Good Witches Don't Curse (Academy of Shadowed Magic Book 3)

by S. W. Clarke

  I stopped the globe, slowly turned it to the United States. There, partway up the East Coast, sat my green marker.

  Maeve Umbra had come for me that night.

  I wondered if the people standing around me would have been so successful, or if I would have been lost like the Thai girl.

  “How is it,” I said, “that no one except Maeve Umbra noticed me being kidnapped in the middle of a major city?”

  “The creatures aren’t visible to regular human eyes,” Circe said. “To them, they’re shadows. Their sounds are just the wind.”

  My eyes flitted over the rest of my country. So many red markers; so few green.

  I slowly circled the globe. “What kind of magic is this?”

  “Umbra’s, of course.” Liara came forward. “Some of these rescues are a decade or more old, aren’t they?”

  “That’s right,” Circe said. “This globe is the guardians’ equivalent of a journal, among other things.”

  “And the golden lines—leylines?” I asked, my finger hovering down the length of one running straight through my old home. All my life, and I’d never known a leyline ran through my city. I’d probably walked over it thousands of times.

  Elijah nodded at me through the transparent globe. “Lots of them, aren’t there?”

  More than I’d ever imagined.

  And it was in that moment—taking in the armchairs in the corners, the bookcases, the chess board set up at one end of the room—I knew I would spend some time in this room.

  If I could, I would memorize all the leylines. I didn’t know if I was capable, but then again, I’d spent most of my life not knowing my real capabilities.

  I was only beginning to understand how much more lay inside me.

  “We’ll need to add one over Chiang Mai,” Fi said, jaw clenched. “Does one of you two want to do it?”

  Liara and I met eyes. She nodded.

  When she stepped forward, Elijah said, “Pinch the globe to bring the view into the city. Just press your finger to the spot near the river. Hold it down for five seconds.”

  When she had done so, a silence fell as the red marker appeared.

  I stared at the globe in the moment that followed, my eyes flitting over the leylines to memorize them, when Circe leaned toward me. “Come on. Don’t want to be out on your ass for the next mission, too.”

  I had noticed one odd thing: leylines didn’t move in straight lines. Sometimes they curved, and sometimes they angled.

  In the room across the way, the guardians were taking seats around the circular table. Circe and I sat down at opposite ends of the table.

  Fi was the only one to remain standing. She leaned forward, both hands on the table, surveying us. “We were meant to be training Liara and Clementine right now. Instead, we ended up on another failed rescue. Let’s make this training quick and decisive so we don’t get hung out to dry again. Sound good?”

  Well, if I had any questions as to guardian leadership, they’d been answered.

  “We have a mounted unit”—Fi gestured between me, Akelan, Mishka, and herself—“and we have the air unit.” She nodded at the fae around the table. “You don’t want to leave the others if you can help it. No heroes here. At the very least, you want one other guardian around. Never go anywhere alone on a rescue.”

  “Yeah, Keene.” Elijah punched the other fae’s shoulder.

  Keene just gave a lopsided smile. “My bad.”

  “You say that every time,” Mishka murmured.

  Fi ignored them. “Ideally, one member of the mounted unit and one member of the air unit will coordinate an attack. That’s what you saw Akelan and Isaiah pull off this morning. That assures you’ll always have two types of magic working together.”

  My eyes tracked to Liara, who sat silent, watching Fi.

  Fi noticed. “Except, of course, for Liara. She’s a wizard who combines two types of magic—air and fire—and she could take down one of them alone. Which leads me to roles.” She crossed to the chalkboard, began writing in caps.

  WATCHER

  GUARD

  CHASER

  She tapped her chalk against the board by the first word. “Watchers are the fae. They’ve got an aerial view and can keep those of us on the ground abreast of everything going on.”

  Her chalk moved down to the second word. “Guards are a mix of humans and fae. The watchers will tell them where to move to hem in the Shade’s minions, to slow them down. Akelan, Elijah, Isaiah, and I are guards.”

