“I’ve gotta be honest, it’s the beginning of term . . . so I can’t see it happening any time soon.”
My heel grinds into the tile floor. “Isn’t there something we can do to, I don’t know, make that happen?”
Puck’s grin widens. “I like your style, Wren Davies.” For a second, his brow furrows and he looks serious. “We’ll have to be careful not to get caught. I think we could arrange a message, though, calling her away for a bit. Even if she teleports, we might have enough time to slip in and out of the office before she realizes it’s just a ruse.”
“Great,” I say, suddenly breathless at the thought that this all might be happening soon. Very soon. “When can we do it? Today?”
Puck steps back, hands up and chuckles. “Hold it eager beaver, what’s the rush? Give me a couple days. I might be a witch, but I’m not a magician.”
Okay, not so soon as I hoped . . . but at least it’s something.
I can survive a couple more days of this, right?
Chapter Fifteen
Once again, Merlin is waiting outside a door when I slip out of it. This time, however, he just about scares the living daylights out of me.
I have to clamp my hands over my mouth to muffle my scream, nearly putting out my own eye with my wand in the process. I’m just glad I didn’t go for the straight-to-stabbing reaction this time.
“What were you doing in there?” Merlin says, shooting a look from me to Puck and narrowing his eyes. “If you two are planning something . . .”
“Oh calm your tits Merlin,” Puck says, slapping the head boy on the back. “We’re just canoodling. You know, swapping spit. A little tonsil hockey.”
I punch him on the arm, hard. “That’s a lie, and you know it.” That doesn’t stop the image of kissing Puck from conjuring up in my mind, so I punch him a second time for good measure. That one’s for Edgar. I glare back at Merlin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re stalking me.”
Merlin looks bored. “Just stay out of trouble.” Here, he looks at Puck, and a knowing look passes between them. “You know what’s at stake here.”
He stalks off in the direction of class. We should follow too, if we don’t want to be late.
“What was that all about?” I ask as we join the rest of our classmates filing into the summoning room.
Puck shakes his head. “It’s this thing coming up next year. You ever heard of The Showcase?”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Is it next year already?” I ask, keeping my voice low as we settle back down in our seats. I thought it wasn’t for another three years. I don’t know how I missed the fact it’d be going on during my time in school.
The Showcase’s been going on once a decade for the last fifty years. It’s the last of a long line of attempts to get Highborne and Dark Witches to get along. The event only lasts for a couple weeks, but it almost always ends in disaster—more often than not, the kind that involves bloodshed.
But I mean, what did they expect . . . pinning a bunch of hormonal young adults against each other like that?
“Oh, you’re already talking to her about it then?” Nicholas says, overhearing as he scoots his desk closer to ours.
“Not that it matters to you,” Puck says, “since you won’t participate.”
I lean back a little, measuring the two boys. “What’s up with you two?” I ask, then glance over at Merlin, and jab my thumb in his direction. “Him too. Do you all know each other or . . .”
Nicholas and Puck exchange an awkward glance. It’s Puck who answers.
“You could say that. We grew up together in a smaller Dark Witch village. Then Merlin’s father was made judge, and this one here forgot to grow balls . . .” he shrugs his shoulders. “So ended the greatest bromance of the century.”
Nicholas gives him a dirty look. “Just because I didn’t want to break into jail for a stupid prank doesn’t mean I don’t have balls.”
“I don’t know, I kind of think that’s exactly what it means,” Puck shoots back.
Puck and Nicholas are stopped from breaking out in a full-out argument by Professor Young waving his arms and announcing it’s time to resume class.
Thank god. I’ve never seen boys with their claws out like this before. Another five minutes and they’d be bitch-slapping each other and pulling out hair by the fistful.
“It’s time to perform your first summoning. This one’s easy. These demons are hand-selected for their good temperaments.” Here, Professor Young holds up one finger and gives us a warning. “But don’t underestimate them.”
He has each of us hold the jar out in front of us in the middle of our desks. We’re supposed to announce the demon’s name as we open the jar, and invite it to stay for a while, using the phrase, “In brevi visita”.
I hesitate for a minute, one hand on the top of my own jar as I watch those around me. Merlin’s one of the first to call his demon. It comes immediately, funneling out of the glass like a puff of smoke.
To his side, Percy does the same . . . but nothing happens. He tips the jar upside down, peering inside for a moment . . . only for something green and goo-like to ooze down onto his face. He shrieks, but the professor only laughs as he walks over and helps him coax the demon off.
“I told you to research these carefully,” he says, “there are many kinds of demons. You have to be prepared.”
Both Puck and Nicholas’ demons come when summoned, though it takes several times before Puck realizes the demon was hiding behind his head the entire time. It’s an odd creature, smoky like Merlin’s, but shaped more like a snake. Nicholas’ is medium-sized, and more like a ghost—an otter-shaped shadow with glowing yellow eyes.
It looks terrifying at first glance, but it holds out its hand politely to shake Nicholas’ without being asked.
