by Luna Pierce
I skim the fiery words, and a sudden discovery startles me. I throw the paper to the ground and stomp it out before its gone.
I allow my sight to scan the paper, and my stomach drops. I grab the rest of my papers and read through them briefly. I must have made a mistake, but how?
In my notebook, I was sure I gave away some of my deep dark secrets, but all I really alluded to was feeling things, and being off in some parts of the school. I said nothing about doing things or seeing things—the exact words that Sydney had used when he was interrogating me.
But, if I didn’t say that in my journal, then how would Sydney have known them? And if Sydney found out some other way, he didn’t read my journal at all, and he didn’t sneak into my room. Not to mention, my roommates probably aren’t the lying shitbags I just accused them in my mind of being.
Christ, I got this all wrong.
Maybe Sydney was right, he does know something about me that I don’t. He seems to have more knowledge about me than I know myself, which is both terrifying and fascinating. He says I’m hiding something, but what could I possibly be hiding? And why don’t I realize it?
I have to find him. I have to get answers. But first, I have to return this lighter and apologize to my friends… and confess to them that no one broke into our room. I probably freaked them out, I’m such an idiot. I don’t typically jump to irrational conclusions like this, but I am all over the place this week with my emotions—they’re difficult to control, like something is draining and unbalancing me.
I toss dark-haired guy his lighter.
He catches it saying, “You seem better.”
“Yeah, thanks. I owe you one.”
I get upstairs and hesitate at the door. I made a fool of myself earlier and I need to make this right. I turn the knob, the door opens, and the girls are right there.
“Willow, what the hell, we were so worried. Where did you go?”
Kyra glances down at my dirty soot-covered hands and notebook. “Did you catch your notebook on fire?”
I shrug. “Maybe,” I say innocently. I walk in, closing the door behind me. “Okay, first of all. No one broke into our room.”
A collective sigh.
“I’m dumb. I thought someone read my journal, and that could have been the only way… but it turns out they didn’t, and now I look like a big dumb-dumb, and I totally overreacted. I’m really sorry. This week has been an emotional roller coaster, and I’m all over the place. I totally didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I’m sorry.” And I don’t deserve your friendship because I’m an asshole.
Lillian moves first, wrapping me into her arms, returning the hug I gave her last night, like she knew I’d be needing this one.
“You had us freaking. Remi was on her phone trying to order a hidden camera.”
“Trying, but the service here is garbage. When are they going to fix the Wi-Fi?” she exclaims.
“Really,” I resume. “I’m sorry.” I shift my gaze to each of them, not a single one showing any signs of negativity toward me.
“Listen, you cleansed and hydrated my face when I was passed out drunk last night. You two are unicorn friends.” Kyra beams at Lillian and me. “But what do you mean you thought someone read your journal? Whose ass do I need to kick?”
“Speaking of that, I need to go find him.” I shove the notebook under my bed and make my way to the door. I turn back for a second. “Are we allowed in the boys’ dorms?”
“I don’t see why not,” Remi ponders, looking to the rest of the girls for confirmation.
“Well, wish me luck.” Hand on the knob, I go back out on my next task—finding Sydney and figuring out what the hell is going on.
Chapter Thirteen
I check the dining hall first, in case he might be grabbing a bite to eat, and doing my best not to barge straight into the boys’ dorms. No such luck, so I peek outside to check the patio area. Again, no Sydney. I creepily hang outside the downstairs boys’ bathroom but leave after a minute of nothing. I really wish there was a paging system in the school. How are you supposed to find someone if you don’t have their dorm info?
The foyer is empty sans the lone girl sitting cross-legged and reading a book. Atta girl. Despite the growing weight of entering the north wing, I decide to check the last place I saw Sydney—the teacher’s lounge. Peering into the room, I find it hopelessly vacant.
Come on, Willow, the school is only so big, just find him already.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and focusing on his face, the dazzling green eyes burning into my memory. My mind pulls me toward the ceiling, somehow calling me to go upstairs. Okay, weird intuition, you want me to check dorm N four?
I exit the north wing in a hurry, rounding the corner and taking the stairs straight up to the north wing dorms. The energy is noticeably stranger upstairs, and discomfort settles deeply into the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s simply because this is a male dorm? That must be it.
Manly figures stare at me as I make my way through the hallway, pausing in front of the room my subconscious told me to go to.
I raise my hand to knock, not allowing pause to give myself a second to change my mind.
The door swings open, and lo and behold, Sydney’s grumpy self meets me on the other side. How in the hell?
He frowns. “Come back for seconds?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
My gaze flickers to the floor and then back up at him. “Um, hi. Do you think we could maybe talk… somewhere private?” Without giving him a chance to respond, I continue, “Not, like, in your room or something, not that private, but you know what I mean.”
His expression lightens, but he remains hesitant. “Are you going to freak out on me and leave?”
“I make no promises,” I say sarcastically.
Sydney turns back to look at something inside his room. “I think it’s nice outside, we could see if the courtyard is free.”
