Supernatural Academy: Sophomore Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  When, after a few more attempts, Disha got a hang of the movements, Fedorov announced we were ready to give the spell a try.

  “Ms. Rivera, you stand there,” he said, pointing at a spot off the cobblestones and onto the grassy area between the lion and fish. “Ms. Khatri, there.” He pointed to the other end, straight across from me between the turtle and eagle.

  Apparently, we were going to try the spell on each other. Was that a good idea?

  Disha stared at me from across the courtyard. She brought her index and middle fingers toward her eyes, then pointed them at me.

  Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?

  I bent my knees and bounced in place, shaking my arms like a boxer ready to hop in the ring. She would pay for all those times she tortured me with her Ewok spell. I made a “bring it on” gesture with my hand.

  “I’ve been told you are good friends, but I will still remind you not use full extent of power,” the professor said. “And, Ms. Rivera, leave cuffs out of this. Only your own power, if you will.”

  Whatever. I would still blast Disha into next week. Maybe I’d even rip her Catwoman suit down the middle of her backside.

  “You first, Ms. Khatri,” Fedorov said, extending a hand as if he were inviting Disha to the dance floor.

  But of course. All of Disha’s lash-batting efforts hadn’t been in vain. I braced myself. A lone cricket chirped from the hedges behind me. The sky above was turning pink as the afternoon sun descended.

  Disha whirled her hands, issuing the incantation. “Quassum terram per hostis,” she said as she directed the spell in my direction.

  The earth beneath my feet shifted, then started shaking. I put my arms out for balance as my very own earthquake rattled me so violently that—after only a few seconds of trying to keep steady—I spilled to the side and landed face first into a flower bed.

  Crap! So that’s what Professor Fedorov had meant by “earth shaking.” I sprang up to my feet, squaring my shoulders and acting as if nothing had happened.

  Disha laughed. “Eat that, Charmander. You’re no match for my Pikachu.”

  I cracked my neck, staring death rays at her. Walking back to my spot, I removed a smooshed pansy from my cardigan and planted my feet.

  Going over the spell and hand motions in my mind, I prepared for my revenge.

  I inhaled and spoke the words. “Quassum terram per hostis.”

  As I finished the last flourish, I could feel the cuffs throbbing, itching to join.

  Finesse, Charlie. Finesse. You don’t want to kill her, I reminded myself, then, pointing my hands toward Disha’s boots rather than her chest, released my magic.

  The ground under her feet erupted like a geyser, the force of it lifting her a few feet into the air and sending her flying upward—arms flailing like broken wings. She traveled in an arch, descended, crashed on her butt, then sprawled backward, legs and arms making an X shape on the ground.

  Dirt rained down on her.

  She didn’t move.

  Shit!

  “Disha!” I ran to her, fear and guilt filling my chest.

  Before I got there, she jerked to a sitting position, spitting dirt and wiping her face with both hands.

  “Damn, this is worse than being possessed by a time demon. So dirty!”

  Woozily, she got to her feet, still sputtering, then her eyes shot wide in surprise. Going ramrod straight, she folded her hands behind her backside and cleared her throat.

  “I think this is enough for today,” she said, holding her chin up.

  “I quite agree,” Fedorov said, averting his gaze.

  I snorted, struggling to stop the roar of laughter that rose to my throat. I’d succeeded! I’d busted her pants.

  “Not funny,” she said. “Besides, I thought we were supposed to be learning defensive magic, not more ways to attack.”

  “Tomorrow, Ms. Khatri,” Fedorov said, unrolling his sleeves and getting the cufflinks out of his breast pocket where he’d deposited them earlier. “First you learn attack, then you learn how to stop attack. Good evening.” He bowed, retrieved his jacket from the bench, and left with one last warning. “I suggest you follow close behind if you don’t want pixie minotaurs to... ruffle your hair.”

  I removed my cardigan and, still trying not to laugh, handed it to Disha. She snatched it from my hands and tied it around her waist.

  “We wouldn’t want anyone calling you Yogi Bare, would we?” I said.

