He was coming here.
We were screwed.
“Honestly,” Disha continued reminiscing as we continued on our way toward class. “I think it was that one little final touch that drove them over the edge. Making all the toilet paper disappear was simply evil.”
Disha and Bridget laughed again, but I could barely muster a smile after remembering that Ponomarenko would be arriving today.
“We’ll figure it out, Charmander,” Disha said, elbowing me when she noticed my lack of enthusiasm.
“I’m not so sure,” I said.
“We always do.”
“Why do they need him here?” I asked, not for the first time.
We veered toward a patch of trees behind the Spells Cave. It wouldn’t do if we materialized out of thin air in front of everyone, so we had to hide before canceling the cloaking spell.
“We’ve done what we can, Charlie,” Disha said.
“Drew’s dad shouldn’t come,” I said, another of the things I’d been harping on for days. “It’s him they want.” I was sure of it. He was the only one who could stand in Nyquist’s way.
Disha looked as worried as I felt. “I know, but we’ve warned him. That’s all we can do. The rest is his decision. The High Council’s decision. He’s not coming alone. Drew said he will have plenty of protection. It will be a battle royale if they try something stupid.”
“Ponomarenko is powerful,” I said. “Something terrible will happen. I feel it in my gut.”
“I do, too.” Bridget bit on her thumbnail, her green eyes wide and fixed on a faraway point.
“We’ll all be on the alert,” Disha said. “Us three, Rowan, Drew. We’ll help defend the High Council if it comes to that. Besides, Drew says that if Nyquist shows his colors, the old man’s coming down. The council won’t stand for open opposition. For all we know, tomorrow, we’ll be free.”
I nodded. We’d discussed all of this several times already, but I still couldn’t shake off the bad feeling, no matter how much we tried to reassure each other. If I’d only been able to find out why Nyquist had invited Ponomarenko. Why had Nyquist written a private invitation for his favorite henchman? And why was Ponomarenko’s presence being kept secret? His name wasn’t even on the seating chart.
We took a moment to compose ourselves and erase all signs of gloomy thoughts from our faces. It was Homecoming. Nothing but smiles were expected, even if they were empty.
I clicked the button on Fedorov’s box. We walked out of the patch of woods and headed to class.
That evening, the mirror showed me a crude version of Wonder Woman.
I didn’t mean to be going as her, just as a Roman gladiator, but the tufted, metal-studded leather skirt and tight armor around my chest had that effect—not to mention my cuffs. All I needed was a lasso of truth and a frickin’ invisible plane.
The ensemble had come with a diadem, but if I put that on, I would definitely become the tough D.C. character. Nothing against Wonder Woman, I just wanted to look my own brand of badass.
For the first time, I was going with the Homecoming theme for my costume. The two other times I’d actually dressed up—I’d missed the event my sophomore year since I’d gone to Turkey— I’d been a Greek goddess and Harley Quinn. This time, I’d decided to blend in instead of standing out. There would be lots of students wearing Roman-inspired outfits.
The football game had a gladiator theme, and the rules had been changed to fit the event. Honestly, it could hardly be called a football game anymore, not when the last player standing on the field would be named the winner. That was hardly a team sport, and it was disturbing how many students liked the vicious idea. It was like the frickin’ Hunger Games. Maybe I should have gone as Katniss instead.
What was the Academy coming to? And why did it take so little for people to revert back to savagery?
I put Fedorov’s canceling case under my armor, tucked-in against my left boob. It wasn’t comfortable, but my options were limited in my current outfit.
Removing my ponytail, I let my dark hair fall over my naked shoulders. Then, with one last look in the mirror, I walked out of the bathroom.
“Next,” I said.
There were a few girls waiting outside the door. Like me, they preferred to wait for the single bathroom rather than change in the common one.
Disha and Bridget were waiting for me outside. They were not shy and had changed into their costumes out in the open.
