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

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  And Shane would know how to help the others. Together we would be able to weave the past events into a pattern that allowed for balance to return to the coven.

  It was weird. As soon as I thought about the coven, a new member came to mind. It didn't make sense at all, because she'd been seen as an enemy all along. But then, I couldn't help but think we were all connected in a way that could work.

  I looked up with a gasp as the revelation shot through me, and before I could find my inner balance again, her voice shot at me from behind.

  "Brynn," Laney called to me. "Wait up!"

  I shot around in disbelief and stared as Laney ran toward me from the same door I'd exited from. It slammed behind her, shutting off our means of re-entry, creating a permanent barrier between the school and us.

  "I saw you from my classroom," she panted, pointing to a second-floor window. "What the hell are you doing?" Her eyes went bright with intrigue.

  I fought to catch my balance from the shock of seeing her. And in the same instant, I decided to tell her everything.

  "I need to find a way to connect with Shane," I stated without blinking. "I can't wait any longer."

  She swallowed hard as if not expecting such a direct response.

  And then with a nod, she said, "Come with me."

  Chapter 9

  In the blink of an eye, we were in Laney's red Beemer driving straight toward her house. We traveled along Main Street and then turned onto her historic road. Each massive house held the history of the town in their columns, and the sprawling lawns allowed the ghosts room to roam.

  Pulling into her long driveway, I stared up at the white walls of the manor with black shutters framing each window. I remembered my last visit to this house, and a lump formed in my throat. Shane had been with me that time, and we were just beginning to realize our deeper feelings for one another. I pushed past the sorrow that threatened to shroud me, and instead focused on when I would see him again.

  As my eyes closed in a slow blink, a wave of rational thinking poisoned me.

  Shane was dead.

  Was I crazy thinking I could see him again or connect with him in any way.

  If I had told anyone else about my plan, they'd laugh me out of the room and throw the Ouija Board after me.

  I shook my head at my own insanity.

  It was ludicrous what I was planning. It made no sense.

  But then, I pushed my negativity aside and remembered the mystical elements all around me.

  They were real.

  I'd used them before and had their power within my veins.

  With a nod, I reasserted myself to my plan and stepped out of the car.

  "We've got the house to ourselves," Laney said, snapping my attention back to the moment. "My mother spends most of her time at her attorney's office. I swear they're having an affair," she smirked.

  We stepped through the front door, and the sound of our voices echoed through the massive foyer, traveling up the sweeping stairs and into a maze of hallways.

  My feet stopped beneath me, and I urged them to move forward. Their resistance reminded me of how strange it was to be in Laney's house, by choice.

  But being there made sense.

  Her skills were exactly what I needed to take the next step.

  I knew the UMAs would go crazy if they knew I was here. They'd say I was a defector. And Ms. Kelly would be devastated by my disloyalty. All of her pain and suffering could be directly linked to Laney and her family, and here I was, cavorting with the enemy.

  But it was my last hope. I had to keep telling myself that.

  "Are you hungry?" Laney's voice hummed at the back of my mind.

  "Hmm? Oh. A little, I guess."

  Truth was, I was famished.

  And suddenly, the idea of food took over my every thought.

  "I forgot to eat today," I murmured. "And yesterday."

  She turned to me with a laugh. "Yeah, I had a feeling. Time to put some flesh back on your bones."

  We walked toward the back of the foyer and entered the grand kitchen. Granite and stainless steel filled my vision as I moved up to the closest of two islands. One of the refrigerators had glass doors exposing a myriad of drinks and fresh fruit.

  Laney opened a cabinet-front fridge, revealing clear plastic containers of freshly-made meals.

  "Burrito bowl or sweet and sour chicken?" she asked.

  I hesitated, unable to make a choice.

  "Okay, both then." She pulled out two containers and loaded the contents onto a large dinner plate. With a slam of the door, she had the microwave spinning in an instant. Then she grabbed two bottles of Starbucks Cold Brew from the beverage fridge and popped them open. Handing one to me, she said, "Okay, I can't say it's not weird having you here. We've kind of gotten off to a shaky start."

  I huffed. "Yeah, you could say that."

  I thought of her numerous social attacks in school and then worse, her assaults in the woods, trying to stop us from saving Tommy and from treading on her family curse.

  "Well, maybe it makes sense to work together now," she added with a shrug. "I mean, you're more of a badass than I realized at first." She hesitated. "Well, that's not entirely true. I actually realized that from the start, which is why I reacted so strongly, I guess."

  I grinned. "Well, in hindsight, I had a strong reaction to you too. Typically, I've been able to ignore people like you and just keep my head down. But somehow, I couldn't do that with you."

  Her eyes brightened, and she stood taller. "I'll take that as a compliment."

  She placed the plate in front of me and went to the fridge to get some for herself. Without hesitating, I tore into the burrito, finally realizing the depths of my self-starvation.

  After replenishing my soul with warm food and light conversation, I sat back in my barstool and pondered whatever the hell I was doing there.

  An element of intrigue held my attention as I considered what I might learn.

  "Are you ready?" Laney asked.

