I flipped through the mail. Most of it was junk and bills, which we couldn’t afford to pay. If they didn’t return or if I didn’t find a job, our electricity, gas, and water would be turned off.
I stopped and studied the last letter. It had no postage or address. Just my name. Someone had slipped it in our mailbox. The handwriting was unfamiliar, not Mom’s or Dad’s.
Carefully, I ripped open the envelope and reached inside. The top letter had a castle logo with runic writings I didn’t understand. International Mystic Academy, School for the Gifted. Frowning, I read the invitation to attend an orientation.
Syn did this. So this was the school for Immortals.
I sat on the stoop and pulled out the pamphlet. The cover had a picture of a castle. A real castle. It was enormous and gorgeous. I flipped the pages. The dorms were beautifully furnished rooms with two or four beds. The dining hall had long tables and sparkling chandeliers. There were gaming rooms with pool tables and TV screens, several gyms, and swimming pools. The grounds were extensive with fields and horses.
I skimmed over how they planned to group the students according to age and teach classes according to abilities until I reached the page with pictures of the founders.
Lavania was an Idun-Valkyrie from Asgard. I had no idea what an Idun-Valkyrie was, but I wasn’t surprised a soul reaper was a founder. She was a tall woman with black hair held back in a ponytail and a flowing dress. Svana Cooper was also a Valkyrie but planned to retire and take her position at the school in the fall. She wore a Boho skirt and a lot of charm bracelets and head jewelry like a Gypsy.
Do these people really believe Immortals would go to a school run by Valkyries? After the history we’d had with them, I doubted it.
The next woman was Femi, an Immortal ancient Egyptian. Damn. I sat up, my interested piqued. She had a pixie hairstyle and twinkling blue eyes that said she might be fun to have as a teacher. I’d love to talk to her about Ancient Egypt.
Hawk, the last founding member, was a Native American Immortal. I laughed. He looked strict and proud, and I could imagine him staring down his nose at students with disapproval when they were late for his class. The woman in charge of admissions was another Immortal—Ingrid Dahl. She appeared younger than the other four.
Could this be real? Immortals and reapers working together as equals?
“Still not interested?” Syn asked from behind me, and I wondered how long he’d been standing there.
Chapter 5
I glanced over my shoulder at Syn, and for one brief moment, I forgot to be angry. He’d changed into regular clothes—black jeans and a matching T-shirt. The shirt hugged his masculine chest and arms, and his dreadlocks were pulled back into a half ponytail.
He was such a gorgeous man. Too bad I could never touch him. I could trace those adorable dimples. How had I missed the diamond studs in his ears? And why was I ogling him when I should be outraged he’d followed me home?
“You put this inside our mailbox?” I asked.
“Yep.” He gave me an apologetic smile, dimples flashing. “I’m sure your parents will register you once they come home, so I didn’t see any harm.”
He sat down beside me, his arm brushing mine. I shifted a bit to put space between us. He followed, but his eyes were on the letter in my hand.
“Now you see why having a name in the registry is important. And why we want all parents to register their children. These letters must be delivered before the summer if Mystic Academy is to open in the fall.”
I stopped moving. First, I had reached the pillar manning our doorway and couldn’t go any farther. And second, our skin touched and I couldn’t think of anything else but the way it felt. I hadn’t touched anyone outside my family in the last six years. Maybe longer. I’d shied away from kids at the group homes and had a total meltdown whenever someone touched me. I always imagined them turning into my parents the night they’d died. So yeah, body contact was not my thing.
Syn felt different. I couldn’t explain it. I wanted to wrap my arms around his. No, rub my cheeks against his skin.
“So what do you think?” he asked.
“I’m still not interested,” I said, my voice sounding strange.
He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, breaking the contact. Feeling bereft, I wanted to cry. He was talking, so I forced myself to listen.
