“Yeah,” Sin agreed. “Maybe we should find a receptionist. Do private academies have receptionists?”
“No idea.”
We retreated down the hall and slipped out the back door onto a sweeping lawn of dark green grass. Snow drifted down with increasing frequency, the chilly air more tranquil than usual for the season.
“Well,” I began, “since we can’t find Aaron, I guess we should—”
Halfway down the long building, another door swung open. Aaron walked out, leading a line of students. Grinning at Sin, I waved to catch his attention. He angled toward us and the twenty kids followed him.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully. “What are you up to?”
“Looking for you,” I answered. “We want to share in Professor Sinclair’s infinite wisdom.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fresh out of wisdom, sorry. Teaching is boring—one of the many reasons I never joined my parents’ guild.” He glanced over his shoulder at his class. Lily, standing with three girls, waved to her sister. “It’s supposed to be a classroom lesson but I figured an impromptu field trip would be more entertaining.”
“Field trip where?” Sin asked dubiously.
“Just around the property.”
“Sounds fun,” I jumped in. “Lead the way!”
Aaron laughed. “Okay, dweebs,” he called to the students. “Everyone pair up, and if I catch you more than three feet away from your buddy, there’ll be consequences. Let’s go.”
I fell into step beside Aaron, and the students walked in a double line behind us. Frowning, Sin watched everyone pass, then fell in at the back. She must’ve been sending me “bad idea” brain waves, because uncertainty crept through me as Aaron headed for the tree line.
“This is okay, right?” I clarified. “Going this far from the academy?”
“Of course. Well, I mean, my dad will be pissed I didn’t stick to the lesson plan”—he grinned—“but this is a better way to learn.”
“What about the animal attacks? Tobias changed the curfew and everything because of them.”
“I can handle an animal,” he said confidently, and I had to agree. I couldn’t imagine Aaron having any trouble with a wild dog. We walked onto a dirt path beneath tangled branches, the students chattering unconcernedly.
“How much teaching is in your … itinerary?” I asked.
“A few lessons and lectures,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “They rope me into it every year, hoping I’ll finally catch the teaching fever or something. Hasn’t worked yet.”
I could hear the annoyance in his tone. “If you don’t like it, why not refuse?”
“It’s difficult when I’m here. At home, I don’t have any trouble tossing plane tickets in the garbage or blowing off the interviews they arrange for me, but …” He sighed. “It’s harder to disappoint them face to face.”
I winced sympathetically. “Don’t they know you aren’t planning to change guilds?”
“Oh, they know. They just don’t care.” His jaw flexed. “I know they want what’s best for me, but what I want barely registers with them. I’m not meeting their expectations”—he said the word like it was a dirty slur—“and they won’t stop pushing until I cave.”
“You won’t cave, will you?” I asked, alarmed. “You wouldn’t leave the Crow and Hammer?”
“No.” His expression softened. “I’m not leaving you guys no matter what.”
I relaxed again. The Crow and Hammer without Aaron … I couldn’t imagine it.
He tipped his head back, watching the sky as we walked. “I wish I could have a proper visit with them, you know? Just spend time with them without interviews and appointments and luncheons with the MPD Public Affairs Director.”
My head snapped around. Was that a random example or was it a meeting on his itinerary this week? I should’ve looked more closely.
Maybe deciding he was complaining too much, he forced a laugh. “Parents, right? Always think they know best.”
“Mm,” I agreed noncommittally. The trees crowded in as we walked deeper into the woods.
“How far are we going, Aaron?” Sin called from the back.
“There’s a clearing up ahead. We’ll stop there for our lesson.”
A hundred feet deeper into the woods was a spacious gap. I joined Sin under the branches of a squat tree as Aaron waved the students over to him.
“Okay, gang.” He looked across their attentive faces. I didn’t know if it was Aaron’s personality or if the teens always behaved this well for their instructors, but no one made a peep while he was talking. “Divide into five teams—and here’s the important part: group the most powerful mages together. Go on now.”
