Urban Mystic Academy: Fourth Project (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 4)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Urban Mystic Academy: Fourth Project

  Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously or are entirely fictional.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Rebecca Frank of Bewitchingbookcovers.com

  Dubhdara Publishing

  www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com

  Contents

  Praise for Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Urban Mystic Academy Series Book Four

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  18. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Afterword

  Sample of THE SHUTTERED WARD, Book One of the ASYLUM SAVANTS Series

  Praise for Jennifer Rose McMahon

  “McMahon's excellent paranormal mystery. Teen and adult readers alike will be clamoring for the sequel."

  Publishers Weekly Starred Review

  ”Engaging, beautifully written scenes, and idyllic descriptions keep the tale moving at a quick pace. The characters are engaging and they draw a person in to this tale of adventure and intrigue. Adrenaline-fueled action and enough twists and turns to keep even the most astute readers on their toes, this is a captivating story with a heroine who is forcefully engaging."

  InD'tale Magazine

  ”As Chieftain of The O'Malley Clan I am always interested in anything to do with Granuaile, our very famous Pirate Queen ancestor. Jennifer's novel captures the connection with the past which we treasure in Ireland. The Irish landscape, contemporary social life, the Irish language, and romance are woven into this fantasy story about Maeve Grace O'Malley and her quest to solve her 'Awake Dreams'. I am certainly looking forward to the sequel. More BOHERMORE please!"

  Sarah Kelly, O'Malley Clan Chieftain 2017

  Urban Mystic Academy Series Book Four

  Chapter 1

  A strange ripple waved along the tall grass in the clearing, and my heart stopped as it rolled across Shane's hunched over form. He stumbled from the disturbance but caught his balance with strained effort that grimaced his face.

  "Shane!" I screamed.

  My legs sprang to life, carrying me across the open field in a sprint that blew my hair back. With my heart pounding, renewed energy shot through all my nerves. Desperate to touch his face, I ran harder, not caring if the Dark Witch slithered out of the open portal, or if the angry mob had forced their way through to our time.

  It didn't matter.

  Nothing mattered except me getting my hands on Shane and never letting go again.

  I pounced on the moss in front of him with a rejoicing smile that stretched beyond my face.

  "You're here," I gasped. "Thank God!"

  I reached my arms around him and pulled him into me.

  As the essence of my soul wrapped around him, my arms moved through empty air, finding purchase only around my own wilted body.

  My frightened eyes widened as I stared at Shane's dry ashes blowing away on the gentle morning breeze.

  Pressure caught in my throat, choking me, as my entire soul threatened to tear out from it and go with him.

  "What are you doing?"

  The words echoed through my mind as I strained to hear their source.

  "Shane?" I whispered.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  My shoulder shook, and I lifted my head with a jolt.

  Blinking through the haze of sleep, I wiped at my mouth to dry the drool. Leaving the pain behind in the dreamscape was only a mere wish, as heavy grief returned like a freight train.

  Shane's face filled my mind, and I strained to see every detail, but it was no use. He faded with every passing second, proving that he was truly gone.

  "You slept here all night?" Mom spat with a sneer. She clicked the remote to turn off the TV, and I watched the eerie image go black. "Watching Titanic again? You really need to pull yourself together."

  Mom had no idea.

  She assumed someone broke my heart or let me down. She was well aware that Titanic was my go-to break-up movie, but this time it was different.

  I was sinking deep into a dark abyss.

  If she had any idea of the truth, she'd probably lose her mind.

  Shane didn't hurt me. He had saved me.

  He didn't break my heart. He filled it up to bursting.

  And then he pushed me through the portal and took bullets in his back to be sure I made it home.

  But he didn't make it home.

  And now I was supposed to live with that.

  "Well, I knew he was after one thing. Best to be done with him," she mumbled, shaking a bottle of Ibuprofen to measure its contents.

  I didn't have the strength to fight her, nor the desire. There was no convincing her of the depth of my feelings for Shane. And his for me.

  He'd made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure my safety and the completion of our project. He knew I held a significant role in ending the curse of the Dark Witch, maybe even more than I did. And protecting me, and the other UMAs, was his primary goal. His unwavering loyalty to our coven made my heart weep.

  And now, I had to actually function, feeling like half my soul had been ripped out.

  I took a huge inhale, attempting to return life to my numb muscles.

  The sharp slap of Mom's voice to my face was what truly woke me.

  "You're going to be late. Time to get to school."

  Even after two weeks, I still anticipated Shane's car outside of my house. His chivalrous insistence on driving me to school, even though he knew I loved the headspace in walking, threatened to put a smile on my face.

