He stops pacing and points a finger in my face. “No!” he says, struggling to keep from raising his voice. “You do not get to play the victim here. Do you know who the victim is?”
I shake my head, unable to keep tears from collecting in the corners of my eyes. I’ve started shaking.
“Nicholas,” Merlin says. “He’s the one you lied to. Do you have any idea what kind of panic you left him in when you stole that little device?”
The tears are spilling over now, blurring my vision and turning Merlin into a wavering, distorted version of himself. Every time I close my eyes to blink, I see Nicholas there, in the street alone. I betrayed him. And for what?
Merlin isn’t subdued by my tears. If anything, he gets more frustrated.
“I wouldn’t even be in here with you if it weren’t for him,” he says. “I’m the only one who can come up here, so Nicholas begged me to check on you. But you know what?”
He suddenly stops pacing. “He wants to check on you so bad, well then, we’re going to let him check on you.”
His hands dig into the sheets and blankets on the bed, and he tears them off and throws them in a heap on the floor. I ball up, pulling my knees back up to my chest.
“What are you doing?”
He sticks out his hand to me. “You’re going to go apologize to Nicholas so he can see you’re alright.”
“Like this?” I ask, incredulously. I look down at my tear-stained pajamas. I can only imagine what a wreck my face is.
Merlin shows no sympathy. In fact, the look on his face makes me scramble out of the bed as quickly as possible. He doesn’t even wait to let me put on my shoes before he marches me out the door.
Fortunately, he doesn’t parade me around the whole school like the fool that I am.
As soon as he shoves open the door into the stairwell, I spot Puck and Nicholas sitting on the top step with their backs to me.
Puck turns immediately at the sound of the door opening, and his jaw drops open. He looks accusatorially at Merlin.
“What the fuck, dude? What’d you do to her?”
Merlin, perfect head of class, gasps in exasperation. “They’re just tears.”
Nicholas stands determinedly to his feet. He faces away from us for a second, his chest heaving in several deep, controlled breaths before he turns and heads straight towards me, a near-frightening intensity on his face. But he doesn’t tear into me like I know I deserve. He doesn’t so much as scold me. He just reaches out his surprisingly muscular arms and wraps them around my body.
I sit, stiff and still, as I try to process the feel of his body folded around mine.
He buries his face into the dark hair at my neck, his voice soft and velvety from amid the strands. “I would’ve done the same thing.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest, bringing heat to my cheeks.
I find myself burying my own neck into his. His arms tighten gently, settling in between the tops of my shoulder blades and the lower part of my back. I can feel a surprising amount of control in the touch, as if Nicholas is aware of how each muscle cradles me ever-so-gently in his arms.
The effect is intimate . . . until he accidentally brushes one of the bruises that’s formed on my upper arm from Edgar’s vice-like grip. I try not to wince, but Puck sees my face change at the touch. He’s suddenly at my side, rolling up my sleeves despite my protests.
As soon as the boys spot the purple fingerprints, all three of their faces darken.
Puck’s voice comes out short and tinged with anger. “I can’t believe he put his hands on you again. I can’t believe he’d dare touch—”
“You knew he’d done this before?” Merlin asks, his own voice too-carefully measured.
“I had suspicions.”
“And yet you still helped her get back together with him?” Merlin asks, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice now.
“I didn’t—”
“Enough,” Nicholas says, his arms still wrapped around me—now carefully avoiding the tender spots on my arms. “It’s over now. There’s nothing we can do about what’s already happened.”
I want to tell them it’s not a big deal, it’s just an accident—but their own severe expressions make me wonder if maybe they’re right. Maybe Edgar was too rough, too thoughtless. I thought he just didn’t know his own strength, but maybe it was just another excuse I made up.
“Oh, just like that, and no one’s supposed to say anything now?” Merlin’s voice breaks the silence. He waves an arm in my direction. “She went to that school alone, knowing he’s the sort to rough her up without us there to protect her.”
