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

by Kaylin Peyerk

  “I do understand that. My mother kept me inside our penthouse for most of my childhood, only letting me out when I was with her or my father, never alone,” I say while looking down at my completed elemental class worksheet.

  My pen is lifted from my fingers with magic, and I watch it float through the air until it falls into his waiting palm. “Why is that, do you think?”

  I shake myself, trying to understand the question. “Why is what?”

  He locks eyes with me, and I watch them darken like storm clouds. “Why did your mother hide her prized daughter from everyone for all these years?”

  I shrug, not really understanding why he’s emphasizing it. “She’s overbearing, protective, and stubborn. That’s why.”

  He laughs, leaning in. “I believe that there’s more to it than that.” His hand comes to rest on my leg, and a shock of sensation washes through me. “I believe that you’re special in a way none of us saw coming.”

  I watch as his fingers curl around my lower thigh, testing my limits. It feels good, sexy even. And the magic pouring into me from his palm is like a drug, soaring me higher and higher into the atmosphere. Is this what being a phrenic mage feels like? No, this isn’t how Demetri feels, my brain counters. The thought of him causes me to jerk my knee away, forcing the professor’s fingers to slip. And just like that the connection shatters, taking me back to reality.

  “Professor, that was inappropriate,” I whisper.

  “Call me Alagan.”

  He smiles one last time before standing up to stretch his long limbs. I watch him closely, trying to gauge whether or not this entire exchange was a game of his creation. It’s so hard to tell. Even so, what he had hinted at wasn’t a game at all. He’s on to me, I’m sure of it. But instead of outing me, he’s trying to use me.

  Without another word, he turns to walk away, whistling as he goes.

  “No, I don’t think I will,” I murmur, my hand clamped down on the spot where he had touched me.

  I was right before. He is a dangerous man.

  Chapter Nine

  Another Monday morning is upon me, and it’s off to a bad start. I’m late. Over twenty minutes late. When I rush into my first class, the teacher glares at me all the way to my seat in the back, but doesn’t say a word. It’s humiliation enough without it. She whirls around to the board, underlining a section of text to emphasize it. I squint to read the cursive handwriting.

  Introduction to Discovering your Affinity

  “Now that Elise has graced us with her presence, we can get started on the lecture. Is that alright with you, Elise?” the professor asks pointedly.

  “Yes ma’am,” I mumble while looking at my lap.

  “Alright then. A few weeks ago I had given you a crash course introduction to the different mage classes. Since then, we’ve discussed the etiquette of magical culture, how we interact with full humans, and what our role in society is. Your tests on that unit will be handed back tomorrow, so today we can get a jump start on the stuff all of you are dying to know. How to discover your affinity.”

  The students around me all seem to lean in at the same time, staring wide eyed while I sit back in my seat, wary. Discovering the full strength of my ability is the last thing on my personal bucket list. I’d rather put that thing back where it came from before it ruins my life. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s already halfway there. Not one, but two people know that there’s something magically wrong with me.

  Demetri really knows, and I suspect Jacobsen is well on his way to knowing. So there’s no way that I can stuff this particular cat back into the bag, not anymore. Maybe my only choice will be to learn how to use a phrenic mage’s power. That might be the only safe way out of this because what I did in Jacobsen’s class can be explained by that, and he’s the only one with ulterior motives here. Well, at least I think he is.

  Our teacher said that delphic mages excel at mimicking another mage’s powers because they have no real distinction of their own. So in theory, if I choose one affinity and stick to it for the rest of my life, I won’t be any different than any other powerful mage. That is, if I can keep the golden magic under control, and with practice I’m sure I can manipulate the color too.

  Maybe.

  “Your affinity is lying just beneath your skin. Now that you’re over eighteen there’s a ticking time bomb inside you. All we have to do is help it along,” Elphane stops, smiling at all of us. “It may sound scary, but trust me when I say it’s mostly exciting. So today, we’re taking a field trip to the gym where the third year elementals are training. For some of you, just seeing that act of magic will open you up.”

