by Theresa Kay
I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling as my thoughts race. My magic is also riled up, twisting in my chest like some wild animal anxious to get out. Too bad it wasn’t so anxious about escaping when I actually needed it in class. Stupid magic.
Isobel comes rushing in a few minutes later. She pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Are you okay? Devin heard some of what happened in the dining hall, and he was worried.”
“Sure. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like Tristan and I were actually friends or anything. It was just a stupid spell. It probably made me think we were friends, and now that it’s gone, the feeling will fade.”
“That’s not how . . .” She trails off when I send a red-eyed glare her way. “Never mind.”
She doesn’t need to tell me. I might not understand exactly how spells work, but I know they definitely don’t work like that, at least not that particular spell.
My roommate scores another point by not mentioning my red eyes or asking anything further about the boy who shall not be named. She seamlessly transitions to another subject. “I know you’ve mentioned you’re worried about the finesse you’ll need to control magic now that your classes are moving into more of the ‘hands on’ type stuff. I’ve been doing some research, and I’m wondering if having your powers bound for so long is what’s causing your inability to pull and manipulate magic as easily as everyone else. How would you feel about me looking into it further? It might require some of your time too since I’ll probably need to run a couple tests.” The corners of her mouth twist upward. “It’s win-win. I can use you as a subject of study, and you can use me to help you study your subjects.”
I let out a reluctant laugh. Her joke wasn’t that funny, but I’ll give her credit for trying. “Sure. Where and what time?”
“How about—” My stomach lets out a loud rumble, and she reaches under her bed to pull out a bag of chips. She quirks an eyebrow in question. At my nod, she grins and tosses the chips in my direction. “How about I meet you at the dining hall for dinner and we can walk over to the library afterward?”
“Sounds good,” I say through a mouthful of chips. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Isobel smiles and shakes her head before gathering up her books and heading to class.
I’m left in my room to kill another thirty minutes or so until Potions, and I spend every minute of that time thinking up all the things I should’ve said to Jason earlier. I hate when I can’t think of any good comebacks until well after a conversation has ended.
I arrive at Dr. Nikiforov’s classroom with only two minutes to spare. Penny waves at me as I enter. I return her greeting and make my way to where Adrian and Devin are sitting.
“How’s it going?” asks Devin.
“Do you need help hiding the body?” Adrian adds.
“Fine,” I say to Devin and then shoot Adrian a look. “I wish I could say I did, but no.”
The two of them laugh as Devin snags his leg around my chair, dragging it over to their table. “You can partner up with us then. We’re making a fertilizer potion today. It’s supposed to allow a seed to sprout into a full-grown plant in only a couple minutes.”
“Are you sure you want me and my abilities to have an effect on your grades?”
“I certainly have no problem working as a threesome,” says Adrian, waggling his eyebrows.
I jam an elbow into his side. “Pervert.”
He raises his hands and shrugs. “What? You’re the one who read into that.”
A laugh bursts past my lips, and I roll my eyes. “Hush. Class is about to start.”
After a brief introduction to discuss the potion we’re brewing today, Dr. Nikiforov hands out a list of ingredients and instructions to each group. Working with Adrian and Devin is different, mostly because the two of them keep up a constant stream of chatter and jokes, but we get everything mixed without any major events. Of course, that’s the easy part. The potion will sit until our next class period when we’ll add magic and test it out.
Hopefully I don’t screw things up for everyone.
I drag my feet when class is over, not overly anxious to get to PE since it’s the only class I still have with Tristan. He’s been my partner for every class since the binding spell, and I’ve managed to become quite good at lobbing and dodging energy balls. It’s one of the few things I can do well with any consistency, but I’m not so sure my temper isn’t going to flare up and blast him across the field today.
I needn’t have worried, though.
He’s not in class and, according to Mr. Davis, Tristan’s switched to another period and won’t be back.
In less than twenty-four hours, he’s gone from a constant presence in my life to a ghost.
I hate it.
On Saturday evening, my third weekend at Ravencrest and my first without a grumpy blond shadowing my footsteps, I’m bored out of my mind. All . . . three? four? . . . of the people I call friends have off-campus privileges and are at some fall festival in town. After Burke found out what happened last time I went off campus, I’ve been expressly forbidden from going anywhere. Adrian offered to sneak me out in his trunk or something if I wanted to go, but that didn’t sound horribly appealing, and I can’t afford to be in any more trouble than I already am.
I think Tristan is under ‘campus arrest’ as well, but my plans do not include hunting him down to see if he wants to hang out. He’s the last person I want to deal with right now.
After missing my tutoring session, Basil found me yesterday and shoved a book in my hands with the instructions to practice the first two spells. I’m not sure that anything I’ve learned up till now prepares me for spell casting, but he didn’t give me a chance to argue.
