Supernatural Academy: Sophomore Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  “How are the gnomes supposed to help?” I asked, glancing out at them. To me, they seemed like little, ugly, unsupervised toddlers.

  Irmagard smiled at one who was dragging a stack of newspapers under a chest of drawers. “They are here to help keep order. Help me manage all the daily tasks. It’s a lot, you know, with my sister gone. She did so much. And, Underwood... I really don’t know what we would’ve done if we hadn’t found a replacement.”

  “A replacement?” This was news to me. Elspeth hadn’t mentioned a word, but then, she’d been gone a lot, off on research trips for the library, leaving me alone much of the time with her talking donkey and the piles of flying books. I’d learned a ton, but, to be honest, I’d been incredibly lonely. A donkey wasn’t exactly a great substitute for family and friends.

  “Yes, a replacement,” Irmagard said, putting a hand on my back, leading me through the piles to the door. “Let me introduce you.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when we left her storage room office. The air was clearer and there were no tiny, pale bottoms waiting to spring out at me at any turn. We walked down the hall to where Dean Underwood’s office door stood closed. I saw that his name was still on the plate, a sad reminder that his memory would linger on. Sure, he hadn’t been the most supportive or sensitive, but in the end, he’d taken care of all of us, keeping us safe, being the firm hand to do his best to protect us from the scary world out there.

  His death still felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

  My heart patterned as Counselor McIntosh turned the knob and pushed in.

  The office looked exactly as it had when Macgregor was alive. No book was out of place. The stately wooden desk and leather office chair were in the same position. The only new element was the woman standing at the window with her back to us. She had perfectly coiffed blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob. Her clothes were fashionable and expensive, yet very feminine down to the kitten heels she wore in all black.

  “Bonnie, I have someone here for you to meet.”

  Wait. Bonnie?

  “We’ve already met,” she said, turning around. Rowan’s mother gave me a warm smile. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you again.”

  CHAPTER 2

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  Rowan’s mother was standing in front of me, smiling.

  Her hair was exactly as I remembered it, blond and perfectly styled in a bob that left no hair out of place. Her makeup was subtle as if she knew exactly how to project power and intelligence with eyeshadow alone. But, behind her long lashes, Rowan’s eyes stared back at me. Her posture was relaxed, and her demeanor was calm and in control.

  Me? Not so much.

  I was crumbling inside. My heart resembled a dried up sandcastle unable to withstand the elements. When I’d left Turkey, I’d told myself I done a good job putting myself back together. Then, one look at a member of the Underwood family, and I was disintegrating again.

  “Um, hi… hello,” I said in response to her warm greeting. “Good morning.”

  God, I sounded like a broken answering machine.

  “I wasn’t aware you two knew each other,” Irmagard said, taking a seat in front of the large desk.

  The counselor glanced toward the chair that sat next to her, but I stayed put, the guilt over my involvement in Macgregor Underwood’s death turning me into a statue. I peered over my shoulder toward the still-opened door. I wanted to run.

  Coward, I chided myself.

  I’d been brave in the face of demons, liches, and vampires, but this was way more difficult than that. Still, the least I could do was hold Bonnie’s gaze, while I bared the weight of my remorse. I returned my eyes to hers.

  She smiled again, then flicked her finger. The door behind us closed. “Please take a seat, Charlie. I would like to talk to you.”

  My eyes darted to Irmagard. So that’s why she’d brought me here, not for a friendly introduction with the new Dean of Admissions. Sneaky sucker. I should know better than to trust a woman who thought gnomes were the solution to all her problems.

  I sat, keeping my back straight and laying my hands flat on my thighs to stop them from fidgeting. How bad would it be? What was the worst thing she could say to me? I ran over all the awful words in my head. I knew how I’d felt about the people responsible for Trey’s death, and if that was any indication, I should buckle up. But, Rowan’s mother had a right to be angry, and if I was any kind of woman, I would sit here and take every poison-laden barb she wanted to throw my way.

