Senior Witch, Fall Semester

by Ingrid Seymour

  “Is it time for my next set?” Rowan asked.

  “How should I know, asshole?” Cruise huffed, then stomped away.

  When Cruise was out of earshot, Rowan spoke in his careless Lawson tone, “I think he has a crush on you, darling.”

  My stomach turned at the mere thought of it. “Oh, god! I hope not.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Rowan said, grabbing my chin, then giving it a little pinch. “Gotta go, babe. My fans clamor for me.” He walked away, walking with a swagger that made his ass look wonderful in his tight jeans.

  Gah, this can’t be happening. My head was spinning.

  Walking dazedly through the crowd, I searched for Disha. The only problem was she was gone.

  I searched everywhere. When I still hadn’t found her ten minutes later, I started to freak out and ran to the parking lot, hoping she’d gone back to her car to retrieve something. She wouldn’t just leave me. It didn’t make sense.

  The parking area was deserted with everyone swooning at “Lawson”. I slowly approached her BMW. In the dark, I saw two figures standing outside it. One was huge, covered in scaly skin, and it had Disha pressed against her car as it devoured her neck.

  Oh, god. Disha!

  My cuffs flashed. A wide beam of magic shot from my hands, hitting the creature square in the back. The beast arched its spine, roared in pain, then dropped to the ground like a rock.

  “Get off her, you monster!” I spat.

  “Oh, no, Drew!” Disha exclaimed, falling to her knees next to… next to…

  Drew?

  Oh, crap! What had I done?

  Chapter Five

  SUMMER BREAK

  APRIL

  I didn’t kill Drew. Thank God.

  However, I did burn him pretty badly. Lucky for all of us, Disha was as good at healing as she was at transportation spells. Acting with quick confidence, she got us the hell out of there, preventing a scene. A moment later, we landed in some desolate part of the forest, far enough from the party that I couldn’t hear the rock concert any longer.

  Drew lay on his side, moaning. At least, I thought it was Drew. He was much different from the hot and suave twenty-something I’d met last year. This Drew had huge muscles, scale-like skin and exaggerated facial features that made me think of a brown Hulk.

  What had I done?

  “Hold on, babe,” Disha said, waving her hands over his massive body. “It’s just a couple of burns.” In fact, the skin on Drew’s back looked like overdone steak and smelled worse.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I said to both of them, pacing and clutching my hands. “What can I do?”

  “Witch light. And cloak us,” Disha ordered as she wove her fingers in intricate patterns. The air buzzed with magical energy as she got to work. Soon, Drew’s burns healed before our very eyes. Crispy skin pinked up, appearing fresh and new, like flesh under a scab.

  Drew sighed and gazed at Disha with such gratefulness and affection even I had to avert my eyes. “Damn, she’s a powerful witch,” he said.

  “I told you,” Disha said, laying a hand on his arm.

  Soon, the three of us were sitting on logs, me on one and the love birds on another, staring at each other as moths flitted around our witch lights. Drew, towering over us, gave me a little wave with his massive, baseball glove hand.

  “Hi, Charlie. Sorry I scared you. We didn’t know where you were and Disha likes it when I look like this, so...” He trailed off. Even his voice was different, loud and resonant like bass amp rumble.

  “Again, I’m so, so sorry I blasted you. If I had known…” I glanced at Disha. We’d never kept secrets from each other, so I was having a hard time understanding how I’d known of Drew for a year and had no clue he could transform into this rocky Juggernaut.

  Disha blushed, leaning into Drew who wrapped a tree-trunk arm around her. “Sorry, hon. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

  Drew nodded. “I asked her not to let anyone know. If people find out what I am, things would become difficult for my father.”

  As head of all international magic at the High Council, Drew’s father was probably one of the most powerful warlocks in the world. I’d kept this fact hovering at the back of my mind, knowing it wasn’t fair to use Disha’s relationship to aid my cause, but also knowing that having Drew and his dad on our side would be amazing. It would definitely turn the tide for us at the Academy. At least I hoped someone at the council was paying attention to what was happening in our neck of the woods.

