
“When I met you—mere days ago—you claimed to have no active powers outside of witchfire,” he says. “How and when did you learn to dreamcast?”
“Dreamcast? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Well, you just did it.” He rakes a hand through his hair, revealing that sexy hint of gray at his temples. “Dreamcasting is when you conjure a dream or vision for yourself, then pull your target into it by casting it into his mind. Eventually, the target will have no idea that the vision is coming from another person. It’s powerful, complex magick, highly unethical, and advanced beyond even our graduate teachings.”
I stare at him, mouth open, just as shocked by all this as he seems to be.
“You wove a spell,” he continues, “verbally and mentally, that essentially cast the vision from your mind into mine. A person could literally go insane from magick like that.”
“But I thought the ocean on the beach was your vision. From that day in the prison? Well, the wolf was new today, but all the other details were similar.”
“Ocean and wolf?” He shakes his head, his brows knitting together in confusion. “I’m not talking about your words, Miss Milan. I’m talking about the dreamcast. There was a lake, not an ocean. Today, and yes, that day in the prison too. I saw a lake before a circle of standing stones, and you were there… You were… you were bathing, taking off your clothes. You wanted me to…” He clears his throat and tugs at his tie. “To join you.”
My heart skips, and I force out a laugh to hide my nerves. “So you’re daydreaming about me taking off my clothes, and I’m the one getting a lecture?”
No one speaks. The air feels impossibly heavy between us, crackling with an electrical heat. My mouth fills with a strange taste.
Saltwater.
“I should fail you right now,” he finally says, shaking his head. “Boot you right out of this class and forbid you from re-enrolling until you can learn to take your studies seriously.”
“You don’t think I’m taking this seriously?” I take another step toward him and lean forward on the desk, closing the space between us. “You failed to establish any boundaries for this assignment, Dr. Devane. Then you pushed me into a corner and told me to fight my way out. To use all available resources and persuasive techniques to make my case.”
He grabs a stack of papers on his desk and shuffles through them, clearly flustered. “Regardless. Flirting with your professors is hardly a tool for—”
“Oh, I wasn’t flirting. I was making a point.” I grab the stack of papers from his hand, wait until he meets my gaze again. “So whether my words inspired your own vivid imagination, or I actually did that dreamcasting thing, the end result was the same.”
For the briefest instant, I let my gaze drop to his crotch, where the evidence of my persuasive techniques still stands at attention.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, Doctor Devane.” I return his papers, then heft my bag over my shoulder. “I need to get to my next class. As you’ve so cleverly ascertained, failing is not something I care to do on principle.”
Twenty-Seven
STEVIE
My heart is still jack-hammering when I reach the third floor for my Potions and Charms class, and it’s not from running up the stairs.
You’re playing a dangerous game here, Miss Milan. A very dangerous game…
His voice echoes in my mind, and it’s only by sheer force of will that I can even move my legs.
I still can’t believe I stood up to him like that. That I pushed things so far and ended up in that insane dreamcast vision, or whatever the hell that was.
And if it was my vision, why did Doc and I see something entirely different?
And more importantly, why am I still trying to go back there, imagining both of our visions playing out to their natural endpoints, with Dr. Devane and I naked and kissing and—
“Stevie, hey! You’re in this class too?”
It’s Isla, coming to my rescue with her bright smile and kind eyes, saving me from going down a path that—however fun it may seem in the moment—almost certainly ends in misery.
We head inside and find seats together, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.
Fortunately, Potions and Charms is a breeze—best class of the day by far. Under the guidance of a perpetually happy, highly over-caffeinated woman named Professor Broome, we spend the entire hour playing with herbs and spices, identifying them by taste, texture, color, and scent. I’m totally in my element, and even better, free from the Claires, distractingly hot mages, and anyone else trying to mess with my vibe today.
After class, we hook up with Nat for our lunch date at Tamayo, a Mexican fusion place in the Breath and Blade dorms, and after that, my first official day of magick school is blissfully done.
And so far, it seems I’ve lived to tell the tale.
Back at my suite, I nearly squeal with delight when I see the stack of books piled neatly outside my door. Kirin wasn’t kidding when he said the library was magickal—I only just requested these while the girls and I were at lunch.
Inside, I change into yoga pants and a big red Arcana Academy sweatshirt (go, school spirit!), put on some music, light a few pumpkin spice candles, and brew myself the perfect cup of salted caramel chocolate tea.