So, I’m sitting in my dorm room with the book open in front of me, giving the spell casting thing my best shot. I didn’t have any problem pulling magic from the air around me like the instructions say to do, but shaping that magic into a spell is, apparently, not as intuitive as the book makes it sound, and I’m not anxious to torch my dorm room because I have no idea what I’m doing.
The unused magic for the spell tingles against my fingers, and the magic in my chest swirls, poking around and looking for an exit. The feeling is almost like one of those unsatisfying internet videos that leaves the watcher with the feeling of being almost there only to have everything jerked away before having the satisfaction of finishing.
That just sounds wrong.
A giggle escapes my mouth at my own comparison. Adrian must be rubbing off on me.
He’d probably love to.
I let out another involuntary laugh and then groan. What is wrong with me? Am I overloaded on magic or something? Is there such a thing as being magic drunk?
PE has always left me a little hyped up, and that’s with me getting rid of the magic. I’ve been stewing in it for like fifteen minutes now, and there’s only one way I know of to fix it.
Well, besides successfully casting a spell I suppose, which clearly isn’t going to happen.
I tie my hair back, pull on a hoodie, and head outside to the quad. It’s deserted. Perfect.
Using the magic I pulled for the spell, I start shaping an energy ball with my hands and then pause. I’m doing well in PE because it’s always been about quantity of magic, not finesse. Could my problem with doing magic for my other classes be related to the fact that the only way I’ve ever successfully gotten rid of the stuff is by blasting something? What if I could . . . ?
I release the half-formed energy ball, letting the magic dissipate into the air. Then, as discreetly as possible, I point my palm at the ground and will the magic inside my chest to dribble out and release the pressure there. Isobel grabs my arm just as the flow begins, which sends more of a blast then a gentle drip into the ground by my feet. Dirt flies up into my face, covering both me and Isobel in a shower of soil.
“Ooops,” says Isobel. “I didn’t realize you were . . . practicing?”
I shake my head. “Get
ting rid of the magic I pulled trying to do my spells homework, since I can’t seem to actually cast a spell.”
She eyes the gouge in the ground. “It looks like you’re pulling way too much, but if you’re having trouble casting spells, the problem should be that you’re not pulling enough.”
I shrug. “You and I both know there are all sorts of oddities with my powers. Speaking of that, did you find anything else out?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I think I’ve checked out every book in the library on binding spells by this point, and not a single one of them mentioned anything about a spell powerful enough to do what the one placed on you did. If Bridget hadn’t blasted you when she did, your powers may never have awakened.”
I stop in my tracks. “The spell was that strong? Who could have cast something like that?”
“Yes, and I have no idea.”
“You have to have some idea. There can’t be many witches powerful enough to cast a spell that strong.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know of any. Maybe as a group . . . but even then, that’s a lot of magic.”
“A group like a coven-sized group? Is this something the Coven Council could have done to me?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t see the Coven Council hiding you away with shifters if that was the case.” She pauses. “Unless they never wanted you—or your powers—found.”
“But why?”
Another shrug. “I have no idea. That’s why this is so frustrating. Nothing makes sense. I’ll keep looking, but I don’t know if I have enough access to find the information we need. Some of the more advanced books in the library are only available to second years.”
“Second years?” She nods, and I smile to myself. For once, something is going right for me. “I know just the person to help us, the TA from my Potions class. I’ll get in touch with her and set something up.”
“Perfect,” she says, smiling as she falls into step beside me.
“What are you doing back so early? I thought the festival didn’t end until ten?’
She gives me a mischievous grin. “Oh, I forgot. I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
“Yes! One I think you really need right now. Come on.” She grabs my arm and hurries me along until we’re back at our room and the door is shut behind us. Taking a pencil, she sketches a quick ward on the door.
For quiet? Maybe silence? I’m not entirely sure. The ward is not a type we’ve covered in class.
She pinches her fingers together and then rests them against the ward to charge it with magic. Then, she turns to me and grins as she pulls a black rectangle from the front pocket of her purse. A cell phone. “I picked it up in town. The school wards will fry it eventually, but it should last long enough for a call or two.”
“You didn’t . . .” My eyes burn, and I blink away tears. She has no idea how much this means. No. She does, and that’s exactly why she broke the rules for me. I take the phone with shaking fingers, a lump stuck deep in my throat.
“I know how much you’ve been missing them. I saw the phone, and since it’s parents’ weekend next week and yours can’t be here, I thought you might like to call them.” She smiles again. “Although, I hope you have their number memorized.”
I nod and press the button to turn the phone on. I might not know every number in my phone by heart, but I definitely know the important ones. The phone powers up with a familiar chime, and I carefully dial my house. The line rings once, and then I get the recording that tells me the number is no longer in service.
For a second, I feel like I might throw up. Where are they? What if something horrible happened to them? What—
They’re in hiding.
Relief washes over me at the realization, and I know what number to call next: the Donovan house.
“Hello?” Connor’s gruff voice is such a welcome sound that I can’t even form words. “Who is this?”
“Connor,” I choke out. “It’s me.”