They were also dressed as gladiators. We had ordered three identical costumes off of the same website. That was how unenthusiastic we’d been about the game. Our school spirit was dead. Nyquist had killed it as viciously as the ancient Romans slaughtered lions.
“Great costume,” Disha said as I walked down Witch Cove’s front steps.
Bridget smoothed her hands down her front. “I wear it best.” She had altered her costume in colors the Romans never knew existed. Highlighter-yellow armor, glittery gladiator sandals in turquoise leather, and a tufted skirt swirling with rainbow colors.
“Excuse me.” Disha lifted her chin and threw her hair back. “That honor goes to me. Obviously.”
I rolled my eyes and started down the pathway.
“The truth is… Charlie takes the prize,” a deep voice said from the edge of the lawn.
It was Lawson, standing just outside the perimeter that would cause our dorm alarms to go off. No males were allowed to get too close.
He’d magicked his hair into a bushy blond nightmare that made him look like he’d stepped right out of Mötley Crüe.
“Oh, my God!” Disha exclaimed. “You look like a poodle that was put away wet.” She laughed at her own joke, holding her stomach.
“Doll, this is classic 80s rock star hair.” Lawson shook his locks and struck a pose that revealed just how tight his leather pants were. His T-shirt wasn’t any better. It was full of purposeful holes that revealed his tattoos, smooth chest, and abs.
My mind fell in the gutter and rolled around in it for a second too long. I tore my eyes away, cheeks burning.
“Charlie. Come here,” Lawson said, extending a hand toward me.
I moved a few steps in his direction and took it. He pulled me out of the male-forbidden perimeter and planted a kiss on my lips.
It had been three weeks since we’d confessed our love to each other, and we were still being tentative. After all we’d been through, our feelings felt like a fragile gift that might break if we made the wrong move. I wanted so much to be alone with him and talk, find a way to strengthen our bond, but with all that was going on, we’d barely had time for anything.
“Typical Lawson,” I said, deciding to enjoy the view from up close. My eyes slid down his torso, peeking through the holes in his T-shirt.
“A rock star through and through,” he said, sticking out his tongue like that guy from Kiss and wiggling it at me until I blushed again.
Disha sighed and walked past us, moving down the path with Bridget by her side. “I wish Drew was here.”
“He will be,” I soothed, as Lawson and I joined her.
She had been pouty lately. Drew hadn’t visited in a while since he’d been busy planning the security detail for his father. He said they were leaving nothing to chance.
Tonight, my heart was full of fear and apprehension for those I loved and those I felt responsible for: Lynssa, Fedorov, Irmagard, Taishi, Espelth, Kiana, Tempest, all the students. I’d even started to worry about Cruise who seemed stuck between a rock and an asshole father.
Most of all, selfishly, I wanted to keep Lawson, Disha, and Bridget safe. I couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.
As we walked toward the stadium, I held Lawson’s hand tightly as if I would never let him go. I didn’t know what tonight would bring and I feared our month of relative calm would soon be over.
Chapter Twenty-Three
FALL SEMESTER
LATE OCTOBER
I had to admit what they’d done to the stadium was incredi
ble. With the help of massive amounts of magic, our little football arena looked exactly like the Roman Colosseum in its heyday.
As we walked up, the bone-colored travertine walls towered four stories above our heads. Flags flew from the ramparts, each one carrying the Academy’s crest. Torchlight glowed from each of the dozens of arched openings that ringed the massive structure. Intricate stone carvings decorated the walkways through which students streamed. The sounds of excitement were everywhere from the students' chatter to the lute music that played from loudspeakers.
The entire setup was so elaborate it made me wonder how they’d managed such a feat, even if several structural magicians and architects had been shuttled in weeks ahead of time and the entire area had been roped off as soon as Nyquist had begun planning. It was a painstaking illusion, exactly like Nyquist’s deanship.
This was an important test for him, one meant to show the world that his reign was improving things around here, and he’d pulled this building off with flying colors, I hated to admit.