  Bonnie—or should I say Dean Underwood? God, that was going to get confusing—took a seat, her movements graceful and precise.

  Resting her perfectly manicured hands on the desk pad in front of her, she scrutinized me for a long moment as well, while all I could do was smile nervously at my knees.

  “I can tell you’re surprised to see me here,” she said, smoothing her hands over the desk as if to indicate her new position as Dean.

  I gave an infinitesimal shrug. Though, in fact, I was very surprised, but I didn’t want her to take it the wrong way and assume I thought she was unqualified for the job.

  Or was she?

  “Don’t feel bad, Charlie,” she said. “You’re not the only one who is surprised. There is a good number of people who feel I should… stay home and do nothing but grieve for my dead husband and undead son. As a matter of fact, nearly half of the regents on the board voted against giving me the job.”

  My eyes widened. Nearly half? That didn’t sound very welcoming.

  A crinkling sound came from Irmagard’s direction. She was unwrapping a pink salt-water taffy. I frowned as she stuck it in her mouth and began chewing on it. Flicking her hand, she tossed the wrapper up in the air and made it vanish with a snap of her fingers.

  “I’d offer you one, but it was my last,” she mumbled as her teeth quickly got stuck in a chewy piece of candy.

  I blinked and glanced back at Bonnie who was smiling fondly at Counselor McIntosh.

  “As I was saying,” Bonnie returned her attention to me, “I have the post after winning by one vote. Macgregor had more support than that, but I’m glad at least some of his old friends still believe in his vision for the Academy. They also believe, now that my husband is not here, that I’m the right person to carry out his role.”

  What she described sounded like political hell but, apparently, Bonnie was as astute at the game as her husband had been.

  “I’m glad,” I said.

  Macgregor had made some changes last year, changes that caused unrest on campus and in the entire Supernatural community. All summer, I’d worried that those changes would be voided and the Academy would go back to only accepting witches and warlocks as students. With her here, maybe I didn’t need to worry so much.

  “After our son was… turned into a vampire,” Bonnie continued. “Macgregor did a lot of soul searching, trying to find the correct answer for the ever-increasing unrest among our kind. It wasn’t easy for him to go against the status quo and convince the regents to allow a change in the rules of admission. But he did it, and he felt proud of that.”

  There was a tiny waver in her voice as she said this, but it was almost imperceptible. She seemed to be a badass witch. Something I wanted to be.

  “So that why I’m here, “ she said. “To ensure that my husband’s legacy is not destroyed by a bunch of stuck-in-their-ways witches and warlocks or by… anyone.”

  I swallowed at the heaviness in the last word. Was she referring to me? God knew I’d caused enough trouble to destroy quite a few things during my two years here. What if Bonnie decided I’d done enough damage and took my scholarship away? My heart shriveled into a prune at the thought.

  “Do you think the students will understand this, Charlie?” she asked.

  “I… I think some will, but not others,” I said, then hurriedly added, “I definitely do.”

  “I think you’re right.” She nodded. “There are some
students who have inherited their parents’ prejudices, but… I feel they would change if they have the opportunity to interact with Supernaturals from different walks of life. Don’t you think?”

  Next to me, Irmagard sucked on a tooth, making a tsk, tsk sound. We glanced at her. She had a finger in her mouth as she tried to dislodge a piece of taffy from a back molar. Sensing our scrutiny, she stopped and peered at us.

  “Ya, I definitely sink so,” she slurred, pulling out a taffy-capped finger out of her mouth.

  “I’m glad you agree with me, Counselor McIntosh,” Bonnie said. “Now, Charlie, I understand that you are a very special student.” She glanced at my cuffs, and I found myself wondering if she, like her husband, would be one of those people who would want to take them away.

  “The Aradia Cuffs don’t choose just anyone,” Bonnie continued. “Macgregor made sure they were there of their own volition.”

  What? No, that’s not what he’d done. He’d tried to rip them from me with a spell, even made me miss spring break during my freshman year so he could steal them off my wrists. Hadn’t he? Oh, God. Had I been wrong about that? Had I been wrong about him?

