by Rain Oxford
A flash of red light was my only warning before searing heat struck me in the back with enough force to make me crash into the ground. My heartbeat lost its normal rhythm and pain radiated through my chest, stealing my breath. I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my potions, but Langril kicked it out of my hand.
“You think Krechea is going to let you heal yourself? Get up.”
Struggling for breath, I managed to get as far as my knees before Langril slammed his boot into the side of my knee. Only my disgust of the creatures that I knew surrounded me kept me from making a sound.
“Pathetic. This is why you can’t save Astrid. How many times has she saved your life? Even when you grew up, she watched over you from a distance. You were too busy crying over your parents to ever help her. Do you have any idea how hard she fought Krechea’s control? How hard she fought mine? All so she could be yours.” He laughed. It was a cruel sound. “And what did you do? You shot her.”
Anger overcame the pain in my chest and adrenaline gave me the strength to stand. I let the anger fester. Shooting her the first time was a mistake— shooting her the second time probably was, too— but Astrid was the only one who had the right to make me feel bad about it.
I had more anger built up in me than I cared to admit. I knew Langril was trying to provoke me and I was perfectly fine with that. Anger kindled the fire forming inside me, earth magic gave me strength to focus it, and water magic made me adaptable. I pushed the creatures that surrounded me from my mind and focused. As the heat overpowered the uneven thumping of my heart, I knew the creatures were drawn to it like flying bugs to a light.
I ignored them and unleashed the heat into Langril just before it could consume me. What struck him was not fire but the same red lightning that he used. I collapsed, and although the darkness fled and left me in the professor’s dim bedroom, black spots formed in my vision. My heart beat too erratically and violently and pressure prevented me from drawing in a breath.
I felt someone pressing a bottle to my mouth and drank it without hesitation. My instincts would have warned me if it was unsafe. I recognized the foul, bitter taste of my healing potion. Instantly, my heart calmed and the pain settled.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Henry. Professor Langril was leaning against his bed. His entire shirt was shredded and charred.
“I have no idea. I was in our room, and then I was here.”
Chapter 4
My classes were more difficult than those of my first semester, which was to be expected. The theory was more interesting, the research was more comprehensive, and the practice was more dangerous. My classmates were finally starting to decide on their careers and had planned their classes accordingly. I knew what my calling in life was; I enjoyed my job. I just wanted to survive until graduation.
In Tools of Magic, we learned that there was much more to building magical weapons than a carving knife. Something as powerful as a wizard’s staff could be completely useless if it was prepared the wrong way or if it was built by someone else. Every wizard had to create their own with a specific purpose, because the kind of wood, oils, gems, and carvings all determined its usage. Unfortunately, after constructing the dream catchers, we had to pass a series of tests on the different usages before we could actually begin building staffs and wands and whatnot.
“You have plenty of time for it,” Professor Aros said.
“If we don’t all die first,” Theo said. Half the class nodded their agreement.
Mythology, like Professor Roswell’s class on metals, was a research-based class that consisted of paper tests and essays on theory. Exciting.
In Summoning Your Familiar, we moved on from the official greeting ritual to the actual calling ritual. This took five classes. “My mother’s familiar showed up on her doorstep when she was ten. She didn’t even know she had magic,” one of the students said.
“My father could never call his familiar no matter what he did. Does that have to do with the wizard?” Becky asked.
Professor Houx smiled kindly. He was one of the few teachers Becky didn’t talk back to, and she could be extremely charming when she wanted to be. “It is equally due to the wizard and the familiar. Remember that the wizard and his familiar are designed to help each other. If you have a shy, reserved wizard who will never take the necessary step forward, the familiar is very likely a determined, headstrong beast who will rush into things.”
Mixed Martial Arts, while not very supernatural, did help me regain some of the stamina I lost over the short break. Since my heart was cursed and my life was shortened, I didn’t feel up to going to the gym. I still got exercise from my cases, but most of my time was spent looking up things on the computer or driving. Unlike all the professors, Zhang Wei did not accept excuses. Outside of class, he was my friend. Inside of class, he told me that I was going to do as well or better than the other students if it killed me.
Li Na assured me in broken English that if I slacked off, I would face a fully grown tiger. She knew this from experience; Zhang Wei was the epitome of tough love.
Defensive Magic was very much like Professor/Alpha Watson’s elemental classes— brutal. Between surprise essays and pop-duels, the eccentric professor seemed to be in competition with Professor Langril on who could come up with the most dangerous lessons. When he enchanted a dozen skeletons to rise and attack the living, then locked the class in the practice field with them using an invisible energy field that would incapacitate anyone who tried to cross it, six students dropped out.
Psychology of Shifters was very interesting, but I quickly figured out that there was no way to completely understand any shifter. People were complex creatures. Shifters were people and animals combined. Fortunately, Alpha Flagstone had a way of keeping the class engaging. Since it was a class meant for shifters, it glossed over a lot of prerequisite information.