  “Shut up, Charlie. If you know what’s good for you.”

  Even pissed off she looked pretty. God, I loved her, and I was glad we’d had some fun doing this. It was good to see her smile since she’d been so morose lately.

  I threw an arm around her back. “Let’s go eat something. I’m starving. I’ll buy you a burger.”

  She chuckled and draped an arm around my waist. “All right. That’s a decent idea, so I forgive you. But first, I need to change.”

  A few minutes after putting on fresh clothes, we met outside the common area and started walking toward the cafeteria.

  “I’m starving,” I said, putting a hand on my stomach. There was a loud growl.

  “Was that your stomach?” Disha asked.

  “Um, maybe,” I said doubtfully.

  Another growl followed, and this time I was sure it wasn’t my stomach. Disha and I exchanged a glance.

  “Help! Someone help us, please!”

  Disha and I took off in the direction of the cries. They were coming from behind the dorm. We rounded the corner a few seconds later and froze as the gruesome scene painted itself before us.

  Bobby was sprawled on the ground, while Bridget held his prone shape on her lap and rocked him back and forth. At first, I thought he’d tripped or fallen, but then my eyes took in the pallor of his face and the horrified expression on Bridget’s.

  Bobby’s shirt was in tatters and his chest was bathed in blood.

  Chapter Twenty

  SPRING SEMESTER

  EARLY JANUARY

  Disha and I stood outside Dean McIntosh’s door, wringing our hands and pacing. The raised voices inside did not bode well for our friend or for us. It had been hours since we’d found Bobby bleeding in Bridget’s arms, and we still didn’t know what had happened.

  After we’d sounded the alarm, the Dean had materialized at the scene in a swirl of smoke and feathers. It had been odd, to say the least, but no one remarked on it, especially since she’d immediately jumped into action, stopping Bobby’s bleeding and rushing him away to Nurse Taishi with Bridget at his side.

  The sight of Bridget’s pale face was one thing, but when she didn’t chatter or talk anyone’s ear off, we knew she was in a bad way.

  Who could blame her? Someone on campus had tried to kill her brother. Almost succeeded by the look of things.

  So much blood.

  From the raised voices inside the Dean’s office, I could tell Rowan and his father had arrived before us and were already in a heated debate. About what, I couldn’t be sure. I leaned closer to get a better idea and caught Dean McIntosh’s voice instead.

  “Can we table this, please? The girls arrived a moment ago.”

  At her words, the door swung open. Three faces stared our way: Rowan, his father, and Counselor McIntosh.

  Irmagard? Where was the dean? Was her sister acting in her stead? A sour tang of unease settled in my gut. No matter what was happening, I always felt like if Dean McIntosh was around, things might be alright. I couldn’t say the same for her sister. I mean, I’d seen her having conversations with her beets. On multiple occasions.

  “Girls, please, come in and have a seat.” She gestured to twin leather club chairs on the side of the dean’s grand desk. Rowan and Macgregor stood glowering from their respective corners. I wondered if they knew how similar they looked, how very alike in pose and brooding expressions.

  Irmagard was in rare form. Her attire seemed to have been taken directly out of some 1970s trunk and arranged in no particular
order. Her top was fringed with long threads and beads like an old throw rug repurposed as a shirt. Her pants were capris, cresting high above her ankles, seeming way too short for her long legs. The pattern was flowery, but in oranges and yellows that reminded me of my long-gone grandmother’s 70s sofa. To top it off, her ferret lay around her neck like a living fur stole. When we entered, he lifted his head, sneezed and then went back to sleep.

  “Please excuse Gerald,” she said, stroking his head. “He’s a bit under the weather.”

  All of this was unnerving and I had already been thoroughly unnerved after finding our friend nearly murdered, so I jumped right into the questions swirling around in my head.

  “How is Bobby? Is he going to be okay?”

  Irmagard nodded slowly. “He is currently receiving the best medical care a Supernatural can find at Our Lady of the Lake Medical Facility in Virginia. My sister took him there herself.”

