by Tara West
Dame Doublewart perused a file as thick as a tomb, shaking her head. “Let me get this straight. You seduced every one of your professors at your previous school, ruining no less than five marriages.”
She tensed. “Only one professor, and he wasn’t married as far as I know.”
Her face contorted with distaste, her gaze practically boring holes in Serah’s skull. “One professor is bad enough.”
Unnerved by Dame Doublewart’s penetrating, black eyes, she pretended to admire one of the many old cuckoo clocks in a small collection hanging behind Doublewart’s desk. It was covered in cobwebs. “I realize that now.”
“Your disciplinary report says you slept with all the male professors.” The matron’s voice rose in pitch with each word, making her sound like a squawking hen. “They were found guilty of giving you passing grades in exchange for sexual favors.”
Though she shouldn’t have been surprised the exaggerated tales of her exploits had preceded her, she resented the judgmental tone in Dame Doublewart’s voice. She was a Goldenwand, the sole heiress to the largest fortune in the third realm—probably in all four realms. She didn’t have to tolerate Doublewart’s self-righteous attitude. “Believe the report if you want, but I only slept with one professor.” The rest she bought off, thanks to Grandfather’s generous allowance.
She repressed a sigh when she thought of Professor Prometheus Periwinkle’s calm, deep voice, wavy blond hair, and blessedly large wand. He’d been so kind during their early tutoring sessions. So attentive. That first kiss had been the next natural progression after months of mutual flirting. By the time they ripped off each other’s clothes and he draped her across the top of his desk, she’d been so horny, she couldn’t see straight. After repressing her siren instincts for so long, she’d lost it. And she’d certainly paid for her transgression ten times over.
“Doesn’t matter if you slept with one professor or a dozen.” Dame Doublewart folded her hands and glared at Serah like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “It seems no other magical school in our realm will take you.”
Tension stiffened her spine. “Correct.”
“We are your last hope.”
Dame Doublewart’s lips twisted so tight, Serah thought they would snap.
“Yes.”
“Miss Goldenwand,” Dame Doublewart said and sighed, “you are already eighteen, a year older than most other high school twelfth years. Why don’t you just drop out?”
If only. She fought to maintain a neutral expression. “I would if I could.” It’s not like she needed an education. Potion and spell classes were now obsolete, thanks to the Goldenwand 2050. Why did she need to memorize spells when the Goldenwand did all the work for her?
Dame Doublewart eyed her expectantly. “What do you mean?”
She refused to answer. Why give Doublewart ammunition that she could use against her to get her to behave? She studied the woman’s face, wondering exactly where those two warts were hiding.
The matron had an assessing look in her eyes. “Your silence confirms that other rumors are true. You will be disinherited without a diploma.”
She found the nerve to make eye contact with Dame Doublewart for a moment. “Are you going to accept me or not?”
Dame Doublewart lifted a thin, graying brow. “Are you aware of our academy’s rigorous course load?”
She thought of a half dozen different spells she’d like to use on Doublewart. “I’ve heard it.”
“Each student is responsible for his or her own work.” She pointed her beak nose at Serah, eyes narrowing to slits. “You can’t suck your way into passing grades here.”
Heat flamed Serah’s cheeks. “I’ll manage.” She swallowed an angry retort and clutched her wand so hard, her knuckles ached.
“You’re aware of our disciplinary policy?”
Serah shrugged. “I heard it was strict.”
“Strict?” Dame Doublewart let out a grating laugh that sounded like two rabid cats mating. “Oh, Miss Goldenwand. I promise that when you find yourself on your knees at my school, you won’t be begging for more.” Shadows fell across her features and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “You’ll be begging for mercy.”
Well, fuck. She swallowed a lump of bile. “Noted.”
“You’re okay with this?” Laughter rang in Doublewart’s words.
Serah bit back a curse. “I don’t have a choice.”