  But, his comment gave me pause. “Why would what you are,” I gestured to his new shape, “make things hard for your dad? You look totally badass.”

  Drew sighed. “I’m a Lesser so that’s bad enough, but as a Goliath and a shifter, my father feels that people wouldn’t understand. Goliaths are feared. There’s still a lot of superstition around us. And no one trusts a shifter. They can literally be anyone.”

  At this, Drew began to shrink and change. Soon, he was sitting in front of us appearing as I’d always known him, a handsome, stylish man of East Indian descent with shoulder-length black hair and large brown eyes. Somehow he had new clothes on, too, which puzzled me. Could shifters “make” clothes?

  Disha moaned. “Ah. I didn’t get to be with Big Drew very long. No fair.” She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Later,” Drew said, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

  Disha’s smile returned as she leaned toward me. “You should see what Big Drew can do in the bedroom.”

  Beside her, Drew turned beet red.

  I didn’t want to picture it, so I focused on the other questions in my head. “What are you doing here, Drew? I thought we wouldn’t see you for another week.”

  Drew was always traveling while he acted as a liaison to magical foreign dignitaries in his father’s stead. Disha didn’t get to see very much of him, which broke her heart, but the plan had been that he would stop by New Jersey for a week on his way to Ontario.

  “I’ve got some news.” He glanced between Disha and me as a smile spread across his handsome face. “My father’s given me a job to do. One I think will help all of us at the same time.”

  “What is it, babe?” Disha asked, tugging his arm.

  “My father wants someone at the Academy to oversee the new regime. Many in the international magic community are worried about what Nyquist is doing. Don’t get me wrong, many agree with him and his backward views. They think the academies are getting too liberal and a firm hand is needed, but it’s the High Council’s job to oversee things like this.”

  So the council was paying attention. That was good to know.

  Drew continued, squeezing Disha’s hand. “I was able to convince my father to send me. I will be the one reporting back to the council. I get to come with you guys back to the Academy!”

  Disha squealed and threw her arms around her boyfriend. I sat, basking in this new information. Drew would be fantastic to have around. And now that I knew what he could become… woof. If we could pull him to our side and tell him everything the regents had done, it would be amazing. Nyquist would poop his adult diapers.

  After Drew shared his news, we teleported back to Disha’s car and drove back to her house. It was late, but a few of the lights were on in Disha’s mansion as we pulled up the long drive. Viraj, Disha’s brother, kept late hours, playing video games and her mom was a night owl, too, as I’d learned by stumbling into her in the kitchen at one AM.

  No matter how many times we pulled up to the Khatri residence in the last few weeks, it still took my breath away. The six-bedroom, eight-bathroom house had more square footage than the abandoned warehouse Trey and I had lived—not to mention far fewer rats and meth heads. My room had its own bathroom and a built-in fireplace with a flat-screen TV over it. Disha’s had a closet you could hold U.N. meetings in. There were two full kitchens, a pool and a guest house where they kept antique pinball machines and a fancy ping-pong table.

  Talk about
living in style. I wondered if all magical people were this wealthy. Was there a money-tree spell I was missing or something?

  As we entered from the five-car garage, Disha’s mom, Rhea, peered at us from behind her laptop perched on the kitchen island. Pulling her glasses down, she jumped up from her chair in excitement.

  “Is that Drew?” she cooed, rushing over and throwing her arms around him. “You’re early.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Khatri. So good to see you.” Drew gave her a warm hug. “How’s life treating you?”

  “Better now that you’re here. Staying the night?” She arched an eyebrow and became the spitting image of Disha.

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t put you out like that.” Drew blushed bright red. “Just got in. I think I’ll get a hotel room or something.”

