Enchanter Witch Academy

by Paige Stonebank

  “You guys bet on me?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “We always do,” Wendy admitted, gnawing on a piece of beef.

  “Are we all just going to ignore the fact that there is a familiar on her shoulder? An actual familiar?” Nina came a little closer to the ballerina, examining every inch of her. The ballerina seemed to enjoy the attention. “How is this possible?”

  “It’s Lia, Nina. Anything is possible with her,” Damien said, winking at me. I rolled my eyes and shrugged. This was not the appropriate time for this.

  Now that I was back and the secret was out, Damien would want to talk to me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that just yet. He’d want to talk about everything that had happened, about us. Perhaps, if I ignored his flirtations, he wouldn’t be so eager. Perhaps it would put him off for a bit. I hoped with everything within me that it would work. I didn’t know how else I could possibly tell him that I didn’t think now was the right time for us. That I didn’t feel that way about him, but that I didn’t have the time to figure out how I actually did feel.

  “Mr. Henry helped me create her. I don’t know how I did it myself, but I did and here we are.” I took the chance to glance around quickly. “All eyes on me.” The room was still quiet, staring at me. Sometimes, I could hear the scratching of a fork, but that was it.

  “When I told you to man up, Lia, I didn’t think you would go and summon a familiar,” Wendy said, a small smile on her face. “Trust you to walk the extra mile.”

  “Mr. Henry thought it was a good idea to get to know my magic. You know? Find out why it acts the way it does.” I didn’t know why I was explaining this to them. It wasn’t as if they would understand any of it. They didn’t have the problems I did with their magic. Their magic obeyed their every beck and call. They never understood why I didn’t have that ability, and they probably never would. Still, I felt the need to try. Even if it was just to make conversation.

  “I’ve heard stories about familiars. About their devoted loyalty to their masters. I heard that they would pillage entire villages for their masters and bring home gold and riches,” she said. I’d heard the story she was telling me about, and it was utter garbage. “I can understand you wanting one. They are badass. But what I don’t understand is, in your reasoning, how are you going to get to know it if it can’t talk?” Nina asked.

  Suddenly, the ballerina turned her head to Nina, who yelped and scooted away from me. Wendy was holding her in her arms, looking wide-eyed at the ballerina, who smiled at them both.

  “But I can talk,” she said, hopping off my shoulder and landing gracefully on the table.

  Her little feet hardly made a sound on the plywood. Wherever she stepped, little embers flew into the sky. This was an effect I had never seen her use before. She was being dramatic. I wanted to whack her, to tell her not to attract even more attention.

  “I can understand your confusion,” she continued, twirling like a real ballerina. “But my master is no ordinary witch, and I am no ordinary magic.”

  The ballerina caused quite the stir and soon enough, a crowd surrounded our table. It was out of sorts. The kids at the academy typically never marveled at magic—it was something they were used to, something that they too possessed. The ballerina seemed to handle herself just fine, singeing fingers that came just a little too close to her.

  “Now that the secret is out,” Damien whispered in my ear, leaning closer to me so only I could hear him as the rest of the students were distracted by the ballerina, “I think it’s time we talked.”

  In that instant, the ballerina looked at me, her eyes growing wide and her head shaking ever so slightly. It was hardly noticeable. Then, there was skin against my hand: another hand. Only then did I realize what the ballerina was trying to tell me. I had to get away from him if I was going to avoid it.

  Before he could entwine our fingers, I reached out my hand to pick up the ballerina. I hoped that Damien thought it was coincidence. I hoped he thought that I was merely trying to protect my familiar from prodding fingers. From the corner of my eye, I could see his hand pulling away, balling into a fist.

  The ballerina didn’t stop glaring at him the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 16: Mr. Henry and Me

  “I want you to toss a fireball at me.”

  “You want me to do what?” I asked, not sure I’d heard Mr. Henry correctly.

  “You heard me, Lia,” he said. “I want you to throw a fireball at me.”

