A Charmed Mind: Mage Paranormal Romance (Illusions Academy Book 1)

by Kaylin Peyerk

A red head girl to my right raises one shaking hand before speaking. “Uh, professor? What will we be learning first?”

  In answer, the professor bends down to reach into the satchel he had brought in with him, pulling out a small wooden box. The lid opens on its own as stones rise out of it, and not just any stones, precious stones. It makes sense as they are most susceptible stones to magic of all types, healing especially. They suck in the power you give them, radiating with it until you tell them exactly what to do. Hurt. Heal. Destroy. Any of the three will do.

  The stones circle above his work table, rotating slowly, showing each color of the rainbow. Jade, amethyst, rose quartz, opal, sulfur, and more. This truly mesmerizes me, it has ever since I witnessed my mother using them for her own elemental spells. She never let me touch them, claiming that the power of precious stones is only for seasoned mages and no one else. The control the professor seems to have over them only proves her point.

  His eyes flick to me again, and he speaks, “You there, what can you tell me about these stones?”

  “Uh, precious stones are more susceptible to magic which is why mages collect them. Powerful mages have their own set that they take with them everywhere, sometimes in a pouch and sometimes in a box, like yours. They can be used in various spells, but each stone is used for specific spells, use the wrong one and, well. . .” I trail off, not wanting to say it.

  He grins, tilting his head like a predator honing in on their prey. The look makes me uncomfortable, and I sink lower into my seat. If only one of my powers was invisibility I’d greatly appreciate the ability to disappear right now. The amount of attention I’m getting from him not only makes me wary, but it also fuels the anger of the women around me. Why are all of these men finding me so interesting? I have no incredible power, there’s no power to see here.

  “The spell backfires, killing the user,” he finishes for me.

  “Yes,” I whisper for no reason, still looking back at him.

  The students look between us, trying to gauge what’s happening just as much as I am. Thankfully, he slows the stones, and my attention is forced back to them. They stop, hovering just above his left hand in a tight circle with one in the center. The opal glows quickly, pulsing as if to the beat of a heart. Is it matching him? Me? I can’t tell, but I can still feel his eyes boring into me. In response, I keep my eyes on the opal, almost glaring at it just to make sure I don’t slip.

  “The stone used primarily for phrenic magic is the opal, if we use one at all. Most phrenic mages can use their power as easily as breathing, but others need more direction, more focus, which is what the stone provides. Can I get a volunteer?” he asks.

  Every single hand in the room shoots up except mine, and he chooses the red head to come to his work table. She beams at him as she prances forward, looking more like an eager dog than a person. I almost scoff at her display, but hold it in, in favor of blending into the shadows of the class now that Professor Jacobsen’s eyes have wandered away. She steps up to the table, almost brushing her shoulder with his. An uncomfortable grimace passes over his face so quickly that anyone not studying him would have missed it.

  He moves an inch farther away before turning to her and holding out his left palm. The other stones part to make way for the opal which floats forward, coming to rest between the girl’s eyes. She watches it, and all of us lean in to see what the professor is about to do. The girl’s face goes slack, emotionless, as her eyes glaze over, turning a sickly shade of grey. I recoil at the sight as a feeling of violation washes over me. He’s mind controlling her.

  The professor leans forward with two arms behind his back, a blank, distant, expression coating his features. “What is your name?”

  “Alena,” she answers in a dull voice void of life, of humanism.

  My blood goes cold, but he doesn’t stop there. “What is your magical ability level?”

  “Seven point five.”

  “Your mage class?”

  “Undetermined.”

  “What is your age? Your weight? Your natural hair color?”

  “I’m twenty, one hundred and thirty six pounds, and my natural hair color is blonde.”

  Fury builds in my chest, and before he can ask another humiliating question I rise to my feet, slamming my palms against the desk. The black stone cracks beneath me, spider webbing outward.

  “That’s enough!” I bellow, my voice ringing with a surprising amount of strange authority.

