by Jess Haines
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Kimberly gave a few uncertain snuffles, swiping a hand under her nose before answering. “I messed up everything. I trusted this guy to help me, but now I don’t have any of the things I need and won’t meet the requirements to graduate even though the professors gave me a few extra days to figure things out. I made a total fool of myself and now none of the other magi will ever respect me. I’ll never get the job I wanted. Which means I have to keep working for Don.”
Her mom sighed, lightly brushing her fingertips over her temple before running her fingers through her hair in long, soothing strokes. It was no secret in the household that Kimberly hated her job and planned to leave it as soon as she could afford to. If she knew how to make enough to support them both, her mother would have happily told her to quit then and there. The reality was that without that secondary income and occasional extra free food from Don, they would be out on the street, homeless and hungry.
As Kimberly’s eyelids fluttered shut, her mom made a thoughtful sound before speaking again.
“I don’t always understand what’s happening in your life,” she said, “but I know you’ve been doing an incredible job of balancing school and work. Sometimes it takes a long time to fix our mistakes. I know that better than you probably think I do. But you’re doing all the right things to build yourself a better future than the one I’ve been able to make for you. You’ll get through this, baby girl. I know it.”
“I don’t know,” Kimberly whispered. “I wish it would all just go away. I don’t know if I can handle this anymore.”
“Stick with it, you’re almost there. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You haven’t had much time to experience life’s possibilities, kiddo. I never wanted that for you. I know how hard you work, and I’m sorry it had to be this way, but if I can help make it better in the meantime, just tell me what I can do.”
Kimberly wasn’t about to tell her she’d already done more than she knew. She was right.
There was no real option but to soldier forward. Professor Reed might have been trying to get rid of her, assigning an impossible task to ensure she wouldn’t pass her finals, but it occurred to Kimberly that the centaurs had promised to help her. A centaur familiar certainly wouldn’t regain her much in the way of respect, but she could deal with the indignity of showing her face at school long enough to get her certificate of graduation.
If she didn’t, she would have to go with the previously unthinkable Plan B and live out her life as a mortal, never using her powers in the open again. She wasn’t foolish enough to openly practice magic without her graduation papers. Without that certificate, if word got out to any of the local covens that a rogue mage was casting around town, she’d be hunted down and destroyed for the sake of the greater community. Assuming she wasn’t on a most wanted list already for being outed as a sorcerer.
Even after she graduated, no magi would work with her now. Her hopes of being picked up by The Circle went down the drain the moment Cormac revealed himself for being the lying snake-in-the-grass he had accused Viper of being.
Chances were also good that a number of the Others in town would shun her. Rieva had thought they might make a tidy sum working together, but Kimberly wasn’t sure how long that would last once word spread about what a fool she’d made of herself.
Even so, while Rieva might have been laughing with the rest about how Cormac had fooled her, the changeling had extended an offer. Kimberly might be able to make a living as a freelancer if she played her cards right and didn’t make the stupid mistake of being so quick to trust anyone ever again. She would hold Rieva to her word and see how things played out.
They didn’t have to like each other to work together. And anything had to be better than working in that café with a man who openly hated and opposed everything she was for the rest of her life.
It wasn’t fair, but nothing in her life ever had been. She didn’t have any intention of letting anyone use or abuse her again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kimberly spent another day recuperating, but insisted on going to school and to put in an appearance at work on Friday despite her mother telling her to stay abed and stop worrying about the rent. She didn’t want to miss the last day of school before finals week. She had the feeling there would be some late nights spent studying her materials over the weekend. She also didn’t want Don to think she’d quit, or to think about how paltry her paycheck would be with all the hours she’d missed. The least she could do would be to give him an apology in person for blowing off work.
Assuming he didn’t kick her back out the minute she stepped foot in the door, that was.
She was too tired and beyond caring what anyone thought about her anymore to bother hiding how sallow her complexion had become or the dark smudges under her eyes. She trudged to school on Friday morning, ignoring the whispers and points and stares as she stepped through the Gate on 77th and entered the main hall at Blackhollow.
Even the snickers of Aidan and his cohorts as she passed them in the entrance hall didn’t get more than a slight curl of her lip. Where she once would have flinched and hurried on, now she hardly noticed or cared about their mockery. She had faced down dragons and wyverns. Their taunts were nothing compared to that.
A fair number of familiars were racing up and down the halls along with the students, squirrels and cats and birds and mice, all on the run or wing to deliver messages to the professors before the first classes of the day. Despite the high, arched ceiling, Kimberly had to duck a small flock of ravens flying too low on their way to deliver gold sealed pre-acceptance letters to some hoity-toity coven to Professor Reed’s classroom. Budding excitement that one of those letters might be for her died a quick, quiet death when it occurred to her that none of her professors—not even Professor Reed—had given her any indication that they had sent letters of recommendation ahead to any of their covens.
The other students kept their distance, save for Xander. He zipped around a group of chattering third years to fall into step beside her, his relief at seeing her quickly fading into concern.