  Finally, she moved the chalk to the last word. “Chasers are the fastest among us. They’ll be the ones in pursuit and generally coordinating their attacks. Circe, Keene, Mishka, Clementine, and Liara are the chasers. Each brings separate specialties that make them uniquely suited to the role. Clem and Liara, you’ll need to train with the other chasers to ensure smooth attacks.”

  I sat back. I was a chaser. Fi had pegged me; that was exactly what I’d done the moment they’d released Noir and me into the world. I’d given chase. It was my instinct, and it was my horse’s, too.

  “Now pay close attention,” Fi said to me and Liara. “In two hours, you’ll know exactly where to go, what to do, and how to survive the witching hour.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Fi wasn’t wrong. The next time the horn blew I would know exactly how to respond, even if she’d had to drill the basics into my head.

  At midday, I came into the dining hall and found Aidan tapping into a creme brûlée, the rest of his meal done. He had an open book next to him, of course. And I realized for the first time that Aidan North was particular about the people in his life.

  He wasn’t a loner. He wasn’t unintentionally friendless. He just preferred to be alone and reading much of the time. I respected that; he’d certainly enlightened me with that reading on more than one occasion.

  I sat down across from him with a salad and salmon, lifted my fork. “Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted? Oh, right—in a different building entirely.”

  His head jerked up, eyes struggling to focus.

  I pointed my fork at him. “You’ve been reading all morning, haven’t you?”

  “You expected any less?” He closed his book. “What happened, Cole? I heard the horn.”

  I began stabbing at lettuce. “Let’s talk about anything else right now.” I paused. “The guardians have a cool treehouse.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He studied me. “You just came from training, didn’t you?”

  I pressed a forkful of food into my mouth, nodded. “Watchers, chasers, guards. Mounted units, airborne. We’re like a militia.”

  “Aren’t you, though?”

  My eyebrows rose. “I thought it would be more of a fellowship of the ring.”

  “Two of the fellowship died—if you count Gandalf—and one went mad and lost a finger.”

  I sighed. “I was thinking more of the beginning part than the ending.”

  “There is another reason, you know, why I was reluctant to be a guardian.” Aidan pointed to my shaking fork hand.

  I lowered it to the table, met his eyes. “You have the luxury of not having to fulfill a five-hundred-year-old prophecy.”

  He winced, and an uncomfortable silence fell between us in which I studied my food. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “You had no choice but to go into the labyrinth.”

  I resumed eating; I didn’t want this weirdness between us. “Any thoughts on Siberia?”

  “Apparently when leylines cross, it amplifies their power.” He paused. “I guess that doesn’t really have anything to do with Siberia.”

  “Au contraire. Did you know”—I drew a triangle with my finger on the table—“that leylines can form right angles?”

  His eyebrows pulled together. “No. How do you know that?”

  “The guardians. They have a big old globe in their treehouse with leylines drawn all over it.” Then, “You said we were near the Arctic Circle, right?”

  He sucked in air. “R
ight.”

  “Guess where two leylines form a triangle.”

  He exhaled hard, sitting back with both hands going over his hair. “We were at the crux of two lines. That’s a massive point of power.”

  I stood with only half my meal eaten. “Let that simmer a while.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “We’re onto something.”

  “Class. Can’t save the world without skills.”

  “Tomorrow in the library at seven?” he asked from behind me. “I’ll bring tea and chocolate cookies.”

  I grinned over my shoulder as I left. “Chocolate cookies? You’re upping your game.”

  But the moment I was alone with myself outside the dining hall, my smile disappeared. This heaviness—was this what every guardian carried all the time? Or was it just the newness of it all?

  Death. It was the shock and grief of death.

  In Goodbarrel’s class, I couldn’t stop seeing her, the girl. The helpless way she’d lay over his shoulder, exactly as I’d lain when I’d been kidnapped. Their touch sapped all the warmth and energy from you, left you unable to move.