Protect me? I never thought Merlin cared if I lived or died . . . let alone felt the need to protect me.
“I said enough.” Now it’s Nicholas’ turn to stiffen. He rests one hand around my shoulders before turning abruptly to face Merlin. “Leave it be, Mer.”
Somehow Nicholas manages to still sound friendly, even while fixing his friend with a stare so severe it practically dares him to say another word. Merlin bites his lips, itching to go on anyway—but he doesn’t. He just throws up his arms and storms off down the stairs without us.
In the moment, I glance over at Puck, and he looks back and shrugs.
“See you on Monday, Mer!” Puck calls down after him.
Merlin just keeps going, but solemnly raises his arm to give us all the middle finger. Puck watches him go, shaking his head as he disappears around the curving staircase.
“I was actually wondering; how did you and Merlin find Nicholas last night?” I ask when Puck looks back our way.
He grins impishly. “Merlin’s father has a transporter too. He might act all imperious, but he’s not above a little low-grade theft when the situation calls for it.”
Good to know.
“It just sucks that the whole thing was a waste,” Puck continues. “If you’d let me come along, I would’ve made sure it was a night those stupid Highborne Witches would never forget.”
It’s my turn to stiffen in Nicholas’ arms.
He and Puck’s heads swivel to look at me. “What is it?” Nicholas asks.
I wriggle myself free of his arms. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” I say, breathless.
I leave the boys exchanging glances and run back down to my dorm. It takes a minute of fishing through the clothes piled up on the floor from last night, but finally, I find it; a crinkled-up slip of paper shoved into the back pocket of my costume skirt.
Wren Davies. It’s my name, scribbled across the front in overly-familiar handwriting.
I’m almost afraid to unfold it. This is the closest I’ve gotten to the answers I seek . . . and yet somehow, I’m suddenly hesitant to see what’s written inside.
Ever since the initiation rites went so wrong and I was sent here to the Academy of the Dark Arts, I’ve insisted it all has to be some kind of mistake. I couldn’t imagine a life here, not just in a school deep in the heart of Dark Witch territory, but also surrounded by the very witches I’ve been taught to fear and revile.
Sure, they summon demons and cast curses . . . but at heart, they’re really not all that different.
My finger runs along the edge of the paper. A month ago I’d have hoped something in this letter would reassure me I’m not a Dark Witch after all. Now, especially after last night, I’m not so sure.
But there’s nothing to do but open it and see what it says.
That, however, I leave to the professionals.
Puck looks up at me with raised eyebrows when I shove the paper in front of his face. “What’s this?”
I wave it around in front of his nose until he finally snatches it out of my hand. “Read it,” I say, bracing myself with my arms stretched tight around my middle section. “It’s from my mother.”
Nicholas scrambles back to his feet from where he’s stretched his legs out across the top of the stairs. He stands so close behind Puck, trying to read the message over his shoulder, that Puck keeps h
aving to push him back.
“So,” I say, my foot tapping impatiently after what feels like an eternity of watching their eyes skim the few lines of cramped text, “are you two going to just punch each other already, or are you going to tell me what it says.”
Both Puck and Nicholas glance up at me at the same time.
“She wants to talk to you, face to face,” Puck says, but something about his expression tells me that isn’t all.
“And?”
Nicholas swipes the slip of paper away from Puck and hands it back to me. “It’s less of an ‘and’ and more of a ‘but’.”
When neither of them elaborates further, I glance down at the paper and have to read it for myself.
I know you want answers, but it isn’t safe to say much in writing. We must talk face to face.
You’ll find me by the black lake at sunset on the longest night of the year. Until then—be safe. Be careful who you trust. When the truth comes out, you might find yourself in more danger than ever.
I look back up at the boys and flop the paper in the air. “So . . . that’s it?” I have to glance back down and scan over the words again. “I just have to wait for her to show up on what I’m guessing is the winter solstice . . . seven weeks from now?”