The students exchanged confused looks, then began muttering. An argument broke out between five kids who all claimed to be the strongest, but Aaron merely stepped back, watching carefully.
“What’s he up to?” I muttered.
“This will make the weaker kids feel like crap,” Sin agreed. Uncomfortable, she glanced around, then did a double take at the tree behind us. “Whoa. Is this a wild almond tree? You don’t see those very often.”
I peered up at the scraggy tree, its dark bark scarred and lower branches snapped and dangling. “Looks in rough shape.”
“Wild almond is a rare alchemy ingredient.” She rose on her tiptoes to peer into the upper branches. “I can see a few fruits near the top, but it’s picked over. Damn.”
Bickering and grumbling, the class finished arranging themselves into five groups.
“Good,” Aaron praised. “The strongest team and the weakest team, step forward. The rest of you, back up.”
Eight young mages, including Lily, moved forward, and the other twelve students retreated to the edge of the clearing. Aaron withdrew a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open with an elaborate twirl. A bonfire erupted two feet in front of him.
“Is that a switch?” Sin whispered to me.
“Yeah, not one he uses much, though,” I replied. “He thinks it’s funny. A switchblade switch.”
Aaron spun the blade across his palm and the flames leaped higher, warming the clearing and melting the thin dusting of snow. “Okay, teams. Your job is to put out the fire. You get one attack each—and no, you can’t attack me. Extinguish the flames. Strongest team, you first.”
A boy from Lily’s group stepped forward, eager to prove himself. His face scrunched with concentration, then he flung his hands out. A geyser of earth shot from beneath the flames, making the ground shake. Debris showered down, but the fire flickered merrily, undiminished.
Lily shoved past the boy. She raised one hand, then sliced it sideways. A massive gust of wind whipped through the trees, rustling branches. The flames bent under the gale, sparks flying, but when the wind had waned, the fire kept burning.
Scowling, she fell back. The other two boys were pyromages and attempted to diminish the flames with their own magic, but they were no match for Aaron’s power.
“Good try,” Aaron told them. “Go back with the others. Now it’s your turn,” he added to the four weakest mages. “One attack each.”
They hesitated, and I couldn’t blame them. The strong kids had already failed, and because of the way Aaron had split them up by power level, these four knew they had no chance.
A boy cleared his throat and asked, “Is that the only rule?”
“Yep.”
The kids put their heads together, whispering. After a minute, all four approached the bonfire.
“Now!” the boy called.
A foot-deep gap cracked open beneath the flames, swallowing Aaron’s fire. A gust of wind from the next boy whipped the snow off every surface and into the air, and with a wave of her hands, a girl turned it into a cold, wet mist. The water surged into the hole, filling it with murky liquid. The last boy swept both palms down, forcing the flames into the water.
Aaron’s fire sputtered desperately, then went out with a sizzle.
The “weak” ma
ges—and the other three groups—cheered. The foursome of “strong” mages sulked silently.
“What did you learn?” Aaron asked his class.
“They cheated,” a boy in the strong group snapped. “They worked together.”
“How is that cheating? I told you guys to form teams.” Aaron crossed his arms. “Teams are supposed to work together.”
Lily and the three boys exchanged frustrated looks.
“Power isn’t everything.” Aaron’s electric blue eyes swept across the class. “Intelligence, perseverance, teamwork, ingenuity—those can accomplish far more than brute strength.”
The “weak” mages beamed with pride. The other groups nodded along, and I saw shoulders going back and chins rising with new confidence.
“Every one of you is here because you’re above average. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have passed the entrance exam. You all have power—now check your egos, because power alone will only get you so far.” His gaze turned to the foursome of strong mages who’d failed. “You want to be the best? Then learn how to rely on the strength of others. Your team makes you stronger. Listen to your peers. Support them. Together, you’re unstoppable.”
As the kids hung on his every word, I looked down to hide my smile. It wasn’t what Aaron wanted, but I got where his parents were coming from. He was a complete natural at this. He was exactly the kind of teacher these kids needed to ground them so they didn’t grow up into arrogant snots like the alumni who’d insulted Aaron yesterday.