  She motions for us to rise and everyone does, scrambling to follow her out the door and down the hall. She talks as we go, but I don’t hear her. We’re going to see real elementals testing their strengths, and despite what people might think, I’ve never seen it from my parents. They might be powerful and brilliant, but all I know about them is how much they love me and want me to succeed. And my guess is that’s all I ever will know if my mother has anything to do with it.

  When the gym comes into view around the corner, my jaw drops. It should be called the colosseum for how grand it is. Every building on this campus is all marble and gold and cobblestones, but this? This one is on an entirely different level. It stands at least six stories tall and is made of pure shining marble, pillars and pillars of it. It’s as grand as Greece itself, and I can tell everyone around me is marveling at it as well. The whole group has stopped at the entrance, staring straight up at the sheer grandeur of the building.

  Professor Elphane turns to us, grinning broadly. “Exquisite, isn’t it? Now, stop gawking and follow me.”

  The inside is much of the same, rough marble stairs lead up to the center arena where a small group of students are gathered. Sand covers the floor, a non-conductive surface best for performing any type of magic. A waterfall rages in one corner, and chalices of spelled burning flames encircle the arena. Weapons, mage stones, and more cover the tables on the far right wall. All around us are high rise stadium seats made of the same marble as the building, shining brightly in the sun coming through the open roof.

  An older woman steps forward to grasp professor Elphane’s hand, shaking it firmly. While she does appear old, she isn’t weak. The woman is built like a tree trunk; tall firm limbs, deep green eyes, and black hair filled with streaks of gray. The image reminds me of the earth, and I suspect that she possesses that elemental affinity.

  Elphane turns, “Class, this is Professor Orissa. She is the third year elemental trainer with the affinity for earth magic. Today we will stay in the arena with her class, but along the walls, watching. No participating or interfering. Is that clear?”

  All of us nod in response, too starstruck by meeting an earth mage to speak. The woman laughs, and it sounds like crackling leaves. “My god you have an eager set of first years here, they can’t take their eyes off me. Well, keep watching kids and you’ll learn a little bit about elemental magic.” She pauses, winking. “And maybe you’ll find that you are an elemental mage, in which case we would end up spending a lot more time together in the coming years.”

  After that she shoos us to the wall, and we scramble to cling to it, not knowing what to expect. Elemental magic is destructive, explosive, beautiful. Or so I’ve read. I can only hope that it’s true. Without direction, the students move into position, squaring up against one another. They begin to call on their elements, and it whirls around us, lighting up the arena and filling their empty vessels with delicious power. Just by looking at them I can identify what element they control.

  Light, tall, lithe looking students with blonde hair command air. A single brute student with a similar build to Professor Orissa must be an earth mage, and the water mages next to him are breathtaking. Their bright red hair and blue eyes lure in me, and I almost stumble forward before catching myself. Their bodies are compact and small, yet full of calm, controlled power. But fire on th
e other hand. . . Those who control it look wild, ready for a fight. Wayward hair the color of coffee after three tabs of cream, and bright golden eyes that I can’t stop looking into. These mages are truly forces of nature, and their power is intoxicating.

  The fire mages move first, as I thought they would, striking out with an explosion of flame. It burns so hot and so brightly it may as well be lightning. The water mages meet it, swirling a funnel from the waterfall, as all magic must come from somewhere. The two forces collide, and a sonic bomb rocks the arena, pushing us back against the wall.

  This is greater than anything I could have imagined, breathtaking. My mouth waters at the prospect of creating something similar, of tasting that power for myself. My magical well reacts, rearing its ugly head, and I’m suddenly starving, but not for food. Magic is what I crave, and the realization is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I am a delphic mage. No other type even considers or has the ability to devour another person’s magical energy, but it’s all I can think about at this moment. It makes me realize exactly why my kind is so feared, so uncontrollable. Because this feeling I have right now? This unrelenting hunger? It’s tearing at my insides like claws ripping my flesh. It physically hurts me to hold it back.