I’ve just snuggled into the most comfortable spot on the big squishy chair by the window, teacup and saucer balanced on my knee, a book open on my lap, everything about this peaceful moment pretty much the best thing ever… when my door chimes with a visitor.
“I’m not home!” I shout, but I’m already getting out of the chair, my promise to Jessa always echoing in the back of my mind.
&nbs
p; I check the security monitor, then open the door to my visitor, my annoyance instantly vanishing.
“Hey, Ani.” I smile, stepping aside to let him in. “You want some tea? I just made some—one of my specialties. It’s called Sex with a Caramel, because it’s that good.”
“Sounds… sticky. I’m in.” He follows me inside and takes a seat on the couch while I prepare a cup for him.
“Dark Magick: A Brief History,” he says, checking out the stack of books on the coffee table. “The Fool’s Journey and You. Dancing with the Cards: Ten Techniques for Incorporating Music into Your Tarot Studies.” Ani shakes his head, his eyes filling with concern. “Oh, Stevie. Looks like I got here just in time.”
“For what?”
“You’re about one bad book away from falling headfirst into a lonely life of isolation and boredom. Sure, it starts with a few library books. Maybe a few more after that. A magazine subscription or two. A cat. Two cats. Seven cats. Next thing you know, you stop showering, you’re talking to your thirty-seven cats in a language only you understand, and the only reason anyone knows you’re still alive is that you’re still mailing in your Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes entry each week.”
“First of all, I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing anymore. And what do you have against cats?” I hand him his tea, then resume my position in the chair by the window, finishing my own tea before it gets cold.
“I’m worried about you, Stevie,” he says with mock seriousness.
“Well, don’t be. I haven’t had enough alone time to be lonely, and I’m definitely not bored. Or in the market for any cats just yet.” I nod at the stack of books. “I’m trying to get ahead. Or catch up, actually. There’s so much to learn. Kirin took me through the library today, and I basically wanted to adopt every single book in the place.”
“Even…” He picks up another one, wincing at the title. “Thirty Days to Becoming a Badass Blood Witch?”
“That one came by accident,” I lie.
“Look, I’m not criticizing your reading selection. Well, maybe a little bit. But your timing is terrible.” He sips his tea, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, that is sexy.”
“Glad you approve. Now don’t take this the wrong way, but… Why are you here, exactly?”
“Seriously?” He holds out his hand like I’m the most impossible creature he’s ever encountered. “The party?”
I squeeze my forehead. “Shit. I totally forgot.”
“I sent you at least eighteen texts. Maybe more.”
“I think my phone was off.”
“If you miss this party, you’ll set the tone for the whole year.”
He picks up one of the giant Tarot cards from the novelty deck on the table—Three of Cups, featuring three women dancing in celebration, drinks held high.
“Dear Universe, my name is Stevie, and I hereby declare that I don’t want to have any fun this year.” He turns the card upside down and frowns, indicating a reversal of the normally celebratory meaning.
When I laugh, he pulls out another card—Seven of Swords, featuring an older man who reminds me of Professor Phaines holed up in a castle and poring over old manuscripts, seven swords on the table in front of him. “I want to spend all my time locked away in the library reading dusty old books and discussing unpronounceable theories with Kirin Weber, who looks so cute in his hipster glasses and artfully mussed, slightly-mad-scientist hair it’s hard to believe that on the inside, he really is an absolute snore.”
Now I’m totally cracking up, but Ani’s just getting started.
His next card is the Four of Swords, a dead knight entombed in eternal repose beneath a wall of swords.
“After all my hard work,” Ani says, “I’m going straight home to bed, to sleep in a stone coffin for the next eighty years, hoping one day my prince will start to miss me and show up to entertain me with a magickal wake-up kiss.”
I snort. “Like I need a prince to entertain me. Hello? That’s what vibrators are for.”
Ani lets out a whoop, then holds up the Ace of Wands, which is probably the most phallic card in the deck, with a huge wand shooting up from a chasm between two rocky cliffs.
“Well, damn,” he says, tossing the card onto the table and holding up his teacup in salutation. “Gotta admire a witch who can entertain herself.”
“I wish.” I reach over and turn the Ace of Wands upside down, making the sad-trombone sound. “There’s one store your fancy Promenade is definitely missing. Someone should write a letter to whoever’s in charge.”
Of the few possessions I left behind in Tres Búhos, I’ll probably miss my vibrator the most. I keep thinking I should text Jessa a warning before she starts packing up our trailer for her move, but letting her discover Mr. Winky under my bed in all his bright purple, multiple-attachment glory sounds so much more fun.