Somehow, the subject of alcohol came up. For a number of shifters, their metabolisms burned it off before it could affect them. Darwin, who was busy carving formulas into his desk, absentmindedly said that wine made him calm. Everyone stared at him in shock for a couple of minutes before he looked up. “For about five minutes,” he added. “Then I throw it up. It calms my mother for hours.” Disappointed grumbles filled the room.
Advanced Divination was an exercise in patience. While other students could predict fortune and love in their crystal balls, I got everything from pitch blackness to bloody, headless bodies. When my visions began to bleed into the minds of my classmates, Vincent asked me to stop participating in class. Instead, he had me meditate for an hour and a half for the good of my heart.
After a few weeks of practicing with Vincent and Hunt, I was easily able to have a vision and defend myself without breaking it. From there, we moved onto actually controlling the air. I would stand for hours at a time, inside and outside, to practice controlling the air currents around me. When I asked why I had to learn to do what a fan could do better, Hunt explained that it was to strengthen my focus and endurance.
I thought I had good focus and I thought endurance was earth magic until I started this lesson. Five minutes of trying to control the wind felt like five hours, but Hunt never let me take a break. He had a very no-nonsense way of teaching that combined the “use the force” style with a “get over it” attitude. He wasn’t just a wise, powerful, old wizard like all of the students thought; he had a cleverly disguised sense of humor.
Vincent was very good at explaining things and always seemed to be able to read me. Since he had the power of visions instead of mind control like John, I didn’t worry too much about that. I told him that I was practicing with Langril as well and after muttering something in German, he told me to just be careful.
Professor Langril was absolutely insane. The magic he attacked me with would have killed anyone and he never held back. He taunted me. He nearly killed me every single lesson, until I thought maybe he intended for me to die before I could get the key.
; I knew, however, that his methods were effective. While the violent attacks I learned to use were not anything I was proud of, I did feel like I stood a better chance against Krechea and his shadow walkers.
Because the magic I used was the same demonic power that Langril used.
“I’m not… like you am I? I’m not half Dothra wizard, right?” I asked, gasping for breath on his bedroom floor.
Despite the fact that I had just struck him with a bolt of lightning that would have killed a human, he was barely breathing heavily. “Every wizard is a descendent of Dothra. How much of your ancestral nature you have in you is yet to be seen. Don’t worry; I have faith that you will have the power you need when you need it to defeat your enemy.”
* * *
By Monday of the fifth week into the school semester, the atmosphere in the university changed. Nobody died, there wasn’t anything under the school trying to kill anyone, and nobody got a mysterious burning sickness. In fact, I didn’t see any shadows trying to eat people. Word started going around that maybe no one would die this semester.
Overnight, someone had displayed a large, lovingly decorated poster in the dining room with a daily counter of how many days since there was a death at Quintessence… starting this semester, at least. Thirty-five days. What a record.
Darwin and I were eating dinner, wondering where Henry was, when Addison sat down in his normal seat. “Where is Henry?” she asked.
“We hid him in the closet when we saw you coming,” Darwin said, then slapped his hand over his mouth melodramatically. “Oh, no, you got it out of me. Do you want me to go get him? Do you want him to…” he paused and raised his eyebrows for effect. “… come out of the closet?”
“I’m going to kick your ass one of these days, Darwin.” Right after she said it, she looked over our shoulders and smiled. Henry sat down beside her and handed her a small bouquet of wildflowers. “What’s this for?” she asked. He shrugged, stood back up, and went to get a tray of food.
“Darwin, didn’t your father teach you not to scratch yourself at the dinner table?” Henry asked when he sat back down. Addison was holding her flowers as if someone was going to try to take them from her.
“I can’t help it. My skin’s crawling.” Darwin scrubbed at his chest and shoulders, twisting his dark green hoodie into a knot. “It’s like the air is upset.”
“I feel it, too, but I’m not scratching.”
“I don’t feel anything odd,” I said.
“It must be a shifter thing,” Darwin said.
“But you’re only half shifter, so why do you feel it stronger?” I glanced around the dining room and noticed other shifters squirming or looking somewhat jittery. “Can’t animals tell when it’s going to storm?”
Henry gave me his posh deadpan stare which was both disapproving and impatient. “We’re not meteorologists. We can occasionally detect sudden changes as part of our animal instincts. This doesn’t feel like that.”
I was still scanning the room. “Hey, there are some fae missing.” Amelia was with her roommates, but there was definitely a few missing.
“They’re probably in class,” Henry said.
“Fae prefer earlier classes,” Darwin argued.
“It’s the nature fae that are missing.”
“It does feel like something is wrong with nature,” Darwin said. “It’s upset.”
My instincts caused me to turn before I even heard the commotion. I saw Jackson and his gang surrounding someone. Everyone except the first circle students knew not to be alone with those guys.
“Why are you always getting involved?” Henry asked.
Only then did I realize that I had stood up. “I’m not sure this time.” My instincts were telling me to get over there.
“Hey, someone has a mobile,” Darwin said. “That’s what Jackson said; ‘hand over the phone.’ But why have it out in the open?”
