Junior Witch

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Junior Witch Page 16

by Ingrid Seymour


  Fedorov, for all his seniority, just stood there, his gaze darting right and left as if he’d never been in a magical battle and didn’t have a clue what to do. What the hell? We needed help!

  Good thing I didn’t have that problem.

  I went for the old witch again, sending another pulse of magic straight at her face. She blocked it, dodging to the side, granting me a split second to jump forward and tackle the regent out of the way.

  My arms wrapped around him. An electric buzz sounded as I hit him. Crackling magic enveloped me, sending searing pain through my nerves. A strangled cry echoed inside my mind, a wretched sound straight from a nightmare. It was the voice of pain, of suffering.

  As I tumbled to the side and fell atop the regent, my hands flew to my ears, trying to keep the wailing sobs out. But, they were inside my head, and I couldn’t stop them from filling my mind with pain. I rolled to the ground, my own cries renting the air.

  “Get it out!” I screamed. “Get it out!”

  The cries died down. I gripped my head, never so grateful in all my life to be free of a sound.

  I blinked at the dark sky, the sounds of battle seemingly far away as my ears rang and my vision blurred. Holding my tender skull, I got to my knees and glanced up at the fight.

  Disha, Bridget, and, finally, Professor Fedorov were doling out magic in shafts of light and balls of fire while the subversives quickly retreated.

  Rowan was weaving his hands with vampiric speed, blocking all the spells and urging his accomplices to “get the hell out.”

  They obeyed him, disappearing one by one the way they’d come. I couldn’t see the old witch anywhere. She must have flown out before anyone else.

  The regent lay unconscious on the ground, dark lines streaking his face as if a toddler had written on him with a Sharpie marker. Was he alive?

  I tried to stand and help, but, as soon as I got to my feet, I fell to my knees again. My head felt as though it had been tumbled in a cement mixer.

  Just as Rowan took a last step into the fiery gate and it began to close, his gaze met mine. He looked angry, and his expression seemed to say “you ruined everything, Charlie.”

  I’d warned him I would stand against him every step of the way, so why was he so surprised? If I’d had the energy to flip him the bird, I would have. That or kick him in the balls for all he’d done. But I was too weak and proceeded to face-plant on the grass, the echoes of that pain-filled voice still ringing in the back of my mind.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SPRING SEMESTER

  LATE JANUARY

  It had been weeks, and I was still recovering from the events of Lynnsa McIntosh’s memorial. After I’d tried to free Regent Nyquist and experienced the awful screams and the electrical pulses that rang through my skull, my brain just didn’t seem right. After the attack, I laid in the infirmary for several days, unable to do much more than moan as the headaches wracked through my skull.

  Through it all, Nurse Taishi was as kind and patient as ever, trying all the appropriate healing spells. He was baffled when none of them worked, and at last, decided there was little more he could do for me, so he sent me home with extra strength headache medicine and told me to rest.

  Aspirin? We had magic and he was curing me with drugstore remedies? I was screwed.

  But, my headache did improve. What didn’t get better was the horrible nightmares. I would wake up screaming at the awful nightly visions. Those howls that had flooded my brain when I’d touched the regent had filled me with dread that haunted my days and twisted my nights into hellish dreamscapes of spells and torment.

  For a while, my classes suffered even though the teachers were extremely sympathetic. They waived assignments, reduced homework and gave me warm pats on the back when I explained my predicament. It was too nice. I was starting to get used to it.

  In fact, everyone was being overly nice. As it turned out, when you take one for the team, attacking an entire group of subversives hell-bent on destroying your school and one of its leaders, people respect you. I was getting more smiles and “yeah, bro” comments from my peers than in my freshman and sophomore years combined.

  Regent Nyquist had taken notice of my efforts to save his life and was throwing me an award ceremony to “honor my heroism.” A gilded envelope had flown through my open window one afternoon, unwrapped itself, and floated in front of my face until I snatched it out of the air and read it.

