Supernatural Academy: Freshman Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  “I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea.” I rushed out the words, sounding snappy and maybe a bit hurtful. I didn’t want him to think he had any sort of hold on me. He was probably used to girls falling at his feet, and I didn’t intend to be one of them.

  “Why not?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

  “Well, I just… cured your curse, so you’re probably impressionable at the moment,” I said, trying to sound like Answorth when he taught his lessons. “Also, you and I are from two different worlds. Your father already hates me.”

  Rowan rubbed his chin, considering. “All those things aren’t necessarily bad, Charlie,” he said in a serious tone. “But time will tell. Now, we should probably get some rest. Tomorrow might prove to be a taxing day.”

  Overnight, Rowan’s house turned into a Christmas wonderland.

  A massive twenty-foot tree bedecked in white silk ribbons appeared overnight in the foyer. It was so large and perfect that I suspected magical elves were involved in its procurement. Its fresh scent permeated through the house, unleashing memories of holidays with my parents when mom was still alive and we were happy. Holidays were when I most missed having a family. And Trey. God, he loved Christmas and I’d left his ashes back at the Academy.

  “Good morning.”

  I turned from staring up at the tree and found Rowan standing behind me, wearing dark jeans and a gray, short-sleeve T-shirt that hugged his torso and biceps like a second skin. He glanced down at his bare forearms and smiled.

  Since I’d met him, I’d only seen him wearing long-sleeves. The change was good. Too good. He looked sporty and relaxed, but it was more than just the T-shirt. His entire demeanor was lighter. Happy, even. Was this the real Rowan? The one before the curse? The pain? The worry?

  He came to stand next to me and stared up at the tree.

  “Ostentatious, isn’t it?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

  I shrugged. “Goes with everything else.”

  He laughed, a rumble from deep in his chest that sounded foreign. Did I know him at all?

  Leaning in closer, he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about last night.”

  A thrill traveled the length of my traitorous body.

  “I think I’m still… impressionable.” He gave me a sideways glance that paused on my mouth then rose to my eyes and lingered there for a long time.

  “Oh, there you are.” Rowan’s mom came at us from one of the side hallways, breaking the intense moment. “C’mon, let’s eat breakfast before the troops arrive. Things go crazy when everyone gets home. Did you sleep good, darlin’?” she asked, hooking an arm around mine and guiding me away from the tree. “Is Rowan being a good host?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  Bonnie was wearing a dress that screamed Christmas. It was red, with lace flowing from the bow tied at the A-line waist, and a calf-length skirt that fanned out like a bell. To complete the dress, she wore pearls at her neck and matching, strappy shoes.

  I pulled on my hand-me-down sweater. It was “Disha Nice,” but I still felt underdressed.

  She led us toward a dining area adjoining the kitchen, where Macgregor sat behind a newspaper and barely acknowledged us.

  The spread was magnificent, and I found myself filling my plate with eggs, pastries, sausages, and fruit. Rowan gave me a knowing smile. I guess midnight escapades made you hungry.

  Later that day, when Rowan’s brothers arrived—the oldest one with a wife and two blond demons erroneously called grandchildren, the other one with a haughty supermodel he called his date—things went crazy, indeed.

  You would have thought a mansion would be enough for the two granddaughters—I still had trouble thinking of Macgregor as a grandfather—but I suspected the Taj Mahal would not have sufficed.

  “Nathaniel and his wife think those imps are angels,” Rowan whispered in my ear as the oldest kid, a girl of four with a bow the size of Russia on her head, tried to literally climb the Christmas tree.

  With a tweak at a ring on her finger, Bonnie floated the little girl away from the tree.

  “No, bonbon. Not yet. It should at least last the day,” she said with a giggle, while Macgregor rolled his eyes and promptly sequestered himself with his two oldest sons in his study, without bothering to introduce me or include Rowan.

  I didn’t know why, but it hurt when Nathaniel’s wife gave me a sideways glance and turned to the middle brother’s date.