  And I’m mildly afraid of what I’d do if I didn’t.

  “Elementals are the most powerful on solstice days, and whichever element you control that’s connected to it impacts your power for that quarter. The spring solstice calls and replenishes earth, while the summer solstice fuels fire. The winter solstice is unique in that it empowers both air and water mages, giving them the upper hand over their usually stronger brethren,” the trainers shouts over the noise in the arena.

  I listen to her explanation avidly, drinking it in. That’s one thing I hadn’t read in the history books my mother kept in her study. Perhaps there’s something to learn here after all, you know, besides the fact that I’m a bloodthirsty delphic mage with no conscience. Well, that’s the definition of me in every text that I’ve ever read, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it.

  The air mages act, sweeping forward in a series of fluid movements, and at first nothing happens. Then a massive gust of wind whips into the arena, touching down into the sand and lifting it upward, instantly creating a tornado. A freaking tornado is right in front of me! The students around me gasp, shoving their bodies as close to the wall as they could get, all the while I wanted to reach out and touch it. To step into it. To consume it.

  My magical core thrashes against my tight control, yowling like a rabid animal to get out. I grit my teeth against the uncomfortable pulling sensation. Never in my life have I felt this way, it’s as if coming to academy had woken up a beast I can’t seem to sing to sleep again. The moment Demetri touched my skin, just as he had done a hundred times before when we were little, the cage busted open. I think the difference was that back then I wasn’t magically mature. Mages can’t use their power until they’re of age, and we hadn’t seen each other since sixth grade. That is, until he grabbed my arm two weeks ago. It’s been a shit show ever since.

  A column of rock at least five feet in diameter rises from the ground, shooting out so quickly that it blurs. My mouth drops open as I watch it move, cutting through the tornado like butter, forcing it to dissipate. The sand falls back toward the arena floor, and when it hits, it sounds like soft rain. Once it settles, silence coats the gym like an uncomfortable damp coat, and I’ve just realized that I’m the only person who has moved away from the wall.

  The other first years around me look terrified, clinging to each other and the wall for support. But I had stepped a dozen feet forward, my hand outstretched like I’m about to touch the long pillar of earth that hadn’t been present moments earlier. I let my arm fall to my side lamely, my face flaming for what felt like the tenth time that morning. Why can’t I manage to appear normal? Is it just not in the cards for me?

  The young earth mage who had created the monstrosity in front of me steps forward, a look of curiosity on his tan face. I hadn’t noticed it before, but his eyes are lighter than I had thought. A leaf green with sparks of gold shooting through them, almost hazel, but not quite. And the way his hard hair flops down over his eyes is charming, making my fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside.

  “You can touch it, if you want,” he says, and his voice is deep, smooth, like molten chocolate.

  Despite not knowing what my magical well will do, I lift one shaking hand and run my fingers along the rock. It’s surprisingly smooth, and whiffs of his magic remain in it, zapping into me the moment it realizes I’m within reach. Like a moth to a flame. My eyelids flutter closed at the contact, and my inner eye watches the magic zip around my body, bouncing around my magical well like a spazzing toddler. And of all the things to do in this silent arena, I laugh. It titters out of me without warning, a twinkling sound that fills the hair harshly. I force myself to stop as an embarrassed blush fans across my cheeks.

  “What does it feel like?” the earth mage asks, and this time he sounds much closer than before.

  “Like excitement. Like. . .” I trail off, not sure how to put it into words.

  “Like sunshine,” he and I breathe at the same time.

  My eyes snap open to lock with his, and I stumble back, somehow surprised at how close he really got. This is getting out of hand. I was supposed to choose phrenic magic, not elemental. And while elemental would have been the logical choice with my parents genes, that won’t calm the suspicions of one very nosy professor who wants to, I shudder, use me. The boy holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture, trying to show me that he meant no harm.