  I took a final sip of my cold brew and stood up. "Ready."

  Laney held a sinister smirk that heightened my curiosity as well as my defenses. She led the way to a long hall at the back of the house. Cracked-paint portraits lined the walls with intricately carved, heavy frames. As we moved along the ornate corridor, the pilgrim-like attire of the subjects in the paintings evolved over time and changed to romantic clothing of lace and excess, all the way to modern-day suits. As we reached the family portrait that included Laney as a small child, we stopped.

  "Every house had a safe room in the 1600s," she said. "Maybe for hiding slaves. Maybe for hiding witches." She watched me with a lifted eyebrow.

  I stared back, waiting for what would happen next.

  "Ours is no different," she added. "Maybe even more elaborate. You know, my family has a history of needing to hide things." Her grin lifted on one side.

  She reached her hand behind the family portrait and pushed against the wall. Decorative lines of molding ran down the length of the wall every few feet, and as she pressed, a seam cracked open along the line of trim behind the painting.

  My breath stopped short as I watched her push open a full panel in the wall. It shifted, allowing just enough space for entry into the darkness beyond it.

  "Watch your step," Laney instructed as she closed the door behind us and moved into the darkness.

  Following closely, I watched her lift a dimmer switch as yellow light illuminated the stone stairs at my feet.

  "A little modern technology goes a long way," she joked. "Without it, the secret cellar would be pitch black. Imagine back in time, they'd need candles down here, and when those burned out, they’d be in total darkness." She moved down the winding, uneven steps.

  Careful not to fall, I took each step with caution, keeping my wits about me. I had no idea what to expect down here and had to remain fully aware of my surroundings.

  As we got to the bottom of the steps, my feet landed on the solid
dirt floor. I glanced all around me, taking in every detail of the workshop. It reminded me at first of the hidden chamber at the church where we set up our incantations on the altar, but this space was way better.

  A library of ancient books lined one wall, while trinkets and antique items filled shelves along the other walls. In the middle of the space was an intricately carved table—an altar by its own right, covered in candles, artifacts, and a leather-bound book that must have weighed ten pounds.

  "This place is incredible," I whispered, running my hand along the side of the altar.

  "It's our shrine," she said, watching my every move and reaction. "We've used it for centuries to get our way."

  Her word choice didn't surprise me at all. She was well used to getting her way, and apparently, it was a family trait.

  I reached for a large crystal on the table.

  "No, don't move anything," she warned. "It's set up in a specific archetype for bringing good fortune." She shrugged. "Mother thinks it will help her clear her name for her involvement in Tommy's disappearance."

  My eyes widened at her mention of it. I was sure she'd never speak of it.

  She continued, "And I think it's working. There's no buzz in town about any of the indiscretions around the situation."

  Indiscretions? That was one way of putting it.

  "I'm sure it has something to do with Ms. Kelly's rituals,” I said. “Whatever she set up, it seems to have erased the town's memory of Tommy’s missing for so many years. It's like no one noticed anything strange." I shrugged.

  Laney leaned closer. "Ms. Kelly sets invocations as well?"

  I pressed my lips together, realizing I'd said too much.

  Shit.

  I had to work harder at keeping my coven's actions a secret. How could I have been so stupid already? I guess I just didn't expect to see such similar activities here at Laney's.

  "Oh, I'm not sure. I just assumed maybe she had," I blabbered. "I don't know."

  Laney huffed. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to cover up a slip." She reached for one of the books on the shelf. "There's a spell for that too."

  I pulled my eyes away, knowing they would betray me as much as my words did.

  I'd have to remember that Laney had her own agenda. And no matter how cordial she seemed in the moment, she would do anything to protect her family.

  And so would I.

  Which was precisely why I was there.

  Laney moved through the room and gathered various items from the shelves and from small boxes. Balancing the bits on the top of the book, she came over to me and lowered herself onto the floor.

  "Sit," she commanded, spreading a fringed scarf across the dirt floor.

  I sat across from her and watched as she set two black candles on each end of the fabric, then scattered stones and crystals across the surface. Then, placing the book on top of the rocks, leaving them exactly as they had fallen, she cracked open the spine.

  "A makeshift altar on the floor is better than nothing," she grinned, striking a wooden match to life.

  Lighting each candle, she then lifted her gaze to me. "Have you ever performed an incantation before?"

  I nodded slowly. "Sort of, I guess."

  I mean, I'd seen it done at the old church, and even dabbled with it in the root cellar with Gertie. But honestly, I'd never set one up fully like this before, like without a mentor.

  "Sort of?" she repeated.

  "Well, I guess I've never been the one to set it up, and, you know, activate it."

  Laney chuckled. "A virgin? I love it." Blowing out the match, she narrowed her eyes on me. "I bet that will make it all the more powerful."

  She turned the dark, water-stained pages of the book, searching for a specific spell.

  "So, tell me, Brynn," she whispered. "What is it you'd like to accomplish today?"

  I took a deep breath and let it whoosh out of me, nearly blowing out one of the candles.

  Laney's questions carried more weight than words alone.

  What did I want to accomplish?

  That was easy.

  I wanted to communicate with the dead.

