by CY Jones
“Great,” I mutter. If I know my brother, which I do, this is far from over. Before he or the douche can get back into it, I give Quinn one last squeeze before walking away, praying to the Goddess I made the right decision.
Chapter 2
Zion
I’m fuming by the time I make it back to my last class for the day. I thought I dodged a bullet today with there being only two new dark mages. Every semester, we usually get an overflow of new students from some backwater mage families finally giving up on their stupidity and adhering to the rules set by the council to have their children taught in an institution and not at home like some backwards cult. And every start of the semester, I’m forced to drag around some sheltered idiot who doesn’t know the first thing about how the real world of mages works away from Mommy and Daddy. Imagine my surprise when I get the call to pick up some lost mage from one of the founding families who doesn’t even know what she is. You’re either light or dark, you can’t tiptoe the line of both and don’t let me get started on that fool of a brother. I fucking hate harlequins. They’re nothing but performing clowns with no real magic and a bunch of parlor tricks up their sleeves. They wouldn’t know real magic if it slapped them in the face and gave them a Hail Mary. Why people fear them, I’ll never know. If it weren’t for his sister’s interference, we’d have one less clown walking on campus.
“Hey, boss, heard you had a bit of excitement this morning,” Oliver chirps from the seat beside me.
He has this amused look on his face even through he can clearly tell I’m not in the mood for his jokes. He’s lucky I consider him a brother and don’t blast his ass out the window. I’ve dealt with enough jokers for the day.
“Well,” he prods.
“Well what, Erwin?”
“Why are you being so tightlipped? The new girl. I heard she’s hot. Is it true? This side of the campus can use some fresh pussy. It’s so unfair there are more female light mages than dark ones.”
Figures Oliver would already be interested in the new girl. He and his brother have probably fucked every female mage on this campus light and dark at least once. I’m pickier. I rather stick my dick in a blender than tangle with a two-bit, fortune teller. Fake ass mages like her and her brother make my blood boil. She’s nothing but a little girl playing with dolls, nothing to get all riled up over.
“How the fuck would I know? I was busy giving her brother a warm Crescent Moon Academy welcome.”
“Ahh, I did hear about that. Twins! Can you believe their magic is of the opposite spectrum of each other? What a shitty break? No wonder why their parents kept them homeschooled. Those two must have been quite the embarrassment being from a distinguished family and all.”
I roll my eyes. I couldn’t care less. Boo hoo, their childhood probably sucked. Well, hers did, being the dark feather in a bed of peacocks. Oliver would feel sympathy for them. He’s a twin himself, but in his case, his brother is also a dark mage. They never had to be separated from each other, but call me coldhearted. I refuse to feel any sympathy for the two fools that showed up today, no matter what family they hail from. We have enough going on. This is the wrong time for the two of them to show up. Why now, after all these years, have a Boudreaux come back? We can’t afford to be distracted right now.
“It’s fishy. I wish their family kept them away, or at least, chose a different school for them to attend. This is the first time a harlequin has attended here in decades. Not since...” I trail off.
“Do you think they are the ones? The last two we have been looking for?” Oliver asks, following my thoughts incorrectly.
“What? Are you crazy?” I shout and all eyes turn on me.
“Is there something you and Mr. Erwin would like to share with the class?” Ms. Broomstein asks.
“No, ma’am, I apologize for my outburst. It won’t happen again,” I say to quell her so she’ll carry on with her lecture. I can care less about her or this class.
“See that it doesn’t,” she replies with cutting eyes before continuing on with her lecture.
Her words are inconsequential. I’m only here for the sake of appearance. I hold more power in my pinky than she does in her wand, but I play my part and I play it well. Unlike the two newbies, I’ve been at the academy since I was five. As one of the seven founding families, that’s a given. The same goes for Oliver and his brother because they come from the Erwin line. I know my place, unlike the Boudreaux’s who think they can do what they want and we’re all supposed to follow along with a smile on our face. But that’s a harlequin for you. They’re raised to think they are beyond the rules.
“They may be from a founding family, but they are still weak. No way would a champion choose one of them. I doubt they’ll survive a month here, a day even. In fact, I should do us all a favor and take the girl out myself. It won't be long after before the brother follows,” I hiss.
“I don’t know,” he muses, stroking his five o’clock shadow. “The girl, at least, may be powerful. I heard she got the drop on you today,” he points out and I grit my teeth to prevent myself from punching him in the jaw.
“I was caught off guard. No one has seen a voodoo priestess here, ever, so I didn’t know what to suspect. Now that I do, that won’t be happening again. She’s not a real mage. Cheap parlor tricks won’t save her for long. They definitely don’t make her champion material. Besides, we don’t need the last two. The five of us can handle the others on our own.”
“There are too many unknowns. Unknown mages. Unknown powers. Unknown secrets. I think we should leave all the cards on the table before we come to any hasty decisions. Let the light mages handle their own. Cayden and Torvon won’t like anyone closing in on their standing and a new student with the last name Bourdreaux will have them on high alert. If he’s as weak as you say, he’ll be dead soon. The girl is a mystery we should keep a close eye on before making judgement. I suggest we do surveillance to see what we’re dealing with.”