“Hey, what the heck happened? You never showed on Sunday and I haven’t seen you in school or at that café all week. Did you get sick?”
She gave him a wan smile. “Sort of. But I survived. Yay, go me?”
He smiled back, though it was still tempered with worry. “Okay, sure. Go you. What the heck did you survive? Are you sure you should be here? You look like hell.”
She snorted. “You charmer, you.”
“Hey, what can I say? I know how to talk to the ladies.”
That got a laugh out of her. She scrubbed a hand down her face, surreptitiously lightening the circles under her eyes as she did it. The move would have been more effective with a mirror handy so she could see what she was doing, but it would have to do for the time being.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just exhausted. I don’t want to talk about what happened here. Maybe you can walk with me to work after school?”
He nodded, then reached out to grab her backpack. Ignoring her weak protests, he carried it for her to Professor Lim’s classroom for her first period of the day; Conjuration.
“I’ll see you in Circles after lunch. Professor Cohen gave me the green light to start your circle for you since I already finished prepping mine and so you won’t have as much catching up to do.”
She gave him a grateful smile, sinking into her seat. “Thanks, Xander. You’re the best.”
He winked and shot her with a finger gun, heading to the hall as the first bell rang. “You know it. See you in a bit!”
She waved, then settled into concentrating on her class, even though it was one of the ones where she had to fake results on practicals with illusions. She found the theory behind the spellwork fascinating even if she couldn’t conjure enough spark to light a candle. The best she had ever learned how to do was make illusions so thorough that they fooled every sense, including touch.
Her fires might not leave a mark on a person, but they would still feel like they were being fried to a crisp until the illusion was dispelled. Illusory food would have taste and consistency, but it would never satisfy anyone’s hunger. There were any number of things she could do, but none of it held the substance of elemental magic. Everything she did was designed to fool the senses, not reshape reality.
The hour spent on reviewing planar conjuration stirred a peculiar longing in her for abilities she’d never possessed. It had been years since she’d yearned so deeply for something she couldn’t have. Her acceptance of her failings early on had only spurred on her desire to prove she could make it anyway by graduating and clawing out a place for herself in a world where she didn’t quite fit in.
That drive to succeed had served her well over the past four years. Despite all the ridicule, all the setbacks, and all the hardships, she had found ways around all the spells she couldn’t cast. Where her own innate magic failed, she found alternate sources of power, sometimes relying on arcane hedgemagic found in some of the most ancient of dusty tomes in the back stacks of the library to find glyphs, runes, and circles that netted her the same results as the elemental spells her fellow students cast.
She wouldn’t do well on the final practicals involving elemental casting, but if she tested well on the written theory and passed the familiar binding test, she’d graduate. By the skin of her teeth, but she knew she could do it.
Coasting through her next few classes, she made it a point to take more copious notes than usual, keeping herself occupied so she wouldn’t spend too much time wishing for things she couldn’t have. When she got to her etiquette class, she lingered outside until just before the second bell, not wanting to deal with Professor Reed a moment longer than she had to.
The professor’s attention whipped to her briefly during roll call at the beginning of class. She stared just long enough to make it clear she was not expecting Kimberly to be back yet, and that she had a few things to say. Not yet. Later. After class.
Kimberly intended to have one foot out the door the second the bell rang, both after this class and as soon as school let out. Whatever the professor might have to say to her, she didn’t want to hear it.
Like the other teachers, Professor Reed was cramming a year’s worth of study into a final review. Kimberly wasn’t too worried about how she would do on the test for that class, but she still diligently took her notes and paid attention to the bullet points on the chalkboard at the back of the stage. She could crib off someone else’s notes for any lessons she may have missed earlier in the week.
When the bell rang, the professor’s voice rang out over the excited chatter of the students. “Have a nice weekend! Study hard. Kimberly—Kimberly Wells—I need to see you.”
Kimberly did her best to pretend she didn’t hear anything, grabbing for her bag and ducking out of her seat. She almost plowed right into the professor, who had anticipated her attempt to rush out the door without facing her. The tall, slender woman had somehow materialized right before her desk with her arms folded, staring down at her student over the rims of her glasses.
“Cormac told me about your little run-in with the wyvern. If you need extra time to prepare for your finals, I need to know now so I can make the arrangements.”
Kimberly slumped back into her seat with a scowl, though she bit her tongue to keep from saying something caustic at the mere mention of Cormac’s name. Then remembered her manners, mumbling a response.
“No, I think I can handle it.”
Professor Reed gave a pointed stare to a group of lingering students by the door. They dashed out when they realized she’d noticed their eavesdropping. The word wyvern carried back to her before they disappeared, and she flinched. Rumors would start circulating faster than she’d thought.
As soon as they were alone, the professor dropped her rigid stance, one hand settling on her hip as she ran a hand through her short, light brown hair starting to streak with gray and loosed a frustrated sigh.
