Undercover Witch Academy Box Set

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Undercover Witch Academy Box Set Page 29

by Rachel Medhurst


  “Wait. Seriously?” I said, ready to play the victim card. “After what we’re been through today?”

  When Mrs Hinley’s head turned, her eyes searching my face, a chill ran through me. Okay, maybe it wasn’t best to question the powerful witch mother who had also suffered a major trauma today.

  Backing up, I followed Izzy, Helissa and Dracian out of the room, my feet dragging behind me. How could we possibly get back to learning after being bombed?

  “We will get them,” Dracian said, taking my hand as we dawdled to class. “No one goes up against the academy and gets away with it, I’m sure.”

  Sighing, I didn’t bother to reply as I examined my wrist to make sure the tattoo was gone. It was.

  There was no point in saying anything to Dracian. His confidence was humbling. However, no matter what we did, the institute was a powerful body of paranormals, seemly not afraid of the humans. If the government couldn’t find them, how the Mother Earth would we?

  Chapter Five

  “Sir?” I called as the class walked to the centre of the field. “Does Professor Seaton know about this trip?”

  My nerves were on edge as I tried to push past the other students. They grimaced away from me when my elbow accidentally on purpose bashed into them.

  We’d just been informed that we were going on a field trip. Obviously, it wasn’t in my best interest to leave the grounds without permission from Seaton, who had made us all swear to stay on academy soil, just to be safe.

  The mad scientist magician teacher glanced over his shoulder at me, a scowl lining his face. I had missed several of his classes over the last few months due to my escapades, so he didn’t look kindly on me.

  “Of course the professor knows, I wouldn’t take students out of the academy without permission.”

  Tutting, he indicated that everyone should gather around. A rush of unease made me shiver as Dracian, Isabel and Helissa came to stand with me.

  “Shall we just stay here?” I asked them.

  Shrugging, Izzy looked at the teacher. “I don’t really want to flunk this class. I’m sure the professor would’ve given you a special pass if he thought you would be in danger.”

  “She’s probably right,” Dracian said, taking my hand. “We’ll keep you safe from any creeps.”

  Counting each of us, the teacher clapped his hands and called for attention. Relaxing my shoulders, I decided to trust my friends and the academy. Like Izzy had said, the professor must have given his consent for us to go on the trip.

  “We’ll do a transportation spell to Canewdon in Essex, where we’ll meet with a historian who can tell us about the Essex witches. Please, join hands and we’ll make our way there now.”

  Doing as we were told, the students lent their magic to the spell to transport us all. Within a flash, we landed in front of an old mansion house in the middle of nowhere.

  “This witch museum is run by the society of Essex witches, who are still an ancient witch bloodline today. In fact, several witches from the original lines are working in the field to protect the ley lines.” The teacher hurried us towards the entrance, where a tall thin elderly man with stark white hair and translucent blue eyes, waited for us.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” I muttered to Dracian, who walked beside me.

  My sense of unease heightened as the creepy man’s gaze sought mine, lingering for a second before moving on. Had he just zoned in on me or was I being paranoid?

  “I know what you mean, but you’re probably picking up on the trauma that the witches suffered here.”

  Maybe he was right. There was a thick heavy atmosphere around us, almost stifling me.

  My gaze was drawn by a huge oak tree, which stood at the side of the house. The main branch still had a noose hanging from it, swinging in the gentle breeze.

  Standing on the top step of the entrance to the grand house, the teacher gestured around us. “Come, come.” His voice was loud as it projected across the gravel driveway. “Imagine a time, when witches were even more noticeable than today. We have a tough life hiding from humans, but in the 16th century, it was impossible to hide magic.”

  As I listened, I felt myself transported back to an age where the slightest judgement could mean hanging. In the modern era, paranormals were still executed, but the discrimination no longer fell on just the witches. Not only that, it was just those who were criminals or dangerous who were killed.

