Dark Witch: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Academy of the Dark Arts Book 1)

by Analeigh Ford

  When yet again his baiting receives no reaction, he leans over across the aisle to tap me on the shoulder. “Hey, but really, you should have—”

  “Hey Puck,” Nicholas whispers from his seat on my other side. “Shut the hell up.”

  Puck starts opening his mouth, but Nicholas makes a throat-cutting motion and he just falls back in his chair, looking frustrated.

  Professor Hardbloom finally teleports into the room, stopping any further discussion.

  After a long class toting the advantages of the old wand-less magic from ages past, we’re finally dismissed. I’m practically up out of my seat and heading for the door before the professor’s finished dismissing us.

  As usual, however, Puck manages to keep up. I’m not two steps down the hall before his breathless voice is calling after me.

  “Wren!”

  I trudge forward, my head fashioned straight ahead.

  “Wren,” he says again, but this time from right beside me. “What did I do? Is this about this weekend?”

  I stop in the middle of the hall and stomp my foot on the tile. “Can you just leave me alone, Puck?”

  He grabs my upper arm, and for a second, I flinch. I expected his grip to be firm, but it’s gentle. The damage, however is already done. He lets go immediately, taking a half step back and looking at me abashedly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  I close my eyes for a second and force myself to take a deep breath. Don’t be petty, Wren.

  “Look, Puck . . .” I start, not really sure where I’m headed. “It’s just been a rough weekend.”

  He moves to stand right in front of me. “And I left you alone. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to do.”

  His apology catches me off guard. When I open my eyes again to look up into that elfish face of his, I can tell he’s sincere.

  “But not as stupid as what Percy did over . . .”

  There it is.

  I push past him and stomp into my next class. I know it’s stupid, and I am being petty, but I really thought Puck was . . . if not a friend, then at least someone I could count on. At least a little. His leaving me to fend for myself over the weekend just reminds me that I’m really alone here.

  I’m the odd one out. The misfit. And nothing’s going to change that so long as I’m here.

  Chapter Eighteen

  If I’m going to get out of this school, I can’t rely on anyone but myself.

  I made a mistake trusting Puck, and I won’t let that happen again—not with him or anyone else.

  It’s easy to throw myself into my studies. I’m well behind everyone else in everything but curses, which I’m both proud and ashamed to say is by far my best subject. Without Puck or anyone else to distract me, by the end of my second week at the Academy of the Dark Arts I’ve already mastered nearly a dozen of them.

  I can curse a gourd into a pumpkin, make an origami crane think it can fly, and make paper repel ink—amongst other things.

  But I still can’t get any closer to Edgar.

  I wait until the next weekend to try the library again. I may or may not peek at the librarian’s schedule to make sure someone else is on duty before I start up another hunt for a spell that’ll get me out of here undetected.

  Since I don’t dare try using magic to find a useful book again, I have to do it the old-fashioned way.

  There don’t seem to be any curses to teleport witches, but I find some on other subjects that seem promising. I’ve stacked so many books in my arms that I’m just stumbling blindly in the direction of some study tables near the back when I run into someone.

  It surprises me since, like last weekend, I thought I was basically alone in the academy by myself. Even Veronica and her entourage headed out for the weekend, so since I didn’t plan on spending another awkwardly silent lunch with Merlin, I just snuck some dinner rolls into the library with me.

  I didn’t expect to run into anyone—especially not in the literal sense—so forgive me if I’m a little flustered when the books carefully piled up in my arms go flying across the aisle in every direction.

  I don’t even have time to see who I’ve run into before I drop to my knees and start lunging at the books. They’re enchanted to go back to their places on the shelves, so I have to dive after them and stop them from trying to put themselves away.

  The aisle is a flurry of pages and loose dust jackets as the books try to flee to their respective shelves, so it takes me a minute to recognize the boy standing frozen in front of me. The books in his own arms are clutched tight for dear life.

  “You could help you know,” I snap, reaching for a book on astral projection that darts just out of reach. I glance up, fully prepared to say something snarky—when the words die on my tongue.

  It’s Nicholas.

  I look away and fall back on my heels. The book continues flopping down to the end of the aisle like an injured bird. Ah well . . . it probably wouldn’t have been that useful anyway.

  When I glance back up, I can’t hide my guilty expression. Nicholas is an innocent bystander in all this. From day one he’s been so nice to me, nice in that genuine way that’s so rare—Dark Witch or not. He can get a little annoying at times, but that’s still no excuse for the way I’ve been ignoring him all week along with Puck.

  At first I said it was to keep from forgetting how I’m trying to get out of here, but now, looking up at his very unhappy face, I’m not so sure.

  “Hey Nicholas,” I start awkwardly, still on my knees on the floor. “What’re you doing here?”

  He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water for a minute, before suddenly dropping his own books and reaching to help with mine. It’s a bit late for that, but we do get to spend the next minute scrabbling around trying to catch his books before they make an escape too.

  At the end of it all we’re both sitting, panting on the floor with two slightly smaller piles of books between us.