  “Do you have a death wish?”

  He chuckled. “It’s easy to lose control if there isn’t anything at risk. My life is at risk now. So, get a small fireball in your hand and throw it at me. I will catch it with water, if it’s small enough.”

  “If?” I looked over at him dubiously.

  “Okay, listen, you can’t be scared of the fire forever. You are strong, and you have a familiar that you should have grown closer to by now. You know your magic. She is your magic,” he explained. “The wildness that you have always felt inside of you was that ballerina on your shoulder. It was her, trying to get out to protect you. It was her that was trying to protect herself from you trying to leash her. Now that she’s out, she can protect you. Now that you know her, you know how to handle her. You know what makes her tick. You know how to calm her down. Now, get that fireball and throw it at me.”

  “I will not be held responsible if your hair catches on fire,” I said, cringing at what I was about to do.

  The ballerina leaned closer to me, whispering in my ear. “There’s so much product in his hair, I am surprised he can walk past a candle without being set on fire.”

  “I heard that,” Mr. Henry said, but it didn’t stop my giggle.

  I knew what they were trying to do. They were trying to get me to relax, to let my magic do its thing. It was like a caged dog, my magic. When it was in its cage, it would go crazy, biting and barking. But once it was let out, it was calmer. It was the sort of dog that rested its head on your lap while watching television, begging you for treats. It was the sort of dog that brought you your newspaper.

  I had to relax and let my magic out of its cage. I had to shake off the shackles and embrace it. I had to treat the flames to fresh air and some exercise.

  My fingertips tingled as they sparked, igniting a flame no bigger than the palm of my hand. It was hot, but not hot enough to burn me. Instead, this flame was comforting. It was nice. I smiled as I looked at it, watching as it stayed the exact same size. It didn’t grow or flicker. This was a perfectly still flame.

  I put one hand over the other, pressing the flame into a tight ball. It reminded me of rolling a snowball. When I was finished, I looked at Mr. Henry who had his feet planted a comfortable width apart, waiting to catch my fireball as if we were playing catch.

  I took a deep breath, reminding myself that the ballerina was here, my familiar was here. Everything was going to be fine. There was nothing to be afraid of. Everything was utterly and completely fine.

  Finally, I threw the fireball at Mr. Henry, and it moved too fast for my eyes to follow. All I saw was an orange and red stripe that led from me to my teacher.

  Mr. Henry had cat-like reflexes and caught the fireball with a hand wrapped in water. The water did not put out the fire; instead, it cradled the ball of fire perfectly, protecting it from the assault of wind.

  Mr. Henry grinned at me. “What did I tell you, kid?”

  “He’s never going to let you hear the end of this,” the ballerina mumbled, playing with stray locks of my hair.

  “Now, catch it again. Don’t question it,” he instructed. “Just let your body react naturally.”

  I didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to consider my options. My body moved on its own, stretching out to catch the ball of fire. It connected with my hand, still hot but not blistering. I stared at it for a bit, amazed by the control.

  No, not control. I wasn’t controlling the magic. That was a thought I had to get out of my head.

/>   There was no controlling the magic, I knew that now. I was not controlling it, but rather telling it what to do. The magic itself controlled the form it took, the heat it emitted. It knew exactly how hot it had to be, how big it had to be to stay under control. All this time, I thought that I had to think about my magic like other sorcerers thought about theirs. But my magic was nothing like theirs. My magic had a mind of its own; it had intelligence. And it needed that intelligence to avoid being misused. It needed to know what to do because it was impossible for its caster to know themselves. The volcanos inside of me scared the hell out of me at first, but now I understood. I understood that I had the power to call on that magic, but I did not have the power to control it. I could guide it, yes, but I shouldn’t interfere.

  “You’re starting to understand now,” the ballerina said with a giant grin on her face. “No one ever explained it to me like this.”

  “That’s because no one understood your magic.”