  “But you’re young,” she said, “and have so much to learn. So I must beg you to please stay out of trouble.”

  Next to me, Irmagard snickered.

  I opened my mouth to tell her I’d made a promise to myself to follow the rules, but Bonnie went on.

  “I know you want to find Dean McIntosh,” she said.

  How did she kn—

  “Elspeth told me how desperate you were when you first arrived in Turkey, how adamantly you insisted that you needed to be part of the search party since you were the one who discovered the Dean’s disappearance. As I’m aware you’re one to take things into your own hands, I must beg you to leave this to us.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept right on.

  “The best people are searching for Lynssa—including Professor Fedorov and Patricia Fordyce, Lynssa’s assistant, an excellent witch—and they will find her.” She glanced at Irmagard and inclined her head, inviting a comment.

  Irmagard stopped digging in her pockets and looked up. “Oh, yes, yes. The best people. Uh-hum, we will definitely find her. Soon. Very soon.”

  “That’s what Elspeth said.” I nodded. “She also said I would just make things worse.”

  Bonnie lifted her perfect penciled-in eyebrows as if in agreement.

  “And I do understand,” I said. “I didn’t go looking for her during the summer, and I won’t do it now.”

  Doing nothing had eaten at my insides every day while in Turkey, and it would eat at my insides here, too. But disobeying Dean McIntosh after she blocked the Enlightenment Fountain was what had ultimately caused Macgregor’s death.

  If I didn’t learn from my mistakes, then what good was I? I had to prove I could make up for what I’d done.

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Bonnie said.

  Silence filled the office for a moment as Bonnie’s gaze inspected my face with so much care that I thought she might point out the zit erupting between my eyebrows.

  “There’s one last thing,” she finally said, pulling a manila folder from her desk drawer and sliding it in my direction. “I understand that you’re a witch of action, Charlie. And that’s a good thing. Most of the time. But people like you tend to get bored without the proper motivation. That is why I have an assignment for you.”

  I stared at the folder with undisguised curiosity. An assignment? What could she possibly have in mind? This was good. If she was trusting me with something, it meant maybe she didn’t blame me for her husband’s death.

  “Go ahead. Take a look,” she said.

  Hesitantly, I flipped the folder open and read the cover page.

  The header read “How to Work With Gnomes.”

  Bonnie smiled sweetly. “That folder contains a profile of every gnome at Counselor McIntosh’s service. I don’t know if you are aware of this, but gnomes can be a bit difficult without proper training. However, with some instruction, they can be quite an asset and, right now, we can use all the help we can get. So I’m putting you in charge of bringing them up to speed. Everything you need to know to accomplish that is in there.” She pointed at the folder, while I did my best to keep a straight face.

  Seriously? They wanted me to train a bunch of unruly gnomes? What the hell? This was a shit assignment, a way to keep me turning my wheels to make sure I stayed out of trouble.

  I was doomed.

  CHAPTER 3

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  “So, wait. Let me get this straight.” Disha pulled a bed pillow to her chest with a gleeful smile on her face. “You’re now the gnome police?”

  I fell back onto Bridget’s bed as she watched from the desk chair. It seemed she and Disha had gotten over their roommate difficulties from last year and had chosen to room together in the Junior Dorm as well. Disha had agreed to stop putting Ewok spells on Bridget, and Bridget had agreed to strap herself into bed at night to keep her nighttime floating and spell casting to a minimum.

  Bridget also had an amused smile on her face as I unraveled all the details of my very strange visit with Irmagard and Bonnie. And, both girls were having way too much fun with my misery.

  I sighed and threw up my hands. “I’m supposed to read this handbook, and—I don’t know—help Irmagard control them.” I shrugged my shoulders and thumbed through the stack of papers Bonnie had given me. When I got to gnomes’ personal hygiene, I made an exasperated noise and chucked the papers on the floor.

