Discovery of Magick (Dark Light Academy Book 1)

by Tabatha Stephenson

  In turn, now that I knew just what can be done with magick, it made me wonder if my best friend in the world really just up and joined the Air Force or if that was all bull shit. Besides, why would she have gone for training now? We’d only just graduated, a mere two weeks after the recruiter visited our school and signed her up for delayed entry, right? So, why so short a delay? Surely you had to wait longer than two weeks to go to Boot Camp anyway! I’d heard the voice message, but could that have been faked using some spell to alter someone’s voice? There were techy gadgets that could do that, so maybe, right? The whole Air Force thing made no sense to me, but then, perhaps I didn’t have all the information about that.

  And second point worthy of consideration, Aunt Lisanne. She never came to visit us in the human world but thought she could just suddenly act like we were close family that really meant something and ship me off to a magickal university without even asking me if that’s what I wanted. I should have at least been given the option to have my magick kept bound, right? I probably wouldn’t have chosen to do that, because let’s face it, being able to zap things into happening and having familiars is pretty awesome. But still, you don’t just yank people from their regular lives and plonk them into a new one in an actual different reality or whatever, not without consulting them. I’m an adult now, damn it, and should have some say in my destiny.

  That brings me to number three. I really like Laurent and the guys. I thought he was an asshole at first, and he was really weird about George in the beginning, but he’s more than making that up to me now. I think despite what he says, the truth was he hoped I would turn out to be a locii and wanted to preserve his chances of getting to me first. And Charles and Brent were not as stuck up as I first thought, either. They are adorable together.

  But the whole “Hey, you’re a locii, and we were hoping to find one, and there you are” thing just doesn’t work for me. I get that we’re safer together, but I shouldn’t have to do even a temporary bond to keep myself safe. There’s something really screwed up about this world if being magickally compatible enough to form a trio, with or without a locii, makes you prey for power-hungry fools who are less talented just because they have an excellent pedigree and wealthy clients. I’d would have liked to have had the chance to actually just get to know the real Laurent and date, like a normal person, and get used to kinda-sorta sharing him with his magickal triad partners who happened to be dating each other. Which I’m not, a normal person I mean, because I’m some powerful half-Fae witch. Though what is normal? I’m beginning to wonder if I even know anymore.

  Finally, there’s this thing with dear old Granny. From what Aunt Lisanne had told me, I’d half expected a woman who cackled and asked me to give her my pretty shoes if we ever met. Instead, I got a really snooty rich bitch with the infamous Karen hairdo. Admittedly, that part fits, because she definitely sent my cousins to go talk to the school’s headmistress, along with the guys’ parents. Talk about asking to speak to your manager!

  I squeezed my eyes tight as I heard the guys talking in the dressing room, the one on the left whose door was where a nightstand would be if this thing wasn’t so ridiculously massive. Annnnndddd, I didn’t want to think about the bed or its size, because that brings up a mental image of what Mrs. Murtagh said about why we were all rooming together. That was just all kinds of awkward because then I became all kinds of turned on by thinking about Charles and Brent kissing each other and me while Laurent touched my breasts and stroked Charles’ cock as Brent fingered Charles. Yup, I had an orgy in my head, and it was very inappropriate. I should not be perving on my gay (bi?) friends, even if we do all exchange kisses with tongue for magickal purposes. That’s strictly for ritual purposes, unlike that naughty fantasy scene that just would not stop running through my head.

  The bed dipped behind me, and someone leaned over me. “Having trouble sleeping?” Laurent asked softly, his breath tickling my ear and neck and, oh my God, it made things worse in my girlie bits department.

  “Mmmhmm,” I squeaked, scrunching my eyes together even tighter as I fervently wished for this erotic torment to end.

  “You’ve been through a lot in a very short time,” he said. I felt him shift backward, then, oh no, he laid himself down and arranged us as a big and little spoon. “Just relax,” he whispered, his breath warming my neck but giving me feel-good chills that make my nipples zing and my panties dampen. “I’ve got you. No one will bother you while we’re here.”

  Wait. We? I opened one eye to find a very amused looking Brent standing by the bed looking at me.

  “Oh, I think she’s bothered all right,” he drawled.

  Charles appeared from the dressing room door that was to the right. “Did something happen to upset Tuesday?” he asked.

  “You might say that, but I possibly could not comment,” Brent replied.

  Laurent laughed softly. “Do I affect you that much?” he asked me.

  I shivered as breath ghosted the back of my neck again. I rolled away from him. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” I said accusingly.

  He propped himself up on one elbow and arched one perfectly formed eyebrow. “Do I now?” he asked archly.

  “I can’t sleep now,” I declared, clambering the rest of the way off the mattress and not caring that I made Brent have to move.

  “Okay, well, I just wanted to say that something is hinky in Tuesday’s closet as well,” Charles said.

  “Clothes already in there for her, too, huh?” Laurent asked, now sitting completely upright. He swung his legs off the bed.

  “Yup,” Charles replied as Laurent strode over.

  I frowned. That made no sense. I had to see for myself and damn it, it turned out he was right. Moreover, they were the clothes I’d left behind in Boring, including my old P.E. Tracksuit with the school mascot on it. Yeah, it’s an oil rig, don’t judge. It’s not like I had any say in the matter.