“Selene?”
“Yes. I tried calling my house, but . . .”
“Your mom and dad aren’t there, honey,” he says softly. “And I can’t tell you where they are for their own safety.”
“I know,” I say, the words sticking in my throat. “But it’s nice to hear your voice too.”
I can practically hear his grin. “You too, sweetheart. Is there any message you’d like me to pass along?”
“Can you tell them that I miss them and that I love them?” I pause, trying to find the right words. “And that no matter what happens here, they’re still my parents.”
“Of course,” he says. “We miss you too.” There’s another voice in the background. “I do have someone else here who would like to talk to you.”
There’s the sound of the phone changing hands, and then a familiar voice comes on the line.
“Please tell me the rumors of you punching a St. James are true,” says Reid with a chuckle.
I full out laugh, incredulous. “How in the world did you even hear about that? And aren’t you supposed to be in New York?”
“Fall Break,” he answers quickly. “And I have my sources,” he adds in a sneaky voice. “So it is true then?”
“Yes. It’s true. And I even kept my elbows down,” I say with a smile.
“Hold on a sec.” His voice drops lower, and it sounds like he’s switching rooms. “You need to be extra careful over there. Some of those witches are . . . worse than I thought. Dad said there was an altercation between a couple witches and a group of shifters near Ravencrest a day or two ago. One of the shifters was hurt pretty badly. He’s in a coma or something because of the force of the magic they used on him and—”
“They were going to kill us,” I blurt out.
There’s a long stretch of silence, and I picture Reid’s face as he puts the puzzle pieces together.
“You were one of the witches?” he asks in a stunned voice.
“Yes. They came after us. Unprovoked. I had to defend myself.”
Another stretch of silence.
“Reid? Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened so Dad can get on top of this.”
I release a slow breath of relief. Connor will take care of this. He’ll make sure everyone gets the story straight. “Tristan and I were having dinner when these three shifters came up behind him and grabbed him, saying something about his mother’s legislation. They—”
“Wait a second. Tristan who?”
“St. James. But it’s not what you think,” I say quickly. “There was this binding spell because of the whole punching thing, and he’d been helping me study and sort of being nice so we went to dinner just to get off campus for a while.” A pause. “Reid?” No response. I glance down at the cell phone. The screen is dark. The wards finally kicked in, and I have no idea how much of what I said Reid actually heard.
I feel sick.
On one hand, Tristan was absolutely right about how the shifters might spin the attack to get away with it, but on the other, Connor would have listened to me. He would have believed me. And I know he would have made things right. But what’s going to happen now that Reid, and therefore Connor, has less than half the story and the part he does have involves a family with a reputation for being anti-shifter?
I replay the conversation in my head and feel even sicker. Depending on how much of my explanation Reid heard, he could very well think Tristan and I were out on a date. And that I sided with a St. James in an altercation that left a shifter seriously injured. I sit on my bed and rest my forehead in my hands.
“I can go back out and get another phone,” says Isobel. “The stores don’t close for another hour or so and—”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want you to risk getting in trouble and losing your scholarship. I can’t ask you to do that for me.”
“But—”
“No,” I say more firmly. “Connor isn’t stupid,
and neither is Reid. Now they both know there’s more going on than they’re being told, and eventually I’ll have a chance to fill them in. Our time is better spent trying to figure out what the hell is up with my powers so I don’t fail all my classes and get kicked out. I won’t make it past the first semester if I can’t learn how to use magic and keep up with everyone else.”
“You’re right,” she says. “Maybe we can go see if your TA friend is around? I think I have a lead on a book that might be helpful.”
“Sounds good.” But as soon as we step outside, I realize looking for Penny right now isn’t a good idea. Tonight’s the full moon, so she’s off somewhere being furry, and I’m once again stuck with way more questions than answers.
Will Connor be able to set the record straight about the other night? Tristan mentioned repercussions for me, but will my actions actually end up having consequences for Connor? I’m technically still part of his pack, so another alpha could challenge him because he’s protecting me, could use Connor’s love for me as evidence of him being unfit to be regional alpha. That is, unless I go home, tell my side of the story, and own up to my part in everything.
But I can’t. If I leave . . . that might make things worse for everyone.
And there’s no way to know if the other shifters would even believe my side of things, not when the only other witness on my side is a St. James.
Isobel grips my arm. “Hey, you’ve gone a little pale. Are you okay?”
I cough. “Yeah. Fine. I don’t think I’m up for any research tonight. Rain check?”
My roommate eyes me for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”
We troop back into our dorm room, and then I bury my nose in my textbooks, willing the information to not only start making more sense but for it to take my mind off all my new worries.
For the next week, I do little besides eat, sleep, study, and try to figure out what the heck is up with my magic.
And the first two only account for about five percent of the time.
My concerns about my parents and Reid and Connor, and the whole thing about those shifters, are still swimming around in my head, but all my worrying will be for nothing if I can’t get a handle on my magic.