  I looked at Mr. Henry, who was waiting for me to toss the ball back to him. No one except for him, it would seem. How did he have such a wealth of knowledge about my magic? My magic was nothing like his. He didn’t have a familiar, he’d never come in contact with anyone else that controls fire. I shook my head. He was the only one who was actually helping me. I didn’t care where he got his information from; all I cared about was that he was sharing it with me.

  “I want to try something different,” I said.

  Mr. Henry raised his eyebrows. “I thought I was in charge here.”

  “I don’t know what gave you that idea,” I teased, then stepped back. “I want you to send water my way.”

  “Excuse me?” he mimicked my confusion that I’d had at the beginning of this lesson.

  I told him my idea, what I wanted to try. He didn’t seem very impressed with me, but I made him agree to it, nonetheless. If I was going to get better at my magic, I had to be able to handle anything that came my way. I had to be able to handle anything that could snuff out my flames.

  I would start with water and work my way up. We’d start out slow, small. And then, we could make the waves bigger. I had to learn how to counter other magics. Especially if they were as efficient at putting out my flames like Mr. Henry’s water.

  We got ready.

  I stood in the middle of the clearing, making sure that there were no trees close by. Mr. Henry stood at the border of the forest and the meadow. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

  “I’m sure,” I confirmed, then looked at the ballerina. She was grinning at me.

  I watched as Mr. Henry summoned a wave as tall as he was. The water was a beautiful blue; it seemed almost animated.

  The wave came closer, closer, and my heart beat faster. I really hoped I could do this.

  I heard the wave before it crashed into me, sizzling away into nothingness. There was a steam cloud around me, and my body was coated in flames. His magic had no effect on me in this form. When it got close, it merely evaporated. I huffed, disappointed.

  “Is that the best you can do?” I asked, the flames around me turning into smoke, then disappearing.

  “All right, Cornelia. You’ve proven that you can defend yourself,” he said, something different in his voice now. It was a little strained, a little forced. Perhaps he was annoyed that he couldn’t put out the fire just now. It must have been that? But it looked as if he was thinking, worrying?

  “I am going to summon a pool of water now, and you are going to shoot a ball of fire into it,” he commanded. “Don’t make it hot. I want to see how long your flame can last under the circumstances. Sometimes, you won’t be able to use the heat to that extent, and then you’re screwed.”

  “So, you want to see if my fire can last when it’s submerged in water?”

  He nodded. That was ridiculous. Of course, the fire wasn’t going to last in the water. What was he thinking? Still, I didn’t argue with him. I decided to humor him, instead.

  It took only a few seconds for a body of water to form in front of us. It nearly seemed as if it was in a glass tank, only there was no tank at all. Mr. Henry was keeping it still as a pool of water. I looked at him. It was as if he didn’t even notice the effort.

  I did what he told me to, then. I formed a ball of fire in my hand and tossed it into the water, but it died out as soon as it hit the cool blue surface. I sighed with disappointment, looking at the ballerina who merely shrugged and floated away to the tree line. As if suggesting I was on my own. She found herself a nice spot in the shade and lied down.

  “Try that again, Cornelia, but focus on keeping it alive this time. Don’t just throw it, keep it alive.” Mr. Henry still looked too anxious for my liking, and it made me uneasy.

  I rolled my shoulders, closed my eyes, and formed the ball in my hand once again, imagining that it had a protective layer around it. I tossed it at the water, but we got the same results. Mr. Henry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and it snapped something inside my chest.

  My eyes felt as if they were made from fire, and from my hands shot a fireball straight toward the pool of water. Flames rose in my throat and my fingers twitched, focusing all my energy into keeping the blaze alive underwater. There was just something that I found very satisfying about proving people wrong, about knocking the smirk off someone’s face completely. I didn’t know why Mr. Henry’s reaction triggered me, but I was grateful that it did. He looked at me, mouth agape. Smiling at him, I decided to rub salt in the wound.