I finally glance back down at my jar. I still can’t make out the scribbled letters, so I have no name to invoke. I have no prior knowledge. If there’s even a demon in this jar . . . I have no idea what I’m dealing with.
Without a name to call it by, I try the summoning spell on its own. “In brevi visita!”
Nothing happens.
I try again and again. I try poking my finger inside the jar and swirling it around. I try turning it upside down. I have Puck try to read the name, and then Nicholas. And then I try again.
Each time, to the same result.
Absolutely nothing.
Meanwhile, Puck’s demon has started snaking around the room, looking into people’s backpacks and desk drawers. He starts chasing it, calling after it and telling it to stop.
“It’s not a dog,” Professor Young reminds him loudly. He flinches at the sound of a shelf being knocked over and has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he claps his hands and announces we’ve had enough for the day.
Professor Young starts making his rounds to help each student coax their demon back into their jars.
When he gets to me, I just push the jar across the top of the desk. “I . . . I already got it to go in,” I lie, after glancing around the room. It looks like I’m the only one who wasn’t able to summon their demon, and I’m not about to be held late to practice. It’s not my fault Professor Young gave me a dud.
He nods his head and dismisses the class . . . but not before making me eat my words.
“Take your demons with you. They’ll be your project for the rest of the semester. Though,” and here, he shoots another menacing look at Puck in particular, “I don’t recommend releasing them in your dorms unless you’re keen on death and destruction. Dismissed!”
Nicholas leans over to me, his own demon nearly tucking itself back into the jar and turning invisible. “But you didn’t . . .”
“Shut up,” I snap, hurriedly getting to my feet and gathering up my own things. “It’ll just take time. Maybe it’s shy.”
Nicholas eyes the little jar skeptically.
I follow his gaze and I’m
not so convinced myself. All I can think is that Professor Young matched all the rest of my classmates up with a compatible demon, so he must’ve given this one to me for a reason.
Even if that reason is to mock and humiliate me.
Well, joke’s on him . . . I don’t want a demon. The more I think about it, the better I feel about the whole thing. Maybe it’s a sign I’m not a Dark Witch after all. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
The next couple days become a blur of classes and studying. I find myself loitering in the great hall more often than I should when nobody’s looking. I just stand like a weirdo in the corner, looking up at the headmistress’ door while absentmindedly turning Edgar’s locket over and over in my hand until the cheap gold plating has started to wear off.
Like Puck suspected, the wand-burning and my little display during curses class seems to deter any further retaliation from Veronica. Not that she’d have much time for me, anyway, the way she cycles through boys on a near-hourly basis. I’m not slut-shaming, I’m just saying . . . girl’s got needs. A lot of them.
When Friday finally comes around, I’m so antsy to get along with it already that I have to sit on my hands at breakfast to get them to stay still. It’s so bad that even Nicholas, who’s moved on to another shameful corset-ripping romance novel, looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow at me.
“Do you have to pee or something?”
“Yes,” I say, glancing up at the door for what feels like the hundredth time this morning, “but that’s beside the point.”
I haven’t seen Puck in almost a whole day. Whatever he’s been supposedly doing to hurry our little plan along has been making him scarce—so scarce, he didn’t even show up to classes yesterday.
Nicholas scoots a little closer to the table, shoving his book further out of sight as usual. “Is something going on between you and Puck?”
The question catches me off guard. My head snaps back to him.
“What, no . . .” I start, then I change directions. “Well, not what you think.”
Before I have time to explain, a sudden commotion breaks out at the front of the room as a pane of glass looking out onto the grounds shatters. It scatters shards all over the teachers gathered up front as something flaps up through the hole, looking bedraggled.
It makes three more sad little flaps with its injured wings, and then flops onto the floor right in front of Headmistress Evanora.
Fabric grazes my arm as Puck slips silently onto the bench between me and Nicholas. He leans in so close that his lips brush my ear.
“Where did you—”
He cuts me off. “Now. Go wait on the landing for my signal, and count to thirty. You’re going to have to be quick.”
For a second, I panic. How am I supposed to just slip out of here without anyone noticing? But then I glance around, and all eyes in the hall are focused up front. The bat has started flopping around, always staying just out of reach of anyone trying to catch it in order to read the message it holds.
I feel a pressure on my lower back. “Go!” Puck urges me again, and this time I do.
I get up from my seat and try to walk as quickly and as non-suspiciously as I can out of the hall and into the antechamber beyond. I don’t think anyone noticed. Or, even if they did . . . it just looks like I’m headed back to my room or something before class. Right?
The only thing I pass that’s even remotely human is the statue in the courtyard.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I mutter as I pass by, trying to shake that coldness that settles over me every time it’s close.
The great hall is surprisingly empty, even for this time of morning. I’m guessing anyone who wasn’t at breakfast is now. I can still hear some muffled crashes from far off in that direction as Puck’s plan further unfolds.
I don’t run straight up to the landing in front of the headmistress’ office. I stop in front of the doors leading outside and take it all in. It’s been just five days since I arrived, but I’ve already gotten used to being here.
