Junior Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  Disha caught up, eyes wide as she ran beside me. “What’s the plan?” she yelled.

  In answer, the spell slid from my cuffs, coated my hands, and burst through my fingertips. It hit the ground right under the three intruders and quickly formed an invisible barrier around them. A wall of energy sprang over them like a clear bowl over an intruding spider.

  As the ground shook beneath their feet, their heads jerked in our direction. Spotting us, their eyes went wide.

  “Run!” Tempest shouted, holding something big to her chest. They were here to steal from the restricted section. Disha was right.

  Not on my watch.

  The group turned south and promptly ran smack into my barrier, staggering back like kids running into a closed glass door.

  “Woohoo! You got ‘em.” Disha exclaimed, throwing a fist up in the air. “Awesome spell. You’ll have to teach it to me.”

  Relief replaced the adrenaline in my veins. It had worked. They were trapped.

  Panting, we came to a stop in front of the subversives, our hands up and ready to throw more spells in case they broke my barrier.

  Tempest glared at me, furious. She was dressed all in black leather as seemed to be her preference, her long straight hair flowing smoothly down her shoulders. She was holding on to a book the size of a carry-on suitcase. It was bound in leather and looked suspiciously like La Sorcière Noire grimoire that sat on a pedestal in the middle of the advanced section. I had seen it many times from the doors that led into that area. It was a book full of black magic that had once belonged to a French woman known as The Black Witch.

  Pretty much the worst thing someone could steal from the library so, of course, Tempest wanted it. How they’d broken the wards around it, I didn’t know.

  Smudge Face stood next to her, wearing what appeared to be the same black trench coat he’d been sporting the night Trey died. His face was a blur that I would recognize anywhere—not to mention the three missing fingers on his right hand. Seeing him brought back a torrent of rage I’d worked for two years to quench. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself not to do anything stupid.

  Cool head. Clear mind.

  With my emotions back under control, I committed the last subversive’s profile to memory.

  The third guy was a werewolf, his face both human and animal in a half-morphed state, with eyes glowing yellow, pointed ears sprouting from his head, sharp canine teeth dripping with drool. He wore jeans, work boots and a leather jacket that had seen better days. His clawed hands were up, his yellow eyes watching, holding a strange expression that made me bristle. I tore my gaze from him and found my attention diluted between the three subversives.

  I wanted to kill Smudge Face, wanted to tear the grimoire from Tempest’s hands, wanted to tell that stupid werewolf to stop looking at me that way. But I just stood there. It was Disha who reacted first.

  “Put that book down,” she said in her best don’t-mess-with-us voice.

  She wasn’t having the same emotional turmoil as me. She knew that what mattered was stopping these three non-wizards from taking what they’d come to steal.

  Smudge Face stepped up to the barrier and placed both hands on it, looking like a mime getting ready to perform the old stuck-in-a-box trick. His already indistinct face grew even blurrier as he began to vibrate like hummingbird wings.

  Oh, no.

  My barrier glitched and made a crackling sound. Disha and I exchange glances, then began to spell cast. I issued the incantation again, trying to reinforce the wall, but Smudge Face was vibrating so fast, the barrier started cracking, jagged lines traveling up and down its nearly invisible dome shape.

  Disha cursed, then, facing staff housing, let out a spell that flew over half of campus and exploded with loud fireworks over the buildings of the sleeping faculty members.

  An alarm that should get us reinforcements fast. Damn, why hadn’t we thought of that before?

  Just then, my barrier fell.

  Smudge Face and the werewolf crouched, ready to jump us while Tempest took off running with the grimoire.

  Quickly, I blasted Fedorov’s earth-shaking spell at the werewolf’s feet. The ground exploded in front of the creature and sent him flying backwards in a storm of dirt and grass. I threw a glance at Disha, my eyes trailing Tempest as she sped away.

  “Don’t let her escape,” she said confidently, facing Smudge Face with a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ll take care of this bastard.”