  I molded the fireball inside of the tank, shaping it until it was a baby dolphin. I made it swim through the water, a flaming fish. It moved gracefully, just like I’d told it to with my hands and then, with one mighty leap, it jumped out of the water. It burned brighter than the sun and Mr. Henry had to cover his eyes. The light was blinding, brighter than I ever thought my flames could burn.

  The dolphin crashed into the water again, splashing as it swam all the way down to the bottom, only to turn around and swim upward again, gathering speed for yet another lump. I laughed heartily when it emerged again. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen in my entire life—a fish made of flames, swimming through water. Flames existing underwater. I never knew it was possible. I never knew that I was capable of doing such things.

  “Remarkable,” Mr. Henry breathed, walking toward the tank. The dolphin splashed him once, causing a string of curses to leave his mouth, before popping its head from the side of the invisible tank. Gingerly, Mr. Henry reached out to touch the dolphin. He didn’t recoil, didn’t flinch. He huffed a breath of air that could have been a chuckle. “Shit.”

  Chapter 17: Awful Teachers

  Apart from the stares that had followed me around since my grand appearance at dinner the previous week, things had gone pretty smoothly. There were no incidents with Margot, even though I was certain that she was going to make trouble sooner or later. She was not the sort of girl who just let things slide. She was out for Damien and me both now, and when she did attack, I was ready for her. Yes, this time I was going to fight back. I was done being walked over. How did I expect to beat the Dark Brotherhood if I couldn’t even stand up and face my high school bully? No, that was out of the question. There would be no more bullying from her. Especially not when it involved me or my friends. She had another think coming if she thought she could come after me again. She’d done it one too many times.

  But Margot still hadn’t made her big appearance, and I was starting to settle into a routine. School was school and I tried to avoid Damien as much as possible. I had the excuse of having to catch up on the classes I’d missed when I was in the tower, but the excuse was only going to last so long. At least at dinner, breakfast, and lunch, the other three were with us. He wouldn’t talk about what happened in front of them. At least, I was hoping he wouldn’t. After school, I had a three-hour practice session with Mr. Henry and then it was time for dinner before I headed up to my room, drowning in research, projects, and homework until I passed out from exhau
stion.

  The ballerina still hadn’t told me her name, but that was fine. She’d slowly begun to crawl her fiery little way into my heart, and I couldn’t imagine my days without her. She was a mischievous little rascal, and she enjoyed annoying Wendy most of all. To Wendy’s credit, she never got angry at the ballerina. Instead, she’d made a special bed in her backpack for her to sleep in when the class was particularly boring. The ballerina liked my friends, all except Damien. She said that she had an off feeling about him, but I shrugged it off. She probably felt my reluctance to be alone with him through our bond and took it as something else.

  But all in all, things were going well.

  It was unsettling. I was afraid of letting my guard down. I was afraid that, whenever I allowed myself to relax, Sebastian would work his way into my room again and turn my whole world upside down. We had scheduled to meet that night, exactly a week after he had last been in contact with me. I still wasn’t sure what was going to happen or what I was going to say to him. I wasn’t sure if he’d even show up. Perhaps he had somehow found out about what I told the headmistress. Perhaps he knew that I knew who exactly he was and why he was contacting me. Those were a lot of “Perhapses” and not enough “For certains.” I didn’t like it one bit. That boy was a mystery to me that I just couldn’t uncover.

  I found myself dreaming about him in classes—the way his eyes danced when he smirked, the way he spoke to his familiar as if they were old buddies. I understood that bond now. It only took the creation of the familiar to form that bond, and it only grew stronger as time progressed. I daydreamed about that smirk and how good he was at camouflaging the truth. He hasn’t made any effort to contact me again, and perhaps that was for the best. I couldn’t stand the thought of him brainwashing me with more lies. He was the son of the man who wanted me dead. He was a spy, a filthy spy, and I had to go along with it if he ever came back. I had to pretend like there was nothing wrong, and I didn’t know how I was going to manage it. I was a terrible liar. I hoped he never showed his face again.