We had yet to see about the rest of the evening. Maybe he would screw up somehow. At least, I could hope.
Inside the building, the theme continued. Brick hallways led to the ringed stone seats that circled the colosseum floor. The four of us took our seats on what looked like rock-hard bleachers but turned out to be as downy-soft as the stone benches in the Spells Cave.
My eyes skimmed the filling rows. Everyone was filtering in. Ahead of us, in a sectioned-off area at the front, the regents and their families welcomed the members of the International Magical Council. The area was posh and grandiose with beautiful carvings, silken cushions, and servants carrying trays of food—much like what Roman emperors must have enjoyed.
I didn’t know Drew’s father, but he was easy enough to spot sitting next to his son and a young, beautiful woman, who I knew to be Drew’s step-mother. Disha waved at her boyfriend, but he seemed too preoccupied to notice. He was the head of his father’s security detail for this event and was as nervous as me, worried that Nyquist was planning something. The question was… what?
The old man wouldn’t dare take out someone as powerful as Drew’s father, would he? Especially in front of all these people? Still, I was on high alert as I watched the heads of magic greet each other.
Nyquist was in full schmooze mode, clapping people on the back, smiling, and joking. It reminded me of the seemingly carefree man I’d seen during the banquet he’d thrown for me last year. He could really turn on the charm when he wanted it, which might make someone less determined than me forget that he was a murderer.
Methodically, I scanned the many concentric rows in the colosseum, but nowhere did I spot Mystro Ponomarenko. Just thinking about that man sent shivers down my bare arms. The mentalist was evil incarnate and I loathed the idea of facing him here with all these bystanders. Was that his game? To put a large number of people in peril?
I felt naked and totally unprepared. If only Lynssa were here, as mad at her as I still was for keeping me in the dark about her fake death. Or Fedorov. Where were they when I needed them? Alive? Dead?
Lawson ran a hand down my arm, drawing me back to the here and now. “It’s okay, doll. Everything is going to be okay.”
His warm gaze soothed me, but by no means did I think everything was going to be okay.
“See anything?” Bridget asked, pushing hair out of her eyes. Her gold diadem had flattened her curls and seemed to be annoying her. She, too, was scanning the crowd for our enemy.
I shook my head. “I doubt we’ll see him. He’s a mentalist, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” Bridget responded. Horns began blaring, then a voice echoed around the arena, booming for all to hear.
“Ladies and gentleman. Witches, warlocks and our esteemed guests, we welcome you to the one hundred and twelfth annual Supernatural Academy Homecoming Game!”
A cheer went up from the crowd.
“This year, we bring you an experience unlike anything seen before. This spectacle of strength and glory, brought to you by our beloved Dean Nyquist, is sure to amaze young and old. We bring you The Gladiators!”
At these words, horns blared and a gate began to open, clanking as if operated by actual gears. Through it, a dozen students ran in, wearing gladiator attire—gold chest plates, gleaming swords, helmets topped with white plumage, and shields adorned with the Academy’s crest.
It was impossible to tell who wore the gladiator helmets, but I’d overheard talk that Nyquist had hand-selected senior boys. Likely he’d picked his favorites, Cruise and Pierce among them.
The gladiators ran out in two straight lines, armor rattling as they headed for the box of honor where the magical heads sat. In unison, the soldiers stopped and knocked their leg plates together, raised their swords and saluted while shouting something about, “pledging allegiance to their dean.”
They spoke as if Nyquist were emperor. A shiver ran through me.
The announcer’s voice began again, echoing through the arena. “And now, what would any band of soldiers be without a formidable enemy? Ladies and gentlemen, we give you The Barbarian Horde.”
Ominous music played as the gate on the opposite side clanked open. Instead of matching golden uniforms and swords, the beings that appeared were all very different. A werewolf loped forward, snarling and flashing teeth. A fae warrior stalked out, twirling his spear. An inky being that looked similar to a shadow puppet slithered across the ground. About a dozen supernatural beings shuffled out to stand opposite the gladiators.
