Grave Digger Academy II

by c a king

  “Of course not,” Jed replied.

  “If anyone had a right to know it’s me,” Makayla blurted out, taking a sip of her orange juice. “So how about rectifying that right now? Was my great-grandmother a seventh born as well?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” her father snapped.

  Makayla arched one eyebrow. “You know very well the seventh born in any witch family is considered to be more adept at death magic. I was thinking it might be hereditary.”

  “Was she?” Jed asked.

  A nervous chuckle was all Hildabrew could manage at first. “There is no proof that such a thing runs in the genes of specific magical families.”

  “So she was,” Makayla snapped. “To make sure you both understand where we stand, I’ve been placed in Grave Digger Academy to be watched. Apparently, there is some concern I might fancy the dead arts. I’m stuck with the placement until someone decides I am not a threat, which isn’t likely to happen.”

  “That sucks,” Caz stated, standing. He patted her shoulder a few times. “Especially since Inter-Academy Games are coming. We are going to destroy your team.”

  “Worse than destroy,” Tye snickered. “We’re going to bury you so far down you’ll need gravediggers to find grave diggers.”

  “That makes no sense,” Caz chuckled.

  “Does too,” Tye argued, putting his brother in a headlock.

  “Not in the kitchen,” Jed yelled. “Take it outside.” The newspaper was already unfolded and in his hands again.

  It was good to have things back to normal, even if it was for only one day. Her belongings had already been sent and she’d be joining them in the morning. Watch out Grave Digger Academy, year two was about to start.

  Chapter Two

  Red hair trailed behind her, gusts pulling it tight whenever her brother’s car was in motion. There’d been a time when she adored convertibles, although all black would have been preferable to the cherry red one she was being charioted about in. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though; a ride was a ride, and anything was better than taking the dreaded bus.

  “Do you think others found drives this year?” Makayla glanced down, watching the road below for any sign of academy provided transportation. There was none.

  “You created quite the stir last year,” Caz said, a twinkle beaming from both his eyes and pearly whites. “It’s built into the nature of most people to be cautious in uncertain times.”

  “Uncertain?” Makayla’s glare shifted toward the driver. “You think that’s because of me?”

  “No-o-o.” Caz side-eyed his sister, before darting his gaze to the other passenger and adding a low chuckle.

  “Yes,” Tye smirked. His head shaking from side to side disagreed with his voice.

  The car swerved, barely missing the tops of a few trees. “Huh?” Caz’s lip rose. “What do you think you are saying? Don’t upset your baby sis.”

  “Eyes straight ahead, dude!” Makayla ordered. “You’re still on flight restrictions. If you have an accident, you’ll lose your permit.”

  “This jerk...”

  “Whoa,” Tye chuckled. “Give your sister a bit of credit. Simply being in Grave Digger Academy doesn’t condemn her to a life of stupidity and she’s not an emotional fool. Besides, you should be thanking her. If it weren’t for the current state of affairs, you wouldn’t be flying right now. Technically, there was another year before Pops was going to let you take the apprentice test.”

  Caz inhaled deeply, both hands on the wheel. “Did you ever consider I might have earned father’s approval on my own?”

  A chuckle turned into a snort before rolling off Tye’s lips to form a sincere heartwarming laugh. He held up one finger. “Sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll consider it. Okay. All done... same conclusion reached.”

  “Oi!” The car swerved sideways the moment one of Caz’s hands left the wheel to form a fist.

  There was no hiding the grin twitching its way up in the corners of her lips. Her brothers never changed. That was part of their charm, at least, in her opinion. Makayla inhaled deeply, eyes still blankly fixated on the ground and a group of non-magical people going about their everyday lives. Maybe being oblivious was easier. She could see each of them clearly, but if any of them so much as threatened to glance up even the flashiest of magical vehicles instantly morphed into illusion, becoming puffy pillows of cotton floating serenely in the sky.