  “Here, in Canewdon,” the teacher went on, “it was a kind of refuge for those who practiced witchcraft. There were a few trials, yes, but only two witches were tried and excommunicated. Witches felt safe here because there were more of them than humans.”

  “Were they allowed to let people know what they were?” one of the students called.

  Shaking his head, the teacher frowned, his furrowed brow pulling his light eyebrows low to his eyes. He actually looked like he was standing next to his brother, both of the men were so light haired.

  The other man hadn’t spoken, instead just listening and watching us closely. Every time I felt his gaze cross over me, I shuddered. Why was my unease increasing? Was something wrong?

  “No, of course not. But, humans did see magic and for some reason, they decided not to call in Matthew Hopkins, the notorious witch hunter of the time. Maybe they were bewitched to keep the secret, or maybe they just realised that witches meant them no harm.”

  “Let’s hope there comes a day when the humans accept us as much as they accept others different from themselves,” the other man added, his deep voice sending a chill down my spine.

  Glancing at the man, the teacher nodded, a small smile coming to his face. There was something in his smirk that made me take a step back. It was as if an understanding passed between the pair of them.

  “Shall we go inside?”

  The others followed the teacher into the mansion. My feet dragged as my stomach flip flopped. I had filled myself up with magic before coming, but I wasn’t sure it would be enough if the institute did appear.

  “I can feel you’re not happy.” Dracian’s voice made me jump.

  I had been staring at the back of the teacher’s head as we entered the grand hallway. Students studied the oak beamed ceiling, sighing in wonder at the medieval workmanship. Stairs went straight up to a landing above, the dark wood reflecting from the small lightbulbs that had been put in at a later date.

  “Something feels off,” I replied, gripping his hand as the teacher stood on the first step of the stairs and faced us.

  Glancing at each of us, he made sure we were all paying attention. “Our guide,” he started, pointing at the elderly man. “Is Ken Gilly, a witch with an Essex bloodline. He never had the honour of protecting the ley lines, but he knows everything there is to know about the witch trials. We shall follow him around the house. There will be a test at the end of the tour and whoever wins gets extra credit for my class.”

  An excited rise of voices filled the room before the teacher gestured for Ken, the ancient looking witch, to start.

  “In this very hallway, three elders of the village would meet every week,” he began in a phlegmy voice. “Their purpose was to work together to find a safe way for witches to live in the open.”

  “So, they were committing treason?” Isabel called, her hand waving in the air.

  Helissa glanced at me, her eyebrows raised. Neither one of us had seen Izzy interested in any subject before. In fact, we often joked that she’d come to the academy to eye up potential agents to date.

  “You’re right. According to human law, the witches were committing treason. However, their cause was fair, just as you’ll find out along the way. Shall we move to the dining area?”

  Students were herded like cattle through the small doorway, every single one of us having to duck under the low wooden beam. Dracian caught the top of his head, cursing as he rubbed his skull. Served him right for watching my arse as I entered before him.

  A smile came to my lips when our
gaze met. His cheeks blossomed pink, the realisation that he had been caught giving away his guilty conscience.

  “I can’t believe we’ve got to listen to this while James recovers in hospital,” he muttered, distracting me from my previous thoughts.

  Watching Izzy move up front, I turned to him and took his hand. “I could cast the illusion that we’re still here. We can escape unnoticed.”

  Shaking his head slowly, Dracian fought a grin. “As tempted as I am to go and see my best friend right now, we would probably get caught.”

  Ugh, why did he have to be such a worrier? I might not have been the best witch ever, but I was an incredible Illusionist witch. No one would know that we weren’t there. Except Helissa and Isabel, who would smell the spell and fake me straight away.

  “One night in 1652,” the tour guide called, gesturing to a thick oak carved desk. “…the three witches were crafting an incantation on this table when a local man barged in and insisted that they help him to rid the village of his wife.”

