Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  If we lost the Rebel Cup, I’d die because of it.

  Because mages were monsters.

  My breath became ragged, and the images spun faster and faster.

  I couldn’t go back to the attic…

  In my terror, I transformed into a Birman cat. I tumbled out of Magenta’s hold onto the floor with a pained yowl. My creamy fur fluffed up and my long, crooked tail whipped back and forth in distress. A collective aww of cooing burst from the audience, but I was lost in my fear. I darted to the corner, cowering.

  The music was even louder to my sensitive ears, and the sage burned my nose. I stared up at the giant witch who stalked towards me, before hissing. When her hand lowered towards me, and she clucked impatiently, my fur bristled.

  Where was the treat, feathery plaything, or stroke? My furry ass was on strike, and this witch didn’t even have any feline offering for me.

  Damelza’s eyes narrowed. “Bad kitty.”

  Oh, it was time to introduce her to Master Claws. I swiped at her, but she rolled her eyes, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and swinging me towards the back wall.

  “Unhand the cat,” Magenta demanded.

  “If you say so.” Damelza hurled me at the wall.

  My little legs kicked, and my ears flattened against my head.

  Meoowww…

  I landed on my human ass on the hard floor of the attic. My attic, which I’d been trapped in for a decade.

  Don’t freak out, poop, wet your pants, breathe, breathe, breathe…

  I shook, counting down from a hundred backwards in my head to control my shock and despair. I knew that I wasn’t truly back here, but it was so real. It wasn’t like a memory; it was my truth.

  I was living it again, and it turned my stomach.

  I’d transformed back into a teenager, and I carded my fingers through my unruly hair, glancing down at the plain jeans and t-shirt. They were worn because I’d only had two sets of clothes. Dad had worked hard to even get those for me, and I’d been so grateful.

  I was grateful.

  My mind became hazy, until I truly was my teenage self again.

  Aquilo would be visiting at the weekend, and I smiled happily at the thought. I loved Aquilo like a brother. Would he find my new comedy routine funny? He needed to laugh more.

  I cocked my head, as the sound of jazz wound from the garden below. Louis Armstrong’s “It’s a Wonderful World” lit up the dusty attic like life after a long winter. Why was someone playing music in the garden? Then I heard laughter. I leaned forward at the siren call, as for the first time in years, hope blossomed through me.

  I crawled across the attic, pushing myself over my mattress and my favorite book that I always slept with because it was the first thing that dad had given to me in my captivity, and onto the window seat beneath the tiny window that looked out at the garden. No one came to this corner of the garden apart from Hartley anymore. I’d decided that it had to be mum’s order to isolate me.

  I covered my mouth with my hand like if I even breathed too loudly then I’d ruin something so bright in the dreariness of my life. My kitteny side purred, desperate to burst out, but I held onto my human side, aching desperately to see who was below me and so close.

  I peeked through the window, careful not to be seen. Once, when I’d only just been locked up, a servant had caught sight of my curly hair, as I’d been looking out at the birds. When she’d reported it to mum, it’d taken dad’s pleading to reduce the punishment to a whipping and not the boarding up of the window.

  I’d have gone crazy without being able to see the sky. Dad had made me swear never to let myself be seen again. I’d been able to lie to everybody but never to dad.

  Yet when I saw Hartley beneath the blossoms surrounded by presents and her friends, as music played and Glow acted the butler, all I craved was to smash the glass and call out to her.

  Happy Birthday would do it. I might be a monster but I hadn’t forgotten my manners.

  It was a shock to remember that other people still celebrated their birthdays, and it made my chest ache that Hartley had continued to celebrate hers. Deep inside, I’d guessed that my becoming a mage and shaming my family hadn’t changed anything for Hartley, but seeing it was a different ball of prickles…one that hurt.

  BM — before magic — Hartley had insisted that I come to all of her parties, even though mum had said that she was spoiling me. Hartley would simply clasp my hand and yank me along like a doll. She’d rarely let me out of her sight.

  AM — Hartley hadn’t visited me in the attic once. I’d thought that she’d miss me as much as I missed her. My bones ached like I’d lost a limb as much as a sister.

  She must lie to herself, as much as I did.

  Yet now she was in my corner of the garden (yeah, I’d claimed it as my territory, although dad hadn’t been pleased with that explanation for why I’d sprayed in cat form all over the windows). Until now, I’d only ever seen her jogging each evening around the formal gardens in the distance.

  Finally, I wasn’t alone. Maybe somebody would save me now?

  I blinked, shuddering. Why did that feel so familiar?

  When I studied the gang of girls in glittering party dresses around Hartley, I gasped.

  Mesilande held Hartley’s hand, just like Hartley had once held mine. Her red hair was caught up in silver clasps, and her dress sparkled like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. How many times had I wanked over fantasies of her as my princess sweeping into the attic to rescue me?

  Okay, a lot.

  Mesilande was older than Hartley and me. She was from an ancient and powerful French coven. When I’d been young, she’d visited and stayed with us for an entire summer, and I’d developed my first ever crush. She hadn’t noticed.

  Oh yeah, she’d noticed.

  But Mesilande hadn’t been cruel like the other witches who’d have used it against me. She hadn’t even become angry, when I’d told her that one day, I’d marry and protect her, which should’ve meant a beating because how could a non-magical male ever protect a witch? Plus, I had no right to choose who I married: I was property and breeding stock to be married off by the females of my family.