  Nobody noticed as I went through the motions of summoning fire; Goodbarrel’s class was big enough to blend in and unfocus.

  It was only when I came into the meadow and Ora Frostwish stood scrutinizing me with folded arms that I knew the gig was up. “I heard the horn,” she said as an opener.

  “So did I.” I came to within a few feet of her. “But I’d rather just focus on whispering angry words at each other, if you don’t mind.”

  Her lips began to move, soft noises coming from between them. And two seconds later, I couldn’t move to itch my nose.

  Well, she’d given me what I’d asked for.

  Frostwish began a slow pacing around me. I couldn’t follow her movement with anything but my eyes. “Can you move at all, Clementine?”

  “No,” I breathed through unmoving lips. As I said it, I realized that wasn’t true; I could move my eyes, my tongue, pass the air in and out of my lungs to form slurred words.

  “And how long do you imagine I could keep you this way?”

  “Forever,” I threw out.

  She laughed, appearing in front of me. “Kind of you to say so, but no. My ability to keep you where you are depends on two factors: you, and me.” She paused in front of me. “Your strength, and my strength.”

  “What kind of strength?” I slurred.

  “Well, we could discuss the basics of your power as a witch and mine as a fae, about fire and air, but I’m going to tell you the truth of it: I’m talking about the ephemeral kind.” Her head tilted as she observed me. “It doesn’t require great fire magic to escape my hold, Clementine. There’s an X factor that’s the real key—you could call it force of will or inner strength. It’s its own magic in the alchemical mix.”

  I just stared. “I don’t exactly know what you’re talking about.”

  “I suspect if it were a matter of life and death, you would get it quite quickly.” She drew in a breath, blinked once, and I was released. “If you’ve got any inner strength, you’ll develop a resistance to the hexes I cast on you. That remains to be seen.”

  I sagged halfway to the ground before I caught myself, all my muscles sapped. “Hey, Professor,” I breathed.

  “Yes, Clementine?”

  After what Eva and I had seen the evening of my initiation, I had resolved to be as uncooperative as possible with Frostwish. It was easy enough to tap into my frustrations when I screwed up, to pout and stomp around the meadow as I would have done when I was a perpetually angry teenager.

  Eventually I knew Frostwish would lose her temper, and then the two of us would end up in an argument.

  I lifted my face, my lip curling against my will. “When do I get a chance to do that to you?”

  Her eyes glinted. “I was waiting for you to ask.” She took two steps forward. “The language is fae, so you must know the words well. Pairilis síoraí.”

  As much as I wanted to pick her apart—to discover her neuroses through arguing—the pull of learning the paralysis hex was strong.

  “Pairilis síoraí,” I echoed. “Now do I get to circle your paralyzed body?”

  A vague smile appeared, as though I’d mangled the words. Actually, I knew I had. “Not quite yet. Say them, and say them again until you know them as well as your own name.”

  I repeated the words. Pairilis síoraí. Repeated and repeated, all while Ora Frostwish looked on, correcting me now and again. Her face had an almost terrifying precision about it, all the features too regular. She had control over every muscle in it.

  “These words,” I said finally. “They mean nothing without air magic.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And how do I tap into that magic?”

  She drew her fingers through the air like she was tugging on an invisible harp’s strings. “Have you heard of synesthesia, Clementine?”

  That evening, the Summer’s End Feast would mark the start of the school year. Eva and I went together, her arm hooked through mine.

  “Air magic is visible to your eyes,” I said again as we walked down the path toward the meadow, Loki trotting alongside. “All this time, and you never thought to tell me.”

  Beside me, she adjusted the drape of her yellow dress. “Would you bother to inform me that your hair is red?”

  “But you can see for yourself that it is.”

  “It’s the same with air magic. We who use it can see it as well as I can see your hair.”