  If it were Puck here beside me, he’d probably say something suggestive about how I know my way around a stack of books—but Nicholas just smiles shyly and offers to help me back up to my feet.

  “Sorry about that,” he mutters, pulling me up with one hand.

  I make sure to grab my books before I lose any more of them. “Shouldn’t you be off at home or something?” I ask once I’ve straightened back up.

  A librarian makes an appearance at the end of the aisle and narrows his eyes at us. Nicolas ushers us towards the tables at the back, and I follow.

  “I thought I could brush up on some demonology before our first test,” he says, but he isn’t looking me in the eyes.

  “Bullshit,” I say, startling him and making the librarian shoot us another look from between the aisles. I drop my voice. “You’re not the one with a demon that doesn’t exist.”

  “Your demon probably just . . .” he starts, but one look from me makes him clamp his mouth shut again. He glances down at the books spread out in front of me and nudges one closer. “What exactly are you up to?”

  It’s my turn to look at the array of books laid out on top; Animal Transformation Curses, Astral Projection for Amateurs, and possibly the most desperate title of my selection, Possession: A Voyeur’s Guide.

  He nods at the book on possession. “For someone who doesn’t want to be a Dark Witch, that’s some pretty kinky stuff.”

  I have to bite my tongue. “Did Puck tell you that?”

  “Yeah,” he admits, “but it wouldn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Though, I’d really like to see what a rocket scientist actually does. You know the humans—”

  I have to stop him from going on another tangent about how cool humans are before it’s too late.

  “Look, Nicholas, I don’t mean to be rude, but . . .” I gesture down at the pile of books that look less promising with every growing minute. My fingers reach to flip back one of the covers, and then just let it fall back shut. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I sa
y, letting my head fall into my hand with a sigh. “I just wanted to get out of this place for a little while, you know? Go somewhere less . . . dark.”

  “Actually, I know exactly what you mean,” Nicholas says. “But none of that’s going to get you out of the city, let alone out of the academy.”

  I let out another exaggerated sigh and let my head fall all the way to the desk this time.

  “How does Puck do it? He’s never where he’s supposed to be, but he never gets caught.”

  “He gets caught a lot,” Nicholas corrects me. “I think by now they’ve just kind of given up.”

  “Already? It’s only been two weeks.”

  Nicholas shrugs again. “Look, I’m not here to talk about Puck.” He waits a moment while another student passes by us, moving from one aisle to the other. “I think I might have just what you’re looking for.”

  He sticks his hand in his coat pocket and pulls out two slips of paper. He slides them across the desk at me with a childish grin on his face.

  I take a second to read the text printed across the front. They’re tickets to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  “Look, Nicholas,” I start, not knowing how to begin. “I’m not really—”

  “Before you say anything else,” Nicholas says conspiratorially, “look where it’s at.”

  I glance down at them again, and this time my heart skips a beat. Summercross. I recognize the name. It’s a small town about an hour or so away from my old village. A human town.

  “But how . . .”

  Nicholas holds up his hands. “Puck isn’t the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.” He glances over his shoulder again, and then reaches into the neck of his uniform and takes out a tiny cylinder on a thin chain.

  It’s roughly the size of my thumb, with little changeable digits running along one side.

  My eyes grow wide. It’s a transporter—an enchanted device that can teleport witches over great distances without the use of spells. I’ve heard of these but never seen one.

  Transporters are expensive and rare since most witches can just teleport whenever they want. They’re also highly restricted . . . because unlike spells, they leave no trace.

  “How’d you get ahold of that?” I whisper, quickly helping him tuck it away as that student passes by us again.

  “Sometimes I like to go catch a movie or go to a mall or . . .” Nicholas says, his face reddening a little, and he has to stop and re-gather his words. “But I thought next time, you might want to come with me.”

  “Yes!” The word is out of my mouth before I even have time to consider. “But . . . but how does it work? When do we go?”

  He taps a finger on the table, and I glance back down at the tickets. The momentary excitement I felt wanes slightly as I read the date.

  “But this isn’t until All Hallows’ Eve. That’s weeks away.” Three to be exact.

  Nicholas looks a little crestfallen. “I mean yeah, but it’s the only night to go. Not just for the show . . . it’s easiest to sneak away on holidays. There’re so many witches teleporting in and out, the school usually has some of its defenses down.”

  “Say what?” I have to sit back in my chair to think for a minute. Nicholas has started talking about something, but I’m not listening.

  I was just excited at the idea of getting out of this place, but this could be something more. If Nicholas’ transporter can get us out of the city undetected, then maybe it could get me in somewhere without being spotted as well. Somewhere that might also have their defenses down for the holiday.

  Somewhere like the Highborne Academy of Witches.

  I half stand and begin frantically stacking the books back up on the table. Nicholas starts and moves like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

  “What are you—”

  “I have to go, I forgot about a thing,” I say, breathless. I have to be alone to think about this now. This might be my only chance. He starts helping me, but he’s moving so slow that I have to push his hands out of the way to finish it myself.

  “Can’t you just sort of, let them put themselves away?” he asks when I start gathering them up in my arms.

