Crystal Wing Academy- The Complete Series

by Marty Mayberry

  “The Council is sending Roark,” the Headmistress said. She must’ve contacted them via mindspeak.

  As if she’d summoned him just by revealing his name, Roark popped into view at my side.

  “You,” he said with a snarl, glaring down at me.

  Even as terrified as I was, I could still drum up enough irritation to huff. “I could say the same thing about you but I won’t. Someone’s killing outlings. Maybe, instead of looking at me like that, you should arrest whoever’s responsible, before we’re all dead.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Justine said. Leaning forward, she braced her arms on her desk and frowned at Roark. “What have you discovered so far?”

  “She had an O and a six on her neck,” I said, interrupting. “I told you that already. This proves she was killed by whoever murdered Drea.”

  “Drea was strangled by a nightlace cluster. As was Sarah,” Roark said. He loosened his stripped tie and unbuttoned his suit jacket, leaving it hanging open to reveal—strangely enough—a pale pink dress shirt. “After viewing…” He frowned my way and lowered his voice as if that would somehow spare my feelings, “the body, I flitted to Professor Grim’s quarters. He admitted that the vines he’d locked in his lab have escaped.”

  Cloven growled, fists forming on his thighs. Tonight, he wore the robe I’d seen him in originally, the black one with the dragon and a star on the right pocket. His gray beard swayed as he shifted in agitation on the hard, wooden chair. “They’re on the loose, then.”

  Nightlace was tracking us. Hunting us. Killing us.

  Sarah’s murder couldn’t be explained away by a rogue nightlace cluster, could it?

  Wait. “Nightlace wouldn’t carve disappearing numbers and letters into someone’s skin. I saw an O and a six. Six. That’s how many outlings are alive at the Academy. For now.” Why would a plant be trying to kill us?

  “I think her death is random,” Roark said. “A coincidence. The plants escaped. She must’ve startled them in the woods.” His haughty tone grated across my skin like nails on a chalkboard. He shifted his hooves on the braided rug. “I just came from the morgue where I examined the young woman myself. There’s no O on her neck. And no number six.”

  “I also saw the marks,” Cloven said firmly. “Just as Fleur has described.”

  Justine’s eyes widened. “You did? How horrifying.” She flopped back in her chair as if defeated. “I’d hoped she was mistaken.”

  “Don’t forget…” Cloven said, his gaze sliding my way. Only sadness filled his green eyes. “I’m part outling, on my father’s side.”

  “You are?” I couldn’t keep the awe from my voice. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He shrugged. “It’s been so long since it was important, I forget the detail much of the time myself.”

  “But it would’ve given me hope.”

  “Ah.” He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve shared, told you things would get better. That the future is yours for the claiming.”

  Had he been bullied like me?

  I’d always felt close to Cloven, but knowing we shared this, too, only made him more special in my eyes.

  But Sarah. And nightlace. I couldn’t shove the image from my mind.

  “Nightlace can be directed,” I said. “The librarian said they were sentient, mostly driven by basic needs like hunger and anger. That—”

  “You’ve been researching nightlace in the library?” Justine asked, shoving her back against her chair. She crossed her arms on her chest, and I swore her toe tapped on the floor. “I believe I told you to let us handle this investigation.”

  “But you’re not handling it,” I said weakly, more than willing to stick up for myself but even more reluctant to antagonize the Headmistress of the Academy. This woman held all the power. The last thing I wanted was to be expelled and sent back to live with Ester. “I also read that they can be bespelled by rare wizards. Once bespelled, they can be directed to act.”

  Her gaze darted to Cloven. “There hasn’t been a person with a plant-controlling skapti born in a very long time. And we know Bespellers…” She bit off the rest of her sentence when I leaned forward.

  Bespellers, what? While she wasn’t shouting or telling me to pack my bags, she also wasn’t revealing everything.

  I was eager to share all I’d learned. “I think someone at the Academy who knows how to control plants and is directing them to kill outlings.” A theory, but it made more sense than assuming this was a rogue nightlace cluster. How could plants randomly kill two outlings in a row?