I nudged the toe of my shoe into a dip in the ground, and my smile faded. I turned my head, studying the damp, disturbed earth. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. I slid my foot aside as the shape in the earth clicked.
A paw print. A huge paw print.
The magical wind had swept away the leaf litter, revealing a mosaic of tracks. They were everywhere, overlapping the damp earth, crisscrossing the clearing, imprinted deep.
Apprehension rushed through my gut. We needed to get back to the academy. Right now. I pushed into the cluster of students, hastening to Aaron’s side. He trailed off from his pep talk, scanning my face.
I grabbed his arm and tugged him down to speak in his ear. “Aaron, we need …”
A shiver of warning ran along my spine. Drifting snowflakes muffled all sound in the still air. The woods were dim, the clouds hanging low in the sky. My sharp breath puffed white.
A twig snapped behind us.
Aaron and I whirled around as a beast leaped from the trees.
Chapter Ten
Fur and fangs flying toward us—that’s all I saw before Aaron unleashed an inferno.
Red-hot flames burst from his outstretched hand and the beast careened away. Landing heavily, it spun on huge paws to face Aaron again, lips pulled back, muzzle ridged, and teeth bared as it snarled.
The massive wolf wasn’t merely large. It was a wolf on steroids, its legs thick with muscle, its huge head dwarfed by a barrel chest. The bulging hump of its shoulders flexed as it shifted. Its gray fur was matted, and dark wounds sliced its flesh as though its skin had split, but the gashes weren’t bleeding. A reddish miasma leaked from its body like mist and the stench of burnt fur clung to it.
Milky eyes stared at us, then the wolf leaped again. I dodged away as Aaron hurled another blast of fire, but the airborne wolf sailed right through it and slammed into Aaron, driving him into the dirt.
A bloodcurdling shriek of terror snapped my head around.
A second beastly wolf launched out of the trees from the opposite end of the clearing. It bowled over three kids and bit down on a girl’s ankle. Yanking her off her feet, it started dragging her into the trees.
Oh shit.
Aaron would have to handle Wolfy McSuperWolf on his own. I charged into the mass of petrified students, ramming them aside. I had no weapons except my Queen of Spades card, which only worked against magical attacks, so I’d have to improvise.
Without slowing, I punched the wolf in the eye. It jerked away, the girl’s ankle slipping from its fangs. Snagging the scruff of its neck, I wrenched it backward.
“Grab her!” I yelled at the nearest students. “Everyone, get into a group! Now!”
The beast twisted, almost wrenching me off my feet. Its teeth chomped down on my thigh, tearing deep, and I choked on a scream. My hands loosened. The wolf body slammed me to the ground.
I landed on my back and muscle memory took over. How many times had Aaron and Kai thrown me down on the sparring mats in the last six weeks? Every time, I rolled, twisted, and sprang up.
So I rolled, twisted, and sprang up. My left leg tried to buckle, hot and wet and numb. The wolf appraised me with milky eyes, growling like an outboard motor in need of an oil change.
“Tori!” Sin threw a thick tree branch at me.
I caught it and swung as the wolf hit me again. The branch smacked its snout away from my face as I went down a second time.
Wind erupted, fire exploded, and a geyser of earth smashed into the wolf, throwing it off me. I scrambled up, my frenzied stare sweeping across the clearing.
Aaron was on his feet, flames surging over his arms and shoulders, his small switchblade in his hand. Two super-wolves circled him, one with blackened fur and charred wounds, the other fresh and unharmed. The students were crammed in a tight pack with Sin shouting commands. Lily and two boys stood at the edge of the group, hands raised as they defended me.
The third wolf charged.
I swung my stick but it darted aside, impossibly fast. Pink vapor seeped from its split skin in thickening waves as it shot into the group of students, trampling them into the ground.
“Lily!” Sin shrieked.