  The stones drop from the air, all magic bleeding out of them in an instant as they shatter across the floor. The magic slithers outward before wrapping around my bare calves, sinking into my skin. Tiny stone pieces ricochet across the room, creating one thousand kaleidoscopes via the afternoon sunlight coming in through the windows. The other students duck to hide their eyes, but I stand up straighter, seething, my fury and the excess magic fueling me. How dare he use her this way. To prove a point? To establish his dominance as the teacher?

  Alena stumbles back, her knees shaking as she grips the nearest desk. Professor Jacobsen straightens up before casually sticking his hands into his pockets. He turns to me, and his eyes go wide at the aura of power radiating off of me, one I can’t seem to control. Whatever magic those stones had within them is now inside me, filling my magical well way past full. I’m grateful that my skin isn’t glowing golden, signaling my strange power that I’m still hoping isn't what I think it is. What my morning teacher had described.

  We stare at one another for so long that the other students shift from foot to foot, murmuring. He appears calm, curious. My chest is still heaving as if I just got done running a marathon at a full sprint, and my limbs are humming with anticipation. For what, I don’t know. Ever since arriving at the academy one thing after another has gone wrong. First, with Demetri, then with his bitchy girlfriend, and now here with Professor Jacobsen. My powers never came out like this in front of my parents, so why here? Why now?

  “You absorbed the power of my spell stones, and you didn’t die,” he states bluntly.

  “Yes,” I reply, sounding pissed off.

  “You're angry at me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he inquires, one eyebrow raised.

  “Why? You have no right to violate a student like that! Professor or not, I don’t care who you are. It’s wrong, and I won’t stand by and watch it happen,” I seethe, throwing my hands in Alena’s direction.

  The poor girl is still clinging to the desk behind her as the others run their hands soothingly up and down her arms. She’s shaking, her doe eyes wide and wild as she looks between us. Professor Jacobsen glances back at her, showing absolutely no remorse for what he did, only fueling my anger further.

  “She volunteered. That’s part of the lesson plan every semester on the first day. Never allow a phrenic mage into your mind. Students who are too scared to continue are allowed to transfer classes, it’s an initiation of sorts.”

  I balk at his callous explanation. “This isn’t a frat house! You're a teacher for god’s sake, why don’t you just say that?”

  He shrugs. “No one listens if they don’t see it firsthand. Some lessons are only learnt the hard way,” His eyes move around the room as the bell rings, signaling the end of the session, “Class dismissed. I will see all who are willing to come back tomorrow.”

  Everyone gathers their things quickly, scrambling to get away from the crazy phrenic professor. Or the girl crazy enough to scream at him. As the other students file out, I stay where I am, knowing by the look in his eyes that we’re not done speaking yet. After the final student is gone the door shuts on its own in a student’s face, effectively sealing out the next set of students before they can enter. Instead of showing him more useless emotions, I bend down, shoving a notebook into my bag before flinging it over my shoulder.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  He takes five steps forward, coming face to face with me, but I don’t flinch. “You will come back after your next class and
clean up this mess. Only then will I drain the magic from you, and you owe me a new set of mage stones.”

  “Yes, sir,” I spit, glaring back at him.

  In a surprising move, he starts laughing. “You are truly worthy of taking third year classes. I look forward to teaching you this semester, you’re dismissed.” He steps away as the classroom door clicks open again, letting the students in.

  They marvel at the stones littering the floor and stare at me as I make a quick escape, sprinting past them.

  Chapter Seven

  My final class is the most enjoyable, but I can’t even focus enough to take notes. Whatever magic those stones had within them is bouncing around my chest like a pinball. The teacher, a cute older woman who insists we call her Helen, blathers on for forty five minutes about the syllabus before giving an introductory lecture on the four different elemental classes. Fire, water, earth, and air. I’m pretty familiar with elemental magic, as my parents are in that class. My mother being an earth mage, and my father an air mage. The two most powerful classes, the most destructive. I’ve seen it firsthand a few times, but hearing the nitty gritty details is interesting at least.