“Things did not turn out as I intended. I’m very sorry for that, Kimberly.”
It felt like a lot of people were saying that to her lately. “It’s fine, professor.”
“And you’re sufficiently recovered to handle next week? You still don’t look well. Perhaps you should see the school nurse—”
“No. No, I’ll be fine. Can I go now? I have to get to my next class.”
“A moment before you go. Cormac also told me that you are quite cross with him and have no intention of accepting his offer to be your familiar. Is that true?”
Kimberly’s scowl deepened. The professor frowned.
“I see,” she said. “Whatever he may have done, I can assure you, he is top notch familiar material.”
“Maybe for someone else, he is. Not for me.”
The professor’s face tightened. Her tone, while reasonable, was just a smidge too loud. “He has expressed regret for whatever he’s done to upset you. He wouldn’t give me any specifics about what happened between you two, and I don’t wish to pry, but I hope you realize what an opportunity you’re turning down by refusing him. I wouldn’t have recommended you to him if I didn’t think you two would work well together.”
Kimberly’s flat stare was answer enough.
“Do you have an alternative lined up?”
“Yes,” Kimberly said, her response far more sharp than she intended. “Look, professor, I appreciate your efforts, but I’ve had about enough of people helping me to last a lifetime. I’ve got this.”
The professor’s eyes narrowed to slits of green fire, her lips going thin. She gave her student a curt nod, then turned away in obvious dismissal.
Kimberly gathered her things and dashed for the exit, not wanting to stick around to deal with the consequences of her snippy behavior. Maybe the professor deserved it, maybe she didn’t, but Kimberly was beyond caring at that point.
Just as she reached the door, the professor called out. “Oh, Kimberly? One last thing.”
Gritting her teeth, she stopped in her tracks, looking back over her shoulder. The fae power glittering in the professor’s eyes was apparent enough that she flinched and turned her eyes down so she wouldn’t have to meet that judgmental stare.
“You,” she said, “have an appointment in the dean’s office on Wednesday evening at 7PM. See that you don’t miss it.”
Wednesday. The last day of real school. The fourth year students would be doing tests Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and were supposed to spend Thursday and Friday filling out applications and meeting with representatives from every local coven who had the resources to send one. Their final grades would be issued at the end of the day on Friday, and forwarded with the applications to whichever covens they had applied to.
“I’m sorry, professor,” Kimberly said, dodging aside as the first group of students for the next period appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got to work.”
“Make other arrangements. This is a mandatory meeting.”
“Yes, professor,” she muttered.
“You are excused.”
Great. Like everyone else around her lately, it seemed the professor was intent on making her life miserable.
She was sure Don would have a fit, assuming she had a job to go back to.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The rest of her classes were uneventful. Xander was waiting for her in the main hall after she finished her high school equivalency and college preparation class. Her teacher, Arnold, held her after class for a few minutes to give her a pile of homework to take home with her and study over the weekend to catch up, as well as a list of dates, times, and locations to take the necessary tests and a variety of college applications for mundane schools. She had shoved everything into her backpack to deal with later.
If anything, once she emerged into the hallway, it was busier than it had been that morning. Students, teachers and familiars were rushing to and fro to carry out last minute task
s. The excitement for this particular weekend was a palpable thing, cheerful chatter booming through the halls.
Xander clapped his thick Intermediate to Advanced Enchantments textbook shut and shoved it in his bag as he scrambled to his feet to join her. They walked together in companionable silence to the Gateway room and took her usual portal to the street above the museum.
Not a soul noticed their exit, prying eyes conveniently looking elsewhere and minor (quite deliberate) glitches in security cameras making it appear as if they had slipped around from the other side of the tree or light pole or from a doorway. The Gateways acted as combined portals and permanent illusions—ones that barred the mundane or unwanted Others from stumbling into the hidden school. The incredible amount of foot traffic in and around Central Park and the Museum of Natural History acted as a natural infusion of the chaos needed to permanently imbue the area with an obfuscation enchantment of that caliber.
Once they were far enough away from the school and certain no one was following them or paying them any attention, Xander spoke up first.
“You want to tell me why you look like death warmed over?”
She snorted, glancing at him with a wry smile. Her illusion to hide the dark smudges under her eyes clearly wasn’t enough to hide how badly drained she was. “That bad, huh?”
“Yup. I heard a rumor in Counterspells that you fought a wyvern. That have anything to do with it?” He paused. “Wait, it wasn’t that one that showed up in Central Park, was it? That was all over the news this weekend. They were saying the wyvern, it… uh… flew off with… with…”
“Me.”
He waited for her to continue. She didn’t, staring straight ahead as she marched toward Allegretto’s.
Xander gave her a light nudge with his elbow, speeding up as she did. “So? Spill. What’s the deal? What about that dragon that was all over the news? You know, flying over Uptown and shifting right in the middle of the park. The hits on the Youtube videos are already hitting the millions. Was that the same one who saved you?”
