Senior Witch, Fall Semester

by Ingrid Seymour

  Question Two: How can you tell if fae folk are trying to trick you?

  The next question also skewed against non-wizards. I was beginning to see a pattern.

  Question Three: Name two spells you can use to immobilize a werewolf.

  Question Four: If you knew someone on campus was lying about something that would jeopardize the safety of everyone involved, would you tell someone? Please explain your answer in full, outlining who you would tell and what you would reveal.

  I glanced up as my heart pounded in my chest. These questions were all meant to weed out students who might become a problem for the new administration.

  All of it was a farce. A trap for those too stupid to see it. I clenched my fists, unable to answer any of the questions.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Rivera?” Hitchcock-Watson sat up, intently staring at me. God, I hated him. My hands itched to conjure a mischief of rats into his messy, Einstein-like hair.

  “No, sir. Everything’s fine.”

  I had to do this. I had to prove Rowan and everyone who thought I wasn’t up to the task, wrong. And I wanted to shove a passing grade in Hitchcock-Watson’s face, not that it would be hard. I knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He couldn’t get rid of me that easily.

  I began to write. Each false answer carved a small bit out of my heart until I feared there would be nothing left.

  It took the full hour, answering question after question. We did no magic, made no potions. Nothing we learned all year was outlined in the exam.

  When I finished, I glanced around to see how the others were faring. In the back, a shifter girl was silently weeping as she scribbled her last answer. I also noticed two blood-oath-bound were-boys were no longer in class. I hadn’t heard them leave, so magic must’ve been involved.

  This was so wrong, but there was nothing I could do. Instead, I took a deep breath, grabbed my test, and walked it up to Professor Hitchcock-Watson’s desk.

  “Done, sir,” I said.

  He wrinkled his nose at me. “Are you sure, Rivera? This exam means everything, especially to the likes of you.” His eyes narrowed at the last bit, voice dropping nearly to a whisper.

  Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Can I go now?” I asked calmly.

  He nodded, dismissing me with a flick of his hand.

  Walking up the aisle and out the door, I kept it together until I was far from the room. Then I ran.

  I tore through the hallway, down the steps, and burst outside. The day was hot and bright. I squinted into the sunshine, looking for Disha. She sat on a bench outside the building, her head in her hands. As I approached her, I heard her quietly crying. When I put my hand on her arm, her head whipped up.

  “Oh, Charlie.” She wiped her eyes, glancing around. “Did anyone see me?”

  I shook my head. The campus was eerily silent. “Are you okay?”

  Disha quickly cast a cloaking spell around us before answering. “No one has heard from Bridget. She won’t answer her phone. And that test! Oh, my god. How did you answer?”

  “I lied my face off. You?”

  Disha nodded, opening her purse and getting out a mirror to check her mascara. “Of course I lied. I knew what they wanted. How awful, though. Dean McIntosh would never have allowed something like that to happen. Dean Underwood, either.”

  “I know,” I said, biting my lip. Disha still didn’t know Dean McIntosh was alive and I couldn’t tell her.

  Glancing up, my friend scanned the campus. “We leave tonight and I’m not even sure we’ll be allowed back next year. God. I’m not even sure I want to come back.” She blew out a breath. “What’s happening to us, Charlie?”

  “We have to come back, Dee. If we don’t, Nyquist wins.” I couldn’t tell Disha about the plan to spy on Nyquist without putting her in grave danger. Besides, they had made me swear not to tell anyone, and I wasn’t going to break a promise I’d made mere hours ago.

  Plopping down beside her, I put my arm around my friend. “Whatever happens, we’ll be together.”

  “You’re damn right.” She put her head on my shoulder. “You’re going to love New England. I’ll show you the best time, make you forget all the shit that happened here.”

  I nodded, but I was sure, no matter what we did on summer break, I would be unable to forget what happened here at the Academy. That scar would be with me forever.

