Called by Darkness

by Sean Fletcher

  I paused once more in front of his office and then continued pacing. The Master’s wing of the Academy—a place most students had no reason or desire to go—was by far the homiest. Gentle wood tones, roaring fireplaces in each hall, comfy sitting rooms where the Masters could lounge in their off time.

  I’d spent hours running wild through here as a kid with Asher. Then, later, alone. Occasionally, some of the Masters had taken time to show me small spells. Master Billingham always had an endless supply of party jinxes, like making sparks shoot out of my finger, or conjuring animal-shaped bubbles that would roar or squawk or squeak. Master Flo would let me sample treats she’d received from her native country of Indonesia, and tell me stories of her times traveling while she was young. This place usually felt like home.

  Right now, it felt like failure.

  Overdramatic? Maybe. But today had been a stinging reminder of how far I still had to go. I was Skylar Rivest, daughter of Aspen Rivest, one of the heroes of New York. I was supposed to be the best. I had a legacy to live up to.

  But when crunch time came, I…had been practically useless.

  The air around me crackled, but I clenched my fist until the magic subsided. No, not useless. I hadn’t been ready, that was all. What normal student could say they’d faced a manticore? Mia, Colson, and I had held our own.

  And so had Asher.

  He was the real problem. Who did he think he was, telling me what I should do—acting like he knew better. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that I was going to be partnered with him for the next four years. Because it wasn’t possible. I wouldn’t let it. Whatever plans I had of making a name for myself, Asher Dunadine was going to ruin them.

  “I told you they weren’t going to let you in.”

  Speak of the demon…

  Asher was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed. Now that we weren’t fighting for our lives, it was easier to get a look at him; his scorched robes had been replaced by a plain t-shirt and ripped jeans. His skin was the toned color of a constant tan, his left arm sporting a scar he’d gotten the summer he went away. From beneath his shirt sleeve I caught the hint of a tattooed ring on his bicep that his dad had been beyond pissed he’d gotten.

  Asher wasn’t smirking at me for once, but it was impossible to read what he was thinking.

  “I’m going to talk to them when they come out,” I said. I couldn’t look at him. All I could hear was him yelling “Move!”

  “They still won’t tell you anything.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  “They don’t know anything, Skylar.”

  “Oh, and you do?”

  I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye.

  “You…” he started, and I waited for him to bring up the entrance ceremony. Instead he gave a slight shake of his head.

  “How are Mia?” I said. “And Colson?”

  “They’re fine. Everyone’s fine. They’re all in the common area right now throwing theories around. I’ve heard some guesses that would only happen in bad fan fiction. Others think it was the Fae.”

  I snorted. “The Fae may not get along with the Academy, but they wouldn’t try something like this. Besides, a manticore’s not classy enough for them.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “That’s what I said. Maybe you could come down and persuade them otherwise.”

  I side-eyed him. Was he…trying to be nice? “Because you want me there, or you feel obligated to invite me because we’re partners?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Did it? I didn’t have an answer for that yet. “I want to stay up here.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Alone,” I emphasized.

  I busied myself with pretending to examine one of the landscape portraits on the wall—this one of the Scottish Highlands. I could feel Asher’s gaze burning a hole in my back, but I didn’t turn around. I still wasn’t done internally fuming at him, and he was kind of the last person I wanted to see right now.

  After another moment, Asher brusquely pushed off the pillar. He paused at the top of the stairs before heading down.

  “For the record, I wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels when I found out you were my partner, either.”

  “Excuse me?” I whirled around but he’d already vanished. I ran to the stairs and looked down, chest heaving.

  He wasn’t happy? I pushed off the railing with a huff before stalking down the hall, not caring where I was going. “Like I’m not good enough,” I muttered darkly, probably doing an excellent impression of an insane person. “Just because he’s Asher Pretty-boy Dunadine…”

  After wandering aimlessly for who knew how long, I finally looked up, realizing I’d wound up in the Hall of Records. At least, that’s what I called it, but I’m sure it had some stuffy title like Hall of Achievements or Hall Where They Put Tons of Pictures of My Mom.

  Because she was in here. A lot.

  I paused in front of the biggest painting, one that took up an entire wall. It was the Battle of New York. My mom, dad, Lucien—looking strikingly handsome like Asher did now—and a half dozen other Supes stood posed mid-battle, swarms of devilish, leather-winged creatures I’d heard were called grims circling them.

  Lucien’s expression was calmly determined, his robes streaming behind him as he brought a grim down. My dad, half his face covered in tattoos, fiercely defended the side. And my mom, looking as poised as ever, a brilliant blue spell casting her silver hair in a beautiful, almost angelic light as she bravely cast it at the final figure—Maladias, the Enemy of Magic. The one who’d come to try and destroy New York.

  The remaining anger melted away as I looked over the picture for what had to be the thousandth time. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by it. The entire scene was…majestic. It was amazing. It was…

  “I always hated how we look in that.”

  I jumped. I hadn’t heard my mom enter the gallery. She looked…older. I know that sounds weird since she kind of is older, but seeing her in the painting versus now…it was a pretty stark contrast.