  Cloven, Justine, and Roark shared a tense look I couldn’t decipher.

  “You need to go to your room now, Fleur,” Justine said, rising. “I can take you—”

  “They’re killing my friends.” New tears filled my eyes. “I want to be part of this.” I needed to be part of this.

  “Certainly not,” she barked, but her shoulders loosened and her voice softened. “We can’t risk it. Risk you or any other student. We must leave this to Roark. To the Council. They have training and experience to deal with supernatural crimes like this. Promise me you’ll let it go.”

  I stood. “It’s not just my life at stake. All of us are in danger. Someone’s trying to kill us like they did years ago, during the outling murders. Every single outling was murdered back then and this must be a copycat crime. I can’t go to classes, hang out with friends, by the fae, even eat in the cafeteria knowing all of us are in danger. Don’t you understand?”

  Justine grumbled and, from the way her arms stiffened, it was clear her patience with me was fading fast. “Fleur—”

  Cloven held up his hand. “Would you let me?” he asked the Headmistress in a completely deferential tone but with an edge of granite in his voice.

  “Of course.” Like a deflated balloon, she slumped in her seat again.

  Cloven turned to me. Deep lines of exhaustion filled his face, and I could tell Sarah’s death had hit him as hard as it had me. “I’ll explain what I can, Fleur, but I’m asking you to wait until tomorrow for your answers. It’s vital I help the Headmistress and a few other wizards place wards that will drive the nightlace off campus.”

  I was all for wards, assuming they worked better than the last. If only their wards could drive the nightlace a thousand miles from here.

  “Okay.” There was no hiding the reluctance in my voice. It would be hard to wait, but I couldn’t force Cloven to tell me now.

  “Let’s talk after class tomorrow somewhere private, shall we?” he said. “You never know who might be listening from the walls.”

  Who did he worry might overhear? “All right.”

  I scooted around Roark, who studied me with the same intensity he had after I found Drea. As if he suspected I might be involved and that, if I was, he’d send me to some sort of magical prison to pay for my crimes.

  I couldn’t hold in my shudder when his tail flicked out. It slid across the bare skin on my arm.

  Chapter 12

  “Cafeteria for breakfast?” Donovan asked when we met up outside my room the next morning. Bryce and Patty had gone ahead already.

  “How about the ice cream shop?” I said.

  “For breakfast.”

  “A waffle cone is a grain, and everyone eats grains for breakfast. Ice cream is a dairy. If I have strawberry ice cream, I can tick off a fruit. Which tells me an ice cream cone is essentially a balanced meal.”

  He linked our fingers as we walked down the hall. “You’ve convinced me. Is chocolate a food group, do you think?”

  “Absolutely.” It would be sinful to think otherwise.

  We took the path through the gardens, stopping only when a group of vrilla—tiny mountain nymphs—dressed in ballgowns danced and swirled out from under a cluster of bushes. Pausing on the stone path, they whispered and giggled, pointing at Donovan. He bowed and spoke to them in a language I didn’t understand.

  The exchange only went on a minute or so before,
with high-pitched, tinkling laughter, the vrilla fluttered into the shrub on our left, followed by eight or ten monarch butterflies.

  “What was that all about?” I asked him as I stared after the nymphs.

  “Last time I ran into them, we laid in the grass and talked for a while. Since they insisted, I agreed to find them some frogs.”

  I blinked up at him as we continued walking. “Frogs? Why frogs?”

  “They’re doing an experiment.”

  “Hopefully not in a lab with a scalpel.” I pictured my frog dissection class from third grade.

  “They plan to kiss the frogs. See if they’ll turn into princes.”

  I twisted my face. “That never happens, does it?”

  Pausing on the path, he tugged me close. “Maybe try it out yourself.”

  “Meaning, if I kiss you, you might turn into a frog?”

  “Would you still go out with me if I was a frog?”

  “Only if you promised no warts.”