“No, you don’t.” The matron’s eyes lit like fireworks. “Here at Dame Doublewart’s, we like to get a jump on discipline.” She picked up an old, gnarled wand that was as long as a yardstick and slapped it across her palm. “Our students spend their first night in the dungeon to get a taste of our disciplinary procedures. We generally find that after that first night, our students are much more receptive to our rules.”
Dragon balls! This woman was mental. “So you’re throwing me in detention, and I haven’t even done anything yet?”
“That’s right.” Her smile widened, revealing sharp incisors. “If you accept these terms, I will grant you admission. If not....” Dame Doublewart slapped her palm in rhythm with the ticking cuckoo clocks behind her.
Serah released a shaky breath. “I accept.”
“Excellent.” Dame Doublewart set down the wand and stood. Turning, she thumbed through a stack of papers. “Let me just find the contract.”
Sitting as as stiff as a statue, she watched Doublewart locate the papers that would seal her doom. She only had one semester left until graduation—roughly four months with holidays. She didn’t believe for a second that her grades couldn’t be bought. This school was practically falling apart at the seams. If its condition was any indication, the teachers were likely underpaid, too.
If she and her potions professor had been more discreet, she’d still be at her posh school, dining at their custom sushi bar for supper and sucking the cream out of Periwinkle’s éclair for dessert.
Dame Doublewart faced Serah, holding a faded scroll. Tapping it with her wand, she mumbled a reveal spell, and it came to life, the words jumping off the page and forming in the air in front of her like they were reflecting off a computer screen. She was impressed that Dame Doublewart’s old wand could conjure such a modern spell.
“Sign here,” the matron said, pointing at the signature line at the bottom of what must have been thousands of words of fine print.
Serah frowned. No way was she reading that contract. It would take her all day. It couldn’t be too terrible. Grandfather wouldn’t send her to a horrible school.
She pulled the wand out of her pocket.
“Not with that,” Doublewart snapped, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “With your finger.”
Serah pocketed her wand, biting back profanities, then leaned toward the signature line, jerking back when the contract crackled.
“I haven’t got all day.” Dame Doublewart turned her beak nose to the ceiling, rolling her eyes.
Serah reached toward the contract again, wincing when the screen pricked her finger, using her blood as the ink. Signing in blood? Grandfather had a lot to answer for.
By the time she finished, her finger throbbed and blood dripped down her wrist. She grasped her wand and silently asked it to heal her, sighing in relief when the pain stopped. There was a blood stain on her suede boot. Those boots had cost two thousand merlins. She zapped the stain with her wand, smiling when it disappeared.
The matron snickered at Serah’s wand. “Follow me.” She tapped dark chestnut panels on a wall, and it split open, revealing a secret tunnel.
Serah hesitated. “But my bags.”
Dame Doublewart’s eyes became cold, unreadable. “You won’t need them. You’ll be issued a uniform after detention.”
A uniform? She made a face. At her old school, the only dress code was an unspoken one: dress like you had money. Needless to say, Serah had exemplified proper dress code. She couldn’t imagine being forced to wear some starchy polyester or cotton-blend monstrosity.
“Of course I need them.” She looked at Dame Doublewart as if she’d grown a second head. “My grandfather just bought me those bags from Elysian.”
Ignoring her distress, the matron impatiently waggled her fingers. “Your wand.”
Clutching her wand to her side, Serah took a big step back. “My wand?”
“We don’t allow Goldenwands at Doublewart’s. Every student is issued a standard PF Wand.”
“A Pegasus Feather Wand?” Hysterical laughter bubbled from her throat. “Those are so last century.”
“I know, which is how I like it.” Doublewart flashed a smile so tight, her face looked ready to crack. “Forces our students to think for themselves instead of relying on their wands to do all the work for them.”
Serah cocked a hand on her hip. This woman had definitely lost her mind. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Doublewart lunged forward and snatched Serah’s wand before she had time to react. “You’ll get it back after graduation.”