“How can you turn down the invite when you haven’t read everything about the school? It is the perfect place for Immortals to master runic magic, hone their individual abilities, and learn how to navigate the world. Not to mention connect with others. You are going to live for thousands of years, Lana, so you must learn how to survive. And the school is not just for Immortals. It’s for future Immortals, too.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Gifted Mortals around the world are getting invitations, too. All of them will get to decide if they want to become Immortal or not once they enroll at the academy. There are Idun-Valkyrie and Idun-Grimnirs among the staff.”
I’d gone into selective listening the second he’d mentioned gifted Mortals. That was another word for Witches, shamans, high priestesses and priests, oracles, and Seeresses. Wes, Talia, and I were Witches. I contained my excitement and focused on what he’d said.
“Who are these Idun-Valkyries and Grimnirs?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder, a teasing smile on his lip. His damn dimples teased me, practically begging me to touch them. I fought the urge.
“I wouldn’t ask if I did, would I?”
Syn chuckled. His eyes dropped to my legs. The skirt I’d chosen was mid-thigh, but when I sat, it rode up, barely covering my legs. Before I could stop myself, I reached down to tug the hem. He caught my hand.
“Leave it alone. You have gorgeous legs and should show them more often.” He took my hand in his and stroked the back of it. I jumped. I never knew human contact could be this stimulating. Too stimulating. I tried to take back my hand, but he trapped it between his. “I’m not afraid to touch you, Lana.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
I wasn’t about to explain my gift or my curse. But Syn was about to regret touching me.
“What do you want with my parents?” I asked.
“Why do you cover yourself?” he shot back.
I frowned. He was supposed to start singing like a canary. “Are my parents in trouble for not registering us?”
“Is your touch poisonous?”
Why wasn’t he affected by my touch? Were my powers on-again, off-again like Talia’s?
“Who are Idun-Valkyries and Idun-Grimnirs? What do they do? Why do you care so much whether I attend the school or not?”
“You have such delicate hands. Soft. Beautiful.” He interlaced our fingers, and I swear I purred. No one had ever done that, so I never knew the skin between my fingers was so sensitive. He traced my nails. I’d painted them red. “Red is my favorite color.”
It was mine, too. Why wasn’t Syn answering me? “Are you really an Ancient Nubian?”
“You know the answer to that.” He tilted his head to study me and grinned. “I’ll answer your questions when you answer mine, Lana. Why don’t you want to go to Mystic Academy?”
“Because we are happy here,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not why.”
Annoyance coursed through me. Syn’s behavior was throwing me off-kilter, and I didn’t like it. Worse, his aura was bright, so I knew he wasn’t lying.
“What are you? A lie detector?” I asked.
He chuckled. “The truth, please.”
I pressed my lips. There was no way I was answering him. He sighed but didn’t let go of my hand. Thank goodness. I loved the feel of his warm, large hands around mine.
“Man, you are one stubborn woman. No, I’m not a lie detector, but I’m an Ancient Nubian and grandson of Shabaka. I care because”—he glanced at me and sm
iled—“you fascinate me. The Idun-Valkyries and Idun-reapers are higher up the hierarchy. They are the only ones with the ability to turn Mortals into Immortals. And as for your first question, your parents are not in any trouble I know of.”
I frowned. Syn had answered all my questions from last to first, but only the last two interested me the most. Mom and Dad were off their radar.
“Are you saying all reapers cannot make Immortals?” I asked.
“No.” He continued to stroke the back of my hand, turning my insides into goo. “We don’t have the runic blades to do it. Idun-Grimnirs and Idun-Valkyries do. They have the blades and the power to initiate the transformation. We don’t. A few of us have turned Mortals, got in trouble with the Norns, and got punished. You met Echo?”
I nodded, my mind racing. Everything Syn said contradicted what my parents had taught us. Who the hell were the Norns?