  I took off after the fake Ava Marie.

  Weaving a lightning spell as I ran, I extended my hands in her direction and aimed.

  As if sensing my impending attack, Tempest turned and released her own lightning storm. It swallowed mine, the spells smashing into each other in an explosion of light and thunder that cracked open the night like a bomb.

  Dammit!

  That was a stupid spell to try with her. Tempest was an Elemental. I needed to think harder to outwit her.

  A wind spell came to mind next, but I pushed it away. She could get control of the wind and throw it back at me, so I needed to cast something different. I rifled through the many magical attacks I’d learned this summer, but it was hard to concentrate. I was running as fast as I could, jumping over flower gardens and dodging around trees, and still, Tempest was quickly doubling, tripling the distance between us. Her legs seemed to blur as if she were using magic on them.

  Growing desperate, I settled for something I’d read in one of Elspeth’s books over the summer, a short-distance teleportation spell created by a Spanish warlock in the eighteen hundreds. Elspeth had refused to let me try it, saying it was too dangerous, senior-level magic, hard to master without getting lost in limbo.

  But, I had to do something! Tempest was getting away with the book.

  I’d memorized the spell and all I needed was to be able to see where I wanted to go. If I was going to try it, I needed to do it before she reached the woods and got lost in there. I didn’t want to relocate myself inside of a tree trunk.

  I went for it, focusing on the very spot where Tempest’s right foot was going to fall on her next step.

  Performing the motions, I cupped my hands, then slapped them together. “De aquí hacia allá. Llego ya!”

  Please let it work.

  My body crumpled like a piece of paper. The world disappeared, and for an instant, I felt like a tumbleweed propelled forward by a swift wind. Then, I uncrumpled. The world was remade brighter and louder than before. My head swam. My eyes roved, overwhelmed by my new scenery, namely Tempest who was now only a mere inch from me.

  I had reappeared mid-step and, thrown completely out of balance, I went tumbling on top of the Elemental. We crashed to the ground. The grimoire went flying from her hands.

  Clawing at the dirt, I tried to stand, then fell back to my knees twice before getting to my feet. The trees ahead seemed to bow as my head spun. Bile filled my throat. Swaying, I blasted a clarity spell over my face.

  My lungs slowed down and filled with air. The nausea in my stomach died down.

  Tempest was still on the ground, scrambling on her hands and knees toward the grimoire. I rushed to her, planted a foot on her back, and slammed her to the dirt.

  She umphed, but after a small pause, my toes began to freeze as ice crawled up them. She was still able to spell cast.

  Bitch!

  Before frostbite set in, I sent out a warmth spell from my cuffs to the rest of my body, quickly canceling Tempest’s Elemental magic.

  “You’re no match for me, little Tempest,” I said, my voice a deep growl that surprised me.

  Large, swimming eyes blinked up at me. She knew she was done for. Relief and satisfaction flooded my chest. Finally, I had bested her.

  There was a whoosh from the trees. My head jerked up in time to see a large, dark blur.

  “How about me?”

  Rowan!

  He stood by the edge of the woods, dressed all in black, shadows cutting his face in sha
rp angles that made him look terrifying. Through it all, his eyes glowed red and traced a path directly to me. But the worst thing was his mouth. The way it sneered, his fangs clearly visible while a threatening hiss issued past his pale lips.

  “Let her go,” he commanded.

  Emotions swirled through me like a tornado as I stared, frozen, but not by any spell. He was back. He seemed changed.

  Tempest crawled out from under my foot, but not because I’d let her go on purpose, but because my shock had turned me into a useless statue.

  “Rowan,” I managed. “What… what happened to you?”

  The last time I’d seen him, he’d still retained most of his humanity. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing him here, I could see he’d embraced what he’d become.

  He didn’t answer me. Instead, he urged Tempest to go with a flick of his head.

  “Hurry! Get it out of here,” he said, indicating the grimoire.