  “What? Is there anything in there that’s ab-gnome-al?” Disha quipped, flashing her perfect white teeth.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Bridget chimed in next. “Yeah, and remember not to call them elves because that’s a miss-gnome-er.” She giggled behind her hand.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “This is serious.”

  “One more, one more,” Disha said, unable to suppress her smile. “But after that, we’ll stop because we know you’ll love us gnome matter what.”

  I threw my head back in exasperation. “You guys are the literal worst.”

  “No,” Disha corrected, “we’re the best because we’re going to help you.” Her eyes darted to Bridget who nodded. Did they have roommate ESP now? I tried hard not to be jealous.

  “Yep,” Bridget agreed. “I’ve spent some time in gnome communities on trips with my parents. I have a pretty good handle on gnome etiquette.”

  Bridget tossed her red hair—which she wore loose and curly—confidently over her shoulder. Her skin was tan and her green eyes sparkled brightly. She appeared much healthier and happier than when I’d last seen her at the end of sophomore year.

  I’d heard that Bobby, her werewolf brother, had finally recovered from his magical stab wound and was back to his old self. He’d declined to return to the Academy, however. Too many bad memories. Who could blame him when things were more precarious now than they were last year?

  “There’s such a thing as gnome etiquette?” I said, turning my thoughts away from my school’s many problems. “When I saw them today, they didn’t even wear pants.” I shivered as gross images floated into my head. I mentally swatted them away like pests.

  “Well, yeah, there is a lot of nudity.” Her eyes glazed over as an unfortunate look crossed her face. “Like, a lot.”

  “Gross,” Disha said, getting up to root around beside her bed. “Also, I cleaned out my closet over the summer.” She hefted up a huge duffle bag overflowing with clothes and handed it to me. “And don’t even tell me you don’t want them because, if you don’t take them, I’ll just throw them away.” She gave me a stern, no-nonsense look as I lifted the bulging sack.

  “Good god. I’ll have enough outfits to have a different one every day.” I glanced at the shirts, jeans, and shoes peeking out of the bag’s open mouth.

  “Or we could give the
m to the gnomes,” Bridget offered with a smirk.

  This sent us all laughing again, imaging tiny, warty creatures in Disha’s blouses and dresses.

  “Seriously, Char,” Disha said, wiping away a happy tear, “We’ll help you. You know, ‘cause we’re your gnomies.”

  “Oh, my God!” I threw one of her hand-me-down blouses at her face. “Stop!”

  “Last one, I swear,” she said, rolling with laughter on the bed.

  When the giggles subsided, Bridget put a hand on my shoulder, fixing me with a serious look. “Have you heard from Rowan?”

  Disha shot her a look that said she might kill Bridget later for even bringing him up, but I brushed it off. I was stronger than that.

  “Nope. I’m done with him. Not thinking about it. My focus is school, school, school.”

  Well, and gnomes, but I wouldn’t dare bring that up for fear they might make more bad puns.

  “Speaking of school,” Disha said slyly, “there’s this new cutie downstairs that I think you’d like. I bumped into him while he was moving in boxes and got his name. Mason. He could help you get over your Rowan blues.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Don’t you normally have dibs on all the cuties?” Bridget asked.

  I shook my head. “Didn’t you hear? Disha’s heart has been stolen by a guy in New York. She swears she’s a one-man girl, now.”

  Disha had spilled the details in an email while I was in Turkey. She’d met Mr. Wonderful at her parent’s party and even though there’d been some bumps with him over the summer, she was in love.

  Or so she claimed. That was yet to be tested by all the hot male baristas and Latin Irish lead singers on campus. Not to mention Professor Fedorov, if he ever got back from searching for Dean McIntosh.

  “Devon might visit over Thanksgiving,” Disha said dreamily, thinking of her man, “but until then, we Facetime every night. Anyway, stop changing the subject. The hottie downstairs is a third-year transfer from Merryweather University. A bunch of Merryweather students are here actually. The school had to shut down.”