  Later that day, Disha and I packed our belongings, leaving them in our rooms so they could be magicked back to Disha’s house in New Jersey. For the first time since attending the Academy, I was allowed to go where I wanted and was finally able to take Disha up on her offer to spend the summer with her family. It sounded like such a respite from the hell I’d been through this year that I almost cried when she’d invited me before our exam.

  Our carry-on bags packed, we ordered a ride to the airport, skipping Disha’s transportation spell. She’s offered, but I saw the bags under her eyes and called the Uber. We’d tried waiting for Bridget but were told there were no updates and should leave the school immediately. Frustrated, Disha promised we could make better headway getting Bridget out of M.L.E. custody if her father got on the case. He had all kinds of connections. On top of that, her boyfriend’s father happened to be the head of all magic, so the plan was to get them both to help Bridget as soon as we got home.

  With lead in our stomachs, we boarded our plane and flew away from the madness that was the Academy.

  I made it through the flight, my first, by breathing calmly and holding the armrests so tight I feared they would rip off. It made me miss Irmagard’s calming tea. But flying into Newark Airport was thrilling. The lights below twinkled in the dark as our plane zoomed down.

  The car picked us up and drove us the thirty minutes to her parents’ summer house. The highway and side streets weren’t that different from Georgia, but when we turned down Disha’s avenue, it was clear to see where the people with money lived in this state.

  When they weren’t at their high-rise apartment in New York City, Disha and her parents resided in the rich part of New Jersey, an area with a slower pace than that of The Big Apple. She thought the city might be too much for me right away, so we were going to spend the first few weeks chilling at her pool, watching bad movies, and eating ice cream. It sounded heavenly.

  Stately mansions sat far back on manicured lawns, their perfectly groomed shrubs and trees up-lit with landscaping lights. Each house sat on several acres of land, some so far back you couldn’t even see them from the road. I ogled each mansion, remembering my time at the Underwood’s. I wondered what had happened to the house now that the people that lived there were either dead or on the run.

  Were Rowan and Bonnie still hiding out in Turkey? Wouldn’t that be the first place the M.L.E. would look for them? But then, Lynssa had said Nyquist would think twice before attacking that school.

  “When we get home, I’ll have Baba call his contacts at M.L.E. and find out where Bridget is. Her parents are so influential I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Good,” I said, watching a giant Victorian house pass by. “I wonder if she’ll be allowed back. There’s no way she can hold her tongue.”

  The thought of Bridget not returning to the Academy our senior year broke my heart. No Fedorov, Taishi, McIntosh, or Underwood, and now no Bridget? If I wasn’t on a secret mission paramount to our magical survival, I might not go back either.

  “Up here on the left,” Disha told our driver, pointing toward another massive house.

  As we drove up, I noticed a moving van parked on the other side of the street. “New neighbors?” I asked.

  Disha frowned. “Mama didn’t say anything.”

  Even though it was dark, men were streaming in and out, carrying furniture and boxes down a ramp and toward the house.

  And standing on the curb, observing it all, was Truman Knightley, regent and Nyquist’s follower.

  “What the hell?” I said, pointing him out to Dish
a.

  “Is that…? No.” Her face went ashen.

  “Yes,” I said, my own insides going cold.

  Disha patted the driver’s headrest. “Stop the car.”

  He did as he was told, pulling up outside Disha’s house. We both got out and watched another set of movers carefully carry a dresser out of the moving truck.

  “Hi, girls,” a voice said.

  We turned in time to see Cruise Knightley.

  In the car’s headlights, I could see him plainly. He smirked, pushing back a mop of brown hair. His beady eyes took us in as his thin lips pressed together in pleasure. He wore what he always did: rumpled designer polos, expensive loafers, and a smirk. I had a strange inkling he’d been out here waiting for us.

  He was the jerk who’d mocked him at the lake during sophomore year and almost got him kicked out with a petition. He was the asshat who taunted elemental girls and whispered behind fae’s backs that they were impotent.