  “No!” I said as Tempest picked up the large book and ran.

  I took chase again.

  There was another whoosh and, the next thing I knew, my back was against a tree trunk, my shoulders in Rowan’s fierce grip as he held me in place.

  “Stay out of this, Charlie,” he said, his metallic breath hitting my nose.

  I heard the sound of Tempest’s steps crashing through the woods, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

  Instead, I glanced into Rowan’s sharp features, fear seeping into my bones. Was this the same person I’d once known? I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. He looked ferocious… hungry.

  “How can you do this?” I asked, tears filling my eyes.

  My heart quivered, making me realize I’d held on to some sort of hope for him, maybe even for us, but it had been useless.

  The Rowan I’d known was fully gone, and I didn’t recognize this creature standing in front of me.

  He peered into my eyes, the red glow of his own dimming a little. He swallowed audibly. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

  “You’re right. These people killed Trey. He was like a brother to me, and they just…” The tears spilled down my cheeks, feeling hot on my frigid skin.

  Rowan opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He glanced to the side for a moment, then back at me again.

  “If you don’t want to get hurt, you have to stay out of this,” he said. “You and Disha and Bridget. I can’t protect you every time.” He gently pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

  I snapped my head away from his cold touch.

  Inside my head, I chanted the spell that would block any enthrallment from him. The magic descended down my body like a sheet of rain, cold and unforgiving, protecting me from his vampiric powers. Still, my heart lurched toward Rowan, toward the need I saw in his eyes.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered sadly.

  The words tore a hole in my heart.

  “Come with me, Charlie.” He inched closer, his mouth so close to mine I felt his breath on my lips and I nearly lost my will to resist him. He was still Rowan, the first and only man I had ever loved.

  Damn you, Charlie!

  I’d thought learning an anti-enthralling spell would protect me from him, but I never discovered anything that would protect me from my own stupid heart.

  Gathering all my will, I pulled myself together and came to my senses. It wasn’t easy. My self-control had spread far and thin like a layer of spilled water, and as I rallied it together, it tried to slide away. Still, I managed to collect it up and harden it into a shield that I placed around my broken heart.

  I tore my eyes away from Rowan and turned my face to one side.

  “Never,” I said, glad to find there was resolve in my voice.

  He held me there for a moment longer, his head leaning toward mine. Then, in an instant, he was gone. His vampire speed allowing me to see nothing but a blur as he disappeared through the trees.

  Chapter Seven

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY OCTOBER

  A month later, I was still attempting to wrap my brain around all that had happened the night of the theft in the library. Why had Tempest stolen the grimoire? Why had Rowan helped her?

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t focus on unraveling the mystery. I still had to attend classes like Spells 304 and, judging from the mess the teaching assistant was making on stage at the moment, my precious time was being wasted.

  “What in the world is she attempting?” Disha said, staring up at the Spells Teaching Assistant who was, at that moment, standing awkwardly on the platform below, fiddling with something on her desk. The girl was hunched over a pile of dirty rocks, muttering, and then grabbing tufts of hair in frustration. Once again, she was getting the spell all wrong.

  The T.A., Ramona Bruan, was a graduate student majoring in Mythical History with Professor Middleton. When Professor Fedorov didn’t return from his expedition to find Dean McIntosh, poor Ramona had volunteered to teach the class and had been doing so since the first day of school. The Academy was short staffed, so Irmagard had agreed.

  We’d spent the last month watching Ramona struggle with spells that invariably filled the cave with smoke. Each attempt was more disastrous than the last. She’d once set her own hair on fire while doing a simple levitation spell, far funnier than someone-who-shall-not-be-named levitating herself into the light fixtures.

  At least they’d stopped calling me Yogi Bare.

  Ramona’s lessons had gotten so bad that we’d taken to skipping class, coming in late, or sitting in the back where we could whisper about the Academy’s current situation and what bits of gossip we’d teased out from various sources. We still needed the credit, after all, even if we were pretty sure we could pass the exams with all that advanced defensive training we’d learned last year.