  But my emotions were blocked, making it impossible for any physical response, particularly a smile, in connection to my memories of him. The only observable emotion that seemed to get through was tears. The mountain of tissues on my bed was evidence of the abundance.

  And now, the idea of walking to school filled me with dread every morning. The once desired headspace was now enough to drive me insane. The ten-minute walk allowed for ten torturous minutes of pure hell, filled with heart-wrenching images of him, and merciless flashbacks of our most intimate times together.

  By the time I got to school each day, I was broken beyond repair.

  And today was no different.

  I dragged myself up the granite stairs of Lakefield High, barely able to pull the front door open. With the unrelenting image of the first time ever seeing Shane at the top of these steps, I entered the school bleeding from my heart.

  At least we had X-block today.

  That was the only good thing about existing. I'd be able to spend time with the other UMAs who grieved for Shane too.

  But outside of our coven, no one else knew of our pain.

  Shane's memory had faded from every
one's thoughts, including his parents.

  It was as if he never existed.

  I wasn't sure if that made it better or vastly worse. It was too soon to tell.

  Keeping my eyes down, I navigated the halls, heading to my first-period English class.

  I prayed Dom would be there.

  He'd been absent for the past two weeks, healing from his own gunshot wound. The town believed his ailment was a severe case of ruptured appendicitis. I still couldn't believe he'd been hit by one of the musket balls as he pulled Courtney through the portal.

  None of us even realized he'd been shot until we left the woods that day. I tried to block the images as he held his side and buckled over. The blood had made its way down his leg, pooling on the ground under his feet.

  I squeezed my eyes to clear the memory.

  But then Laney popped into my head, making my teeth clench.

  She had been in the woods that day too.

  She had stumbled out, in tattered colonial clothing, begging for help.

  If it hadn't been for Dom's wound and his need for immediate medical attention, we would have crushed her right then and there. Somehow, she always seemed to make it out of dangerous situations unscathed, just by the skin of her teeth.

  And now, I had to share space with her in AP Lit, knowing that she knew everything.

  Including Shane.

  It took every ounce of my strength to restrain myself from attacking her and tearing her eyes out as I entered the classroom. She was the walking reminder of my pain, and the worst part was, she was well aware of it.

  But she also knew to keep her mouth shut.

  We'd spent the last two weeks ignoring each other to avoid any unwanted attention. But that was only on the outside. On the inside, I wrestled with the knowledge of her every living breath, grappling with how unfair the outcome had been.

  Shane was dead.

  And in my mind, Laney was responsible.

  She had witnessed it all from within the mob and did nothing to stop it. Her only focus was on protecting her ancestors from their horrible fate. But she failed, and now, her ancestors had perished unthinkable deaths, and so did Shane. Her hopes of revenge had turned to dire consequences setting a new ripple of evil through the curse that surrounded us.

  But she held no remorse. She continued to walk around the school with her head held high, looking down at all the ordinary people beneath her, reigning as queen bee more than ever.

  By the time English had ended, I had no idea what Mr. Benson had talked about, or if he had even shown up. But I was keenly aware that Dom hadn't arrived.

  I moved out of my seat and into the hall in a haze. The one thing keeping me moving forward was the idea of seeing Poorva. Without lifting my head, I followed the current of students moving through the corridor, allowing the momentum to usher me into the science class.

  With my shoulders drooped, I sank into my seat in the physics classroom. I sat idle, waiting for Poorva to arrive. As the seconds passed, a sting entered my heart, and worry widened my eyes.

  How would I get through the day without Poorva? She had to get there.

  I reached for my phone to see if she'd texted, but before I could pull it out of my backpack, she plopped into her seat.

  Relief whooshed out of me, and I realized how much I relied on her for my survival. She was the one person who kept my head above water.

  "Shit. I thought I'd be late," she exhaled. "Ms. Harrison stopped me in the hall to talk about X-block. I swear, she's such a ditz. With no clue she was gonna make me tardy." She rolled her eyes at Ms. Harrison's fumble.

  Poorva's levity helped me to breathe again.

  She had no idea how much I relied on her energy.

  "You look like shit," she added.

  I grinned, loving her honesty.

  I knew the dark circles under my eyes were horrifying. Add on puffy, red lids, malnourishment, and inner rage eating me from the inside out, then yeah, I bet I looked like shit.

  It didn't matter, though. I didn't care.

  "I feel like shit too."

  "I know," she agreed. "It's beyond time we did something about all of this. Thank God we have X-block today. I don't think I can spend another day not knowing what the plan is."

  "There's no plan, Poorva." I shook my head. "It's over. It's how it was meant to be. Even Ms. Kelly said so."