“That would be great.” I simper. Why am I suddenly so giddy?
We walk side by side in silence down the hallway, along the stairs and through the foyer.
It’s not until we’re finally outside that he breaks the quiet. “How were you able to find me?”
“I, uh… I guessed.” No way I’m telling him what really happened, not even I really believe that myself. This must have just been pure luck.
“Mhmm,” he responds. “So, what’s this about?”
We sit at a far small round table with two iron chairs around it, the warm breeze hugging me gently and stuffing my lungs with a much-needed fill of nature.
“I guess I should say I’m sorry first. You, I… I thought you had done something, and it turns out I’m not so sure now that you did, so I was hoping we could sort of start over with what we were talking about earlier. The hidden secret stuff.”
He leans back onto two chair legs and sizes me up, then moves back down on all fours. His stare is both intimidating and welcoming at the same time. “Okay.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” he copies.
“Yes… to answer the question you asked me earlier. About doing and feeling and seeing. Yes.” I swallow a lump in my throat. I haven’t really openly talked about this kind of stuff with… anyone. Even Silas didn’t seem to want to chat about the glowing flowers that I’m not sure really happened at all.
Sydney places his elbows on the table and crosses his arms, tilting forward. “What kind of things do you see here, at the school?”
I bite at my bottom lip. He’s going to think I’m crazy. Why would I admit to him any of the stuff I’ve seen? Any sane person would not believe a word I have to say. But for some reason, my mouth forms words, and they fall out.
“I see… shadows.”
Silence.
“You probably think I’m a freak, don’t you?” I whisper.
His next words surprise me the most. “What color are the shadows?”
“Purple… but like a deep shade of purple, and sometimes black,
but like not pure black, like a black fog with a purple haze.”
His eyes widen, and he lowers his head, huffing out a great deal of air.
I sit there for a minute or two, too afraid to leave, and too anxious for whatever response he’s going to have.
His thick hair spills over in a mess. He eventually rakes a hand through it, his eyes darkening and meeting mine. “This is impossible,” he complains.
“Yeah… you’re telling me.”
“And you’re saying you have no idea what secret I think you’re hiding?”
“No, none at all. This makes no sense, why can’t you just tell me?” I urge.
“I swore an oath. I literally can’t. Even this is pushing it. But I thought if I could maybe get you to figure it out yourself…”
“Well, what else could you ask to help me?”
He runs his hand through his hair again, tugging at it gently in thought. “Are you religious at all?”
“Uh, no.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“My mom is Pagan, though. She practices Wicca, but she lost her mind many years ago, so I don’t really know much about it.”
“What do you mean she lost her mind?” Intrigue fills every crevice of his face.
“Like, she legit went crazy one day. Started muttering stuff about our family being cursed, how I was next, that they would be coming for me.” I nervously end up talking with my hands.
“Holy shit, and let me guess, you didn’t take her seriously?”
“No? I mean, at first I was really scared, but we got her on some medication that calms her down a bit, and she doesn’t have the outbursts anymore, or not as often, I should say.”
“That poor woman.” He sighs.
“Yeah, it’s really sad. I’ve had to care for her since I was twelve.”
He pauses for a long and painful moment. “What if I told you your mom wasn’t crazy?”
I let out a small chuckle. “And what if I told you pigs could fly?”
“I’m serious, Willow. What if everything your mom told you was true?”
“That my family is cursed? That I’m cursed? That someone is coming for me? That she’s a witch and Grams was a witch and I’m a witch?”
With my last few words, Sydney’s face nearly explodes with emotion.
“Are you saying I’m a witch?” The words come out almost silent.
“I’m not saying you aren’t…” He grins triumphantly.
“If what you’re saying is true, this changes everything.” And I mean, everything.
Chapter Fourteen
I stand in a panic, Sydney following along and coming around the table to meet me.
“Hey,” he says with a tone of sweetness unfamiliar to him, or at least the him I’m acquainted with. “Maybe you should sit down?”
“Sit down?” I call out. “I need to go home. I need to talk to my mom. How is this even possible? Witch? That’s not a real thing, not in this universe.”
He places his hands on my shoulders in an attempt to calm me, but his fingers are met with a surge of power, like that day in the classroom. He flinches and draws them back, only adding to my desire to freak out.
My eyes meet his. I’m desperate to know if he felt that, too. He had to have, he pulled away like it scared him.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I don’t know how much I can say, not yet anyway.”
“You just told me I’m a witch, but you can’t tell me what the hell that was? That was insane, and I felt it the other day when we touched during class.”
“I did, too,” he admits.
I nearly facepalm. “What? Why did you lie? You came across like such an asshole.”
“Typically, people like us are aware of what we are… and you not being upfront about it made me think you were hiding for some unknown reason. I’m sorry.” His gaze averts to the ground.
“Wait, did you say people like us? As in… you’re a witch, too?” I suck in a breath.
“I’m not not saying that…”
“I can’t… I don’t… how… what…? I have so many questions.”