  Moving closer, I looked at the table, my gaze tracing the thick scratches in the surface of the dark varnished wood. What magic took place here?

  Nowadays, we still used ancient spells and tools for our witchcraft – well, the other witches did, anyway – so it wouldn’t have been dissimilar then. However, what intrigued me the most was the tale of the witches going against the most powerful institution in the world. The humans.

  “What happened?” Isabel asked, reaching out to run a hand over the scratches.

  The other students were eerily quiet as they listened, none of them taking their eyes off the tour guide. That was unusual. They often caused trouble on field trips. Not that I had been on many yet, but academy students were notorious for fun and games while out and about.

  “Don’t touch,” the man hissed, knocking Izzy’s hand away.

  She frowned as she hugged her hand to her, a pained expression crossing her face. Something about the way the man glared at her made me take several steps towards her. Before I could reach them, the students moved, blocking my way.

  “This place holds the magic from those three witches. It’s dangerous.”

  Ah, okay, he was trying to protect my friend. My shoulders relaxed as I re-joined Dracian and Helissa.

  “Did the witches agree to help the man?” Dracian asked loudly.

  Nodding, the man cast his eye on my, uh, boyfriend. Gosh, that sounded strange, even in my own head.

  “Indeed. He had evidence of their witchcraft, so they were obliged to help him. Can anyone guess what they did?”

  Holding up my hand involuntary, I waited to be picked. Something inside me knew he would look my way. The answer was clear in my mind, even though I had no idea how I knew.

  Gesturing for me to move closer, the man indicated that I should answer. Nearing the table, I resisted the urge to touch it. My hand wanted to reach out and run a finger over the scratches.

  “Did they accuse him of being a witch?”

  A burst of laughter ran around the room from the previously quiet students. The tour guide held a hand in the air, silencing them. “She’s correct, so hold your tongues.” He smiled kindly at me, the rare sight throwing me off guard as he spun on his heels. “We shall move into the parlour, where you’ll hear the next part of the story.”

  As the students filtered through another tiny door, I held back. A realisation came into my mind as Dracian came to stand beside me.

  “Where’s the teacher gone?”

  We both looked at the retreating backs of the students, including Helissa and Isabel and frowned. He hadn’t been in the room with us.

  “He’s probably getting a cup of tea somewhere. He must’ve been on this trip ten thousand times.”

  The feeling of unease that had been with me since leaving the academy intensified, but I didn’t let it show. Dracian motioned with his head, indicating that we should join the others.

  Without warning, my hand shot out and connected with the table next to me. Shuddering when my fingers touched the scratches, I convulsed as my eyes slammed shut.

  In front of me, in my mind’s eye, I saw four people. Two women were standing beside the table, leaning over it. A man was hunched over in the corner, his blind eyes focused on nothing as moans left his mouth.

  “It’s there,” he whispered, deep inside him. “You must keep going.”

  “He’s dying,” one of the women muttered. “He won’t put up with it for long.”

  Moving a step to the left, I watched as the women dug their fingers deep into a naked man’s back. He was lying face down on the table, his hands bound under his chest. His shriek made me jolt as he clawed at the table, his nails blood red as he tried to escape.

  “I don’t have magic,” he hissed, throwing back his head.

  Peering closer, I almost squealed when I saw what they were doing. Their fingers were digging directly into his skin, going as deep as they could go before hitting the bone. However, there were no cuts, no incisions. They were forcing their way in unaided. No wonder the man was in agony. What the Mother Earth were they doing?

  The blind man on the floor bent forward, his eyelids blinking over his white eyes. “We saw you drain the magic from another witch, killing her in the process. You will show us what demonology you’re using. Where has that magic gone?”

  Air inhaled deeply within my chest as I realised what they were doing. He was an Illusionist witch, like me. They were experimenting on him, trying to find out how we worked. Shit, no wonder he was in pain. He had no magic to be found.

