Undercover Witch Academy Box Set

by Rachel Medhurst

  “Right,” Mrs Hinley whispered. “I'm going to cast my invisibility spell now. Let's go.”

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I glanced at Dracian who had joined the others. They all waved at me, giving me a thumbs up. I smiled back, unable to muster up quite the same enthusiasm as them. Dracian didn't join in, he just watched me, a concerned expression pulling his eyebrows low.

  “I'm ready.”

  Throwing my backpack over my shoulder - I had to look like I was playing the part of a student - I marched down the side of the towering building and approached the front. The road off the small industrial area was busy, cars beeping as people ran across the street. I was separated from the hustle and bustle by a line of trees, which helped drown out the noise.

  “This place looks deserted,” Mrs Hinley whispered near me. “Be careful.”

  A car park was out front, a couple of cars parked up. Apparently, the building had been transformed into a hot desk equivalent of studios. Artists could hire the small rooms to design their creations for a small amount of money. It didn't look like many people took up the offer.

  “I won't speak from now on,” the teacher said in my ear.

  Trying not to jump from the sudden breeze as she moved away from me, I pressed the entrance button. The door was glass from top to bottom, the metal edging, sturdy and new. The lock mechanism was extravagant with several bolts on it. Why would they need such protection when all they were doing was drawing?

  “Hello?”

  “Damian?” I called into the little speaker. “It's Alishia.”

  A buzz of the door unlocking was the only reply I received. With a tiny hesitation, I opened the door and stepped inside. The heady beats of trance music pulsed in the background. My brain instantly felt slightly lighter. Wait, was he hypnotising people? It would make perfect sense if he was.

  “Strange,” Mrs Hinley whispered.

  I couldn't help but agree, although I stayed quiet as I slowly wandered into the foyer. It was rather odd that any music was playing, but certainly unusual for it to be a high-tempo trance tune.

  “Alishia!” Damian's voice thundered from above.

  The staircase was to the right of me, spiralling up to the next floor. When my head fell back to look at him, he waved down at me. He was leaning over, his long hair hanging. A spark lit his eyes, making me suck in a breath. He was excited, I could feel the energy pulsing down to me.

  “Come up, come up!”

  Doing as he requested, I trotted up the steps, trying to keep my breath even as I joined him. “I'm feeling a little nervous, I must admit,” I confessed as he threw an arm around me in a half hug.

  His chuckle rumbled across his chest as he grinned down at me. “Don't be, it will be great fun.”

  Taking my hand, he tugged me towards a metal door that had a tiny window up high. I paced slowly as I held his hand loosely, concentrating on not taking his magic. If he touched me too much, he might very well feel that I could ultimately do what he was doing, but without a spell. That wasn't something I could risk. I had to be on guard at all times.

  “I've got the perfect outfit for you,” he said as he threw open the door.

  Stepping into the room, I couldn't help but stare. Yes, in awe, so shoot me. Paintings lined every spare inch of the walls. It wasn't too big a studio, but the mournful expressions on the models’ faces made my stomach churn. Did Damian cause the sadness in their eyes? Did he kiss them with the spell of death and then paint them after? It sounded very Dorian Grey.

  “Please, let me show you.” Almost skipping across the floor, Damian gestured that I follow.

  A blank canvas sat on an easel in the middle of the room, a filthy wooden table, adorned with painting materials, next to it. A skylight above allowed the fading light to drop through, highlighting the area where I would no doubt sit. An ancient blue chaise-lounge sat in the corner in front of a pretty carved wooden changing screen.

  “Your costume is behind there, if you could go ahead and change.” His eyes were bright as he hopped on both feet, waiting for me to obey.

  “Exciting,” I lied, desperate to turn and run as I made my way behind the screen.

  The pressure of the energy in the studio made me feel trapped. So many people, staring at me with such melancholy, made me wince as I slipped off my leather jacket. I had changed into a red dress, hoping in some way that Damian would want to paint me in that, but alas, a long plastic dress bag hung on a rail attached to the wall. Victorian Alishia it would be. It was a good job I didn't have to pull a kickass stunt to take him down. Hopefully.