  “And he will recover?” Disha asked, looking increasingly pale. Bobby’s wounds had hit too close to home to the trauma she’d already been through on Hilton Head Island.

  “We have every reason to believe he will. Someone attempted to drive a sword through his heart but missed by millimeters. His sister scared them off before they could have another go, thank the gods,” Irmagard said, reassuringly.

  “You’re shaking like a leaf, dear. Have some tea.” She pointed Disha and me to a tray beside the desk where a teapot let off a curl of sweet-smelling steam. I was very familiar with her tea from having spent all summer with her. One drink of that stuff and you’d feel all warm and fuzzy. I wanted to keep clear-headed for this.

  “So, do we know who attacked Bobby?” I asked. “Because I have a feeling I know who did it.” Mink had to be up to his old tricks for sure. He’d probably been looking for Rowan but settled for a different type of “Lesser.”

  Dean Underwood stepped forward, taking over the conversation. “Bridget saw a woman running away in the direction of the woods, but when we checked, there was no sign of her. Nor do we know how an unauthorized person gained access to our campus without permission. The wards haven’t been breached and no one came through the fountain.”

  “A woman? But it had to be Mink in disguise,” I said.

  Macgregor shook his head. “At the time of the attack, Mink was live on Wizard Radio discussing how ridiculous he thinks I am, so no, it was not Mink.”

  “Then it had to have been an accomplice,” I insisted. They didn’t know about the attack in Hilton Head, and I couldn’t tell them without getting into massive amounts of trouble, but this insistence that it wasn’t him was boiling my blood. “Someone has to bring Mink in and question him.”

  “All of this has been turned over to the authorities, Charlie. Now, please, have some tea.” Irmagard gestured emphatically to the tray, but I ignored her again.

  “In the meantime, we do what? Wait for this person to come back? Attack Rowan?” I gestured at him and he swallowed thickly, turning his eyes away.

  “No,” Macgregor said, his eyes darting to his son. “We can’t take that chance, which is why Rowan will be leaving the Academy.”

  “I told you,” Rowan shot back, “that is not happening. You can’t make me.”

  “Can’t I?” Macgregor challenged.

  “Not this again,” Irmagard said. “You all leave me with no choice.” Lifting her hands, she wove a few intricate motions.

  All of a sudden, a feeling of intense happiness settled over me. Irmagard had drugged us, but since I felt like a million bucks, I couldn’t care one bit. It felt so good.

  “There,” she said, satisfied. “Now, all of you can stop fighting and listen. Rowan, Disha and Charlie, my sister wanted to tell you to be on high alert while the culprit is still at large. Continue your defensive studies. You may just need them.”

  We already had, I thought as a giggle escaped my mouth. I slapped a hand over my traitorous lips, but that only succeeded in making me laugh harder, Disha following quickly after. Even Rowan was smiling for once. God, how I missed that.

  When the laughter subsided, Irmagard continued. “The three of you are not to leave campus. Especially you, Rowan. That is, unless accompanied by your father.”

  Rowan’s face twitched, then he nodded, too high on the happiness spell to argue.

  “Can I make out with Charlie?” He asked suddenly. “That should be safe, right?”

  Disha laughed out loud. I giggled behind my hand. Dean Underwood frowned disapprovingly.

  Irmagard rolled her eyes. “And Macgregor, can you please calm down?” she said, falling into her sister’s chair. “That is all. You can go.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the door open. Then she went back to stroking Gerald, the ferret. He glanced up, sneezed and nuzzled into her hand.

  Deliriously happy, Rowan, Disha and I sauntered out of the office as Macgregor angled the other way and tucked himself in his office. He seemed less sauced than we were, but he hadn’t stopped to berate Rowan again, so at least there was that.

  We ended up in the Sophomore Dorm common room, though how, I wasn’t exactly sure. When the spell wore off, I found myself sitting on Rowan’s lap with my arms around his shoulders and his hand on my thigh. He seemed to be sleeping lightly, same as Disha on the couch across from us.

  A few of our classmates walked by and gave me a strange look. We probably appeared completely wasted. I slid off Rowan’s lap, trying to piece together all that we’d learned.