No answers, nothing to hold me over until we have the chance to speak in person. Even her warning is so ambiguous, it just leaves me with more questions than answers. When what truth comes out? Does that mean I’m not a Dark Witch after all? But then . . . how would I be in danger? Wouldn’t they just ship me back off to Highborne Academy or something?
Nicholas bares his teeth in a grimace. “Sorry, Wren. I know you wanted more answers.”
“I’m not sorry,” Puck says, stretching his arms up over his head with a lazy yawn. “If it means you’re going to be sticking around at least a little longer . . . then I say this is a win all around.”
Nicholas nudges him hard in the side, and Puck shoots him an irritated look. “I mean, come on. She’s still getting what she wants . . . eventually.”
“Her warning doesn’t make sense,” I say, thinking aloud. While the boys have been bickering, I’ve started pacing. “I mean, if it turns out I am a Highborne Witch, then I didn’t actually even break any rules going over to the academy . . . or living in the village with my mom . . . so there’s nothing to be afraid of there. If I’m a Dark Witch, then well . . . that’s what everyone already thinks I am, so nothing would really change.”
Puck nudges Nicholas. “Wren here isn’t convinced she’s a Dark Witch. She was hoping her mom—”
“I’m not an idiot,” Nicholas says, “Wren and I have already had this discussion. I got that without you having to explain it, thank you very much.”
I stop pacing. It’s my turn to glance over at Nicholas.
“I mean . . . does everyone here also think I’m not really a Dark Witch?”
The boys exchange a glance that tells me everything.
I throw up my hands. “So Dark Witches are convinced I’m a spy or something, and Highborne Witches think I’m a traitor. Is that how it is?”
Puck shrugs his shoulders and Nicholas grimaces again. First Merlin. Then Edgar. Now the rest of the academy here . . . they all think I’m some sort of mastermind out to get them.
I let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “So however this turns out, I lose either way.”
Now I understand my mother’s warning, but it brings no more clarity to her message. One way or the other, one half of witch society is going to end up hating me. I’m not sure which half I should be more concerned about—the ones who make the rules, or the ones who aren’t afraid to break them.
I take one last glance down at the message before I crumple it up in my hand.
I might not have gotten what I wanted from Edgar last night, but I might have gotten what I needed. I’ve finally seen my now ex-boyfriend for who he is—a lying, cheating, bastard without a thought for anyone other than himself. And though it feels like an eternity away, I’ll finally get some answers from the only person who can really give them.
“At least there’s still someone from my old life that I can count on,” I say.
Puck grins and throws an arm over Nicholas’ shoulder. “And at least two more from your new one,” he says, then glances down the stairs to where Merlin disappeared earlier. “Three, if you wanna count that prick.”
I have to laugh. “I’m not sure yet,” I reply.
But that’s a lie. I am sure.
Not much is certain in my life right now, but at least I do have them. As temperamental and enraging as they can be at times, I’m not nearly as alone here as I once thought.
If dangerous times are ahead, at least I know the three of them—Puck, Nicholas, and even surly Merlin—have my back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Though Merlin is not so quick to forgive me as the other two, it’s only a matter of days before he’s sitting grumpily beside me in class instead of across the room. Veronica is quick to mark the change, and though I can tell it irks her from the way she keeps flipping her hair over her shoulders even more than usual, she doesn’t say anything. At least, not right away.
I guess that’s what I get for making a giant demon eat itself in front of her and the rest of the first-year class.
Now that our first sets of tests are out of the way, it’s like the school year truly begins in full.
Professor Young assigns me a new demon, and unlike the one he gave me at the start of the year, this one is about as boring as the empty jar I spent the first few weeks with. It doesn’t matter though. I’ll take a shapeless blob of a demon over another Ozgullath any day.