  Rhea batted the air, dismissing his words. “Nonsense. You can sleep in the pool house. I’ll go make sure everything looks as it should.” Without waiting for a response, she whirled and exited out of the double doors that lead to the pool area and guest house.

  “Boy, she likes you,” I said. Mrs. Khatri had been warm to me, but she was fawning over Drew.

  Disha rolled her eyes. “She wishes he were her second son. Hell, I think she’d trade Viraj for him. I would, too. All Vee does is game and sleep. He barely showers. You should smell him. In fact, don’t.” She pinched her nose and waved her hand in the air.

  We headed up the stairs. I could tell Disha and Drew wanted a little time alone, so I happily told them goodnight, though not before getting a moment with Disha where I told her all about Rowan and his disguise. As I described what had happened on the bus, she lifted an eyebrow, looking as if she were biting her tongue. I knew she had choice words to say to me about “boning the new Rowan” or something, but she held them back, probably so she could get back to her boyfriend. At least there was one benefit to being the third wheel.

  After that, I went into my room. The entire night had been exhausting and I wanted nothing more than a shower and about eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  And maybe a sexy dream of Rowan/Lawson while I was at it.

  Peeling off my leather pants, I stumbled to the bed.

  Which is where I first noticed a magical letter hovering over my pillow.

  Staring at the note, I felt my heart reboot itself. My name was scribbled on the envelope.

  With shaking hands, I grabbed it and ripped it open.

  Dear Charlie,

  We request your presence tomorrow at nine a.m. sharp at the Knightley residence. There is something of urgent importance that needs your attention. Do not miss this appointment and come alone. Your position at the Academy depends on it.

  It was signed by none other than Dean Nyquist.

  Chapter Six

  SUMMER BREAK

  APRIL

  “Be careful, Charlie.” Disha grabbed my hand as I started to walk down her long driveway. Her brown eyes were wide with worry, and she had her other hand pressed to her chest.

  Even though my note said to come alone, there was no way I could keep it a secret from Disha. Plus, I wanted someone to know I’d gone to the Knightley’s in case I never returned.

  I stared down the long, cobblestone driveway, toward the gated entrance and the street that would lead to their house. The morning was bright, a shiver ran through me as I tugged my jacket tighter around my shoulders.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her, putting on a brave facade. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my throat felt tight, but I couldn’t let that show. No one could come with me. The instructions had been clear. I needed to go alone.

  Drew was standing a step behind Disha and moved closer to wrap a supportive arm around her as she let me go. “We’ll be monitoring from here. If anything goes wrong, we’ll know.”

  Disha clutched Drew for support. “If they do anything to my Charmander, I’ll blow their whole house up. There will be pieces of regent all over the neighborhood.”

  “I’m pretty sure you won’t have to do that, Dish,” I said. “But, I appreciate the sentiment.” I waved and smiled for her, then inhaled deeply and pressed forward.

  The Knightley’s house was just across the street, so I didn’t need to drive. Besides, the walk would help me set my thoughts in order.

  I’d barely slept last night, trying to figure out what was the something of “urgent importance” that needed my attention. Whatever Nyquist had in store for me, it couldn’t be good. Refusing was not an option, especially since the letter had said that my position at the Academy depended on my attendance.

  The morning was a cool fifty-two degrees. I had on skinny jeans, a thick hoodie, and black Converse. I hadn’t bothered with makeup, and I’d barely combed my hair. It was my crappy, passive-aggressive way of rebelling against Nyquist’s stuffy, patriarchal ways, but I had to oppose him some way or I would go crazy.

  At Disha’s gate, I punched the security code and walked through. I waited until the gate closed behind me to cross the street and walk up to the Knightley’s gate. Here, there was another pad as well as a camera.

  I pressed the “call” button and waited, my breaths hitching a few times. Surreptitiously waving my fingers, I doused myself with another dose of a calming spell. I was careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want to end up numb or giddy, the way Irmagard’s teas and incantations always left me. I needed to stay sharp.