Everything from the zombies to the bats to the way the sky here always seems to be gray and overcast, it’s already starting to feel like it’s just the way it’s always been.
That’s why I’ve got to do this.
Behind me, there’s a dull thud against the stained glass window. At first, I think I’m just imagining it. It’s probably just the old pipes or a branch brushing up against the window.
But then I hear it again and finally glance back. It’s another confused bat. I watch it for a moment, making a drunken circle back to thud against the glass over and over, worrying it’s going to shatter the window too, until it dawns on me.
The signal. Of course.
Headmistress Evanora must have taken the bait. If she hasn’t already teleported out of here in response to Puck’s fake message, she will be soon.
I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time while counting the seconds out as I go. I don’t bother being quiet since there’s no one to overhear. I halfway expect the handles into the headmistress’ office to electrocute me or something, but to my surprise, the door swings open easily.
I step inside, only to find myself standing back in the great hall with the door to the office behind me. My head swims, and I turn in a full circle, trying to get my bearings. Puck warned me the door was enchanted, but didn’t I count to thirty like he asked?
I try the door again, but once again I end up stepping right back out into the spot where I started. The bat is still turning lazy circles in front of the class. It bumps up against the window for what must be the twentieth time. At this point, I feel pretty bad for it. It’s probably going to suffer some kind of permanent brain damage, the way it keeps slamming up against the panes.
And then it hits me, just as the bat once again hits the glass.
Twenty-one.
I’m not counting thirty seconds, I’m counting how many times the bat runs into the window.
“Puck you fucker,” I whisper under my breath. I ready myself, keeping one eye on the doors leading into the great hall and my ears tuned to the sound of the bat’s vicious cycle. It feels like an eternity, each second stretching on another opportunity for me to get caught.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
There’s a slight commotion. I think I hear footsteps coming.
Thirty.
Without waiting to see who it is, I pull open the door and slip inside, shutting it gently behind me. This time, I’m in the office.
I have to stop myself from crying aloud out of excitement. I do allow myself a short little happy dance for just a half a second before I get serious.
Puck said I had to be quick . . . but how quick is quick? Is he talking seconds quick? Minutes quick? More of a friendly warning type of ‘keep it quick’?
Really Puck, I could have used more information.
It isn’t until I’m standing over the little row of crystal balls that I realize I have no idea how to use one. I hover over them, my hand dangling inches above, trying to pick out which one to try.
“If I was headmistress, I’d go for the one that’s made of real gold.”
If it was possible to jump out of my own skin, I would. I have to settle for falling against the shelves with my flailing arms, knocking down an entire row of books while I’m at it with a resounding Crash!
Puck swears under his breath and drops to his knees as I try to regain my balance. I only pull down one of the headmistress’ decorative skulls and a potted plant in the process too.
I start kneeling down to help him, but Puck swats me away.
“Hurry, I’ll take care of this. We don’t have much time.”
I reach over towards the crystal balls, but again my hand stops to hover before I actually touch one of them. “Um, so I’ve never actually used one of these.”
Puck glances up at me from where he’s frantically trying to pack the books back into their original places. “What?” he starts, confused,
but then shakes his head and points to the shiniest of the three balls. “Just take that one there, set it on the table,” he waves his hand to point at the headmistress’ desk, “and speak your boyfriend’s name. If it’s the right one, he should appear inside.”
I pluck the ball gingerly from the shelf, only to find it’s much heavier than I expected. “And if it isn’t the right one?” I ask, setting it down on the table.
“Then you’ll know either way,” he mutters.
I might just be imagining things, but I swear I hear more footsteps outside in the hall. The ball glistens in front of me, inviting me, daring me even, to give it a try.
Puck’s still shuffling things in the corner. He’s picked up the plant and is trying to rearrange it so it isn’t obvious it got dropped and all the soil spilled out onto the carpet. This is not how I imagined my reunion with Edgar to go, but I can’t hesitate any longer.
This might be my only chance.
I put one hand on either side of the crystal ball and stare into its very middle. The French doors and sky are reflected back at me, upside down, from the other side of the table.
I take a deep breath and speak his name. “Edgar Evergreen.”
Slowly, the crisp dark branches of the treetops and the soft downy sky fades away, replaced by a blurry, only vaguely human-looking face.
“Edgar?” I repeat, a little louder this time.
The shapes in the ball get a little clearer, and finally, his familiar features swim into view. Suddenly, I feel like I have a crystal-ball-sized lump in the back of my throat.
“Edgar, is that really you?”
His face distorts in confusion. “W—Wren?” The image gets blurry for a moment, and then grows so dark I can barely make out the outline of his head. “Wren, what are you doing?”
“I had to talk to you.” I squint into the ball, trying to make him out. “Where are you?”
His voice is low and whispered, which makes it even harder to make out through the distorted connection. “I’m in a closet. Wren, you’re not supposed to be doing this. You know the rules.”
Dark Witch: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Academy of the Dark Arts Book 1) Page 13