  “I’ll need your help, Eva.” I glanced over at her. “Between classes and guardian missions…”

  She raised a hand. “Say no more.” As we came into the meadow, the spread of tables and golden lights stopped us both. “Gods, I’ll never get over how beautiful that is.”

  Loki, on the other hand, trotted on. He was always first to a party.

  “And there’s the cursed chain,” I went on as we walked. “Which can only be gotten with a hex. I should be in the Room of the Ancients researching it, not—”

  Eva stopped me, set both hands on my shoulders. “Clementine.”

  “What is it?”

  “The book is in Faerish. You can’t even read Faerish.”

  “I could translate it word by word…”

  She shook her head. “You’re not in Frostwish’s class. You’re not in the Room of the Ancients. You’re here. Be here while you can.”

  She was right. Before I’d arrived at the academy—before I’d found out about prophecies—I had always prided myself on being a creature of the moment.

  That Clem had become a girl of the past.

  I nodded. “I’m here. Mostly.”

  “Good.” She started us walking again. “Because I need you to be my wingwoman.”

  “Wingwoman? You want me to help you pick someone up at the feast?”

  “Actually, the word has a different meaning for fae.” She paused. “Basically, it’s the opposite.”

  I laughed. “So what you’re saying is fae women are so attractive, you actually need a friend to keep the men at bay.”

  She flashed me a glance. “The way you put it makes it sound so self-aggrandizing.”

  “But who—” I began, and then I realized.

  Her breakup with Torsten hadn’t been mutual.

  Not entirely.

  “It’s Torsten, isn’t it?”

  She sighed. “He wasn’t exactly appreciative of how I broke up with him.”

  “Be blunt, please.”

  “I may or may not have ended our relationship while we were touring the penis museum in Reykjavik. Apparently that’s unforgivable.”

  I suppressed a childish snort, instead offering a one-shoulder shrug. “He probably took the visit for foreplay. May have been a shock.”

  “Yeah. So I discovered.”

  We came to the feast, already in full swing with faculty and students, the long food table brimming with good smells. “Got it. Fae wingwoman
—I can do that.” I didn’t see Torsten. Maybe he hadn’t come, anyway.

  “Clementine!” a voice called. Elijah, waving me over to a table already packed with the other guardians. “Come on. Saved you a seat.”

  “That’s new.” I kept my arm hooked in Eva’s. I hadn’t ever been the saved-you-a-seat friend. “You want to join them?”

  “There’s only one seat,” Eva said.

  “So we’ll pull a chair over. I’m your wingwoman, remember?”

  We got ourselves goblets of honey mead, came over to the guardians’ table. They all met my eyes, raised glasses. All except Liara, who just nodded at me—which was a definite improvement in our relationship.

  I yanked a free chair over from the next table, and Eva and I scooted in.

  Isaiah leaned forward when Eva sat, obviously intrigued. “Evanora Whitewillow. Precocious third-year who’s entered the guardian trials twice and been eliminated during the first trial both times. Planning to enter again this year?”

  “I wouldn’t have passed the first trial if she hadn’t saved me,” I cut in. “She would be a guardian right now. Believe me.”

  “Not true,” Eva said with pink cheeks.

  Isaiah’s eyebrows went up. “Interesting. Capable and humble.”

  Circe slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be creepy.”

  “But I will be entering again this year,” Eva said. “And I intend to pass.”

  “Let’s hope you aren’t matched up against Liara in the second trial,” Akelan said. “Lightning will pierce right through those wings.”

  Fi shook her head, rolled her eyes overtop the rim of her goblet. “This is supposed to be a pleasant evening.”

  “And lightning trumps air every time,” Keene said. “Getting her would be a death sentence.”

  “Except Clementine defeated Mariella in her trial,” Liara said, dark eyes on me. “Fire defeated its opposite element, and no one saw that coming, did they?”

  Unexpected, but I’d take it. I raised my goblet.

  “Speaking of fire.” Circe set her elbows on the table, leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did you folks read the gossip section of this week’s Witches & Wizards?”