  Today, I had a choice bit of gossip to share with the girls, but at the moment, I was too mesmerized by Ramona’s attempt at a transformation spell. The poor girl had items strewn all over the table: iron ore, gold ore, silver ore, and something brown and viscous I couldn’t identify.

  She’d already made one attempt at turning iron ore into fool’s gold but had blown up half the table, leaving a smoldering heap that was still belching acrid smoke into the air. Thank goodness she was good at conjuring new tables.

  Not to be deterred by her first disastrous attempt, Ramona was getting ready to perform another spell. Her hands hovered over the metal lumps that quivered as pulses of magic danced in the air.

  That was the one thing you had to say for Ramona: she was persistent. The poor chunks of burnt table littering the back of the cave were proof.

  “Her chi’s all wrong,” Bridget muttered, yawning. She raised her hand to tell her so, but Disha pushed it down.

  “If you keep correcting her, how is she ever going to learn to stop and leave the spell casting up to the professionals?” Disha said. “Plus, I want to see this.”

  She didn’t say it, but I suspected Disha secretly liked watching Ramona fail. Why else did we keep coming to this pointless class? I suspected that, as a top-notch Spells student, Disha was hurt Irmagard hadn’t asked her to take over for Professor Fedorov.

  Ramona waved her hands and the rocks quivered again, melting into a silver pool and dripping off the table. God, this was pointless. We could learn more from books in the library than from poor, overworked Ramona.

  Thinking of the library suddenly brought me back to what I’d been needing to tell the girls.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to get their attention. I glanced around the nearly-empty auditorium, making sure no one was in hearing distance. Many students had stopped attending after Ramona blew up her third or fourth table. Surprisingly, the fae were still here. Sinasre, Anama, and Lancer sat near the top row as we did, but all the way around the semicircle of bench seats, safely out of earshot.

  I took one glance at their haughty profiles, then dropped my eyes. I didn’t want them to catch me looking.

  We hadn’t h
ad much interaction from them since the party over a month ago. I’d decided that was for the best, though I was still dying to ask Sinasre what he’d meant by hearing about me from Rowan. I’d tried to corner him several times, but, either Anama had interrupted or Sinasre had merely smirked and winked at me before slinking away.

  Since he had no answer, I’d assumed Sinasre had merely been taunting me with his words. It was clear fae were dangerous to humans, considering one had tried to poison Disha. And just because they’d been allowed to attend school here didn’t mean they were trustworthy.

  Look at Rowan. He was a dean’s son and had proven to be as untrustworthy as they came.

  God, Rowan. Why couldn’t I banish his name from my vocabulary? Why did he-who-should-not-be-thought-of continue to haunt me as well? I’d had dreams of his hands on my hips, his mouth pressed on mine, the heat burning up my body as I dug my fingers into his strong back. I’d dreamt of his fangs tracing my neck, the sharp pinch of pleasure and pain.

  I shivered at the thought. My traitorous body wanted the thing I should desire least. What was wrong with me?

  Disha was right. I was emotionally and sexually pent up. But, I didn’t have time for guys. Not after what I’d learned.

  Focus on the grimoire, Charlie. Stop thinking about dangerous men.

  Ramona blew up another table, batting the air and coughing. Disha and Bridget sat back with a sigh. I took advantage of the lull in class to draw their attention back to me.

  “Listen, I need to tell you guys something important. Last night, I went to see Irmagard to ask her for a break from the gnomes since they’re really cutting into my social life.”

  “Tell me about it,” Disha moaned. “We haven’t been to a good party since the folk nearly abducted us a month ago.”

  I waved a hand, letting her know it wasn’t the time or the place for a lecture on my introverted tendencies. “Forget that. Focus. I was really using my meeting with the counselor as an excuse to try to find out more about the grimoire. If they’d had any luck finding it or Tempest.”