“He is a Druid. When the Romans were slaughtering his people, he was a Valkyrie in Asgard, so he went to the Dwarves in Nidavellir and asked them to create runic blades. The Dwarves thought the Valkyrie Council had sent him, so they did as he ordered. He got runic blades to give to as many of his people as possible and helped them turn. For punishment, they kicked him out of Asgard and dumped him in Helheim to be Goddess Hel’s reaper, a Grimnir like me.” Syn grinned. “He became the best reaper in Eljudnir, and now he’s betrothed to Goddess Hel’s daughter.”
I stared at him, caught between annoyance and disbelief. He was lying. He had to be. His aura stayed pure, though. Maybe he was just wrong. My parents had taught us reapers had endless supplies of runic blades and the ability to turn Immortal’s biological children and their Mortal spouses, but they often refused. I’d never heard of these Idun-Valkyries or Idun-Grimnirs.
“Are you saying to turn a person you need different blades?”
“Yes. Every person uses his or her set of artavo. No sharing.”
Wes, Talia, and I shared one blade. We used it to create runes and portals, and we were fine. I reached out and wrapped my other hand around Syn’s bicep. I swept his arm, up and down.
“What are you doing?” he asked, laughing when my hand slipped under his sleeve and came too close to his armpit. He was ticklish. That gave me pause before I remembered I was trying to smear truth serum all over him.
“I’m checking out your muscles and tattoos,” I fibbed, making sure any sweat on my hand ended up on his skin.
“I think you are marking me, sheshen. Like a wolf with its territory.”
“Shut up and start talking.”
He laughed, and I realized I was contradicting myself. His arms were all defined muscles and warm skin. How had I survived without skin contact? It was intoxicating.
“Mark me all you want, Lanókà. I don’t mind.”
“I meant shut up about marking and start telling me the truth. And quit calling me weird names. My people often beg soul reapers to give them runic blades so they can turn their spouses and children into Immortals, and you always refuse. Admit it; you do it out of spite, not because of stupid rules and Idun-Grimnirs.”
He caught my hand, laughter dying from his face. “That’s why you don’t like us?”
“I told you before. I don’t know you well enough to dislike you. But I was right, wasn’t I? Your people choose not to help my people when you could.”
“No, sheshen. We don’t turn Mortals because we’re not supposed to. It’s against the rules to do so. Ask Echo when you see him—or your teachers.”
I growled, so confused I couldn’t think straight. Someone somewhere was lying. It couldn’t be my parents. Syn’s aura said it wasn’t him either unless my sight was off. Maybe Mom and Dad didn’t know about the rules, and Norns, and Idun-Grimnirs. Or maybe Syn was mistaken. I sighed. All of this was frustrating.
This time Syn let my hand go when I tugged. Immediately, I wished he hadn’t because I missed the feel of his skin against mine. I never realized I craved contact until now.
“Listen, I may not be explaining myself well because I’m not a teacher,” he said. “I can only share with you what I’ve learned the last two thousand years. Lavania and Svana are better equipped to explain about the Academy and the things you’ll learn there, which includes who can turn Mortals and the process used. I know it’s long and complicated. If done wrong, it messes with those turned.”
Our parents had taught us about runes and shown us everything we knew. They were ancient and wise, so they must have done it right because there was nothing wrong with us. Except for our waning abilities. But we had runes, so we should be okay.
“I don’t know what to think,” I said.
“I could bring someone here to talk to you,” he continued. “Lavania is busy finalizing details with teachers while Hawk is at the school keeping an eye on the construction, but Femi and Ingrid said they’d visit students whose parents are reluctant about the school and personally explain how the school will work and invite them to visit. If you read the last paragraph”—he pointed to the letter, his hand brushing mine—“you’ll see that they have orientations every weekend.”
Instinctively, I moved my hand and broke the contact, yet my skin remembered and relayed the feelings to the rest of my body. I liked touching Syn. I inched closer until our arms touched again. A sigh escaped me before I could stop it, and my eyes flew to his face, but he was busy pointing at the pamphlet and hadn’t noticed.
“Any prospective student can go on Friday, with or without their parents, before deciding if it’s right for them,” Syn continued. “The rune sequence at the bottom opens the portal to the school lobby.”