  Ms. Charlotte Rivera is cordially invited to attend

  an award ceremony in her honor

  Saturday, January 28th, at 7:00 in the evening

  in the Morgan La Fay Hall

  Dinner will be served promptly at 8:00

  Dress is semi-formal

  Please RSVP

  I’d never had an award ceremony thrown in my honor. Hell, I’d never even been invited to one.

  And, crap, I had nothing to wear unless you counted Chuck Taylors and an Academy sweatshirt.

  That was where Disha came in. As my plus-one and personal stylist, she’d already gone into town and bought us both dresses that she insisted we try on as soon as her afternoon class was over.

  At four PM, she bounded into my room, holding two garment bags in one hand and a to-go coffee in the other. A matching cup hovered behind her right shoulder and zoomed over to my nightstand as she flicked her fingers.

  “Coffee and a new outfit? What did I ever do to deserve this star treatment?” Just as I leaned over to grab my cup, a lancing headache cut across my brain. I winced and grabbed my skull until it passed.

  “Charlie, you deserve more than a cup of joe. Is your head still bothering you?” Disha stared into my face in a motherly way.

  I shooed her away. “It’s fine. Really. Nothing Nurse Taishi’s Miracle Cure can’t fix.” I pointed to the bottle of aspirin on my nightstand.

  Disha huffed, setting her coffee down on my desk and draping the garment bags over my chair. “I cannot believe that’s all he gave you. Do you want me to try another healing spell? I looked up a few more last night.”

  “No, really, it’s not that bad.” I took a sip of my coffee, wanting desperately to talk about something other than my stupid headaches. “What’s in the bags? And please tell me you didn’t spend too much money. I can pay you back later.”

  Disha ignored my money comment as she always did and went straight for the clothing with gusto. Nothing made her happier than a new outfit unless it was dressing someone else, mainly me.

  “So, I hemmed and hawed, but I finally think I picked out the perfect dress for you. Close your eyes.”

  I stared at her over my steaming cup. “If I close my eyes, how can I drink my mocha?”

  “Just do it.” She waved an impatient hand at me.

  “Fine.” I set my cup back down and closed my eyes.

  There was a rustle of plastic and then she said, “Okay, open.”

  It was breathtaking—a beautiful blush pink, the gown was both feminine and sexy. With off-the-shoulder styling, sweetheart neckline and scooped back, it would display all my assets without being too showy. Ruffles at the hem would fall just above my knees and likely billow when I walked.

  “Dee, it’s amazing. I love it.” I touched the dress with careful fingers.

  She beamed. “I knew you would. Check out mine.”

  I cringed a little, half expecting a matching dress, but hers was gold and glittery with a plunging neckline and a long slit up the thigh. She’d look stunning in it.

  “You’re going to knock everyone dead,” I said, marveling at the tiny gems stitched into her gown.

  “It should be fun. Our first important Academy party.” She set the dresses down, growing serious again. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  I nodded, careful not to disturb my brain. “It’s not every day you get honored by one of the regents, though it’s kind of embarrassing. I don’t really like being the center of attention.”

  Disha snorted. “You should’ve thought
of that before you single-handedly took on the subversives.”

  “I didn’t.”

  She gave me an eye-roll.

  “Really. I wish people would stop making such a big deal about it.”

  “Charlie, you’re a hero, and besides, it gives everyone something to focus on other than our impending doom.” Her expression grew as dark as the sky before a storm.

  I sat up, my attention suddenly piqued. “Did your dad know anything when you called him today?”

  She bit her lip. “Only that they haven’t caught a single one of them. And that the regent’s life is still in danger.”

  “Then what is he doing throwing parties? He should be gone, in hiding or whatever it is warlocks do when a whole group of maniacs tries to kill them.”

  She played with the rim of her coffee mug. “Baba says it’s safer here than almost anywhere in the world. So many wards and protections.”