  “Lawrence has the worst taste,” Rowan whispered in my other ear, throwing a tired sneer toward the supermodel.

  Seriously, the woman could be Miss America with twig-like limbs a mile long.

  “She has legs up to her neck,” he said as if reading my thoughts. “Who likes that?”

  Who doesn’t? Was he serious?

  We followed the women into the parlor. The kids ran ahead squealing and asking when they could open presents.

  Rowan shook his head fondly, and I found myself feeling jealous. I was nothing like these people, but, in their own way, they were happy. They had each other and could spend times like this together. I had nothing, expect this feeling that I was an intruder, someone who shouldn’t be here.

  While Rowan’s mom talked about what a success her Christmas charity event had been, I sat on a wingback chair, staring at the crackling logs in the fireplace. A couple of times, I caught Rowan’s eyes on me as he played with his nieces, trying to keep them from climbing up the furniture and breaking the expensive vases.

  The oddness of the situation struck me suddenly. For the past three months, my life had been filled with supernatural creatures, demonic possessions, and unexplained events.

  This, here, was too normal.

  Even if it wasn’t my normal. Even if it felt wrong.

  I hadn’t managed to find my place at the Academy, to fit in. Of all the students, only Disha made me feel welcome, so when I wasn’t with her, I hid behind the anonymity of campus life. As awkward as that was, this was much worse.

  Without anyone noticing, I left the parlor. I went in the bathroom where I’d seen Rowan last night and splashed my face, wondering if going to my room and disappearing for the rest of the day would be too rude.

  As I blotted my cheeks with a fresh cloth from a shelf, I remembered Rowan’s muscled torso, and the white towel wrapped around his narrow waist, water dripping down his smooth pecs. My mouth went dry.

  The door opened slowly, breaking me from my thoughts. Rowan, himself, slid in. He closed the door behind him and leaned casually on it.

  “You’re the girl with the plan,” he said. “You’ve escaped.”

  I was about to deny it, but he went on.

  “Next time, take me with you. Don’t leave me at the mercy of those witches and the little devils.” He smiled in such a disarming way that I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “All three of them are witches?” I asked, the idea of “Miss America” being a witch almost sending me into a fit of giggles.

  “The worst kind.” He paused and scanned my face. “Must be weird for you to be forced to spend the holidays with us. It’s weird enough for me and I live here.”

  “Just a bit,” I said, throwing the cloth in a hamper in the corner.

  Without warning, he took my hand, pulled me out of the bathroom, and dragged me through the house. We clomped up the stairs, past my bedroom, and into what looked like his bedroom.

  I planted my feet as soon as we crossed the threshold and glanced around. Undeterred, he pressed on to a double window, which he unlatched and threw open. The wind teased back his hair as he glanced over his shoulder.

  “C’mon.” He climbed out and disappeared from sight.

  I took a few tentative steps forward, my eyes darting from one thing to the next. A perfectly made king-size bed with a gray duvet. A desk with pencil sketches pinned to a corkboard above it. A gaming chair in front of a large TV and three different types of controllers strewn around it. A couple of model planes hanging from one corner
and below them a bookcase filled with the kind of tomes I’d grown used to seeing at the Academy.

  “Are you coming or not?” Rowan poked his head in and gave me an annoyed look.

  Walking to the window, I peered out at the late afternoon sky. Rowan was nowhere in sight. Carefully, I stepped out onto the gabled roof, doing my best not to look down.

  “Climb up,” he called from his spot at the peak, where he sat staring out toward the adjacent forest and the horizon beyond.

  I climbed up, my hands down on the gritty roof tiles.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down, I repeated to myself.

  When I got close enough, Rowan lent me a hand, pulling me up until I perched next to him. I let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m sure you’ll agree it’s much better out here than inside,” he said, his brown eyes fixed on the horizon, his features so relaxed he almost seemed like a different person, like a Rowan from a Bizarro dimension, where all was good and no harm or curses ever came to anyone.