  “Leave him alone!” I thrust forward, trying to push one of the women away.

  My hands slipped through her, not disturbing her probing in the slightest. Ah, crap, I was seeing a memory. As soon as my fingers had touched the table, I had been transported to the memory. Just like when I had touched my mother after she had been killed.

  “On this day, let it be known,” the blind witch on the floor moaned, “that we shall always investigate the unusual. We will not allow those witches who are not pure to exist in our society. They are cursed, and we will do anything we can to stop them tainting the witch name.”

  As his words rang in the air, the man on the table screamed so loudly, I had to cover my ears. His convulsing body smashed against the wood as the women’s heads dropped back, their eyes glazed over.

  “They’re killing him,” I whispered.

  “Alishia?” Someone’s voice hissed loudly in my ear.

  The people in front of me disappeared, leaving a frantic Dracian tugging on my sleeve. His eyebrows were pulled low, his breath fast. “What happened to you? You zoned out!”

  Shaking myself, I sucked in a breath, panting as I came back to the modern room. We were alone, the others having moved on completely. How long had I been blacked out?

  “I saw a memory,” I said quietly. “An important one.”

  A flash of light blasted beside us, making us both jump back. Frankie appeared, his eyes wide, searching.

  “What are you doing here?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to stay at the academy.”

  Frowning, I looked at Dracian. “The teacher insisted that Professor Seaton knew about the field trip.”

  Slowly shaking his head, Frankie reached into his pocket and took out a gun. “The professor has no idea about a field trip. He just called me to find out where you were.”

  “He did?”

  Dracian glanced over his shoulder, towards the door to the parlour. The sound of muttering was interspersed with the voice of the tour guide. Until it stopped, everything going silent.

  “They’ve just realised you’re not in there,” Dracian muttered, waving his hand over my ear to cast a listening spell on me.

  “Where is she?” I heard the teacher say under his breath.

  The spell to heighten my hearing made me shudder. I could sense Dracian’s magic penetrating me as I turned towards the exit. Frankie moved, his footsteps tracking back to the door that led to
the hallway.

  “Follow me,” he mouthed, waving at us to go with him.

  Our footsteps were light as we did as he told us, stepping as silently as we could. My insides quivered violently when the teacher swore loudly before muttering too quietly for us to hear.

  “It’s locked,” Frankie muttered when we reached him.

  He yanked on the handle several times, whispering an unlocking spell, but it didn’t work. Looking at the parlour door, Frankie nodded his head towards it.

  “Do you think it’s a trap?” I whispered.

  Inclining his head, he took hold of Dracian’s hand, ordering him to whisk us out of there. Closing his eyes, Dracian recited the spell silently, his mouth moving softly. Nothing happened.

  “What is this place?”

  When Frankie’s gaze met mine, my stomach flipped. Worry lines creased the corner of his eyes as he brought the gun up to his side.

  “It’s got to be the institute.” Dracian took my hand and pulled me behind him.

  Frankie tiptoed ahead of us, making his way across the room. I didn’t want to follow him, preferring to stay well away from the creepy teacher who had brought us here.

  “Izzy, Helissa!” I hissed, suddenly remembering my friends.

  The silence that echoed from the parlour made me rush forward, overtaking Frankie in his stealth approach. If they had done anything to my friends, I would kill them. How could I have been so distracted by my own fear to forget that they’d gone ahead?

  “Alishia!” Frankie warned.

  Ignoring him, I pulled on the handle, almost falling over when it gave way easily, allowing me access to the next room. Stumbling through, I righted myself just as Frankie pushed past me, gun extended in front of him.

  Coming to an abrupt halt, I squeaked when my gaze landed on Helissa and Isabel. They were standing stock still, their eyes vacant, in front of a huge inglenook fireplace.

  The other students were gone, leaving just the two men, standing side by side nearby. Their focus was solely trained on me, their eyes following my every move as I went to go to my friends.

 

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