  “Your face is perfect for my project,” Damian called as his feet shuffled around the room. “I'm captivated by it. I've been studying your photo on my phone all afternoon, imagining how I'll capture it with my paint.”

  Extremely pleased that he couldn't see me shudder as I unzipped the bag and pulled the gorgeous black corseted dress out, I mumbled an affirmative noise. My insides were quaking which made my hands shake. I had to calm my nerves. If I wanted to play the game, I had to train myself to become professional in every situation.

  “If you have trouble with the ties, let me know, I can help.” Something clashed on the other side of the screen.

  Peering through a small hole, I checked to make sure he wasn't watching me. No, he had dropped something. There was probably a hidden camera somewhere, pointed on me. Wasn't that what most perverts did when claiming to paint or take photos? Luckily, I had worn my most ugly granny pants, just in case I was exposed in any way. For some bizarre reason, it gave me comfort.

  “Will do. This dress is divine.” Okay, so I might have been a little overboard, but if he was artsy, I would play up to that.

  To be fair, the dress was stunning. It had a high collar with white ruffles and a black bow-tie. The black seam started just above the cleavage, shaped into a square. Tight at the waist, the skirts then flared out in layers, perfectly mimicking the Victorian era.

  “The sound of your held breath tells me everything I need to know about the sort of witch you are.” His words were cryptic, but made me curious as I stepped into the dress and pulled it on.

  As the soft fabric brushed against my skin, I steadied my breath, refusing to give anything away. How could the man tell something from the way someone breathed? That was quite ridiculous. Especially if someone had asthma. Or hay fever.

  “Don't forget the corset,” he chimed.

  Freezing, I looked through the hole again. How did he know that I had left the corset hanging on the wall? The idea of him pulling my laces made goose bumps pop up all over my skin. As if I would allow the enemy to help me dress. I would have to use my magic. It wouldn't take too much.

  “I won't.” My reply was met with soft humming as he played with his paints.

  Hooking the dress around my waist, I took hold of the cream boned corset and pulled it around myself. He could forget about me taking my bra off, that was going too far.

  His throat cleared as he carried on humming a tune. My head grew a bit fuzzy as I flicked my fingers and imagined the laces on the corset tying up on their own. Where was Mrs Hinley? Was she near me? Or over by Damian?

  “Corset on,” I muttered under my breath as it grew lighter from the pressure around my ribs. “How the hell did women wear these all day?”

  A small deep laugh reached me as I tugged the rest of the dress on, using the same spell to do up the minuscule buttons on the back. Success, I was in the gorgeous, albeit constricting, Victorian dress.

  “They were sorry creatures, so repressed.” A shuffling of feet alerted me of Damian’s approach. “I find that quite beautiful. That's why I like painting models who represent those women of old.”

  “I represent a repressed woman?” I asked without thinking.

  Stepping out, I grabbed up the simple black bonnet. Before I could put it on, Damian lifted his hand and ordered me to stop moving without even uttering a sound. His gaze traced the length of me, hovering where the
corset clinched in my waist. Looking down, I couldn't help but admire the fine cut of material and the way it shaped me. Maybe modelling could become my career if I failed at being an agent. Maybe not, too much make-up and bitchiness. Not enough sleep and food. It wouldn't suit a girl like me.

  “That’s exquisite. I knew it would suit you, but boy, you look incredible. Please, let me help.” Coming over, he stood behind me, looking over my shoulder.

  Taking something out of his pocket, he watched my eyes as he showed me the clips. I nodded when he raised his eyebrows. Apparently, he wanted to put my hair up. It wasn’t creepy. Much.

  “You’ve got great hair. It’s rare to see a naturally blonde woman.”

  Licking my lips as he swept my hair up onto the back of my head, I repressed a shudder that desperately wanted to escape. Damian’s energy was off, his excitement laced with something darker. I couldn’t quite read it, but man, I felt it.