  A woman had attacked Bobby, but then, we knew from experience that appearances could not be trusted. Henderson had impersonated Answorth. Mink had pretended to be Scorpions’ drummer. No one could trust their own eyes.

  Macgregor had said Mink had been on a live radio program, but couldn’t wizards project their voices? And even a non-magical, regular recording could have been used to fool us. I needed to learn more.

  Also, it seemed like our situation was a ticking time bomb. If we didn’t find a cure for Rowan soon, it’d be him with a mortal wound through his heart and who knew if anyone would be there to save him. The thought of him bleeding out in the woods nearly turned me inside out and made part of me wish for another dose of Irmgard’s happy spell.

  The exterior doors opened again, letting in the chilly winter breeze and the sound of footsteps headed in our direction. I expected another gaggle of classmates to stroll in, but, instead, Bridget dragged herself through the entryway.

  I stood up, making a beeline to her. “Bridget, hey. How’s Bobby?”

  Bloodshot eyes swam up to meet mine. “Oh, he’s... okay. Stable. I guess that’s good.”

  “Okay.” I was garbage at this sort of thing, so I stepped from foot to foot, trying to dig up words that wouldn’t upset her. “Are you okay? Have you eaten? I can get you food. The cafeteria is closed, but I have a stash of Ramen.”

  As she waved the idea of food away, her gaze trailed over to the couches where Disha and Rowan were still napping. “I have something I want to give you instead. Can you guys meet me in the Spells cave in an hour?”

  “The Spells cave? Isn’t it locked at this time of day?”

  She shook her head, pulling an old-fashioned key out of her pocket. “Dean McIntosh let Bobby and I train down there.”

  “Okay, but what do you have to give us and why do we need to go to the Spells cave to get it?”

  Bridget’s expression was blank as she turned to walk away. “What I have, you need, and I can’t give it to you here. What if we blew the building up? All our classmates.”

  Without another word, she walked toward the stairs and disappeared.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SPRING SEMESTER

  EARLY JANUARY

  An hour later, the three of us stood with Bridget beside the underground waterfall in the Spells cave. I’d never been here at night, only during class time, and it seemed even more mysterious and otherworldly after dark.

  The cave twinkled with those magical fairy lights, but
now, instead of moving and dipping around, they hovered in clumps near the glass skylight like sleeping jellyfish. Every once in a while, one would bump into the dark glass, shiver and then float down again. I wondered, not for the first time if the lights were living creatures.

  The vines seemed asleep too, their flowers folded up, petals closed like shop windows. The garden perfume scent was just as strong, however, making me think of a funeral parlor I had visited as a kid with my parents.

  Even the waterfall that normally ran down the far wall had slowed to a trickle. The gentle flow of water over rocks, more soothing than anything else in the cave, made me remember how bone tired I was. I’d have to sleep when I was dead, another thought that made me shiver.

  Rowan glanced down at me, and I gave him a reassuring nod to remind him that we were in this together.

  Two people waited for us when we entered the cave. Ava Marie stood off to one side of the pool, dressed in all gray. Her hair looked damp and clung to her cheeks in thin dark gold strands, making me wonder if she’d been creating rain clouds above her head or spouting snow out of her ears again. Head down and shoulders hunched, she did not seem at all pleased to have been dragged out of bed, sulking and looking generally miserable as always.

  Bridget sat at the edge of the pool, facing the waterfall. Her pants were rolled to the knees and her feet in the water. Under the surface, tiny pink fish-like creatures swirled around her toes, dipping in and nibbling before she shooed them away with a swish of her legs.

  “Miniature kelpies,” Bridget said, swirling her feet as two more darted toward her toes. “You don’t want to let them latch on. They’ll take a chunk out of ya.”

  I had no response to this other than to stare at the kelpies and wonder about Bridget’s sanity. She’d not been right since Bobby was attacked. Honestly, I wasn’t sure she was totally sane before that traumatic event. Maybe meeting her here was a mistake.

  “Bridget, maybe you need some sleep,” I offered. “We can walk you back.”