  A minute passed with no answer. I was about to press the button again, but before I did, there was a buzz and the gate slid open.

  I waited for a moment, doing my best to calm my nerves and quiet my cuffs. They kept flashing on and off like broken Christmas lights. It seemed that, like me, they kept thinking this was a fight-or-flight situation, and I really wasn’t the kind to flee.

  It’s now or never, Double-O Charlie.

  I started down the long driveway, trying to look both carefree and pleased with myself. Being summoned by the Dean of the Supernatural Academy was no trivial matter. It was important, which in turn made me important. Any ambitious witch would jump at the opportunity and be glad for the summons, right? That was exactly the vibe I wanted to give off. Nyquist would not be surprised to find that a homeless witch on scholarship was some sort of brown-nosing gold digger. He would probably expect that. Maybe he would even think that was what I’d been doing with Lynssa McIntosh while she was dean.

  In front of a house even bigger than Disha’s and in the middle of its round driveway, a fountain gurgled. Was it magical like the Academy’s? I wasn’t sure, but I thought I sensed something from the depths of its sparkling water.

  Maintaining my self-satisfied attitude, I bounded up the wide front steps and searched for a doorbell. I found none, but I didn’t need to because, a moment later, the metal-inlaid door swung open all on its own.

  I peered inside with a frown.

  “Come in,” a voice echoed from inside as if from a tomb.

  Nice way to add to the creepy factor. Maybe a chattering skeleton or swooping ghost would pop out at me next. They were just trying to throw me off my guard and I wouldn’t let that happen.

  Hesitantly, I stepped into a large foyer adorned with polished hardwoods and a marble table topped with a fresh arrangement of flowers.

  The sound of heels tapping against the floor drew my attention. A woman dressed in a white pencil skirt and a black silk blouse walked around the corner. She had flawless makeup and shoulder-length brown hair arranged in perfect curls.

  “Good, you’re on time,” she said, looking me up and down as if I had leprosy. “I’m Michelle Knightley. The men are waiting for you.”

  The men? Really? What was this? The Middle Ages?

  She squinted beady eyes at me—now I knew where Cruise had gotten that particular trait—and led me down a long hall.

  The few decorations we encountered on the way were cold and impersonal, what you would expect from a rented house. I was still puzzled about the Knightleys’ presence here. And now Nyquist. Weren’t there better plac
es for rich people to vacation? I don’t know… the Hamptons, for instance? Or the Maldives, wherever that was? They couldn’t possibly be here just to keep tabs on Disha and me, could they?

  At the end of the hall, Mrs. Knightley opened a door, entered, and stepped aside to let me in, her hand on the doorknob.

  “Your next appointment is here,” she said.

  I entered a long room occupied by a large conference table and a dozen men in suits and ties.

  From the head of the table, Nyquist looked up and greeted me with a smile. His bald head was buffed as usual, and the wisps of white hair on the sides slicked back. He wore a brown suit that seemed ancient and out of fashion like it might have belonged to his grandpa.

  “Charlie, so glad you could make it.”

  Like I had a choice.

  “Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I was very… intrigued by your note.” I hoped I wasn’t overdoing it but felt certain he would buy this gold digger angle.

  “Glad to hear it, glad to hear it.” He pointed toward the empty chair at the closest end of the table. “Sit.”

  As I made myself comfortable, Mrs. Knightley busied herself refilling water glasses and coffee cups. Again with the Middle Ages gender roles. They were all perfectly capable of getting their own drinks. Dicks!

  Nyquist waited for Mrs. Knightley to finish and leave before talking. For my part, I took the opportunity to make mental notes of all those present.

  There were Nyquist and Knightley, of course. I also recognized Regent Huntington, Pierce’s father, Regent Winthrops, Regent Dromgoole, and other older men just as stuffy and misogynistic-looking. Some of them had fought us when we were trying to rescue Anama. The rest, I’d seen in portraits. These people wouldn’t know diversity if it bit them in the ass.