  Finishing her most recent long winded explanation, Helen leans her hands on the desk, taking a deep breath. “We will use the last section of class time for questions. Are there any burning specific questions you have about elementals? Don’t hold back, I know all there is to know about them. While I am a water fae, one of the most common classes, I do have a power level of eight point five. Let ‘em rip.”

  Several hands rise tentatively as Helen’s eyes scan the room. She picks on a short boy, one I’m surprised is a third year student. He looks like he’s barely past the age of fourteen.

  “Yes?” the teacher asks, prompting him to ask his question with a wave of her hand.

  “As we’re all elemental fae in this room, at least I’m assuming we are, will you be helping us to develop and discover our class?”

  Helen smiles. “Yes, of course! That is the primary objective of this course. A lot of class time will be spent outside in the arena.” She pauses, catching several student’s eyes, including mine. “But don’t worry. If you haven’t felt a lick of power yet, or haven’t tried, no one will force you. You will be free to take it at your own pace as long as you make consistent and noticeable progress. Third year classes are about finalizing your confidence in your powers so you can leave the academy knowing exactly where you fit in. Isn’t that what you all want?”

  Her words ring through my head, leaving me hollow and aching. I know that’s what I’m supposed to want, but I’m not so sure yet. Probably because I’m a first year in a classroom full of people much older and more experienced than me. If they feel confident, then I will too at that age, right? The uncertainty of my own thoughts makes me want to laugh at myself. This is ridiculous. How did my mom convince the school to put me in third year classes? She didn’t even do that when she was young. I lie my head in my hands, groaning softly. I can’t believe my mother is influencing me even from afar.

  “What’s the chance one of us could be an earth or air mage? A spirit mage even?” a girl to my right asks, and I lift my head to focus on the answer.

  Helen taps her chin. “Earth and air mages are rare, about one in every one hundred thousand students. So in regards to your chances, it’s not zero, but it’s not likely either unless you come from a powerful family.” Her eyes zero in on me, and I slump into my desk. “As for spirit mages, they simply no longer exist, I’m afraid.”

  The bell rings at that moment, signaling the end of the session. The students rise slowly while chattering away with one another, excited about going back to the dorms to hang out. I slink past them to go back across the hall, knowing full well what I need to do next. Professor Jacobsen is waiting against the doorframe, an old fashioned wooden broom in his hand.

  “Clean it up, and I’ll drain the magic. That’s the deal,” he says as I snatch the broom out of his hand.

  “Yeah, yeah I know the deal,” I mutter.

  He throws his head back to laugh, his silver hair flying around his head, sparkling. He really does look too young to be a professor. Does he use his power to control how people see him? Is any part of him real? After last class I wouldn’t put it past him to do it. It’s both unnerving and distracting to think about.

  Helen comes over from across the hall to poke her head into the classroom. She watches me sweep for a moment before her eyes move to Jacobsen who’s sitting at his desk with his feet kicked up and his hands behind his head, a magazine in his lap.

  “What’s going on here, dear?” she asks Jacobsen.

  He turns his pearly white smile on her, and her cheeks stain pink. “Miss Helen! How lovely it is to have you teaching in the room across from mine this semester. This here is Elise, and she’s cleaning up a mess she made in my class, phrenic intro.”

  Helen’s eyebrows pull together. “That doesn’t make sense, she’s in my third year class for elemental mages. How is she showing an affinity for both?”

  Professor Jacobsen looks back down at the magazine in his hands, casually flipping the pages. “How indeed?”

  Ignoring them both, I bend down to sweep the pile of stone glitter into the dustpan. “What would you like me to do with this? Throw it out?”

  He looks up. “No, bring it here and pour it into this jar. Even crushed, spell stones are useful.”

  “If you say so,” I reply while pouring the mixture of dirt and shining stones into the mason jar.