Lawson gripped my knee as a thin, pale individual took his place amongst the horde and bared his vampire fangs.
“They have to be joking,” Bridget murmured. “‘The Barbarian Horde’? Is this bothering no one?”
I nudged her shoulder, reminding her that there were eyes and ears everywhere, but I, too, was horrified. Were they really willing to pit so-called “Supers” against these “Lessers”? Sure, it was just a game, but it sent a message. A very loud message.
Other students stared on with concerned glances, but far too many jeered and hooted. Beside me, Lawson sat like a stone. His irises had gone dark and veins had appeared under his skin. I knew he was trying to stop himself from tearing onto that field and ending this once and for all.
“We can’t act. Not until we see what Nyquist’s plan is,” I whispered to each of them in turn.
Disha clutched my hand. “Drew is seeing this,” she said, biting her lip. “He already hates what he is enough without this bullshit.”
She was right. Drew had gone pale, his eyes locked on the scene before him as the warriors closed ranks, their swords flashing.
I nodded, rubbing her hand. It was bullshit. All of it. And we would stop it, but when the time was right.
On the colosseum floor, the two groups began to circle each other as the ominous music continued. The armored wizards set their swords aside in a wooden rack and warmed up their fingers as the so-called horde snarled and tried to look fierce.
“At least they’re using magic and not blades,” I whispered, but no one replied. All eyes were on the battle.
The inky shadow creature was the first to strike, slipping over the ground like an oil spill before wrapping itself around the legs of the closest gladiator. He went stiff, arms and legs like steel rods, then his body keeled over into the dirt.
Two wizards shot spells at their fallen comrade, jittering his body until the inky shadow shot out and blended into the cracks along the concrete wall.
While the gladiators were heading toward their fallen friend, three of the horde broke off from the pack, springing into action. A werewolf, vampire, and centaur charged the gladiators in the front row, attacking with speed. Flashing hooves and sharp claws racked the air inches from the guys as they stumbled back and threw spells.
The werewolf flew up in the air and slammed into the dirt hard enough to rattle the swords in the rack. The vampire and the centaur were hit with lightning bolts and bla
sted to the back wall.
The vampire got up, limping toward a safe corner, but the centaur laid motionless on the ground.
It was all very violent, nothing like the homecoming games of the past.
I shuddered, wondering what to do. If I ran out onto that field, it would all be over for me and my friends.
Looking fearful, the rest of the horde retreated back against the gate as the gladiators regrouped. Some pulled on the gate, begging to be let back in, but it remained shut.
“Someone has to do something,” Bridget said. Then she repeated it louder. “Someone has to do something.”
Heads turned her way. Students murmured.
Some of the heads of state watched the unfolding violence with discomfort. They shifted in their seats and murmured to each other, but they didn’t do anything. Did their inaction have more to do with their image than the fallen centaur unconscious on the ground?
I watched Drew’s father to see if he would put a stop to it all before someone got really hurt. Yes, we had magic to heal broken bones and stop bleeding, but we couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead, dammit!
Just when it seemed as though the horde would give up and the gladiators would declare victory, a few of the armored wizards headed for the sword rack.
“No,” I said, hands going to my mouth.
The rest followed until all of them were armed. Blades unsheathed, they marched toward the group of cowering creatures.
“What are they doing?” Lawson asked, standing up.
Bridget joined him. “Stop!”
I stood, as did Disha. We had to. We couldn’t watch a slaughter without doing anything. A few others began to stand, cries for mercy filling the arena. Someone sent a spell flying down. It sizzled on the dirt, but then another spell answered it, sailing into the crowd.
The student body was divided and growing restless, but yet, the gladiators continued to advance against their foes. One swung his sword at the werewolf, who dodged but not soon enough. A line of bright red blood appeared on his hairy bicep. He howled, clutching it and glancing around for rescue.
Senior Witch, Fall Semester Page 16