She threw up her hands. “What a load of crap.” She had no right to take away her wand, considering the resolution Parliament was about to pass, requiring all schools to use the current Goldenwands.
“Tsk, tsk. You should’ve read our wand policy before signing the contract.” Doublewart wagged a finger in Serah’s face, and that’s when she noticed what appeared to be two black bugs stuck to her fingernail. Gross. Why hadn’t she noticed before? What a horrible place to have warts.
“I’ve changed my mind.” Holding up both hands, she backed up another step. No way in Hades was she attending a school that refused to use her grandfather’s wands. He’d understand why she had to drop out.
“Too late,” Doublewart shrugged. “You signed.”
“Well, unsign it.” She held out her hand. “And give me back my wand.”
Doublewart waved her big ugly wand at Serah’s hands and feet, binding her in place. She tried to scream, but the woman sealed her mouth with another spell.
She flashed an evil grin. “Enjoy your stay in detention, Miss Goldenwand.”
With one flick of the wrist, Serah was swept off her feet and traveling along the corridor at breakneck speed. Suddenly the bindings snapped off her limbs and mouth, and she screamed as she went over a chasm into pitch black.
She hit soft ground with a thud and groaned as she spit out a mouthful of dirt. Sitting up, she wished she had her wand for illumination. Wherever she was, she could distinctly hear water. After checking her earlobes to make sure she hadn’t lost an earring, she stood and brushed dirt off her clothes, then picked debris out of her palms. That’s when she noticed the emerald bracelet Prometheus had given her had fallen off. She fell back on her knees, frantically searching for it to no avail. It was all she had left of him. Releasing a shaky breath, she told herself it was for the best. He was never going to be part of her life again, so why keep mementos to pine over? Besides, the gems were fake. No way could he afford real emeralds on his salary. She didn’t need that ugly bracelet and was glad it was gone. That’s what she kept telling herself anyway.
She got to her feet, squinting at a pinprick of light above her. The light grew brighter, illuminating the uneven cavern walls.
“Hello! Can anyone help me?” she called, disappointed when the only answer was her own voice echoing back.
Stumbling forward, she came to the edge of inky black water that splashed the rocks under her feet. She rubbed warmth into her arms as goose bumps pricked her flesh. She’d landed on a small island rising up from the cavern floor no more than twenty feet in diameter, and she could make out the shapes of triangular dorsal fins moving in circles around her. Though she was an expert swimmer, thanks to her siren blood, no way was she getting in that water.
What kind of fucked up detention was this, and how in Hades was she going to escape this school?
SERAH HUGGED HER KNEES to her chest, trying not to wince every time a shark splashed her. They were magical illusions. They had to be. Sharks the size of elephants didn’t swim in shallow water. Not to mention their teeth were disproportionately long, making them look like sabertooth fish. She had no idea how long she was supposed to serve detention, but as soon as she got out of there, she would call her grandfather and demand he come get her. There had to be another school that would take her, with enough financial incentive. No way could she survive a semester in this hellhole.
“Hello, there. You called for help?”
She blinked at the oddest thing she’d ever seen—three drop-dead gorgeous guys, smiling at her from inside a giant, translucent bubble that hovered about three feet off the ground. She rubbed her eyes, then blinked again. They were still there, still gorgeous, with their rippling tanned muscles, thick, black hair, and broad smiles. They looked like ancient Greek gods who had descended from Mount Olympus.
She slowly came to her knees. “Hello?”
The tallest of the three, wearing jeans tight enough to reveal a beefy bulge that proved he definitely didn’t need to drive a fast broom or monster truck, smiled while palming a longneck beer. “You don’t look like you’re enjoying your detention.”
She scratched the back of her head, squinting at him. “Ya think?”
He crossed muscular arms, slanting a knowing grin. “Need a lift?”
“In that thing?” She jumped to her feet and backed away from the bubble. “What if it pops?”