  She gave me a long hug and I squeezed her back, so close and warm and alive. Crow’s feet teased at the edge of her eyes when she pulled back and smiled at me. It was a reassuring smile, one that made me feel safe. One that made wherever she was feel like home.

  I gestured to the painting. “But I always loved this picture.”

  “Do you? I’m glad for that, at least. I guess for me…”

  She tilted her head as she looked up at it, as though doing so might better reveal what she disliked. “It’s too perfect.”

  “Perfect?”

  She pointed at each of the painted figures in turn. “Lucien’s spirit was slowly draining out of him, so I promise he didn’t look that self-assured. Your father, Isak, had severe blood loss. I’d just barely escaped drowning after Maladias’ initial attack. Also, there weren’t that many Supes with us. Most were dead. And I certainly wasn’t summoning any spells that easily. Plus, the final battle wasn’t even on Earth.”

  I looked at it again, trying to imagine what the heck she was talking about. “But it looks great. All these pictures look amazing!”

  My mom gave me another smile, this one tinged with sadness. “A painting can hide a lot of truth in it. Just like people can hide a lot of the struggle it took to get to where they are now. Look at this one.”

  She pointed to the next painting over, another one with her in it. I knew this story, too—or at least what the painting told me about it. It was my mom taking out the Lernaean Hydra. Like the last image, this one had captured her mid-battle, the hydra’s heads lashing out as my mom deftly deflected them with her knife. It was probably the coolest thing I’d ever seen. She was so confident, so sure of herself and her abilities. Just looking at a picture of it made me proud to be her daughter.

  “I was poisoned during this,” my mom said. “And the hydra had killed the guide, a good friend of mine. Your father was taking care of the Nemean lion and was
too far away to help.” Her voice grew softer, distant. “I thought I was going to die there. I was absolutely terrified.

  “This one, too.” She shook her head at the next painting of her battling a dark witch in the mountains of western Washington. “I really should have vetted these more. What do they think I do, put on makeup before every battle?”

  “But they’re amazing!” I blurted out. Why the heck was she bashing her own achievements? Didn’t she know how many people would kill to be able to do what she did?

  “They sure seem amazing, don’t they?” my mom said. “Until you look beneath.” She turned to me. “Until you look beneath.”

  I could only stare at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Why was she telling me this? She’d never before sat me down and had a true heart-to-heart. Don’t get me wrong, my mom isn’t a bad mom. I’m not one of those kids who’ll complain their parents didn’t love them enough or shower them with kisses and affection or some other crap, because mine definitely did. Still do, of course, even if I didn’t always want them to. I have tons of memories of sunny days visiting zoos, ice cream parlors, cheery Christmas mornings cuddled with each other by the fire while snow fell outside—you know, typical mushy, feel-good family memories.

  But if I had to tell you what made my mom tick, what she really wanted, who she really was, what she really feared…I don’t think I could. I probably couldn’t even tell you that about myself.

  Before I realized what was happening, my mom pulled me into another hug. I could feel her hands trembling a bit as they rested on my back. She almost seemed scared, and if she was, that scared me more than anything.

  “All I’m saying is don’t get it in your head to be like this,” my mom said, pulling away, her shaking hands vanishing into the pockets of her jacket. “You can become the best if you want, have all your wildest dreams come true, but I’m afraid that when you get there it might not be what you thought.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already done it!”

  “And I’m telling you there are other ways to be recognized without doing what I did.”

  I bit my lip, stopping the sudden argument that wanted to come bursting out. Sure, it was easy to look down and tell the person on the ground that soaring through the sky wasn’t all that great.

  “Are you going to stay longer this time?” I said, changing the subject instead of arguing myself into a corner.

  My mom’s shoulders dropped. “No. I have another assignment that can’t wait.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight, actually. Your father’s still out helping restructure one of the Councils in Sydney. He mentioned there might be some rogue koalas involved.”

  She smiled to show it was a joke. I forced myself to return it, not wanting her to see that, despite everything, I missed having her around. She probably already felt bad enough leaving as it was. I wasn’t going to make that harder on her.

  “Anyway…” My mom let out a long sigh. “There’s a couple more things I have to catch Lucien up on.” She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Study hard, don’t stay up too late, stay out of trouble.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  She gave my shoulder a brief squeeze. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I turned back to the paintings as she left. The images still seemed to haunt me, despite what she’d said. Battles and feats that lingered in people’s memories long after they’d happened. What had I done that had that same weight?

  “We all have our own journeys,” my mom said to me, her voice echoing across the gallery. “Different paths to different kinds of greatness. And none of those paths are ones we can walk alone.”

  I continued standing there long after her footsteps faded down the hall.

  “Looks like somebody got a head start.”

  Mia paused unpacking in our new dorm room. The cardboard box she’d bewitched to vomit her belongings onto her shelf stopped mid-bounce.

  “Oh! You were gone for so long…and my things were already here, so I thought I’d pick a side and get started…”

  “I’m kidding,” I said, smiling. Mia relaxed and smiled back. I swear, we’ve been best friends for over four years and she still made me feel bad for teasing her.