  Helen watches our exchange, her brows still pulled together. “What happened to the stones, Alagan?”

  He looks at her sharply, as if he’d prefer no one use his first name. “Elise here broke them on her first day, now she owes me a brand new set. But it’s a shame, really. Mage stones become one with the user, absorbing their power and conforming to it. It will take ages for me to form that kind of bond again.”

  Helen looks shocked for a moment before a brief wave of sadness crosses her face, “Indeed, well, carry on then.”

  She turns on her heel and clicks out of the room, leaving us both behind. Professor Jacobsen watches her go with narrowed eyes before seemingly remembering himself and turning to me. He looks me up and down, snapping his fingers. A rush goes through me from head to toe before the magic that had been bouncing around my rib cage races to the floor, dissipating.

  “There you go, my dear. Now you are magic-free,” he says while smirking.

  I’m not sure what he’s implying, so I simply nod before stumbling out of the room.

  ***

  Days pass with no further incidents, and by Friday afternoon I throw up a thank you to any god who had something to do with it. For a minute there I thought I’d be the resident freak of the academy by making strange magical occurrences happen left and right. Professor Jacobsen seemed happy to ignore me after I gave him a new set of mage stones, and the other teachers treat me no differently than any other student. Plus, I haven’t been bothered by Demetri in days. This is how it’s supposed to be. How I wanted it to be.

  Then why do I suddenly feel empty?

  The final bell of my elemental mage class rings in the middle of her explanation on fire magic, and no student waits for her to finish as we rush to the door. Helen calls after us, telling everyone to read chapter three by Monday, but it might as well have landed on deaf ears. No one is going to read anything.

  The wave of students floods me down the hall toward the doors, and I let it carry me along. Ever since having the stone magic drained from my body, I’ve been completely spent. It feels like he took more than he should have. To be honest, I should’ve asked more about the process before blindly letting him perform magic on me, but then again, he didn’t really ask. He is a professor after all, that makes him trustworthy, right?

  Halfway back to my dorm room a hand grazes my arm, igniting my magical well, and I know exactly who it has to be. I suppose it was wishful thinking to believe I’d g
otten out from under his thumb. This one touch energizes me, fills me up, and replaces whatever I lost to Professor Jacobsen. Am I stealing his magic like delphic mages do? And if I am, how do I make it stop? His fingers dance along my arm like he’s playing the guitar, forcing me to forget my wayward thoughts, and I shiver as he comes around to look at me. Of course he’s smiling with that stupid adorable look on his face.

  “I haven’t been able to catch you in days, are you avoiding me?” he teases, poking my side.

  “No, I’m busy!” I say, while batting his hand away.

  “Oh lighten up, El, I’m just teasing you. How was your first week?”

  He holds open the door to the girls dorm for me as he asks, and I almost want to snap at him to go away, but I don’t. It feels good to know that at least someone wants to hear about it. Neither of my parents have contacted me since I left the house last Saturday. Not that I had expected them to, what my mother wants is what she gets. She’s probably preaching to my dad how important my independence is now, and how she doesn’t want him to contact me until parents day in two weeks.

  “It went fine other than completely embarrassing myself in front of that phrenic professor you admire so much,” I mutter while taking the stairs two at a time up to my floor.

  He follows closely enough that I can feel his body heat, and it unnerves me enough that I fast-walk out of the stairwell and into the hall. Despite my escape attempt, he catches up, spinning me around to face him.

  “What happened?” he asks, and he’s standing way too close. His eyes are so blue that I want to lean in, but instead I move away by a few inches to keep my sanity in check.

  “He was showing us how phrenic mages use opal to control minds, and I sort of had a fit about it.” I pause to walk past him and unlock my door. “It felt wrong, watching him do that, so I did something about it.”

  He groans, interrupting me. “When will you learn to just sit back and shut up? That’s half the reason we always got in trouble as kids. Telling your mother everything was practically a requirement for you, wasn’t it? Was it to impress her or what?”