“Are you suggesting this from a strategy stand-point or are you appealing to your dick?” I cock an arrogant brow. This wouldn’t be the first time he asked me to spare someone so he can fuck them first.
“Why can’t it be both?” he smiles wickedly.
“Fine. I’ll lay off, but if by some miracle they both survive and are chosen by a champion, all bets are off and I will kill them.”
He grins wider, loving the thought of violence. Oliver may look easy going, but underneath that sunny facade, he has the heart of a bloodthirsty killer.
Angelica
As soon as I could, I ditched my student escort. Zion Hawthorne is hot and everything, but he’s a pompous asshole. I got a good read on him after five seconds of meeting the asshat and that was before he attacked my brother. As soon as he showed me where classes are held and where I can pick up my schedule, I relieved him of his services and hauled ass in the other direction. I don’t know who shit in his Cheerios today. Clearly, he was about as happy about being the one tasked to show me around as much as I wanted to be in his presence. He really needs to stop being so uptight and learn to let things go.
So what? We didn’t start off on the right foot. My bad. I incapacitated his ass, but what did he expect? Did he really think I’d let him hurt my brother? Quinn is my world. I don’t know him past Adam, the choice was a simple one. Sure, my tactics were a little underhanded, but voodoo dolls are an efficient use of magic in a pinch, which is why I make sure to carry one on me at all times. He’s just mad that he got his haughty ass handled by a girl. He should really get over himself.
Hot assholes are nothing but drama and I should know. I have had a lot of experience with them. Our parents may have kept my brother and I sheltered from the mage world, but we still moved around freely within the borders of our commune. As the youngest daughter in a powerful family, I was a husband magnet. Many pretentious ladder climbing pricks for suitors seem to always throw themselves in my path, if I wanted their attention or not. At dinner parties, on v
acation, holidays; it’s ridiculous really. They are all the same too. Pretty prepubescent adolescents looking for a leg up in the world by using the Boudreaux name. Despite being a harlequin, I’m not solely about games, when those asshats play them for sport. If I have anything to do with it, who I decide to tie myself to for life will not be decided by what family they come from.
But still... why can’t I get him out of my head? Those honey brown eyes, defiant and delicious. The way they light with power, tiny flames dancing a dance of death and destruction. Wild, free, and just like the boy they belong to, they cannot be contained. Framed by thick, sooty lashes that have no business belonging to a guy and those lips... mercy me, I bet he’s a good kisser. I’m used to being around harlequins who like to cover their hair with jester hats or adorn it with bells and bobbles, but his lush auburn locks are wild, styled in that messy, freshly run your hands through look. I want to run my hands through his lush locks. Don’t let me get started on that body… hot damn! He has a body for sinning. One where it’s okay to make bad decisions. And the way he looked at me when I gave him that indirect kiss.
Holy hotness! Fan me.
But no matter how hot he is, it changes nothing. If anything, his beauty is a flashing light of ‘stay the fuck away’. It’s the pretty ones that hurt you the most. They’ll worm their way through your skin, jump and flip over the high walls you built around yourself, and obliterate you from the inside out with sweet words and tender kisses. Unfortunately, I have experience with that too. A bad case of heartache is another reason why I wanted to go away to academy. As far the fuck away from Louisiana as I could get. Damn you, Leslie. Why did you fight for us to go here so badly? It’s like she knew I needed an escape and thwarted me on purpose.
Just like Glinda had said, as soon as I found my dorm room, my bags were there, sitting on my bed, waiting for me to unpack. I’m surprised I don’t have a roommate, but from what I’ve seen on the campus so far, on this side of the spectrum, the ratio of females to males is off. The floor I stay on only has twenty other females, each of us with our own room. The showers are communal, as well as the living quarters outside my door, and the full size kitchen at the end of the hall, but that’s to be expected. All in all, this place isn’t that bad and it’s kinda cozy.
My room has this homey vibe with a huge bay window that lets in the natural sunlight. Underneath is a cushioned bench that can be used for storage. To the left, bolted to the red brick wall, are built in shelves and what looks like a hand carved bookcase with the constellation of stars etched into the pale wood. I can’t wait to fill it with my collection of books when my trunk gets here. It was too heavy and took up too much room in the town car for us to take with us, so Dad promised to have it delivered with the rest of my things. I expected a twin bed, but the bed along the wall is full. I’m glad I had the foresight to bring bedding in both sizes, just in case. My brother, not so much. He’ll have to hit the campus store or catch a cab for the hour long drive into town if they don’t have anything here.
All four of the mage academies here in Louisiana are a good distance away from humans. Wouldn’t want a bunch of normies seeing shit they are not supposed to. Not like they would if they did stumble upon the place. The whole academy is cloaked and hidden by a barrier that only mages can see. If a normie was nearby, they’d be struck with fear and have the sudden urge to run away.
After making my bed, I stare up at the bolted ceiling and the dark wood planks framed in a triangle shape. I’m lucky. My room fell under the misshapen roof, giving the room a certain magical charm you read about in books about witches. I feel relaxed in here, but I refuse to drop my guard or be fooled into some falsehood of tranquility. That kind of thinking will get you killed. This place is still a school filled with dangerous killers, no matter how whimsical it looks.