  “Then how in the hell did they all bust in on us during the dean’s memorial?” I asked, frustrated.

  “They’re still investigating that, too. They think someone let them in.” Disha’s eyes flicked to me.

  I shook my head in disgust. “I don’t need three guesses on who that might be. What about Bonnie? Anything?”

  After the memorial, Bonnie Underwood went missing, surprising no one. Of course, she was the one who let the subversives in. I’d been kicking myself this whole time for not seeing the danger of her presence here sooner.

  “No one has seen her,” Disha answered. “Baba thinks she’s fully in league with them now.”

  I stared out my window. The only thought that rang in my head was that at least Rowan and his mother were finally together. Yet, they were both on the run. Fugitives. Criminals. They deserved to be hunted like dogs for what they did.

  In the last few weeks, I’d suffered from more than headaches. The guilt at not acting sooner, at doing nothing, was eating at me. New Charlie had thought that letting others act was the way to handle things and yet, look where it had gotten us. The regent had nearly died and the Academy was worse off than before.

  Had I done it to save Rowan from himself, to continue to protect him even though I’d sworn not to?

  I was literally still the worst.

  “Let’s get ready,” I said. “At least it’ll take my mind off things.”

  “If you put this dress on, it’ll take other people’s minds off things, too. I hear Sinasre’s going to be at the party.” She said the last bit with a sing-song lilt, winking at me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She smirked. “Nothing,” she said in a way that seemed like she meant far more than nothing.

  Casually, she reached for the invitation still sitting on my desk. She glanced at it. “Dinner at eight. I might need a snack between now and then.”

  Her words droned on, but I stopped listening. My eyes locked on the tiny scrawl of handwriting on the back, something I’d not noticed until this minute.

  “What’s that?” I asked, reaching for the invitation.

  She handed it over and we both gazed at the words penciled into the invitation’s bottom corner.

  As I read the words, my skin prickled. The regent’s message made me both nervous and anxious for this ceremony to begin.

  “Charlie,” it read, “please make sure to attend. I wish to give you a reward of priceless value. Something I’m sure you’ll want very much. Regent Nyquist.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SPRING SEMESTER

  LATE JANUARY

  By seven, we were across campus at Morgan La Fay Hall. Disha used her transporting spell so we wouldn’t get sweaty walking there. However, since she nearly dumped us into a shrub and I got grass stuck in my open-toed shoe on landing, walking might have been a better choice.

  We went up the cobblestone pathway toward the hall as the streetlamps began to glow. Morgan La Fay Hall was one of the oldest buildings on campus as I recalled from my welcome packet and things I’d learned since. Apparently, it had been a founding member’s home, built over a century ago in an architectural style they called Tudor.

  To me, the brick chimneys, flowering gardens, and ornate windows made it look like a home out of a storybook. Enchanting, albeit very large. The quaint decor helped calm my nerves a little.

  A few other witches and warlocks were heading up the stairs and through the large mahogany doors. I hesitated at the entrance, but Disha put a hand on my back. Apparently, she was worried I would bolt and she wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Inside, everything was just as magical—ancient parquet floors, tufted furniture, and high ceilings supported by giant beams. Marble statues lined the hall, appearing as if they might spring to life as we walked past. Thank God they didn’t or I might’ve broken my hand punching one out of sheer shock.

  Down the long corridor, we could hear the din of voices. Though I’d tried to stall even longer by fidgeting with my dress, we were only ten minutes late, and the ballroom was already crowded and the ceremony in full swing.

  The ballroom was massive—a huge rectangular room, coated in ancient wood gleaming from a fresh wax job. The high ceiling had big oak beams festooned with garlands of sweet-smelling flowers. Round tables draped with gold tablecloths filled the floor. On top of them, magical centerpieces switched from illusions of tiny fireworks to bobbing balloons to dancing daisies. In the corner, a string quartet played classical music while uniformed waiters milled around taking drink orders and seating guests.