  I stepped over her still-unsorted piles of things to look out the window beside her bed. It overlooked the main lawn, giving a vantage point to the western side of the Academy. If I craned my neck up, I could kind of make out a tower over our heads and some spires on the battlements across the way. “Great view.”

  “And the best part? No community toilet,” Mia said, pointing to our glorious private bathroom.

  “Sweet—oh, sorry.” I lifted my foot to let the box scooch by and continue emptying her things. I jumped as it spewed out a large wrench that nearly landed on my toe.

  “Ugh…sorry. I still haven’t gotten the spell exactly right.” Mia picked up the wrench and put it with her growing pile of nuts, bolts, and mechanical guts lumped against one wall.

  “At least we have more space than our last room,” I said. I’d never minded Mia’s gearhead tendencies—the girl could torque a wrench as well as a guy’s arm in combat class—but it was still a little disconcerting to wake up in the middle of the night to find an automaton’s eyes watching you from the other side of the room.

  “I promise I’m cutting down on my projects this year,” Mia said. “I’ll have to. Have you looked at our schedule? We’ll be booked solid almost every day of the week.”

  I yanked out the parchment with my schedule on it from beneath all the stuff on my bed. I didn’t have nearly as much to unpack. Most of my things were still in my room at my parents’ house in Ember’s Landing. I read the schedule while Mia hummed happily, stringing colored lights across our headboards:

  Beastology

  Paranormal Literature 200

  Magical Defense (Charms and Hexes)

  Spellslinging 350

  Paranormal Politics

  Modern Combat

  “I’m in some of those classes, too!” Mia said excitedly. “Paranormal politics and Spellslinging!”

  I tapped the bottom of the list, grinning. “Don’t forget…more combat.”

  Mia pursed her lips. She returned to stringing up the lights.

  “You know you love it…” I teased.

  “I’m good at it. That doesn’t mean I like it. Besides, you’re the one who’s really good.”

  Yeah, except when it counted, apparently. My dour mood returned and I glowered into my schedule.

  “And…there!”

  Mia stepped down off her chair, satisfied. A large part of her side of the room now resembled techno Santa’s workshop, with colored lights illuminating pink pillows and glittering contraptions lined neatly on the shelves against the wall. Mia proudly gazed at all of it, then glanced at the boxes on my bed.

  “Are you going to…”

  “Later. I’ll wait until the room finishes changing.”

  Each Academy dorm room was enchanted to mold to the occupant’s tastes. It kept the Vamps and other undead happy with their dark, gloomy interiors, and gave everyone else’s a homey, personal touch, depending on taste and mood. Already I could see steampunk-esque railings and lampposts sprouting from Mia’s side of the room. My last room had felt like an exotic beach locale in Cinque Terre, complete with colored walls, cobbled stone, and the faint sound of surf in the distance coming from a magical window facing out toward blue water. I wasn’t sure how this new room would top that.

  “A couple of us were talking about what happened at the ceremony,” Mia said, her voice turning worried. “Did you get to ask—”

  Outside our room, a door slammed loudly, followed by male laughter. Mia and I poked our heads into the living room just as Asher and Colson entered. Asher seemed to be putting the final touches on a story he’d been telling, Colson chuckling along.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  Asher pause
d, turning to look at me. One eyebrow quirked. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.”

  “We live here too,” Colson said. He went over and fell on the couch, a necklace of sharks’ teeth popping out from beneath the collar of his shirt. Despite his immense size, his limbs seemed to melt effortlessly over the fabric, making him appear perfectly at ease, like he belonged nowhere else but on our upholstery. He peered over my shoulder. “Wasn’t Mia just behind you?”

  “She was—Mia?” I turned. “Mia?”

  Mia had vanished back into our room. I rolled my eyes.

  “Just as a friendly reminder, we’re here because we’re your partners, remember?” Asher said. “Ring any bells?”

  As if I could forget. Advanced students and their partners—their training partners—shared a joint apartment for the four years they were together. The Academy swore it was to help foster comradery, but I was pretty sure it was secretly a ploy to drive half the student body insane.

  And lucky me, I got to share one with Asher. If I listened hard, I could hear the universe laughing at me.

  “You can use the living room and kitchen, but you’re dead if you come in my room,” I said.

  “I think that’s why it’s called a common area,” Colson said. I tried to detect any sarcasm in his tone, but he spoke so dead-pan it was impossible to tell.

  “And our rooms are charmed, Sky,” Asher said. “Only the people living in them can enter. Seriously, you’ve lived in the Academy how long?”

  Hex it all. I’d forgotten about that particular, extremely useful, charm.

  “It’s Skylar, not Sky,” I snapped as he vanished into his room.

  “Sure it is. Sky.”

  I gritted my teeth so hard I probably cracked one.

  “Is she in there?” Colson asked before I could do something I regretted, like blow up their half of the apartment.

  I forced myself to stop glowering at Asher’s empty doorway. “What?”

  He nodded toward our room. “Mia. I haven’t gotten much time to talk to her since the ceremony. I’d like to see if we have any classes together.”