  “How?” I asked. “These were all packed for the move.”

  “And they were moved here,” Brent said smoothly.

  “But that would mean my aunt and uncle sent them,” I protested.

  “Maybe they just wanted you to have some familiar things,” Laurent said soothingly, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Mreow,” George said, seeming to agree with him. Or else she thought he was talking about her since he used the word familiar.

  “Maybe,” I said, doubtfully. “But if that’s true, why didn’t they send them to Dark Light? And how did they get them from my old house?”

  No one had an answer for that, sadly. Least of all me. But there had to be, right? My aunts and uncle wouldn’t sell me down the river to Cruella De Grandma, would they?

  Chapter 16

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” the strange woman said, looking me up and down.

  We’d spent a week doing self-study, and my brain ached. I’d never studied so much in my life, from right after an early breakfast until an hour before a late bedtime. But I had an entire childhood of learning to catch up on, so we dove on in while we had the chance. We studied by day and by night, well, we slept. On the right side of the bed, Laurent spooned behind me, with Charles on the left side, faced the other way, with Brent curled around him. All of our clothes stayed on, and no one had done so much as kiss. Well, Charles and Brent might have, I guess, when alone in the dressing room. I didn’t ask.

  Today, though, the tailor and his assistants arrived and whisked the guys away. I thought I was free and clear until my annoying cousin showed up with this woman in tow.

  “I told you,” Miranda said.

  Looking at my awesome set of kicks, the woman replied, “Well, the shoes are super cute. The rest of her outfit, though…” She sighed dramatically.

  “Do you think you can do it, Serena? I was thinking her best route to popularity is fashion. We get her in the right clothes and share makeover pics, it’ll be gold.”

  “Oh, I can do anything,” Ser
ena boasted, “as long as you have deep enough pockets to afford for me to do it.”

  Yeah, I was not liking her so much.

  “Which we definitely do. And think of the exposure!” Miranda sounded gleeful.

  I winced. Ouch. Did she honestly think she could dangle the old ‘exposure’ card in front of this woman and end up with a discount?

  “True, but exposure alone doesn’t pay the bills, so make sure your media consultant has a solid marketing plan.”

  Hellooooo! Right here! Not a product to sell, people! Only apparently, I kinda was. They wanted to sell some kind of image, presumably to establish a high social standing of some type by making me a minor celebrity. I just prayed they didn’t have any of those “I’m Pseudofamous or a Has-been, So Let’s Go Camp By The Edge Of A Volcano!” type shows. Or even worse, one of those dancing or singing ones because I sounded like a screech owl and did not know how to dance.

  “I do!” Miranda said. “Once she gets big, I’ll hire a proper one, but for now, I’ll be able to handle it. When do you think you can work her in?”

  “I can have one of my assistants come by with a potion later this afternoon. It’ll be in a shampoo suspension, and she’s to wash her hair with it once in the morning and once at night, every night until the shampoo is completely gone. No skipping! And she’s not to use any conditioner, either. Call me once she’s done, and we’ll work her in.”

  Miranda clapped her hands together. “Thank you so much!”

  “No problem. Now, about the clothes…” Serena pursed her lips. “She was raised in the human world, yes?”

  “In Bowring, Kansas,” I replied, tired of being talked about and not to.

  Serena turned her attention to me. “I think we should capitalize on that. It’s a novelty. I can tell you’re a bit of a rebel, you like to ruffle feathers. So, we’ll go with a look that says, ‘I’m here to stick it to the man.’ Just enough hint of an upset to the status quo that the younger ones all latch onto you, but not enough to inspire any actual defiance.” She took both hands and made finger pistols at me, pretending to pull the triggers on them. “Pow! You’ll kill it!”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” I was far from sure about whatever style of clothes she had in mind, but if they went with my wedges, I’d give them a shot. Especially as they’d be far from being the stuffy clothes, I’m sure dear old Granny had in mind for being seen in public in. I just knew that if left to her tastes, I’d be swanning about in high-necked blouses with ruffles down the front, knee-length skirts, and uncomfortable heels. You know, like the stereotype of a prissy librarian or similar. That was so not my style at all, which was comfy jeans, soft sweatpants, t-shirts, and hoodies. I wasn’t adverse to skirts, but they weren’t my go-to unless they were pull-on and short.

  “Right on!” she cheered and raised a hand for a fist bump. I gave one to her, wondering if she knew that her human vernacular was several decades out of date. She looked over at Miranda. “We’ll have her ready to be the queen of the party!” she informed her.

  I think she meant belle of the ball, but no way was I going to correct her. She was the one in charge of my makeover, and I did not want her to dislike me.

  “Great. I’ll let my aunt know to expect a delivery from you.”

  Serena turned on her heel and sashayed her way out the door. She lifted a hand as she sailed through the open doorway. “Ciao, baby!”

  “Ciao!” Miranda called after her.

  “Buh-bye!” I called out, bemused.

  “Right!” Miranda said, her tone brooking no argument. “Let’s go take some ‘before’ pictures!” She perused me critically. “The drawing room isn’t ideal, but its old-money look does show up your dowdiness well.”