  Poorva's shocked eyebrows pulled together. "Brynn. You can't give up hope like that." She clenched her fists. "Ms. Kelly has the missing pages of the spellbook. The Incantation of Souls. She'll figure something out."

  Her words shot me between the eyes, but I barely flinched.

  "Whatever." I lowered my eyes to the floor as Dr. Corley entered the room.

  His words boomed through the classroom with excited notions of disproving theories and postulates on the constructs of time and space. The topic intrigued me, and I strained to allow myself to listen, but no matter how I tried, I sank back into the darkness of my mind.

  By the end of class, I'd reached a place in the deep recesses of my brain that felt like what I imagined hell to be—a chasm of endless and unbearable suffering; red, thirsty, fiery, everlasting despair. As painful and frightening as the torture of the dark underworld was, I acknowledged my unexpected ability to feel it, to move with it, but not to allow it to harm me.

  I realized in that moment, that going to hell was something I could face.

  I was willing to risk hell if it meant having a chance to save Shane. Because without him, I was in a living hell anyway.

  Maybe it was time to stop playing by the virtuous rules and look at alternative means at fixing things.

  Dark magic? Deals with the devil?

  It suddenly seemed like a logical approach.

  The shocking ring of the bell made me jump in my seat, widening my eyes.

  My thoughts had moved to places I hadn't considered before, and I felt guilty for even entertaining them.

  As I looked up, I caught Poorva gazing at me in confusion. Her tipped head and narrowed eyes sent paranoia through me.

  Had she been able to read my thoughts? The concept certainly wasn't outside of our abilities.

  But we'd decided collectively, the UMAs, that we'd keep our telepathy shut down for the time being—particularly since Laney would have access to our thoughts if we opened them up.

  But Poorva's judging glare straightened my spine nonetheless.

  "What?" My voice cracked as I rubbed my ear.

  Her brows lifted, and she said, "Keep focus, Brynn. Last thing we need is for you to stray from the project."

  Shit.

  She was good.

  "What? Am I glowing some shade of defector or something?" I poked at her aura-reading gift, hoping to deflect her scrutiny.

  "Actually, yes," she stated. "And the yellow color doesn't suit you."

  With that, she swung her pack over her shoulder and headed for the door.

  I grabbed mine as well and followed her.

  With no intention of asking her to elaborate, I changed the subject.

  "X-block. Finally," I muttered.

  Poorva scratched her fingers through her hair. "I miss Ms. Kelly," she groaned. "Ms. Harrison's awesome and all, but she's a mess since hearing about the Mistress Harrison in the past. She can barely function now, and she was already flighty to begin with."

  I agreed. Ms. Harrison struggled with her inner demons. As soon as she heard about Mistress Harrison, the woman who led the angry mob to the sisters, she sank into guilt-ridden despair, assuming some level of familial connection to her.

  But we never judged her.

  The UMAs supported Ms. Harrison as one of our own. She was our mentor, one of the Higher Order Witch Trifecta, as we called it, and her place within our coven held its own purpose—a purpose that remained to be seen.

  "I feel bad for her," I whispered. "Hopefully, she'll be able to find a way to come to peace, a way to fix what happened. Just like we're going to do."


  I thought of each one of us, our unique gifts, and prayed that together, we could come up with a viable solution quickly.

  Poorva slowed in the hall and then stopped.

  I did the same and looked at her, waiting for whatever it was she had to say.

  "Brynn, you were right. There's no fixing what happened. You need to come to terms with that," she stated as if I'd misunderstood something. "Just as Ms. Kelly said." She hesitated, then delivered the final blow. "It was meant to be."

  Poorva's three-sixty attitude change spun my head around. First, she had propped me up with encouragement, then she cut me down, repeating my own dreaded words.

  It was meant to be.

  Hearing the words coming from her solidified their truth within my being, and I wanted to strangle her for saying them.

  My dashed hopes for miraculous solutions ran off me like wet paint in rain.

  Walking into X-block felt like walking to the gallows with no hope in sight.

  I barely acknowledged the other UMAs as I dropped into my seat at the conference room table. Ms. Harrison hadn't arrived yet, late as usual, but Courtney and Blake sat at the far side of the table with eyes fixed on me.

  Keeping my gaze down, I continued spouting my mind to Poorva.

  "I can't accept it," I murmured. "We all know that Shane existed. This idea that he never did is only a construct of the mind. It's not the truth."

  Poorva looked to the others for support as she replied to me.

  "Brynn, the truth lies in our perception of Shane. His presence in our lives was supernatural. He was a ghost."

  I shook my head to deflect her cutting words.

  "No." My hair flew around my face from the force of my resistance. "We changed the future by going to the past. His soul can be saved."