  Easily said. Not so easily done, though.

  "I want to connect with Shane," I stated.

  Laney's eyes widened with intrigue.

  "Speak with the deceased?" she asked. "That's so cliché."

  "I don't believe he was supposed to die when he did," I said, ignoring her jab. "If I can reach out to him before he's gone forever, I might be able to help."

  She nodded as one eye narrowed on me.

  "Changing the past?" she murmured. "Is that what you're planning?"

  Her question sounded more like an accusation.

  "I don't believe the past is set in stone," I retorted. "It's more fluid, like spanning on different planes." I confused myself, trying to explain it.

  She set back, pondering my words.

  "I agree," she stated. "It's that belief that has kept my hopes alive too."

  It was then that I realized she had an agenda for the day as well.

  "And what do you plan to accomplish today?" I asked her.

  She leaned across the makeshift altar and stared straight into my soul.

  "Same as you," she admitted. "But I'm just not sure what needs to change in order to stop the curse on my family. The witchcraft? The executions? The illegitimate child?"

  My eyes widened to near bursting, and she didn't miss the level of my shock by the last comment. An illegitimate child? Although, all three examples would likely be equal contenders.

  She shook her head. "Time will determine all."

  Her avoidance of my clear intrigue was visible as she looked everywhere but at me. She had said too much and knew it. I decided to allow it to pass at the moment, but I'd be sure to follow up on her comment later. The idea of an illegitimate child in the 1600s was just too much to let go.

  "We'll need to remain focused," she said, reaching across the set-up and taking my hands.

  Her light touch held the weight of my palms with her own.

  "We have minor chakras in the center of our hands," she continued. "They act as portals for energy and healing. Visualize that energy. Feel it forming within your palms and send it into mine."

  A slight gasp escaped my lips as heat generated in my hands. A subtle purple glow radiated of them, and I pulled away from her touch.

  "No." She tugged my hands back. "It's okay. That's normal." She gazed at the violet light that emanated from my fingers. "Well, sort of," she chuckled, likely remembering the intensity of it in the hallway at school earlier. "Just concentrate."

  I pressed my lips together and allowed her to touch her hands to mine again.

  "Picture his face," she murmured. "Feel him in your heart."

  A lump grew in my throat, and I wondered if she had any idea of what she was asking of me. To see him and to feel him, it would be torture.

  Unless this worked, and I truly found him.

  With a difficult swallow, I determined that it was worth a try.

  And I conjured his image in my mind and my soul.

  Laney's eyes closed along with mine as she focused on her own intentions.

  "Now, chant along with me, allowing your voice to drone along in a low, steady vibration." She rocked slightly as she began reciting words from her book. "Eripe animam flere sanguine veire ad me."

  My eyes shot wide as I tried to understand the new language.

  Laney stopped and opened her eyes.

  "It's Latin," she said. "Just do your best to copy the sounds." She rolled her eyes like I was a beginner. "It's ancient, which makes it more effective."

  I nodded and closed my eyes again.

  Her voice vibrated through the cellar again. "Eripe animam flere sanguine veire ad me."

  I repeated the words as she spoke them.

  "Et ponam te in somnum. Et stabat de vestro." Her voice grew louder with each passing word.

  As we repeated the sp
ell, again and again, I grew more confident with the sound of the words and focused less on saying them and more on feeling them. The words sent meaning through me—a cadence of sound that said things like, "put you to sleep, standing on your own, cry, blood, deliver me."

  Together, our voices resonated through the cellar, sending powerful vibrations through my body. The sensation caused a feeling of weightlessness within me, and I was sure I must have been floating.

  I opened one eye to measure myself in time and place, but my vision was clouded by black mist. Reaching out, I pushed my hand through the fog in hopes of seeing through it. Laney's voice continued to thrum through the back of my mind as I stood and stepped deeper into the mist.

  Swiping with both hands, I struggled to clear the thick swirls of dark clouds, causing waves to whirl all around me.

  "Et ponam te in somnum." Laney's voice grew thunderous in the back of my skull as I stepped farther into the black mist.

  My breath grew equally as loud as the fog cleared away from me in gentle spirals. Panting from the strange experience, I stepped onto wet grass, wiggling my toes in its soft moss. A final breath whooshed out of me as I froze in place.

  Without a flinch, my eyes were the only thing that moved, searching my surroundings. A sense of peace washed over me, allowing me to pull in a reviving breath of air. And just as I focused on my setting, he came into my view.

  Shane's eyes locked onto mine with a comforting look of home. His weary expression brightened as he moved closer to me as if he were unbelieving of what he was seeing.

  "Brynn?" he called to me, stepping around gravestones in the tall grass.

  His arms reached for me as my heart nearly burst from the sight of him.

  "Shane," I whispered, my disbelieving voice lost in the fading mist.

  "You found a way back to me," he gasped. "I knew you would." His loving gaze filled my empty soul with hope and light.

  I dropped my guard and moved to him, reaching to touch his face. Devouring every detail of his being, I felt myself come back to life with each new breath.

  Just as I was about to touch him, he stopped, inches from my reach.