“Let me get this straight, though, you did admission with Abigail? The wand thing, right?”
“The Wi-Fi stick? Yeah, why are you so concerned with the internet here?”
He laughs, and it soothes my nerves a bit.
“It’s not really a Wi-Fi stick. It’s a device to measure and determine supernatural ability. She runs them over all new students to determine where to place them. The human faction or the supernatural.”
I blink at him a few times, allowing my mind to process his words.
“Did you just say supernatural?”
He verifies shyly, “Yeah, and apparently the oath doesn’t apply to you anymore because the stipulations wouldn’t have allowed me to say that to anyone else from the human faction.”
“So, you can tell me what’s going on now?”
“Yes and no. There’s only so much I’m allowed to tell you. This sort of stuff isn’t really permitted on an info-dump basis. It’ll overload your servers and cause you more harm than good.”
“Can you at least tell me what the hell the shadows are I keep seeing in the north and west wing? They’re not in the other wings, and I can’t make sense of it. Is it like a lighting issue or something?” I’ve tried to make sense of the visions to no avail, but maybe with his knowledge, I’ll finally be able to comprehend what I’m seeing.
“Baby steps, okay? If you start feeling odd, tell me immediately. Like, if you have a sudden drop in energy levels.”
My energy levels have been all over the place since I’ve been at Harper Academy, but I don’t dare tell him that right now. “Okay.”
“Sit down.” He looks around the courtyard, and once he’s satisfied, he lowers his voice and says, “Like I said, the student body is part human and supernatural. The supes sort of blend in with the humans, and to be able to have a well-rounded learning experience, the supes have their own style of classes in addition to the traditional ones. We couldn’t do that kind of teaching out in the open, so what you’re seeing is the shadow realm the supes have their classes in. And that’s why you can see it and the humans can’t. It’s solely meant for supernatural people to see. We call it Harper Shadow Academy.” He finishes speaking and examines me with his eyes.
“I’ve seen people… disappearing into them.” I murmur, meeting his gaze.
“That was just a supe going to supe class.”
I take a gigantic breath, exhaling even bigger.
“I thought my sight was messed up. I was going to schedule an eye exam with the nurse.” I laugh, feeling incredibly foolish now.
“Your vision is probably fine.” He smiles.
“Wait, you said Abigail waved her weird little magic wand at me? Why didn’t she classify me?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, too. The only thing I can think of is that your magic is hidden.”
“Hidden magic?”
“You said you’re cursed? Maybe your magic is doing a self-preservation spell to protect you. It’s plausible.”
“I need to go home.” I shake my head. “I need to talk to my mom. If what you’re saying is true, she’s been medicated for six years for no good reason.”
He nods quickly. “Definitely, yeah. But you shouldn’t talk to anyone else about this. You really should be safe. Is your car on campus?”
Shit, Danny dropped me off.
My shoulders slump. “No, but I could call a cab. I think they come this far.” I make my way toward the building when Sydney’s firm grip wraps around my forearm and stops me. The surge of energy tingles my skin, but this time, he doesn’t let go. “What is that?”
“I think our magic is just getting acquainted with each other.”
“That’s a thing?”
The pulsing between us slows to a stop, and when it does, his eyes meet mine.
“I have a car; I can take you. But
only if you want, I don’t want to intrude.”
How did we go from me thinking he hated me to him offering me a ride home? What other choice do I have, though—wait around on a cab for an hour or more? No, thanks.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“I think I owe you that after dropping that bombshell on you.” He steps a bit closer.
Warmth settles through me, and I focus on his features. The gentle slope of his sun-kissed deep-brown hair caressing his forehead, those deathly emerald eyes, the faint hint of stubble on his cheeks. Here I go again.
The short drive to my childhood home is quiet, minus our in-and-out breaths and occasional “Turn there.” A million questions rack my brain, but I can’t seem to slow down enough to hone in on one in particular, especially if he has to be cautious with his replies.
I knew all too well what he meant about draining energy; I’ve felt it numerous times since I’ve been at Harper. That probably explains why I slept way later than usual. And why I fainted in front of Silas. Speaking of Silas—Sydney told me he was dangerous. That his kind was dangerous. The way he said his makes me think he and Sydney aren’t one and the same, but if Sydney is a witch, what is Silas? And why can’t Silas come near me? He made it clear he couldn’t give me answers either, so maybe he’s bound by the same oath Sydney is, too.
I want to ask Sydney about Silas, but given his predisposition about him, I should probably keep to myself and figure that one out on my own. I wish there were someone else I could ask. Someone that doesn’t seem to hate Silas.
We pull up my drive, the gravel crumbling beneath Sydney’s Toyota Corolla. He was kind enough to let me wallow with my own thoughts on the drive, and I’m incredibly appreciative of that.
“I should probably stay here,” he declares while putting the car into park.
“Okay…” I say without making an attempt to leave.
He reaches over and places his hand on top of mine. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