Instead of answering, I approached the group, and froze in shock when I saw who they were surrounding. The man had scruffy black hair, bright blue eyes, and sharp features that made him appear older than his twenty-five years. He was about six foot tall and athletic in an oddly lithe way, since his long sessions of sitting in front of the computer were only interrupted with short bouts of running for his life, jumping at every unexpected sound, and setting traps in his own house for intruders.
Marcus, a pure human, was in the dining room. “What are you doing here?” I asked, pushing Jackson out of my way. It wasn’t the first question that came to mind, but there were few I could ask that wouldn’t give him away.
“I followed you.”
“Give me the damn phone!” Jackson said, interrupting.
“What’s your problem?” Marcus asked. He clutched his cell phone to his chest. It was beeping quietly.
I put myself between them and turned to face the temperamental wizard. “Turn it off, take the battery out, and stick it in your pocket,” I told Marcus quietly.
“Why?”
“There are several students here who would maim you for it.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s a burner phone; I have no attachment to it. Obviously, he needs it more than me. Give me a second to wipe it and I’ll hand it over.” Just as he said, he held it out a moment later.
Jackson took it impatiently, dialed a number like his fingers were on fire, and put it to his ear. “Maddy?” he asked after a second. “How’s the baby?”
The relief on his face was out of character. “I told you he needed it more than me,” Marcus said.
Jackson’s gang dispersed and I turned to Marcus. “How did you follow me? I didn’t even take my car.” When he smiled proudly, I looked down at my dark blue shirt and checked my silver buttons, which were all identical.
“No, not that shirt. The dark green one you always wear.”
“You tagged my favorite shirt? Why did you follow me?”
He glanced around nervously. “That problem I told you about? It’s my father. He found me. All my computers, my code names, every camera I avoided… none of that stands a chance against money, apparently. I need your help.”
“I’ll help you, but you should have called me instead of showing up here.”
“What’s wrong with here? It’s just a school, right?”
Darwin approached us on my left and Henry on my right. “What’s up?” Darwin asked. “Who’s this?”
“I’m…” Marcus trailed off, unsure whether or not to lie. He hadn’t given his name to anyone in years.
“Come to my room and I’ll explain everything.” After all, if anyone in the world could keep a secret, it was him. He turned and went out into the hall. Just as we started up the stairs, there was a shout from outside.
Becky came in through the exterior doors, started for the dining room, saw me, and stopped. “Hey!” she whispered urgently. “Something’s wrong with the weather. Where is Professor Watson?”
I knew no skepticism showed on my face. “The weather? Is it snowing or something?”
She rolled her eyes. “Would I be trying to find Professor Watson about snow in January? Go look.”
“Watson should be wrapping up his last class now,” Darwin said. Becky nodded and ran back out the door. “Are we really going out there?”
“Weren’t you the one that said the air is upset?”
“The what’s upset?” Marcus asked.
“Maybe you should go wait upstairs. This place is not safe for you.”
He scoffed. “No way! What am I, twelve?”
I sighed, but he had a point. Darwin sniffed him and frowned, so I pushed him ahead of me. “I’ll explain in a minute.” We went outside. It was supposed to be in the very low twenties, but the wild wind made it feel twenty below. I zipped up my leather jacket, which was great at cutting the wind, but not at protecting my face from frostbite.
“What the hell?!” Darwin yelled, clutching his hood around his face until only his mouth was visible.
It wasn’t the wind th
at was so supernatural. Snow blew quite violently… but not on us. Although the wind was strong, there was an invisible barrier around the castle grounds that stopped the snow. It was past sunset and the glow from the windows of the castle and dorms seemed to clash against the snow and clouds.
The noise drew students and professors out of the castle and the dormitory until the majority of the university’s population stood outside. Suddenly, the wind changed direction to surround the campus and formed a massive tornado. Trees were uprooted and one crashed into the ground before me, but the space inside the tornado, which included the castle, dormitory, and the greenhouse, was relatively calm.
“Devon, what the hell is going on here?” Marcus asked.
* * *
Although the eye of the storm wasn’t that bad, we were at risk of flying debris and the sound of the wind was deafening. “Devon, this is unnatural,” Darwin yelled, barely audible.
I knew it was, but whatever this was, it was affecting Darwin. I turned back to the castle and saw Hunt, Vincent, and Flagstone standing in the stone courtyard. When Remington approached her father to speak to him, Flagstone wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away. Vincent and Hunt made a motion with their hands, but other than a short burst of light, nothing happened.
Lightning struck in the dark matter of the tornado, which was enough to convince many of the students to get back inside. I barely heard the scream and had no idea where it came from, so I let out my power, searching for fear instead of a particular mind.
And I found it. The greenhouse was too close to the dangerous winds, and there were people in it. I backed out of their minds and connected with Darwin and Henry. “Darwin, watch out for Marcus and get him inside. Be gentle; he’s human. Henry, with me.” I didn’t have to look to know they would do as I said and neither of them asked about Marcus being human. They trusted me.