“It won’t pop.” The stud standing next to him, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and an unbuttoned dress shirt, jumped up and down, his bare feet making deep indentations in the bubble. “See?” He pushed his wire spectacles up the bridge of his nose, a gesture that reminded her too much of Professor Periwinkle.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
The tallest stud nodded at the cave wall. “To the next dungeon over. We’ve got detention, too.”
They had detention? They didn’t look like high school boys. They looked to be in their early twenties. Tall stud even had a full beard.
It didn’t matter how old they were. Floating in a bubble with three good-looking guys was a far cry better than her current situation. Unless, of course, Grandfather found out. “What if we get caught?”
“We won’t,” the one wearing navy sweats said, his cheeks flushing, making him look adorably sexy. “They’re not coming for us until morning.”
That Doublewart bitch was more sadistic than Serah had realized. “I have to spend all night here?”
“Not if you come with us.” Bearded Guy held up his beer. “We’ve got music and drinks.”
Please say yes! the siren inside her begged.
“Come on,” Boxer Shorts said. “You don’t want to spend all night there, do you?”
Serah grimaced. She feared these guys could be a trick of the imagination, a tempting illusion sent by Dame Doublewart to make her hellish stay in detention even more miserable. When Boxer Shorts poked through the bubble, holding out a hand, she drew back, apprehension twisting a knot in her gut.
“We won’t bite,” he said with a wink.
“Unless you want us to,” Bearded Guy added.
Fuck yeah, she wanted them to, and that was the problem. She’d repressed her siren until Periwinkle had revealed her inner goddess, introducing her to the carnal pleasures she’d denied herself too long. Now that her siren was awakened, Serah didn’t know how to put her back or even if she wanted to. Grandfather would be so disappointed.
Go to them, Serah, her siren hissed, releasing a wave of pheromones that nearly swept her under lust’s tide. Gritting her teeth, she reached for her savior’s hand, praying to the goddess these men weren’t an illusion. If she did end up sleeping with them, she hoped Grandfather never found out.
DORIS DOUBLEWART DIDN’T know if she was more worried or relieved. Apprehensive, definitely. Why had she admitted this girl into her school?
Half a million merlins, that’s why.
She pressed the intercom button on her ancient landline. “Lady Hoofenmouth, will you
please come to my office?” She waited anxiously, listening for the heavy footsteps of the one woman whose opinion mattered most. Clenching her teeth, she grabbed her coffee cup when thunderous stomping rattled her desk.
The door swung open, slamming into the wall with a thud. Athena Hoofenmouth looked like a bull ready to charge as she stared her down. “What took you so long?”
Doris slowly stood, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her gray, polyester slacks. “I was showing our new student to the dungeon.”
Steam poured from Athena’s flared nostrils, and her pupils turned red. “I thought you weren’t going to admit her.”
Trolls were notorious for their short tempers, and though Doris loved Athena, she also feared her ever-changing moods. She instead pulled out the deposit slip she’d been keeping in her desk since this morning and waved it in Athena’s face.
Doris’s breath hitched when Athena snatched it from her hands, glowering at the slip of paper attached to a carbon copy of the check with Nathaniel Goldenwand’s signature scrawled across the bottom.
Athena frowned. “What’s this?”
Doris cleared her throat, summoning the courage to face her lover. “Half a million merlins from Lord Goldenwand.”
“Great goblin gonads!” Athena shrieked, dropping the paper on the floor.
Doris snatched her wand and used it to retrieve the receipt, zapping it back into the safe under her desk. She’d be a nervous wreck until the money cleared the bank.
“No wonder you admitted her.” Athena rubbed her hands together and licked her lips. “We could retire to Elysian.”
Doris sighed. “Or build a bigger and better school.”
Athena’s eyes glazed over as if she was lost in a dream. “Or travel all four realms.”
Doris cleared her throat. “Or remodel the gymnasium.”
“Doris,” Athena said with a groan, stomping her foot so hard, the cuckoo clocks rattled against the wall. “I’m tired of school life.”