  He was the worst kind of warlock and human. His father was no better, sidling up to Nyquist to gain access to more power, as if he, a wealthy Supernatural, didn’t have enough already.

  Cruise watched my reaction to his presence like my anger gave him strength. I could barely hear his next words over the enraged pounding of my heart.

  “I hear we’re neighbors,” he said. “We’re just renting for the summer. Dad heard that New Jersey is perfect this time of year.”

  “Is that so?” Disha asked with a sneer.

  He winked in a vile way that made my skin crawl, then turned to walk toward his father, who stood on the curb observing it all. Before he got to his own driveway, Cruise whirled around to regard us one last time. The look on his face was unmistakable. We were the prey and he was the predator.

  His words rang in my head long after he’d disappeared behind large double doors.

  “So glad we’re so close. I’ll get to see a lot of you.”

  Chapter Three

  SUMMER BREAK

  APRIL

  Tonight, we were going to a party.

  No surprise there. With Disha, there was always one of those around the corner. But I couldn’t complain. So far, I’d managed to stay party-free for three weeks. That was something, considering that she’d tried to drag me to some rager the very day we got here. She’d even thrown dresses at me, literally, in an attempt to see what would stick. I let them all slide to the floor.

  She’d kept insisting, of course, and it wasn’t until a few days after our arrival, during a quiet conversation in front of the TV, that she understood my need for time off.

  Despite my better judgment and Lynssa McIntosh’s instructions, I’d told Disha everything.

  It all started when she said, “Maybe, we should wait it out. Not return to the Academy. See what happens.”

  Her parents and teenage brother, Viraj, had put the very reasonable idea in her head. They’d advised her to switch schools or take some time off. At any other time, under any other circumstances, I would have taken her up on her offer. But not now. Not after my promise to Lynssa, not with all that was at stake.

  I couldn’t switch schools or skip the next semester. I had to be there to help defeat Nyquist, Knightley, and all those power-hungry regents. The world might literally depend on it.

  “I can’t, Disha,” I said.

  “Why not?” she asked, looking puzzled.

  That was when I realized I had to tell her the truth.

  We both put up cloaking spells before I spoke a word, then I spilled the beans, holding nothing back. I’d never kept any secrets from her and I wasn’t about to start now that we were spending every second together.

  Disha listened, enwrapped. Her jaw dropped when I told her Lynssa McIntosh was alive and leading the subversives. That’s when I saw my chance, and while she was trying to process that bit of news, it was my turn to try to convince her to skip a semester. It would be safer if she didn’t return to the Academy. Nyquist was bound to catalog her as a bad apple because of her association with me and Bridget.

  But, no matter how much I begged, my pleas didn’t work. Once she realized I had no other alternative but to go back to the Academy, she made up her mind. She would be going back, too. No way she was abandoning me.

  Bridget would be returning as well. She had gratefully been rescued from the M.L.E.’s claws by her parents and a couple of badass lawyers they’d hired. They hadn’t even needed help from Disha or Drew’s father. It was hard to believe after what she’d said in front of Nyquist, but it seemed her parents had enough pull. Above all, they were determined to see her graduate next spring. Apparently, they had plans for her future.

  “As if I’ll work for them after I graduate,” she’d huffed one day during one of our Facetime sessions. “They’re driving me crazy as it is. I think it’s some sort of punishment for not learning to ‘keep my big mouth shut.’” She made tiny, one-handed air quotes in front of the phone, so we could see them. “I had to pick up corgi poop this morning. Can you believe it?”

  She was, once more, working as magical security detail for the Queen of England. I didn’t bring up the fact that I’d never been to London and that seeing Big Ben and Buckingham Palace—even if it meant puppy-poop duty—sounded pretty cool.

  So the three of us would soon be back at the Academy. Three stubborn, badass witches who didn’t know how to give up.

  For now, though, we were still on break and headed to a party.

  “Those leather pants and top look perfect on you, Charmander,” Disha said as we climbed into a BMW sedan—one of the five cars parked in Baba’s garage.