  “Ugh, you’re a genius!” I open my arms wide and let the books tumble down to the floor. After a second, they start rolling, flopping, and sliding away.

  Before I dash out of the library and up the stairs to my dorm, I stop and glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “And Nicholas?”

  He glances back up from where he was quietly gathering up his own books. If he wasn’t wearing the academy uniform, even here on his day off, he’d blend in quite nicely with humans. He’d be a heartbreaker in the human world. He’s got that sort of boy-next-door vibe that they love to show off in their movies, what with his floppy brown hair and the way his shoulders slope to hide how tall he really is.

  One day I’ll tell him that, but right now, I’ve got plans to make.

  “I’m sorry about earlier this week,” I say. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

  I’ve never seen a smile so wide. All Hallows’ Eve might be weeks away, but already I feel a stab of guilt for what I’m planning to do.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Getting to Highborne Academy is one thing. Getting inside, and finding Edgar without being spotted, is another.

  I spend the rest of the weekend drawing out rough maps of the school from memory, trying to work out the various entrances and exits that I can remember.

  I’ve never been to the academy myself, but I’ve read so much about it that I can actually put together a decent floor plan. I know a few places to avoid if I don’t want to be spotted, and I have a pretty good idea of where the first-year boy’s dorms are.

  I may or may not have spent some time carefully plotting the best routes there, should Edgar and I want to, you know . . . study.

  My finger absentmindedly traces over the route. We were so sure of everything. Or, at least, I was so sure of everything. Edgar and I were going to go to the same academy together, graduate together, spend our lives together.

  All together.

  Now I can’t even talk to him. I have to basically commit high treason just to try and see him.

  But it never occurred to me . . . would he do the same thing?

  I have to stop for a bit to collect my thoughts. Of course he would do the same for me. For all I know, that’s what he’s doing right now.

  I reach up to press the locket between two fingers, but the heartbeat isn’t as reassuring as it once was. I tuck it into my shirt and get back to my plans.

  By the time Monday rolls back around, I’ve all but forgotten my doubts. For the first time since arriving here, I have a plan. A real plan. I’m not going to let a little thing like doubt get in the way of my excitement.

  Puck takes my new energy as a sign of encouragement, but I try to keep my distance. The last thing I need right now is him getting involved and somehow fucking it all up. The teachers might not care what he does anymore, but I highly doubt the same apathy extends to me. I’m already under enough suspicion as it is.

  However, he doesn’t seem capable of leaving me well enough alone. I catch him shooting looks at me all morning on Monday, but he isn’t able to actually corner me until I’m headed to another night of detention.

  I spot him waiting under the stairs on the first floor after dinner and debate going the long way around. But as soon as he sees me wavering he can’t contain himself anymore. He crosses the hall in a few long strides, a determined look on his face.

  I try to steer clear of him still, but this time he doesn’t let me. He grabs me by the shoulder, albeit gently, and leads me out of the after-dinner crowd into a semi-secluded corner of the great hall.

  “Hey, look, I really am sorry,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “Can’t we be done with this thing already?”

  Puck gestures to the space between us and doesn’t have to explain. The last week of ignoring him was awkward to sa
y the least. Even Merlin and Professor Hardbloom, the teacher supervising our detention, got uncomfortable by the end of the week. Each of them keeps sneaking glances between me and Puck like there’s some kind of tangible tension they can sense.

  “Just let me go,” I say, but I feel my own determination waver. So does Puck, which only makes him press further.

  “I shouldn’t have left you here. I know what it’s like to be alone, and it sucks.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “You? Alone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on your own . . . unless you’re running away from something you probably did.”

  “That’s fair enough,” he says, but he suddenly looks uncomfortable. He sneaks a look around the great hall, his eyes lingering on a group of boys passing by. “But what I mean is . . . I don’t have a family. I know it’s not the same, but my parents died when I was little, you know and . . . and I spent a lot of time here . . .” his words start falling apart, turning into a rambling mix of half-sentences.

  “Puck, stop.”

  He rocks back on his heels once more and lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, Wren. I’m trying to say I was an ass, I’m still an ass, and I’m sorry.”

  We’ve moved closer together somehow, so close we’re almost touching. When I look up into Puck’s face, none of the usual mischief is there. There’s no trace of a lie in his slanted eyes, no hidden smile in the set of his jaw. He’s not playing some trick. He means what he says.

  I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “Fine.”

  His face lights up, and he sticks out his hand. “Friends?”

  I laugh a little at the silliness of it, but I accept the handshake. “Friends.”

  Puck’s sincerity lasts exactly eighteen seconds until we’ve settled down in our seats at the back of Professor Hardbloom’s classroom. He leans across the desk set between us and settles me with a pointed stare. “So, I heard about your little date with Nicholas.”

  At the front of class, Merlin sits up straighter in his seat.

  “Shh!” I hiss at him. I don’t know how much Nicholas told Puck, but I don’t need Mr. High-And-Mighty getting wind of it. I settle back into my chair. “Besides, it’s not a date. We were just hanging out.”