“Okay, Stevie. Point taken. And I’m all for equal rights—I swear. But in this case, you definitely need saving.”
I pick up the Knight of Swords from the pile. “And you’re just the prince in shining armor for the job?”
“The party is tradition,” he says. “You don’t want to mess with that.”
“What you call tradition, every college movie for the past fifty years calls hazing the clueless new girl.”
“We don’t haze here. Cuts into prime drinking time. It’s the mundane humans that haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Good. Because if I agree to this ridiculousness and you end up hazing me, I’ll… Well, I don’t know yet. But I promise you it’ll be super painful and/or embarrassing.”
Ani wriggles his eyebrows. “Will it involve a vibrator, though? That’s the question on everyone’s mind.”
“Haze me and find out, Gingersnap.”
Ani laughs, then finishes the last of his tea. “No hazing, I promise. Only a little fresh air and a few beers to ring in the new school year. You might actually have fun.”
“Who else is going?” I ask, stalling for time. I was really looking forward to a quiet night with my books, but Ani’s making a compelling argument.
“It’s open to anyone,” he says. “You can invite people if you want.”
I think about calling Isla and Nat, but they’ve got some kind of magickal moonlight dance class tonight out behind Breath and Blade.
Sorry, party girl. You’re on your own.
I let out a put-upon sigh, but Ani just keeps grinning at me, his golden-caramel eyes glittering, his dimples flashing. It’s hard not to get swept up in his perpetual optimism.
“Ugh! Fine.” I get up from my chair and grab the empty teacups. “Give me twenty minutes to get changed.”
“Take your time.” Ani grabs one of my books—Magick Rituals for Connecting with Your Inner Goddess—and opens to a random page. “I’m pretty good at entertaining myself, too. With or without batteries.”
Twenty-Eight
STEVIE
I’ve always hated parties.
Probably has something to do with Luke’s whole scorpion-down-the-pants thing, but I just never saw the appeal after that. Bunch of people standing around outside, freezing their asses off, sucking down booze and doing stupid dares so they don’t have to really talk to each other.
As Ani and I make our way to the red river behind the Blood and Sorrow dorms, and I spot the unmistakable glow of a bonfire, I’m starting to worry this party will be no different, and that I’ve made a terrible mistake.
I slide my hands into my back pockets, finding a Tarot card there—not one of the big cards Ani and I were playing with before we left, but one of my mysteriously appearing messages.
It’s the Eight of Swords. At the center of the card, a woman stands barefoot in a circle of swords, the blades stuck into the ground like a cage. She’s blindfolded, her hands and body bound with ropes.
Watch your back, Stevie. Don’t give away your power.
Great. Not ominous at all.
“You want a drink?” Ani asks me, and I nod
, hating myself for defaulting so quickly. It’s not that I don’t like drinking, it’s just that I prefer doing it in smaller groups, with people I actually know and trust. Out here, standing around in a magickal desert with a bunch of strangers, I feel like I’m just looking for some liquid courage. Or better yet, a wall to keep people away.
As Ani goes on the hunt for beer, I work my way through the crowd, looking for someone I know. Baz, maybe. Or Kirin, unless Ani was serious about him never leaving the library.
I recognize a few people from my classes—mostly the younger crowd—and everyone is all smiles and laughter. A few people are sitting near the fire strumming guitars and playing bongos, and another group is engaged in what sounds like a deeply philosophical discussion about the pros and cons of using mind-altering substances during rituals. I’m just starting to relax, to think maybe I was a little too quick to judge the scene before really getting a read, when a commotion next to the river catches my attention.
My stomach sinks like a rock when I spot the source, and I know without a doubt that my assessment of parties won’t be changing anytime soon.
The Claires are holding court by the water, regaling a few other party-goers with displays of their magickal prowess. Carly is juggling multiple streams of water, while Blue does the same with balls of fire, which actually looks pretty cool. Emory is straight-up levitating. Amelia is standing off to the side, staring at her phone, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
Across the crowd, Carly catches my eye.
Shit. So much for pretty cool.
“Hey Carly,” I say, approaching them and trying my best to smile. “Blue. That whole water-and-fire thing you guys have going on is kind of awesome.”
Carly almost smiles. Well, either that or she’s about to sneeze, but I’m pretty sure that’s a budding grin making her lips twitch.