  He laughed and, after a long, satisfying kiss, we continued into the foyer and out the front door. We walked along a path to the left and arrived at a big gazebo with an ice cream parlor in the center.

  Cones in hand, we strolled through the gardens, stopping to sit on a bench where we enjoyed our ice cream and each other. Then we walked to class, but rather than enter the room, because we were early, I leaned my back against the wall beside the door. Donovan braced his shoulder beside mine and played with my hair—deep burgundy this morning.

  “I feel like I barely see you,” he said softly. “Miss you.”

  I smiled. “Miss you too, but you know I’m only a ping away.”

  “But when we’re not together, I can’t do this.” He kissed my forehead. “Or this.” His lips traced down my cheek and he kissed my neck. Ticklish, I giggled, but it was a deep laugh because his touch thrilled through me like fire. “And when we’re not together…” His voice had gone deep and husky. “I can’t do this.” He captured my mouth with his own, and I pulled him fully against me. My body lit up like a sparkler. Energy soared through me, like when I pulled in threads of every color in the rainbow.

  I could kiss him forever, feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine. Sometimes—okay, always lately—I wanted to—

  “Yuck,” Alys said harshly from just beyond Donovan, breaking through the dream world I’d fallen into. “You know that spit contains 100 million microbes. I imagine our mouths have over a billion. And here you two are, swapping them around like the flu.”

  Donovan lifted his head and a crooked smile bloomed on his face. “You worried about spit exchange, Fleur?” His fingers played with the ends of my hair again.

  “Not in the least.” Leaning around him, I gave Alys my best smirk. “Why don’t you go wash your mouth out with rubbing alcohol if you’re so concerned?”

  With a huff, she spun on her heel, but her dramatic exit was ruined when she slammed into Cloven coming from the other direction.

  “Careful, dear,” he said, steadying her with his hands on her arms. “Must watch where we’re going at all times.” His gaze met mine and I swore his green eyes twinkled, sharing humor in the situation. How much of the mini-scene had he caught? “I’m sorry I’m late but we can get started right away.” His dragon star robe swished around his pantlegs as he moved around Alys and into the classroom, calling over his shoulder, “Shall we start class, then?” He clapped his hands and gold and silver sparkles shot into the air like diamond confetti, disappearing before they landed on the tile floor. “I’ve got an exciting lesson planned for today.”

  We filed inside the sunny room and each sat in loungers arranged in a circle, leaving the center free for Cloven.

  “First I’m going to collect your stones,” he said cheerfully. A few kids groaned, and I had to wonder how we’d work magic if we couldn’t store power. He moved around among us, holding out a darkly stained wooden box for deposit.

  “We’re not using our stones?” Moira said, sitting starkly upright with her legs coiled beneath her butt. She stroked her stone set in a ring on her finger.

  “Oh, but you are.” Cloven urged her to remove her ring and drop it inside the box. It rattled among the other objects inside. Taking the box to the table sitting in the front of the room, he dropped it on the smooth surface. The lid closed on its own and the latch clicked. Magically locked?

  Turning, he leaned back against the table. “You won’t always have your stones nearby. Today, we’ll learn how to store power in them from afar. And, within a few months, you’ll not only be able to feed power into your stones from a considerable distance, you’ll have learned how to draw the energy you need to enhance elemental magic spells when your stone isn’t near.”

  The glance Donovan shot me contained a world of humor. He knew very well I’d been experimenting with new magic already, as had he.

  Cloven smiled. “The true challenge will come when you purposefully leave your stone in your room and then draw power from it while in our classroom.”

  Kids murmured together, and wild speculation filled the air. I’d always worn my dagger, and while I was comfortable storing power then pulling it back out to combine with elemental magic, I’d yet to put distance between myself and my stone. But I did enjoy a new challenge.

  “Let’s go around the room,” Cloven said. “Tell me if you can feel your stone now that you can no longer see it.”

  “I do,” Patty said, bouncing in the seat to my left. “It thumps like a second heart in my chest. I still feel it, even when it’s in the box.”