  I wondered briefly if this was what magical weddings looked like or if they were quiet ceremonies in the trees with wood sprites flitting in and out.

  From a side door, one of the waiters in a pressed white jacket and black slacks appeared, holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres. His yellow-green cat eyes flicked to me and swept down, taking in my dress as a little shiver passed over him.

  Sinasre. He was working here? When Disha had said he would be here, this was not what I’d imagined.

  We stared at each other while I pondered how someone who moved like royalty could end up carrying drinks for the stuffy, elite witches and warlocks. It seemed all kinds of wrong.

  When she spotted him, Disha elbowed me. I shot her an awful glance, but when I turned back, Sinasre had disappeared back through the side door.

  Was he embarrassed? I hoped not. There was no judgment from me, a girl who once ate half a Whopper out of the trash. I belonged in the kitchens, not in a fancy dress being honored by the regents, but then, I didn’t really have a say in the matter.

  But as I glanced around, I saw that all of the waiters and waitresses were fae. Is this how they paid their tuition, by working in menial tasks around the Academy? There was nothing wrong with that, but something inside me cringed at the thought of my non-wizard friends slaving away while witches and warlocks sipped champagne.

  A uniformed maître d’ spotted us. He frowned, looking displeased.

  “You’re here. The regent is waiting. This way.” He held out his hand to direct us, then quickly strode into the room.

  I followed, stepping into an uproar of sound.

  Glancing around, I stared in shock as the clapping crescendoed. Every staff member and all manner of important people, including the entire Board of Regents, was on their feet, applauding as I hurried into the room.

  My cheeks burned red. Disha squeezed my hand, and it was a good thing she had a good grip on me because I might’ve turned around and high-tailed it if she hadn’t.

  Regent Nyquist was on his feet, clapping and smiling, along with everyone else. He gestured at me to sit next to him.

  “Our guest of honor is here. Let’s give another round of applause for Charlie.”

  Everyone continued clapping and staring at me while I turned into a fiery red tomato.

  Among the crowd, I spotted Bridget at a table with people who had to be her parents, judging by their curly red hair and large eyes. She nodded but didn’t come over. Maybe she was still sore at me. Ma
ybe she was jealous I was being honored and not her.

  It didn’t seem fair. Disha and Bridget had been just as responsible as I was in stopping the subversives, but they weren’t being lauded. I wanted to let her know I didn’t want the accolades, that she could have them, but maybe it was too late for that.

  The applause died down. Everyone sat except Regent Nyquist who pressed his fingers to his throat and cast a voice-projection spell.

  “Thank you all for coming. I knew you would if I provided free food and liquor. Am I right, Regent Knightley?” He winked at someone down the table and polite laughter followed. “We’ll get to the libations in a moment, but I wanted to take this time to celebrate the reason for this occasion—Charlie Rivera.”

  He turned his smile on me. “Ms. Rivera, I simply cannot thank you enough. I’m here today because of your heroism in the face of great danger. I had heard of your exploits before. Some of them a bit naughty,” he wagged a finger at me and people laughed, “but I had no idea what a brave young woman you truly are. Not until I saw it for myself.”

  The crowd nodded. I balled my dress in my fists under the table and continued smiling stiffly as all eyes pinned me to my chair.

  My nervous gaze flitted around the room until it fell on the figure at the back. It didn’t matter what kind of outfit you put him in, Sinasre stood out like a diamond in the rough.

  His cat eyes seemed to wink with joy as he watched me squirm under all this attention. A corner of his mouth curled up as our gazes locked.

  My body prickled and I dropped my eyes to the table. Was it suddenly far too hot in here?

  Regent Nyquist continued. “Charlie, I cannot repay you for my life, but I can do this. Martin?” He gestured to a man waiting off to the side. A man strode forward, holding a long slender box, which he placed on the table in front of me.

 

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