  I had to admit I loved how the pants hugged my thighs. And even if the top showed a bit too much cleavage, it suited me. I would have never been able to pull off something like Disha’s off-shoulder mini dress, though, not in the chilly New Jersey weather. This still felt like winter to me, and an outdoor party seemed crazy. But when in Rome…

  “This charity event should ease you into things,” Disha said. “We have lots of parties to attend, lots of catching up to do. Lots of boys for you.” She waggled an eyebrow.

  It sounded like the last thing I wanted to do, but I wouldn’t keep her from her fun anymore than I already had. And who knew? Maybe I’d have fun, too. A distraction would be welcome.

  I got in the car, enjoying the twilight colors playing among the clouds.

  Disha tore down the cobblestone driveway toward Palisades Interstate Park. It was a ten-minute drive from her white mansion, which retreated in the rearview mirror, its many windows winking as we went past the front gate.

  As we cruised down the streets of Disha’s very exclusive neighborhood, I couldn’t help but gawk again. Her house was opulent, but some of the others were in a whole different tier of wealth. Alpine was the most expensive zip code in the state, and as we drove down one of the main drags, I couldn’t deny it.

  I ignored the Knightley's rented house as we passed it. Disha had asked her gardener to keep an eye out for suspicious activities, and the old man reported that they were as interested in us as we were in them. The entire household was spying on us.

  Leaving the neighborhood, it took little time before Disha was pulling into the park’s welcome center, joining a line of expensive cars. As we got out, loud rock music drifted through a thick line of trees. A local New York band was playing, according to Disha. They called themselves Misty Cloak or some nonsense.

  “Won’t this place close after hours?” I asked.

  “Normally,” Disha said as she fluffed her hair, “but not tonight.”

  It seemed when you had money, anything was possible, even taking over state-owned land.

  An engine roared loudly behind us. We turned to see who it was, and I had to curse when I recognized the shithead behind the wheel.

  Cruise Knightley.

  He drove a tiny sports car, packed in with three other guys, one of whom I recognized as his eternal sidekick, Pierce Huntington. His father was also a member of th
e Board of Regents, a Nyquist supporter. The two stuffed in the back seat looked too old to be in college but appeared about as mature as Cruise, judging by their jeering and cat-calling as they drove by.

  “Assholes,” I murmured under my breath.

  “We knew he might be here,” Disha said, hooking her arm in mine and guiding me down a long path. “And we don’t care,” she reminded me.

  “I know, but it’s been so nice these past few weeks,” I complained. Even with their snooping, I didn’t have to speak to Cruise or his father.

  “We can’t hide forever.”

  “I wish we could,” I said tiredly, even though I knew I needed to improve my attitude. This was my mission, not Disha’s, and the party might be my first test as a spy since leaving school.

  “We’ll do fine, Char. Don’t worry.” Disha’s big eyes were full of encouragement. “Wait until you see this view,” she added, pulling me along and trying to act as natural as possible, which was what I needed to do.

  Past the trees, we walked over terrain that quickly turned rocky, stretched forward, then simply ran out. Past the sheer drop, the Hudson River flowed three hundred feet below while, across its width, about a mile away, another state came into view: New York.

  The view was as spectacular as Disha had promised.

  “Wow,” I said, looking out past the wide river at land as far as the eye could see. Trees, roads, houses, and buildings dotted the scenery, starting to glow as night fell.

  “Honestly,” Disha said, “the view is better from the other side because you can see the cliffs we’re standing on. We’ll go across one day, see them, but mainly do some shopping.”

  “Glad to see you have your priorities straight,” I said, still dazzled by the view.

  “That’s the Tappan Zee Bridge,” Disha said, pointing toward the left. “And that’s the George Washington.” She pointed right.

  Both massive, cable-supported bridges ran over the Hudson to connect New Jersey with New York, something I hadn’t known a few days ago but was now part of my travel database. Such a globe-trotter I was turning out to be, what with the beet farm in Idaho and the magical library in Turkey.