When I first got here to the academy, I thought I’d be out of here within days . . . or weeks at the very most. Now that November is upon us and it’s still another seven weeks or so before I can even hope to speak to my mother, all I can do is finally accept it and settle in for the long haul. Especially after the supposed near break-in over the weekend, it doesn’t look like I’ll be stepping foot off the academy grounds for the foreseeable future.
A future that quickly begins to slip into days and weeks . . . until suddenly, with a cold wind that sweeps in over the mountains, carrying with it patterned frost on the windows and the promise of snow, it’s the second week of December already.
I didn’t realize I’d slipped into a kind of haze over these past weeks until Puck plops into the bench across from me one morning. He takes one good look at me over the rim of my mug, dips his fingers into the top of the liquid, and then flicks it in hot speckles across my face.
“What the crap, Puck!”
He accepts a punch on the upper arm from Nicholas with a near-heroic stoicism, at least for him. Sometimes I think he’s only here with us to make sure we don’t somehow destroy the school and everything he loves along with it. And then sometimes I catch him looking at me over the top of his cauldron in alchemy, and my stomach does that little stupid flutter-thing that makes me think he’s here for something more.
And it isn’t to get hot chocolate flicked in his face first thing in the morning.
“You know, I’m not usually one to agree with Wren on much of anything . . .” Merlin says, carefully reaching for his napkin to pat away the single droplet that landed on his cheek.
“And you know that’s true,” I add in. Merlin never agrees with me, not if he can help it.
“. . . but really Puck? What the actual fuck?” Merlin finishes his sentiment by slamming the napkin back down so loudly, the entire table next to us freezes and looks our way.
It doesn’t stop Puck from bouncing anxiously in his seat. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this boy actually sit still.
“All I’m saying is it’s gotten awfully sleepy around here of late,” Puck says, leaning forward across the table conspiratorially. “What happened to sneaking around Highborne territory and making illegal contact with their witches?”
All three of us—Nicholas, Mer
lin, and I—hiss at Puck to silence him.
I dive halfway across the table, upsetting a butter jar and a tin of candied figs in the process. “It’s called lying low,” I say, at least having the sense to keep my voice quiet enough we won’t be overheard. When I sit back down in my seat, I take a moment to smooth the wrinkles out of my uniform. “It’s only a couple weeks now until . . . you know . . .” I jerk my head in the direction of the dark lake outside the window in the grounds. “But until then, I just want to keep from getting murdered, or expelled. It’d also be nice not to flunk out during my first semester.”
“I told you,” Nicholas says over his plate of eggs, pointing his fork at me. “Getting expelled is always an option. You could learn to work a deep fryer. I’d like to learn how to work a deep fryer.” The last part is accompanied by a wistful look on his part as he looks back down at his half-eaten breakfast. I don’t have the heart to tell him most humans who work deep fryers hate it with a passion. I’d know. Even witches aren’t immune to the occasional late-night drive-through.
I mean, magic is great and all . . . but have you had a cheeseburger before?
I’m not even hungry anymore, but still, my stomach lets out a tremendous gurgle. I throw down my spoon and make a pouting look at Puck.
“You see what you’ve done now? Now I can’t get cheeseburgers out of my head.” I glare down at the spread in front of us forlornly.
“Well, at least that means you aren’t thinking about—”
Nicholas and Merlin shoot Puck a look, and he shuts himself up abruptly.
It’s my turn to be serving looks. “What?” I ask, glancing from each one of their guilty faces to the next in turn. “Really, what is it?”
Both Nicholas and Merlin give Puck the death glare, but he can’t hold his tongue for more than three seconds.
“Edgar!” he finally snaps, slapping his hand down on the table. “There, I said it. It’s about time you stopped thinking about that good-for-nothing ex of yours and just forget him already.”
I sit back, shocked, and more than a little annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, carefully keeping my voice measured. “I didn’t think I was being some whiny bitch about it this whole time.”
Dark Witch: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Academy of the Dark Arts Book 1) Page 21