  “There.” Gesturing for the bonnet, he took it and gently placed it on my head.

  Coming round, he took the ribbon and gently tied it beneath my chin. I smiled shyly, glancing up at him from under my lashes. His lips curled upwards as he raised a finger and lightly traced the skin on my jaw.

  “So beautiful.”

  The intensity of him enveloped me. I could see how someone who wanted to be loved would adore his attention. It would’ve been easy for him to rope in the students he had drained. If it was him, of course. We didn’t have solid proof. Yet.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, ducking my head slightly.

  Pressing the bottom of my chin, he forced me to look up at him, bringing his lips to brush against mine for split second. A subtle shift of energy, and a gentle pull on my own magic, alerted me to the spell he had obviously just cast on me.

  “Shall we?” He stepped away, swiping his hand in a sweeping gesture towards the chaise-lounge. “Please, take a seat.”

  A wave of dizziness came over me as I moved towards the couch. My step was wobbly, my ankle almost giving out as I just about managed to sit without falling down. When I glanced up at him, I caught him frowning before he cleared his expression.

  “I’m going to start painting you now. If you could stay still, I would really appreciate it.”

  Readying himself, he glanced at me around the canvas. I nodded, sitting back slightly and then looking at him, preparing myself for a long wait.

  “Something’s not right,” he said suddenly, getting to his feet in a huff.

  Frowning, I soothed the skirts over my knees. “Sorry, should I sit differently?”

  “No,” he muttered, running a hand over his hair. “It’s not that. You… you’ve…”

  Storming over, he gripped my hand, yanking me to my feet. I yelped, the shock of his action disorientating me. Not only that, my head still felt light from the spell. My magic was slowly melting away from me. He was certainly the culprit, there was no doubt about that.

  “What’s the matter?” I squeaked as he dragged me towards the door.

  “Who’s here? I can sense the listening spell. Who are you?” Spittle flew from his lips, landing on my face when he spun to face me. “I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell them to leave us alone.”

  My limbs shook with adrenaline as I wracked my brains. What was the best way to handle this? Play dumb? Or placate him?

  “You won’t hurt her,” Mrs Hinley’s voice echoed around the room.

  Damian scowled as he twisted and turned, trying to find where her voice had come from. At least my teacher would help me decide what to do. I was pleased she was there with me, I wasn’t trained well enough to know what to do when things went wrong. I had been too naive, thinking that I would be able to pull it off easily.

  “Show yourself, or I’ll kill her.” Swirling his hand, he smiled when a dagger appeared in his palm.

  Mrs Hinley released her invisibility spell, showing herself to Damian. Before he could react, she twisted his wrist with an incantation and flick of her hand.

  The knife dropped to the ground, but Damian just laughed and pulled me to him, trapping me with an arm around my neck. “Good try, but you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  I raised my leg, ready to kick backwards, but before my foot made contact with his shin, he muttered a transportation spell. The wind whipped around us, making my skirts fly all over the place as the warehouse disappeared and we landed in the living room of a cottage.

  What the bloody hell had gone wrong?

  Chapter Nine

  “Where are we?” Thrusting away from Damian, I searched for the door.

  It was on the other side of my captor, tucked away in the corner of the room. Shit.

  A fireplace stood empty, the logs burnt away a while ago. The windows were tiny, the glass criss-crossed in a medieval style. I couldn’t help but admire the beams above my head as Damian paced across to the front door. Checking the bolted lock, he glanced over his shoulder at me.

  “Why did you do that?”

  Swallowing, I almost dropped to my knees and pleaded for him to let me go. No, that wouldn’t do. Devon Jinx wouldn’t dare to grovel at someone’s feet, so I wouldn’t either. I would stand my ground and crap myself inside.

  “I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

  Snarling, Damian rushed to me. I stifled a gasp as I held out both hands and shouted a protection spell. My magic was weakening, I could feel the familiar drain of it, but there was a difference. I wasn’t using it. He was taking it through his spell.