  My dowdiness? Hey, that was rude! I am soooo not dowdy! Casual, yeah. Not glammed up, sure. But never, ever have I been dowdy.

  “Perfect, but tone down the scowl a bit. Go stand by the window. No, not in front of it, beside it. Good, good. Now look over to the side and turn a little sideways. Move your arm a bit, so your sleeve rides up, we want to show that bracelet.”

  She began directing me as if we were in some kind of fashion shoot, even calling for a maid to go fetch me different outfits, including my school uniform. We moved from the drawing-room to the garden, and even to the kitchen, where she made the poor cook pose with me as if I was helping make whatever that dough she was rolling was going to be.

  “Fine, that’s enough. Come on, go get in my car.”

  “What? Why, where are we going?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “To get our nails done, silly. We have an appointment in half an hour, so get moving.”

  Even that wasn’t free of her snap happiness. She took several close-ups of my hands while the nail tech worked her magick. Well, I say Miranda did, but truthfully, she was shameless enough to have the receptionist do it, though she didn’t seem to mind. I had a feeling she was used to influencers coming in, making a nuisance of themselves.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed to her as we finally left. The receptionist just smiled and wished me good-bye, but not before giving me a twenty-five percent off coupon good on my next visit.

  Miranda dropped me off outside the house, muttering about having to go pick up her son from his friend’s house. I opened the door to find my three coming down the stairs.

  “There you are,” Laurent said. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Some woman dropped off a package for you.”

  “You mean Miranda didn’t let Grandmother know she was taking me to get my nails done?” I huffed. I so did not want to have to deal with the haughty old bird today, especially if she was in a snit.

  “She might have, but your grandmother went out. She didn’t mention you leaving to us at all,” Laurent replied.

  “Not that she ever tells us much, except what to do,” Brent muttered.

  “Let’s see them, then,” Charles said.

  “Hmm? Oh! You mean my nails.” I held them out for inspection. I’d refused to let them give me huge nails, so I had small white crescents that had been shaped, buffed, and polished with a nearly translucent, barely-there pink with a pearly sheen.

  Charles smiled. “They look nice and shouldn’t snag on anything,” he said approvingly.

  “Yeah, really long nails are okay for some girls, but I would manage to break one or catch it on a sweater or something,” I agreed. “Just not me, but these I can live with. So, you guys all done with your wardrobe fitting?”

  They all made faces. “Thankfully, yes,” Laurent said. “And apparently the tailor is speaking to your fashion stylist so they can coordinate fabrics, styles, and colors.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “We’re going to be all matchy looking like some Christmas card. “

  “His main assistant did say that he thought we’d look ‘groovy’ for our official engagement announcement photo.”

  “Are they all stuck in the 70s?” I wondered. “Serena was talking all weird like that too.”

  “He did say that he was married to your stylist. I confess to being quite concerned. He wore beads and had little round glasses with purple lenses.” Laurent shook his head at the memory.

  “Don’t forget the sandals, despite the chill,” Brent reminded him.

  “At least he wasn’t wearing socks,” Charles commiserated.

  I laughed. “Hopefully, they won’t get too crazy. They know they have to please Grandmother.”

  “True,” Brent agreed.

  “Dinner is served in the dining room, Mistress says you are to dine without her this evening as she has a prior engagement,” Murtagh came to tell us.

  Food sounded good, and not having to deal with the old sourpuss made it even better. I wondered if my grandfather was finally going to make an appearance, or if he was hidden away in an old folks’ home somewhere, with this being Granny Panties in a Twist’s subtle way of saying she was going to go visit him there.

  “Shall we?” Laurent gallantly offered me his arm.

&n
bsp; I took it, giggling.

  Brent leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Glad you’re back. This place is bearable with you in it.”

  Charles smiled and nodded in agreement, then also offered me one arm, while Brent took the other. Like that, we walked through the large double doors to the pretentious dining room. I was relaxed and happy for the first time since we arrived at this house.

  Chapter 17

  I woke up feeling something quite hard against my backside. This was not an unusual occurrence of late, admittedly, but it was one I could politely ignore so as not to embarrass either of us. This, however, I could not ignore, as it was moving. Or rather, Laurent was, and not just that part of his body either. His hand was at my breast and had captured a nipple through the fabric of my nightgown, rolling it between his fingers. His lips were against my neck, too, kissing me and sleep muttering nonsense.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Your tits fit my hands just so. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

  I sure hoped it was me he was dreaming about, or things were about to get a helluva lot more awkward.

  “Laurent?” I called softly.

  “Yeah, say my name,” he murmured, thrusting his pelvis against my ass harder.

  “So that’s what’s shaking the bed,” I heard Charles say, making me wish I could fall down a rabbit hole. “I gotta go to the bathroom now, all that jiggling me about…” he muttered.

  Yep, I wanted a hole to come to swallow me up. Right freaking now!

  “Huh?” came Brent’s voice.

  Come on, big hole, giant meteor, anything!

  “Oh,” Brent laughed softly. “He’s dreaming about you two again.”

  Again?