  I glanced down at my cuffs and, for the first time, wondered if I’d be better off without them, if I was better off away from all of this supernatural crap. But who was I kidding? I was not a Regular, and if I couldn’t find myself in this new world, I was shit out of luck.

  We didn’t exchange any words. It should have been awkward, but the silence between us was perfect. The changing colors of the sky said it all. There was so much more out there than what we currently had. All we had to do was wait and do our best until we were prepared to go get it. We stayed up on the roof until the sky turned purple, and the rustle of the wind over the trees threatened to lull me to sleep.

  After we carefully descended from the peak, Rowan went through the window, then gripped my hand as I climbed in and made sure I didn’t bang my head against the frame.

  Once inside, he held onto my hands and searched my face until I was forced to meet his dark eyes.

  “I think you’re right,” he said. “I’m very impressionable at the moment.” He frowned, appearing concerned. “I’m actually starting to think you’re… kind of amazing.”

  Pterodactyls spread their wings inside my stomach.

  I nodded, knowingly, and did my best to sound unaffected. “Maybe you knocked your head.”

  “I must have,” he said, touching two fingers to his temple. “Because you’re not really amazing, are you?”

  “Nope, not one bit.” I shook my head.

  “Hmm,” he took a step closer, his hand climbing up my forearm, sending chills into every corner of my body.

  I laid my hand on his chest and traced a circle, repaying him the favor, and wondering if some Shadow Puppet had taken possession of my limbs again. It certainly felt like it. What ever happened to “Don’t get involved with Rowan?” I couldn’t seem to remember why that was important as my eyes searched his warm brown irises.

  He lowered his mouth to mine. My breath caught at the whisper-soft touch of our lips. Fire ignited in my brain at the mere graze of skin against skin. He pulled away, his gaze reaching deep into mine.

  “You are nothing like what I imagined,” he said, his breath warm on my mouth.

  “You aren’t either,” I said, my voice low and heady. My heart fluttered in my chest and my head was light. I gripped his shirt, unable to let go.

  At the tone of my words, he seemed to lose it and kissed me again, this time deeply, his hand on the back of my neck, possessive and strong.

  Before I realized it, my fingers were in his hair, relishing its silky feel. Our kiss deepened, growing desperate and more hungry. Grasping my waist, Rowan guided me to the bed, where he eased himself on top of me, and I had to stifle a groan as our bodies molded to each other.

  A part of me screamed I should push him away and get off his bed, but his kisses were too good, and his hands chaste, despite the way my traitorous body seemed to want more.

  We kissed with abandon, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, as if nothing else mattered. Oddly, it felt right. As right as everything else felt wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SPRING SEMESTER

  MID JANUARY

  “Chardonnay, you really need to be paying attention here. Answorth is about to show us how to possess the frog.” Disha jostled my shoulder.

  I shook away the thoughts plaguing me and tried to concentrate. Possessing a frog did sound interesting, but my mind was elsewhere and had been since that night last month in Rowan’s bed.

  Just remembering the delicious press of his body on mine sent shivers to my curled-up toes. His urgent lips. The taste of his mouth as his tongue slid over mine.

  Damn. I was definitely distracted.

  Our incredible make-out session had been rudely interrupted by Macgregor Underwood. He’d thundered up the stairs, bellowing Rowan’s name.

  Scrambling, we’d jumped apart and straightened our clothing as he strode in the door. Macgregor’s narrowed eyes and disapproving frown seemed etched in stone as he surveyed the scene—rumpled bed, rumpled us. In an instant, he had demanded to see Rowan in his office, leaving me both unsatisfied and panicked that I would soon be kicked out of the house.

  However, that was not to be my fate. I’d stayed at the Underwoods’ for the rest of the break. It was Rowan and his father who had not.

  I had not seen Rowan since the last backward glance he gave me. He and Macgregor had pulled out of the garage that night and had not returned. Nor had they come back to school at the start of the term.