  Clouds were probably one of the biggest otherworldly cover-ups in existence. Throughout history, no one had so much as questioned the truth behind them and the fact they certainly had nothing to do with normal weather patterns. In reality, they were the perfect smokescreens for magic controlled modes of air transportation, albeit things weren’t necessarily as easy as they once had been.

  Ever since the discovery of aviation, a completely new division of magic, dedicated to travel control, was required. Cloud Coverts regulated everything from how many vehicles were allowed in the sky at once, to mapping out routes to avoid planes, traffic flow, violations, and accidents. Fake puffy white creations threw pilots, air-traffic controllers, travellers, and meteorologists off the scent of the deception. The closest anyone ever came to the truth came in the form of turbulence, a direct result wizards veering off road—so to speak—looking for their own adventure. To some, breaking the law was the ultimate high, better than any drug could provide.

  Makayla sighed heavily. In a way, ignorance was bliss. To be able to lie on the ground, staring directly into the essence of magic and coming away with nothing but good vibes and pleasant visions was a gift, one she could never enjoy.

  On the surface, being part of a covert team seemed a fairly easy task, one her mother had suggested she study. What could be easier than sky-gazing, after all? The truth was, no matter what walk of life one came from, the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence. Not only wasn’t she qualified; she wasn’t interested, either. There were problems far too deep connected to that line of work.

  Every person had a dark side waiting for the opportunity to spring forward and take control of the reins. The worse the emotion, the darker personal clouds became. Road rage was alive and well in all walks of life. Wizards, clashing with one another, turned the skies black quickly, booming with magical ire. That’s what thunderstorms were—the lightning nothing more than a misuse of mystical powers—resulting in cover-up after cover-up to keep the normal population at bay. Rain was the only naturally occurring part of the situation destined to remain that way for eternity. Messing with any non-magical ecosystem, after all, was a felony offence, punishable by imprisonment or death.

  Magical areas under the control of the Crones were the exception; a jurisdiction all academies fell into. There, emotions flowed upward, setting the atmosphere—the darker the intentions below—the more grey the skies above became, swirling with unrest, foreshadowing events to come.

  The only thing missing from the master cloud plan was to send the pack of naysayers sniffing in the wrong direction. That’s when stories about witches riding on broomsticks began to circulate. As if that ever really happened. Humans were gullible when they wanted to be. Sometimes they simply wanted to put faith the unfathomable.

  If it hadn’t been for her research, she never would have known all the intricate little details. Wizards rarely looked into magics they didn’t practice, a fault of the base beliefs of their own society, perhaps. Of course, there was also the chance the very foundation she stood on was being manipulated to suit the needs of an elite handful. Segregating information kept secrets from being revealed. It was a case of sweeping the unwanted under the rug; the same as had been done to necromancy years ago. What were they afraid of?

  “Makayla!” Tye bellowed.

  “Huh?” A blank stare turned toward her brother’s face.

  “Are you okay?” Caz asked. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to turn more pasty white than your normal complexion.”

  Makayla
shook the fog from her head. “I’m fine.” She licked her lips, nodding. “I’m just a bit motion sick.” Her eyes enlarged. “Leaving the ground... flying... it’s all a bit much.” She clenched her fist tightly around a card.

  “We’re here,” Tye said, nodding toward the building beneath them. “We made good time, if you ask me.”

  “I thought you were driving all the way to the academies,” Makayla complained, shooting glares between her brothers. “I was hoping to stop in town on they way. Why are we here?”

  Caz shrugged. “We’re dropping you at the front door.”

  “No offence,” Tye said, “but we can’t be seen in your part of town. It’s bad for the rep. We have our own school to think of.”

  “I get it,” Makayla snickered, opening the passenger door, “you don’t want anyone to think you aided the enemy when we beat you in that little competition this year.”

  “Pffft.” Spittle streamed from Tye’s flapping lips. “As if Grave Digger Academy has a chance. I’d be amazed if you could come up with the required number of entrants. You guys have zero school spirit.”

