Urban Mystic Academy: Graduation (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 6)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  I opened my door and stepped out of the car. Removing myself from his close proximity was my first goal, because, honestly, I couldn't shake the notion of what I'd just thought. Making a deal with the Dark Witch didn't seem like such a bad idea. Maybe it was just what we needed.

  Ugh! I hated myself for falling for her temptation. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but damn it, it had possibilities. The other option seemed even more dangerous. No one in their right mind would want to intentionally uncover suppressed memories of traumatic events.

  Not me anyway.

  And judging by the ashen look on Shane's face, he didn't seem too keen on it either.

  A twang of guilt shot through my nervous system. Was I seriously considering going rogue again? What was wrong with me?

  I should have learned the first time, after jumping through the portal impulsively and pissing off the other UMAs. Still, in hindsight, it was an effective maneuver. It moved things in the right direction.

  Shit.

  I was doing it again.

  I glanced at Shane with a nervous side-eye, and his steely glare proved I'd been caught. Again.

  Chapter 5

  As warm water cascaded down my weary body, I allowed it to rinse away all my roguish sins and leave me cleansed of my deviant plans. I was feeling more ready now to take the next appropriate steps toward helping Shane and my father. I supposed it was selfish, in a way, to be so focused on the two of them, but they were the primary part of my life now, and I was willing to do anything to make them safe.

  The smell of bacon wafted through the door, invigorating my ravenous hunger. I toweled off quickly and got dressed, making my way to the kitchen in record time.

  "I made BLT's." Shane pressed a sandwich down as he cut it in half.

  I hadn't had a BLT since I was a kid, and nothing sounded more divine at that moment.

  "You're my hero," I murmured through a full mouth.

  He chuckled and watched as I devoured my food.

  "You're an amazing person, Brynn," he said.

  I choked on a crumb from the toasted bread.

  "What?"

  "Yeah. You are. But you scare me sometimes." He looked away for a moment. "I don't think you realize what you're capable of."

  I wiped at my mouth.

  "What? The purple flames? The psychic shit?" I narrowed my eyes on him, wondering where he was going with the topic.

  He reached across the table and put his hand on my wrist.

  Instantly, his energy surged into me. Terror of losing me. Insecurities of me leaving him or worse, getting lost or killed. His heart was wide open to me, and it was the most powerful force I'd ever felt.

  "I promise to never hurt you," I whispered. "Everything I do is for us."

  "That's what worries me," he muttered.

  I tipped my head in confusion, and he continued.

  "Should your power be used for more?" he asked.

  At first, his words shot me in the heart, causing me to lose my breath. But as they sank in, I realized the same words had crossed through my own mind. With my power, I had to be responsible for the greater good—for things more significant than my own wants and needs.

  But honestly, screw that.

  I wanted to secure happiness for once in my life. It was a driving force too powerful for me to ignore.

  "We need to try to do it all," I said. "We need to do whatever it takes to reconnect you with your soul and free my father from limbo. And then, we also need to keep the balance within the mystical realm, to be sure each UMA remains safe and free of the Dark Witch."

  He narrowed his focus on me.

  "Exactly. So those deviant thoughts you had need to be shelved. Agreed?"

  I scratched my neck.

  Nothing would please me more than another confrontation with the Dark Witch. I seriously needed to kick her ass.

  She'd planned her evil curse strategically, to destroy everything I ever cared about. And now, it was my mission to change that.

  "Agreed," I said.

  He smiled with a nod of satisfaction as he cleared away the plates.

  "Okay, then," he said. "Are we ready to have a look inside the estate?"

  My eyes widened from his offer to go so soon. We hadn't even planned it out in any way. He probably didn't want to overthink it.

  "Yeah, I'm ready," I said, knowing I should probably have a nap instead. The lingering fatigue from my seizure was profound, but my instinct to keep moving forward was bigger.

  I thought of the images of the dizzying maze as I had blacked out, and wondered if it was a possible metaphor for the adventure we were about to embark on. Made perfect sense in the moment.

  "Just promise me one thing," he said.

  I looked him in the eye, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  He lowered his gaze from mine and said, "Don't hate me when you learn of my past."

  There was no way I could ever hate Shane. It was crazy that he worried about it in any way. I couldn't help but think it was weird, though, that he even said it. He didn't have many memories of his life in the manor, just feelings mostly, yet he was afraid of something powerful enough to sway me.

  I shook it off, knowing that nothing would ever have enough power to make me turn on Shane.

  But it certainly had enough power to make him worry.

  "Ready?" he asked, stepping out onto his small porch.

  I was as ready as I'd ever be.

  And I had to admit, I was intrigued about exploring an old mansion like this one. It was like a perfectly preserved time-capsule that had been forgotten long ago. I shuddered at the thought of what we might find inside.

  We walked around the side of the manor toward the front. Its massive porch wrapped around the entryway and the entire side of the historic home, with pillars holding up a warped roof that caved in at the far end. As we climbed the granite steps, I scanned the rotted wood planks of the decking.

  "Is it safe to step on those?" I murmured, surveying the lichen and weeds that had taken over the space.