  “Hey, I get that it’s overwhelming. How about we go sit down over there, yeah?” he asks, gesturing to a row of benches along the wall where the other third years are standing, staring at us.

  The trainer is gawking at me as well, but with a look of satisfaction and glee on her face. Did she expect me to have an affinity for earth? Have I met her before? Most likely. My parents know almost every high level elemental mage in existence, and if this woman knows my mother, then she knows me. It would surely explain the almost childlike excitement on her face.

  I wave my hands back and forth, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I’m not an elemental mage. I was just curious. Nothing happened, I don't control anything or whatever. It was a fluke, and I shouldn’t have stepped forward like that.”

  I know that I’m rambling, and the longer I went on the broader his smile became. It made me want to dig a hole straight into the ground and live there for the rest of my miserable life. Why is no one else speaking? Why haven’t the teachers cut in? What the hell is going on? My panicky thoughts make my palms sweat, and I rub them against my thighs. If someone, anyone really, would just stop looking at me, that’d be nice. The small amount of magic I had absorbed from the rock buzzes in my veins, reacting to my inner mania.

  “No, no, no,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

  But it’s too late.

  Chapter Ten

  The magic starts in my chest, swirling around once, twice, before shooting down through my toes into the ground. Flowers of vibrant red sprout beneath my feet, encircling me by at least six feet, and filling the air with a sweet scent. Good god this is embarrassing. The boy watches with rapt attention as each new bloom springs to life, an adorable sense of awe on his face. Would he be so impressed if he knew this was his magic, not mine?

  “I’d say you did control something,” he comments, still admiring the circle of flowers.

  You could hear a pin drop in this place, and it sends me into a renewed panic. This is a disaster. Thankfully, there’s no more magic for me to nervously expel into the world around me with no sense of control. It seems the only way I can create anything with magic is by taking it from someone else, like a funnel. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  The trainer steps into my peripheral vision, and I swear I want to punch that giddy look right off of her face. I know it’s unfair,
but it’s true. She has no idea what this actually means, none of them do. It’s not a brilliant revelation. It’s just another sentence on my very long death note. If any one of these professors talked to each other about my list of transgressions, I’ll be dead by next week.

  “Elise, this is amazing,” Professor Elphane breathes, beaming at me.

  I turn slowly to find the whole class closing in, straining to get a good look at the flowers. The sight of everyone around me like that makes my chest tighten, and my breathing picks up the pace. This isn’t what I wanted from the academy, this isn’t even close to what I wanted. The boy steps forward, through the flowers, reaching to grasp my elbow. Before he can do so I jerk away, stumbling back.

  “I—I have to go to the bathroom,” I stutter while tripping over my own feet as I make my way to the door.

  His face flushes at the obvious rejection to his touch, but I can’t focus on that right now. The only thing I can think about is the way I stole his magic. I stole it and then used it to create a fake display of elemental power. For what? A power play? God! Nothing is going my way.

  Right outside the gym I run into a hard chest, a very familiar hard chest. Hands grip my shoulders, forcing me back so they can gain balance. When I look up, Demetri is staring down at me, and he’s wearing an achingly sexy pair of low hanging jogger pants and a very tight tee shirt. And when I say tight, I mean tight. There’s not a single muscle I can’t see with perfect clarity.

  “Why are you everywhere?” I whine, knowing full well that I sound like a five year old.

  He raises one dark eyebrow, and I notice that his curling hair is sticking to his forehead from sweat. He was working out, probably in one of the other training facilities at this part of the campus. I hate to admit that sweat looks so good on him, like, panty dropping good. It’s a thought I’m not proud of having, but nonetheless, is there. The muscles of his arms strain against the tight fabric of his tee shirt, glistening in the midmorning sun. Dear god, when did I become the weirdo who stares blatantly at men?