  She pretended not to hear the comments as she began the free fall, passenger identification clenched tightly in one hand. Her brother had hit the nail on the coffin, though. The student body at her school was only a tiny fraction of the other academies. It would take a miracle to find enough bodies willing to participate in a match that couldn’t be won. Makayla chuckled. If only necromancy wasn’t illegal. Raising the dead to enter was probably the only way they were going to place well.

  The smile faltered from her lips as she approached the roof entrance. Keeping the dead from rising was the curriculum grave diggers were meant to study and practice. So why did she keep veering toward the opposite?

  Being dropped off wasn’t so much as falling as it was floating. A small cloud covered her body as a shield, bits disappearing the lower she descended. Not a single detail of the decline escaped her. All the while, the world below only saw a skyscraper, once again oblivious to the truth.

  A dollhouse-sized red door appeared, growing exponentially as the distance between her and it decreased. Accessing passenger drop-off spots was always the same. First came a blast of cold air, and then a tightening of the skin left prickly tingles behind. After that, the adrenaline rush kicked in—no parachute, time slowing, the quickly approaching ground—heartbeat racing. Being free felt good. It was liberating, even if the magic wasn’t her own.

  Passenger identification cards were controlled by the Crones, each one unique to the holder, and only usable for access points previously approved. One couldn’t simply enter any home or business they set their sights on. However, during business hours, when one door was shut, another opened. In this case, the front entrance to the school wasn’t accessible, so the rooftop was. Technically, it was the second drop-off location her pass granted her access to, her house being the first.

  Toes pointed, prepared for touch down, Makayla inhaled deeply, watching the door open below her. Landing was never easy, not that there’d been a lot of practice. Her eyes closed, lids clenched tightly together, waiting for an inevitable tumble.

  The gusts of air around her slowed to a whistling light breeze. Two fingers separated, allowing her to peek between them. She’d landed and on her feet. Once she was over the threshold, everything simply halted, leaving her standing, albeit out of breath.

  “Welcome back,” Makayla muttered, glancing at a hallway of doorways, a returning student standing in much the same position as herself at each, yet she knew none of their faces.

  Chapter Three

  Woodlands Preparatory School, home to classes that involved using magic in the real world, was exactly as Makayla remembered. While for some, the building was the centre of education, teaching advanced spells only senior students could use, everyone else saw it at face value. It was merely a train station: a place where portals to the unknown connected.

  She’d always believed students knew which doorway they were heading to before they arrived. This was her second year and that part of the equation was still missing. Funny thing, during the break, there were too many other issues to think about. She’d forgotten all about her minor trials and tribulations from the previous year. Now, heading back to the library was the only plausible idea she had.

  Swimming against the current, bodies banged and shoved against her. “Sorry,” Makayla muttered several times, pushing her way through the crowd. Having successfully traversed the course once before, nothing was going to stand in her way a second time. Rule one, in any such situation, was still to show other commuters no mercy.

  “Excuse me,” a high-pitched voice cried. “Can you tell me...” In lieu of an answer, those passing by bumped shoulders, nudging the girl’s midsection to swiftly move in front of her. “Library...” Her body slumped in defeat.

  “We’ll find it,” another girl said, linking arms. In an instant, a chain of new first years formed, momentarily holding back the flow of bodies. The intensity of the flow increased tenfold.

  “No mercy for the wicked... or newbies,” Makayla mumbled under her breath, pulling forward in an attempt lend aid, her own eyes rolling. “Been there, done that, although with less help.” One foot moved forward. “Ow!” An elbow to the face came out of nowhere. “I could have lost a tooth.” The lanky villain turned his head just enough to show off the profile of a full smile. “Jerk.” Not even a heartthrob deserved to steal her attention from helping those in need. “Damn.” Her eyes spanned the area, the new first years were gone. Seeing as they were going to the same destination, she’d apologize when she came across them once again. This time, however, it felt more as if she was asking for help rather than offering it, though. She veered of the main route, taking the road less travelled.