  “And you, Donovan?” Cloven asked, moving to stand at the base of Donovan’s chair.

  “I feel like there’s an elastic band connecting me to my obsidian. Right now, it’s pulled tight, like a guitar string.”

  A few kids nodded.

  “Alys?” Cloven asked as he moved around the room.

  My eyes slid closed. To me, my moonstone felt cold, a refreshing chill like when you were hot and you put an ice cube in your mouth and sucked while it slowly melted. Like I held the ice on the tip of my tongue, my soul knew my stone waited for me in the box. If I wanted it, I could hold out my hand, palm up, and—

  Patty gasped. “Totally cool, Fleur. How did you do that, ’cause I want to do it, too?”

  I opened my eyes and found my blade lying in my hand.

  “I don’t know. I just—”

  “Show off,” Alys hissed from the chair beyond Donovan’s.

  “Interesting,” Cloven said, coming to stand at the base of my chair. “Have you ported anything else yet, Fleur?”

  Ported. There was a term for moving objects from one location to another?

  I’d only ported a book, one Alys tried to steal from me in the library. “Is porting another elemental magic trick?”

  “It takes a combination of skapti and elemental magic.”

  “Which I’ve heard was impossible.”

  “For most, yes.”

  Oh. It was a trick I’d been playing with on my own. I winked while Donovan stared at me in amazement.

  “What kind of skapti can transport objects?” he asked Cloven.

  “It’s a reverse of flitting, which is solely generated by elemental magic, as you know. But, while most of us can flit, a few rare individuals can port objects.”

  “Not you, Fleur. You’re the skaptiless wonder,” Alys said dryly. “You’ll spend the rest of your life trying to achieve Level Five in something only to remain a Level One at everything.”

  Growling, I started to stand, ready to wrap my fingers around her neck.

  Cloven urged me to remain in my seat with a wave of his hand. “Actually, that’s not true, Alys. Or kind, but that’s an entirely different matter for later.” His scowl suggested she wasn’t going to be happy once later arrived. “Some wizards with more than one skapti have equal chance of achieving Level Five with all of their abilities.”

  “All?” Moira asked in awe. Her gaze darted to me then back to Cloven.
“That’s…the Headmistress can do that, right?”

  “Yes. It’s not as unusual as you may believe.”

  “What else can you do?” Eben barked out with a glare directed my way as he leaned forward in his chair beyond Moira’s. Where had he come from? He was a second term student, and this was a first term class.

  “A variety of things, I suppose,” I said, having no interest in sharing. Where was he going with this?

  Cloven turned to speak to Eben, and I nudged Donovan in the side, whispering, “Why is Eben in our class? Did he stay back?” I didn’t think that was even possible.

  “Heard he’s repeating some of the magic classes,” Donovan said. “Hopes to absorb more. And…” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Heard he hopes to be declared the best outling to ever attend the Academy.”

  “Is that an award?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Maybe? They do give out scholarships to select colleges, and I know there are some directed toward outlings.” He huffed. “He must see you as his stiffest competition.”

  Lovely. I had enough going on right now without a fellow student turning this into some sort of outling race.

  Eben frowned at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me—us—you didn’t have a skapti?”

  Cringe moment. “I kinda sorta do.”

  He tilted his head, studying me as if I was a bug secured to a cork board with a pin through the chest. “What is it then?”

  Alys grinned, enjoying watching Eben grilling me. “Yes, tell us what your skapti is, Fleur. No need to keep it a secret.”

  “You don’t need to answer to anyone,” Cloven said.

  “It’s okay.” I kept my gaze locked on Eben’s until he wrenched his away and dropped it to his hands clasped on his lap. “I can throw fire.”

  Jenny, sitting beside Eben, tilted her head. “You mean like a circus performer?”

  “Why would anyone need to do that?” Alys burst out, truly perplexed.

  “I use it for defense,” I said.

  She scrunched her brow. “So, it’s a weapon? I suppose…” Her attention drifted to Donovan, “You could get a job with the government.”