  "Just look out for obvious weaknesses," Shane said. "Like there." He pointed to broken boards that left a hole in the flooring.

  I avoided the most decrepit spots and followed him to the door.

  The enormous front entry had double doors, arched at the top, and a large brass door-knocker on one side. Shane reached for the latch and pressed down until it clunked. With a shove of his shoulder, he pushed the door open.

  "Not even locked?" I whispered.

  "Nope," he coughed through the dust as a musty waft of air whooshed out at us.

  Beams of light cut across the foyer in every direction, attempting to break through the boarded windows to illuminate the interior. It was enough light for my eyes to widen and take in the awesome beauty of the stately home.

  Although it was old and faded, the house still held its regal elegance in the torn curtains, blanched paintings, and ornate furnishings.

  "It's amazing," I murmured, taking a step farther in.

  My footstep echoed through the expanse of the great rooms and wide halls, all the way up a winding staircase at the far side.

  "Is it familiar at all?" I asked.

  Shane moved around the large entry, trailing his fingers along the detailed molding and gold-guided picture frames.

  "Not really," he breathed. "But I was young. I wouldn't have cared about this stuff. I think I spent most of my time outside exploring the gardens." He glanced toward the back end of the house, likely where the kitchen would have been.

  A creak from above stole my attention, making me jump like a skittish animal.

  Shane smirked. "Old house. Bumps and clanging pipes are to be expected."

  I swallowed hard and moved along with him, glancing back over my shoulder to be sure.

  At the back end of the home, we entered an enormous kitchen area with a deep sink, and several pots and ceramic bowls on a center wooden table. It was like an old farmhouse but was likely consid
ered high-end with the modern conveniences of the time.

  Shane opened a narrow door at the side.

  "I think this leads to the upstairs," he said. "To the bedrooms."

  My eyes popped open.

  As we climbed the tight stairwell, I wondered why he was so intrigued to use these stairs instead of the massive, elegant ones at the front of the house. But then I realized that much of the house was for entertaining and show. The true living happened behind the elegance and fanfare.

  Stepping out of the stairs, we entered a wide hallway that led to several rooms. Each room had a massive fireplace in it and carved-wood wardrobes filled with broken mirrors and decaying books.

  Shane explored each room as if searching for something.

  "I don't remember the details. It's just the feelings again." He glanced at the large arched windows, detailed with numerous panes of lead glass, that led out onto a balcony.

  Stepping to the window, he peered out through a space between the fallen boards, which had once covered it tightly.

  "It's out there," he pointed. "That's where my memories are hiding."

  Just as he said it, another creak sent chills down my spine. I looked above at the colorfully painted ceiling, cracked and peeling, wondering what was lurking above.

  "What the hell is that?" I breathed.

  Shane narrowed his eyes, looking in the direction of the sound.

  "Ghosts in the attic," he said. "I always believed in them as a kid."

  I held my breath for as long as possible then blew it out.

  "Okayyy..."

  "Come on," he chuckled. "Let's go out to where the gardens were. There was a black metal gate and an archway." He searched his memories for any clue of its location.

  At first, I wanted to refuse. It was far more interesting exploring the ruins of this museum. But the look on his face left me no choice. He was after something.

  "Okay. But I want to come back in here after," I said. "This place is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

  He nodded with a quick shrug like it was just alright in his estimation.

  We headed back down the narrow staircase, and as he exited into the kitchen, I stumbled and struck my shoulder against the sidewall.

  It shifted from my weight.

  "Shane," I called to him. "It looks like there's a hidden door here."

  Shane forced his shoulder into the door, and it burst open. He grabbed his phone and shone the flashlight into the darkness. A steep staircase led down into a musty, dank space.

  "It looks like the basement," he said. "Watch your step. The stairs are uneven stones.

  I used my own phone as a flashlight, and we crept down the cold passage. As we landed on the tile floor, our lights illuminated an intricate design beneath our feet, trailing our eyes up to a religious altar with a massive crucifix.

  "What is this place?" I gasped.

  "It's the chapel," he said. "Every large mansion had one. It's where families held their own services, especially in times of religious conflict."

  "Holy shit," I said, cringing from the power religion held over people, particularly back then.

  Shane moved to the far side of the altar and turned back to me with a wide gaze.

  "There are more stairs back here," he pointed.

  "Oh, boy," I moaned. I was starting to get the creeps and wouldn't have minded going back up to the kitchen.

  Aiming both of our lights at the dark passageway, we peered down into what looked like a tunnel to hell. The stairs descended within an arched, whitewashed channel that felt like it wanted to swallow us into middle earth.

  We moved down each step, hearing only our breath and the sound of our feet touching down.

  Shane stopped short at the bottom.

  "It's a crypt," he said through a shaking voice.

  "A what?" I blurted with a strong T at the end.

  His fist flew over his mouth. "A fucking crypt. People are buried down here."

  I turned on instinct to move back up the steps.

  "There's something written here on a plaque." He moved his light to the wall, and a carved stone reflected the illumination from each of its engraved letters.