  I had stayed under Rowan’s mom’s care, which involved lots of tea parties with her friends, preparations for a New Year’s event at one of her charities, and even a shopping trip to the fanciest stores in Atlanta. I’d been glad to be back in school, even if Dean McIntosh had grilled me about the effects of the cuffs while I lied through my teeth and promised all they’d done was help me focus my magic, never mentioning the fact that they’d also made me more powerful. The last thing I needed was more babysitting, so really… they’d forced me to lie with their overprotectiveness.

  When a full week of classes had gone by with no word from Rowan, I’d grown desperate enough to ask Dean McIntosh if she’d heard from them. She informed me that they were on private Academy business, but they were fine. Rowan would receive credit for the work he was doing with his father. I was not to worry about them.

  And yet, there was a tightness in her smile that made me suspect things were not going as well as she claimed. How could they be if Rowan and Dean Underwood had been gone over a month? Everyone knew they weren’t relishing in fun daddy/son adventures because they enjoyed each other’s company.

  The worry gnawed at me during the day and kept me up at night. It was worse than Disha’s moping over Professor Henderson. At least she knew he was still alive.

  Had I found Rowan only to lose him? Was I destined to lose every person in my life who I chose to care for?

  The ache widened into a cavern that threatened to split me in two. I felt lonely. Not even talking to Trey was helping.

  “Char-lie,” Disha whispered, her bony elbow digging into my side.

  “Ow,” I mouthed, but I obliged her and attempted to watch as Professor Answorth murmured the incantation again, twisting his fingers and touching the speckled frog’s head.

  The entire class stared, enrapt as the frog stiffened. Professor Answorth lifted his hands, causing the frog to rise and stand on its two long legs.

  “I didn’t know frogs could do that,” Disha whispered.

  I nodded, watching it all with growing unease. Answorth had been cleared of having any involvement in Georgia’s death, but that frog’s gaze looked eerily similar to hers before her death.

  “Now, pay attention,” Professor Answorth said with a comical twist of his mouth. Using one hand like a marionette with an invisible string, he kept the frog on its legs. Then he reached for his phone with the other hand. Swiping it open, he started a familiar tune. “Hello, my baby,” blared from his iPhone while Answorth
directed the frog to strut and kick just like the famous Michigan J. Frog.

  The class giggled, but all I could think about was the frog, imprisoned in his own body. A puppet. I knew exactly how that felt. Answorth could command him to jump in front of a car. He could command him to do any vile thing he could think of and no one would be the wiser.

  This was wrong.

  My hand shot up as if on its own.

  Answorth saw me, lowered the frog, and turned off the music, his face sliding from joy to something more serious and professorial.

  “Yes, Ms. Rivera.”

  “Should we be learning this?” I blurted.

  All students turned to look at me, disapproval written all over their faces, but I kept going.

  “I mean, isn’t this dangerous? After all, could witches and warlocks use this to basically commit crimes and get away with them?”

  Answorth employed magic to swipe the frog off the table and into his cage as if moving it out of sight might erase what he’d just done. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, although, come to think of it, he looked pretty disheveled for a man who always wore a jacket and vest to class. His clothes were unusually rumpled, his hair uncombed and there was a sallow pallor to his cheeks that suggested illness. I wondered if Georgia’s death and the investigation had taken its toll on him.

  “Class, all eyes up here. Ms. Rivera proposes an interesting, nay, a very important question. Is it ever okay to possess another human? What say you, class?”

  There was a general grumbling. I knew I’d just made enemies with nearly every freshman in my graduating class. So much for fitting in.

  Disha shot me a worried look and then raised her hand. She was going to fall on the grenade for me.

  “Magical Law of 1845 states that it is unlawful to possess any human or supernatural creature. Only the council or Magical Law Enforcement may do it, and they must obtain permission from the high court.”

  “Excellent, Ms. Khatri. We are not allowed to use this skill on Regulars. I dare not think any of you would possess enough power to do so, anyway.” He waggled his eyebrows at the pun. “It is very rare for a student to have what is needed. This takes much practice and years of well-seasoned powers.”