We’re all mages who grow up in a survival of the fittest environment. Only the strong survive and it’s those survival skills you use to protect yourself in places like this. If you’re weak, you will die. That’s just the way of life. A headmaster is just a political figure. He’s not here to enforce the rules. His job is to report back to the council and ensure what happens here stays here. Light, dark, whatever you practice, you better be damn good at it, because there’s always someone in the shadows waiting to prove they are better and they don’t care about making you their guinea pig to practice on. We’re all sent here with the same mission. Survive, graduate, bring honor to our family, and to do that last part, you must be in the top ten.
A total of seven hundred and eighty-five students currently go to school here. The year started off with eight hundred and ninety-five. A total of a hundred and ten students have met their maker. How many of those mages were light and dark, I have no clue. I’m guessing there’s a top ten for each side, if I go by the warm welcome we got today. As a Boudreaux, I’m expected to graduate in one of those twenty spots, but I’m already at a disadvantage. I’m not a strong harlequin, not like my brother. I’m decent in the power of voodoo. Okay, maybe more than decent since my main focus has mostly been on those abilities, but I’m not sure if they are top par here. I’ve only had a community of harlequins to practice on. Then there’s my other powers. The ones I’m not allowed to mention. How can I practice them if they are meant to be a secret? They’re a mystery to me and I have no control over them, but I want to one day. Call it me being curious, but a part of me wants to explore what was given to me by my mother. She died before I could know her. If I learn these powers, I’d learn her, but… to do that… I’d have to break my promise to my dad.
11 years ago
Flipping through the air, I land nimbly on my feet and stand, throwing my hands in the air with my back slightly arched, just the way Daddy taught me. “That’s good, Angelica,” he praises. “Now, let’s try something different.” His face may look stern, but I can tell he’s proud of me. This is the first time I landed that flip without stumbling. My brother got it right his first try and has already moved on to something else more difficult.
“Now, we’re going to try a series of flips with a roll on the end. This is tricky, so pay attention. After you tuck yourself in a ball as tight as you can, you’re going to build momentum and start to roll really fast. When that happens, I need you to concentrate your magic into your limbs, so when you untuck yourself out the ball, you land on your feet, then hold your hand out to release the built up power you just generated in your fingers.”
“Okay,” I agree, unsure, and he gives me that look. The one I hate. There’s no room for doubt in the house of Boudreaux.
First, he demonstrates and I watch with wide, childlike fascination as he flips effortlessly through the air and tucks himself into a ball and rolls across the grassy field. When he gets to his feet, he stands just like he told me with his feet apart and holds out his hand. A wave of power leaves his palm and blows harmlessly across the field, well out of the range of hitting anyone.
“See? Easy. Now, you try.”
Taking a deep breath, I blow the air out before shaking my limbs to warm myself up. Dad is right, I can do this. Just like he demonstrated, I take off, flipping effortlessly through the air, happy they are coming easier to me, but just when I start my roll on the grass, my power goes haywire and I can’t stop. Over and over, I try the same move and over and over, I fail spectacularly. I’m glad Leslie isn’t here to see this. She’d laugh at me then beat me with her jester staff for being an utter failure. I know why she doesn’t train me and why she’s mean to me all the time. It’s the same reason why I don’t look like the others and why my brother and I can’t go to real school. I’m an outsider and she never lets me forget it.
When the sun starts to set, Dad sighs before standing from the rock he was seated on watching my failed attempts. “It’s getting late, we should go in or we’ll be late for dinner,” he winces. Last time we were late, Leslie yelled at him.
“Just one more time. I can do it, I know it,” I plead with wide eye
s.
“One more, then we’re going inside if you get it or not,” he gives in.
Excited, I run into my flip before I remember I need to concentrate. Once I’m rolling, I focus on my power, feeling it simmer deep inside of me. This time, something is different. Instead of the light spurts of power I usually get, something dark and all-consuming awakens and before I can hold it back, it bursts out my body, moving my limbs on its own violation. I tuck out of the roll flawlessly and hold my hand out, watching in wonder as dark purple smoke streams out my fingers and flows into a nearby rabbit. A voice in my head tells me to hum so I do and the rabbit stops, turning its body and focusing its beady eyes only on me.
“That’s enough, Angelica,” Dad says, but I don’t listen. I don’t like the panic tone of his voice, but the whispers tell me to ignore him. The power flowing through my body is addicting and I don’t want to let it go. Flipping through the air is fun, but this feels even better.
Lowering my hand, the rabbit does the same. I kick my leg out and so does the rabbit. It’s the puppet and I’m the puppeteer, getting ready to put on a show. Still humming, I start a dance of complicated moves I’ve only seen done once by my oldest brother, Heartly, who goes to university, and I perform it flawlessly. It’s a very advanced dance that not even Quinn can do. When I’m done, the rabbit is released from whatever hold I had it in and I stand there proudly with a huge beaming smile until I see my father’s face. He looks frightened, which is odd. I’ve never seen him scared of anything, not even Leslie and she’s one scary lady.