  As he butted up against the invisible wall around me, I searched the room for a weapon. If he was draining witches of their magic, he was a sick person. It wouldn’t take long for him to get through my spell if he wanted to harm me.

  “You’re clever,” he said, narrowing his gaze on me. “I’ll give you that. Don’t panic, I don’t need to hurt you.”

  Ah, of course. He believed that I would be drained of magic within twenty four hours. He was right, but he wasn’t too clever, was he? He had played with an Illusionist witch and lost. Well, hopefully, if the others hurried up. I might not die from my magic draining, but he would probably end my life if I didn’t manage to escape or get rescued.

  “Why do you do it?” I asked, my breath rushing out of my lungs when he went over to the armchair and took a seat.

  His energy calmed, his shoulders sinking as he leant his head back against the leather. A sigh escaped his lips, the sound the only noise in the room. Glancing down at the couch behind me, I was tempted to sit down. My legs were shaky as Mother Earth. I wasn’t quite sure what to do though. What would a real agent do? Would they keep the suspect talking?

  “I’m looking for my parents.”

  My gaze snapped back to him, my breath coming short. Keeping silent, I lowered myself onto the edge of the couch, not quite fully seated. If I had to jump up, it wouldn’t take long. Although, the strings of the corset pulled tighter as I sat, so there was a risk I’d pass out first. How the hell had women worn the tight garments for hours a day? It should’ve been made illegal.

  “Are they missing?”

  He glanced at me, his eyes blinking when he spotted me sitting. Lifting his legs, he put them on the small coffee table in the middle of the room. “I suppose I can tell you this considering you’ll be indisposed soon enough. Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “Are you?” I enquired, narrowing my gaze on him. “Not sorry enough to stop what you’re doing.”

  “You’d do the same if you wanted to take down the institute.”

  “The institute?” My head snapped to look around, even though there was no threat from the people who had killed my parents.

  He noticed my alertness, his eyebrows pulling together into a frown. “You know much about them?”

  Shaking my head, I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve. It flowed about my wrist, moving with every flick of my finger against the edge.

  “Not really.” It was the truth; I didn’t have a clue what the inst
itute was all about.

  Most witches didn’t even know it existed. It was only because of my father’s background as a high coven member that he knew about it. And, then, obviously he realised that they were interested in me and my ability.

  Licking his lips, Damian lifted his legs off the table and sat forward. “I can tell you’re lying. The institute killed my parents, I’m sure of it. They’re an evil group of people who think they’re more powerful than the human government, so they police the paranormal without their permission. I hate to think what happens to those who are stolen away without anyone’s knowledge.”

  “Who were your parents?” My question gave away too much, I could see in the suspicious clench of his jaw.

  “You do know them then?”

  Shrugging, I kept quiet, waiting to see if he would answer me. He could become stubborn, not talking at all. But, if he decided to indulge some information, it would help me with our investigation. What were the chances of his parents being killed by the institute, too?

  “My parents were leading lawyers in the paranormal field. When a vampire was arrested, they would defend them, trying to keep them from the death sentence.” Gritting his teeth, he stared into the empty fireplace. “They were successful, fighting hard to help all sorts of creatures get justice in a world that’s unequal.”

  “Unequal?” I almost spat. “You think humans should give us equal rights?”

  It was a genuine, albeit fierce, question. I hadn’t known many humans in my life, except my foster parents, but they were much weaker than our kind. Not in mind, but in everything else. Vampires had speed, witches embraced their magic, and shapeshifters were super agile and aggressive. It wasn’t exactly a fair playing field.

  His intense stare made me squirm. He wasn’t exactly staring at me, but through me. His voice was raspy, as if he wasn’t quite in the same room. “Not exactly equal rights, but we shouldn’t be discriminated against quite as much as we are. The system is against us in every way. My parents wanted to help the innocent paranormals.”