His voice dimmed as I savored the sensations of skin against skin and studied his hands and tattoos. He had large hands and beautiful long fingers. On his knuckles were tattoos of the ankh, the ancient Egyptian symbol of life. And along his arms were more symbols like nothing I’d ever seen.
“…then leave Sunday evening after dinner.”
I stared at him and frowned. Had he been talking all this time?
“You didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?”
He grinned while annoyance washed over me—the anger directed at me, not him. He was telling me things that made me question my parents and could potentially rip my family apart, and I was busy rubbing against him like a cat? What was wrong with me?
“Of course I heard you,” I said and shifted so we weren’t touching anymore. My entire body protested, leaving me feeling like I’d lost my favorite new toy. “I don’t get to decide whether I talk to these women or go to orientation. My parents do. Until they return, there’s nothing I can do.”
Except they’d disappeared for weeks, and I had no idea when they’d return.
“You are eighteen, Lana. You don’t need their permission to attend the school.”
I’d never leave Wes and Talia behind. Heck, if our parents returned today and said I could go without my sister and brother, I’d still say no. We were a package deal.
Syn reached out and pulled one of my curls, stretching it before he let it go. It sprung back and not once did it cross my mind to push his hand away. I’d hated people touching my hair since I was a child, yet I wanted him to do it again. Then move to my face, arms, and legs. No, every inch of my body. As though aware of my thoughts, he angled his head and grinned, dimples flashing.
“What?” I asked, bristling a little.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he whispered.
Ha. Mr. Funny Man. He had gorgeous green eyes. Mine were boring brown. “Yeah. Sure.”
He chuckled. “You doubt me, Lanókà? They are as intense and mysterious as the bottomless sea. When you smile, I see winter-roasted chestnut dipped in warm honey. When angry, white sparks dot them like stars on a moonless night.”
I stared at him with round eyes. Wow. No one had ever described my eyes like that. I wanted to hear more, but I had to go inside before my siblings came out here and saw him. I wasn’t ready to answer questions about him. I stood.
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“Goodbye, Syn.”
“You are one stubborn Immortal,” he murmured.
“Please, make sure my neighbors don’t see you disappear.”
“You could invite me inside to use your mirror portal.”
I almost agreed, but years of mistrust and hiding stopped me.
“No.”
He leaned back and rubbed his chest. “Ouch. Plain and to the point. No explanation.”
I fought a smile. Syn sounded like I’d hurt his feelings.
“That’s okay. I like that your touch doesn’t work on me and I can hold your hands. You can rub against me and purr any time you want, gàlò Lanókà.”
Had I purred? Face hot, I disappeared inside the house and leaned against the door. Then I rushed to the window to find him. Did he know what my touch did? Part of me was happy it hadn’t affected him. The other part was wary about what it meant. Being up close and personal with another person was new territory for me. And what did the words he kept using mean? Sheshen sounded beautiful.
As though aware of my eyes on him, Syn stood, turned, and looked straight at me. A tiny smile touched his lips, causing his dimples to appear. He blew me a kiss, then disappeared into our backyard. I was sure he created an air portal the second he reached the hedge.
Winter roasted chestnut dipped in warm honey.
No one had ever described my eyes like that. I loved it.
I hid the envelope under a pile of nature magazines in the living room and followed the sounds of laughter to the kitchen. Talia was baking cookies while Wes worked on his homework. Despite the craziness in our lives, we still took school seriously.
“Something smells good,” I said.
“Chocolate chip cookies with chestnuts,” Talia said, and I laughed. They looked up and stared at me.
“What? I love chestnuts.”
“You laughed,” Wes said.
“So? I laugh all the time.”
“No, you don’t.” Talia closed the gap between us and gave me a hug. “Love you, Sis. I’m sorry for losing it like that.”
“Love you, too, Drama Queen. And you can ‘lose it’ anytime. We’re a family, and family puts up with all sorts of crazies.”
[Mystic Academy 01.0] Fated Page 4