  Lights flickered, keeping the path leading directly to the library dimly lit. Polished black shoes shuffled, scuffing against the flooring beneath them. A set of double doors swung open, allowing the group of first years in front of her to enter. “Hmph.” Watching the backside of those ahead of her vanish inside was oddly satisfying. Her pace quickened, hips swaying to the beat of a strut, denying the fact she wasn’t involved in their arrival. Makayla’s smile faltered. It didn’t matter how fast she moved, the entrance to the library wasn’t coming any closer.

  “Problem?” Thomas asked, heavily breathing behind her.

  Makayla swivelled to meet his gaze head on. He wasn’t alone, either. “You have got to be kidding.” Watching the two standing side by side was as amusing as it had been the previous year. Frankie was twice his height and a quarter of his width, with pigtails bouncing back and forth on either side of her head, and a wad of bubblegum churning in her mouth.

  “I wish.” Frankie rolled her eyes, pushing past. “What’s the deal? You’ve been standing here for the past five minutes staring at the doors. You afraid to go in?”

  “What are you talking about?” Makayla side-eyed her frenemy. “I was following a group of first years.”

  “Uh... okay,” Frankie snickered. “Except, we didn’t see anyone.”

  “You must have missed them,” Makayla snapped. “They just went into the library a few minutes ago. I swear.” There was no need to glance at the two; she could feel judging eyes glaring in her direction. “You’ll see. We’ll find them in there.” She shook the growing fog from her mind, her equilibrium off balance.

  “Are you okay?” Thomas asked, stopping her stumble. “You seem a bit off. Too many allergy pills, maybe?”

  “No,” Frankie said, staring forward. “Something in the air is strange.” A low rolling fog crept over their ankles, rising. “We need to move.”

  It was a scene right out of a film noir from the forties; the world turned black-and-white, void of colour. Time slowed. This time all three were running, but making little progress toward the goal.

  Makayla’s hands reached out, grabbing the arms of the two at her sides. “We can do this.” With gritted teeth she p
ushed on. Then, a single blink finished the strain. For better or worse, they were inside the library. “Ha!” Not much had changed from the previous year, save for the lack of colour, swirling fog, and flickering lights.

  “Well,” Frankie said, pulling her arm back. “I don’t see any first years lurking about in here.”

  “Seriously?” Makayla's hand formed the shape of a gun. “Pow!” She pretended to shoot herself. “There isn’t anything else you could comment on? How can you not see the same things I am?”

  “Oh, I do.” Frankie smirked, her lips forming a devilish grin. “Proving you wrong is simply more satisfying.”

  “Great.” Makayla’s arms rose, smacking her sides when they fell back down. “We are in the middle of who knows what, and you would rather play the superiority card than find an answer to what’s going on.”

  “Wait,” Thomas said, positioning himself between the two girls. “That might be it. If this is some crazy detective mystery, we need to figure out things and find our own answers.”

  “Find the first years...” Makayla muttered, thumbnail wedged between her teeth.

  “Find our own answers,” Frankie blurted out, stealing the spotlight. Her shoulders shrugged. “I’m game. So what do we do?”

  Thomas’s finger pointed straight up. “When sleuthing, one needs to set the atmosphere.” He pulled a bone-white pipe from his back pocket, dangling it out of his mouth. For the next few minutes he continued pretending to smoke it without tobacco or fire. “Also, we should start back to the beginning.”

  “What?” both girls yelled in unison. The three spun around instantly to face the counter, fully expecting a backlash for the intensity of their voices.

  “The librarian is missing,” Thomas noted with a pencil in a palm-sized pad of paper. “That’s very interesting.”

  “No, it’s not,” Makayla huffed, grabbing the notebook from his hand. “It makes sense she isn’t here. It’s our second year, after all. We are supposed to have advanced in skill. That means no hints.” One finger pushed against her bottom lip.