  As he began to read it aloud, my eyes traveled along the sides of the narrow space, landing on coffin after coffin, perfectly fitted into the walls and sealed against all of time.

  Shane's words garbled as he mumbled, but then he got louder and more pronounced as he reached a part that sent my heart racing.

  "...Hung for crimes against the governance, thee who harbor witches...." His voice choked as he tried to continue.

  But as the words set their claws deep within him, he flinched and then fell back against the coffins. His hands flew up to his face as he shook against the onslaught of memories.

  In an instant, the images that haunted him jumped into my head as well.

  His parents, hanging by their necks in the foyer. Ropes swaying from the stair railings far above. A massive crystal chandelier glittering between them.

  "Jesus," he seethed through clenched teeth.

  With a final jolt, he raced up the stairs, smashing against the sides as he struggled to escape the visions.

  I bolted after him, terrified from what I'd seen and desperate to help him.

  As we ran through the chapel and up more stairs to the kitchen area, Shane raced for a door at the back of the house. As he pulled it open, he smashed into solid boards that prevented his escape.

  Stumbling back, he winced in panic, frantic to get away from what he'd been hiding from for so long.

  We had to make a run for it through the grim foyer.

  I grabbed Shane's hand, allowing his horror to course through me in hopes that it might dissipate from within him in even the slightest way. As I pulled him toward the front of the house, a strange banging came from above, like hammering or stomping.

  "Shit," I hacked, racing even harder.

  As we pushed through our alarm toward the front entryway, focused on our escape, we watched in horror as the big double doors slammed in our faces.

  "What the fuck!" Shane blasted.

  He reached for the two brass knobs and twisted them in rattling panic.

  "Is anyone there?" A voice echoed from behind us, filling the entire house with its distant searching.

  My eyes burst wide as my breath caught in my chest. Without a second of hesitation, I pulled on the doors just as Shane unlatched the stuck bolt, and they flew open.

  We burst out of the house, nearly falling onto the porch, and stumbled down the stairs using every ounce of our momentum to get away.

  Running across the vast front yard, we ran until we reached the trees that surrounded the estate. Panting, I dropped my hands to my knees, looking back at the manor to be sure nothing was chasing us.

  Wind blew my hair back as I stared at the condemned house, while its crooked boards on the windows gave it a sad, lost appearance.

  "It doesn't look so scary from here," I whispered.

  Shane blew his air out with a steady whoosh.

  "The wind must have slammed the doors shut," he murmured.

  But we both knew there was more than that.

  There were grisly images of his dead parents.

  A strange voice that called out to us.

  "Now I know why I never went back in there," he said. "I knew there was something I was better off not remembering." He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

  He nodded, knowing there was nothing more that could be said. The horror was too much to comprehend. It made no sense.

  He nudged my shoulder with his. "Come on. I need to look for something."

  I lifted my eyebrows in surprise as he moved around to the side of the manor. He gazed up along the broken clapboards and then pointed.

  "That's the balcony we found in the upstairs bedroom. It's the one I used to look out of as a kid." He turned his attention into the woods. "And it was in there that I p
layed."

  My eyes followed his into the overgrown brush.

  As I looked beyond the shrubs and vines, my vision blurred as it spun in twisting spirals, causing me to lean over. Blinking to stop the dizziness, I noticed a familiar impression behind my lids each time they closed.

  The maze.

  "Are you okay?" Shane's voice resonated at the back of my mind.

  Taking a few big inhales, I lifted my eyes to his. "Yeah, I think so. It's just those strange visions again, of the spinning maze."

  "Yup. My head's spinning too."

  I swiped my hand over my face. Of course, his head was spinning too. I hated myself for pulling his attention to me. He was the one who needed a chance to fall over dizzy.

  "Did you know?" I whispered. "About your parents."

  He stepped back, glancing back up at the balcony.

  "I think so," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not as shocked as you would expect, so that says something. I'd rather not have seen it all again, though." He looked toward the woods. "I just can't shake this strange feeling I have. Of me running."

  I swallowed hard, imagining Shane as a child seeing his parents hanging like that, with their eyes wide and faces a deep purple. It was a horrifying image I knew I'd never forget, so it was definitely a permanent part of who he was—especially now.

  He stepped toward the overgrowth.

  "I need to go in there," he said. "Every part of me is drawn in that direction."

  A nervous shudder jolted through me.

  There was something odd about the feeling. It drew on me, too.

  Something lurked all around us, watching our every move.

  I just had no idea what it could be.

  Chapter 6

  I followed Shane toward the edge of the vast lawn and peered into the shadows of the overgrown shrubbery. I imagined the bushes carved into exquisite topiary in their day, but now their dense branches blended into the natural environment.

  "There was a path here," Shane said, pulling mature vines of ivy out of the way. "And I remember a metal gate with fancy scrolls, and an arch decorating the entryway to my mother's garden."

  I tried to imagine how it must have looked in the height of its glory, lush with roses and peonies. A flash of vibrant color and petals swaying in a gentle breeze filled my vision. A bountiful flower garden, with snaking paths and secret surprises at every turn widened my eyes.