The wolf backpedaled, its jaws locked around Lily’s forearm. Sin and I threw ourselves on the beast as it hauled the girl toward the trees. I grabbed its ruff and dug my feet in, desperate to stop its progress, while Sin hammered her fists into its head.
Unfazed, the wolf surged backward, dragging me, Sin, and Lily with it.
Two boys seized Lily’s ankles. She screamed as she was pulled in two directions. The wolf’s jaw flexed—and bone crunched. Lily went limp.
“Lily!” Sin cried.
She jammed her thumbs into the wolf’s eye sockets. It reared, dropping Lily and throwing me off. I landed in a stagger, caught my balance, braced my feet—
Weight slammed into my back.
Two huge paws drove into my shoulders. My face hit the hard earth, and pain ruptured through my nose. I shoved onto my hands and knees.
Everything was screams and cries and blurred vision. Boys were heaving Lily’s limp form into the group, and other students were wailing or fainting, too young and scared to fight.
A yard away, where it had landed after knocking me down, the biggest wolf yet stood on four massive paws. Its jet black coat gleamed, perfect and unblemished, its body free of miasma-oozing wounds. Milky eyes swept across the chaos, then it threw its head back and howled.
Instantly, the other wolves surged to its side. They were regrouping, snarling muzzles directed at the helpless students. As the black wolf watched like a commander overseeing his soldiers, the mutant wolves stalked closer, choosing their victims.
Fire exploded.
A wall of flame raced around the pack of kids, forming an impenetrable barrier. Aaron stood in the middle, his face rigid with concentration, sweat running down his face as he held the flaming circle. The wolves skittered backward, darting in and out, searching for a weak spot.
The black wolf didn’t move, its stare locked on Aaron.
I wobbled to my feet, outside the safety of the fire ring. I needed to get inside that circle, otherwise—
Another scream. As I whirled around, my leg gave out and I fell.
Sin was screaming. Two wolves had her legs. They were dragging her into the brush, her hands scrabbling helplessly at the ground.
“Tori, help!”
“Aaron!” I bellowed as I lunged to my feet. My mouth was full of blood and I s
pat. “Aaron!”
He didn’t appear at my side, flames sparking, competent and powerful and able to save anyone. Sin grabbed a sapling, but the wolves jerked her free. Shadows closed over her.
“Sin!” I leaped forward—and my legs buckled. I shoved myself up, staggered another step, and my knees hit the ground again. My vision blurred. I braced on my hands and knees, the earth rolling like waves under my palms. I had to move. I had to save her.
I dragged my head up—and looked into the black wolf’s milky eyes. It stood in front of me, teeth pulling back from huge fangs, its hot breath steaming my face. A quiet snarl rolled from its throat and it coiled its body to pounce.
A churning fireball flashed toward us.
The black wolf leaped away and the fire struck the cold ground in a burst of heat that singed my skin. With a swish of its tail, the wolf bounded into the trees—and as it fled into the shadowy underbrush, Sin’s white face, her mouth gaping in terror and pain, disappeared with it.
“Sin,” I gasped. My arms trembled, wobbled, then collapsed. I hit the ground and my vision went black.
* * *
My eyes flew open. My body reacted a moment later, limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to stand.
“Calm down, Miss Dawson.”
A hand pressed on my shoulder, holding me down. I blinked and an unfamiliar face came into focus—middle-aged, thin lips, large glasses that hadn’t been in style in thirty years. The woman leaned over me with a stern frown.
“Sin,” I blurted. “Is Sin okay? Where is she? Where am I?”
“You are in the infirmary,” the woman replied. “I’m Healer Austin. You suffered a severe bite wound to your left thigh and lost a dangerous amount of blood. Also, your nose was broken. I’ve repaired your injuries, but—”
I shoved her hand off me and sat up. The room spun, then steadied. I was on a narrow bed in what looked like a hospital room surrounded by crisp white curtains.
“I’ll be a good patient and all that shit,” I snapped at the healer, getting angry so I didn’t outright panic, “as soon as you tell me what happened to Sin.”
The Alchemist and an Amaretto: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Five Page 8