  Mesilande had only laughed gently, and cupped my cheek. She’d called me her petit knight.

  Then she’d murmured into my ear, “My mama is proposing an alliance between our Houses through our marriage. I hope that your mama accepts. You need to grow up for me, petit knight. I shall wait for you.”

  I swallowed, as I peered at Mesilande: the girl who’d promised to wait for me. Only, Pan’s balls, she’d grown up beautiful.

  I swept back my curls, rubbing at the smudges of dirt on my cheeks. I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror in years, only the hazy reflection of the window. What would the elegant Parisian witch think of me if she saw me?

  Hold up one prickling minute… Why was I even thinking about being seen?

  My nails clawed into the soft wood of the window frame. My eyes burned with tears, as I watched the birthday party below, which I was close to and yet entirely separated from.

  It filled me with happiness just to see my sister happy. Wasn’t that enough? Why did I have to be so greedy? I slapped my forehead, but it didn’t help because the hope had already sneaked in.

  What if Hartley had held her party in that corner of the garden on purpose? She knew that I’d be able to watch from the attic and that the music would reach me. Was she trying to be kind, so that this year I could join in, rather than be isolated?

  I grinned, bouncing on my knees on the window seat. I hummed “It’s a Wonderful World”. I didn’t have much but I could steal this shared moment with my sister, Mesilande, and her friends. The sky was blue, the trees painted in multi-colors, and I could almost taste the chocolate birthday cake. Hartley looked so contented; I laughed because I’d hoped that she was.

  What lie had they told Mesilande about me to explain my absence? Had mum told everybody that I’d died years ago or been
sent away? The House of Jewels was all about status and perfection. I knew some covens admitted to throwing their mage sons to the wolves, but the House of Jewels wouldn’t want the scandal.

  A dangerous fledgling hope grew in my chest, as the warm sunshine beat down, and I risked pushing myself up to watch the party. What if Hartley arranged this, so that Mesilande, who’d been one of my suitors and had whispered that she’d wait for me, could discover how cruelly I was being treated and rescue me?

  A jolt hit me. What if all along Hartley had herself been forced to treat me like a monster because of mum?

  My gaze darted between the two girls and then away. Wasn’t I like a furry version of Rapunzel locked in the tower? I didn’t have any hair to let down, but if Mesilande found out that I was still here and alive in the attic, she’d climb up and rescue me from the wicked witch (in my mind, I was brave enough to call mum that).

  Only in my mind though.

  My eyes gleamed, as I leaned up, resting my forehead on the window. My breath misted the glass. I trembled, flooded with adrenaline.

  This was it… Just raise your hand and…

  My fist fell to my side. I would be breaking a serious rule. If they saw me, and I was wrong, then I’d lose my window.

  I’d be walled up like I’d truly died.

  But if I didn’t, I could lose my one chance to escape. I rose my shaking fist. I might be a shimage and a disappointment of a son but I wasn’t a coward.

  I knelt up on the windowsill, quaking with excitement and fear. Snails and slugs, if this worked, then I’d finally be free…

  I banged on the glass, frantically waving at the girls below. “Hey, up here, yeah, that’s right. I’m up here. Hartley…Hartley…? Happy Birthday! I mean,” then I sang, just as I always had, “Happy Birthday, sister!” Hartley froze, turning to stare up at the window. The other witches were watching me as well. They hadn’t shouted back yet, but to have anyone looking at me was thrilling after so long alone. I existed, and I was about to be saved. Glow’s head was ducked. I self-consciously tucked my hair behind my ear. “Mesilande, it’s me: your petit knight. I’m trapped up here. Please, I need you to help me. Will you save me?”

  Mesilande looked up, studying me with a cool smile. She was so beautiful. Then she arched her eyebrow and waved.

  My heart leaped in my chest. I grinned, waving back.

  She hadn’t forgotten her promise.

  Hartley’s gaze met mine for a long moment. Then she whispered to Mesilande and the other witches, who all glanced up at me again, before they burst into laughter.

  My grin withered and died. I flinched back, curling around myself. My cheeks flushed, and I was suddenly dizzy.

  Then Hartley, Mesilande and the rest of the witches turned away and back to the party like I’d been no more than an amusing distraction. They’d known that I was locked away…and they didn’t care.

  My vision blurred with tears, and I tumbled off the window seat, retching onto the mattress. My insides felt broken. I crumpled into a ball, pulling my arms over my head, but I couldn’t block out “It’s a Wonderful World” and its lies.

  I was a monster. No one saved the monster.

  Had Hartley set me up? She’d crushed me in a way that mum had never managed because now I knew what I’d lost and that I’d never…ever…be saved.

  I sobbed, as the world span.

  All of a sudden, I tumbled onto the floor of the Memory Theater. I was still sobbing, but now I wasn’t alone, a teenager, or trapped in the attic anymore. Soft arms cradled me to a woman’s chest.

  Woah, looked like this cat truly had become crazy.

  Then I smelled the scent of ancient forests and felt the icy touch of lips to my fevered forehead, and knew that it was Magenta holding me tightly like she was my knight and could save me.

  I half believed that.

  Had she fought herself free from the seats or had the straps lifted, since the ride was over?

  When I glanced up, forcing myself to sink back into my adult body because it was disorienting as waking up from that vivid dream where you’re Grand Mage and Conqueror of the Universe now kneel before me weak covens (okay, that might be one of my favorite recurring dreams), to find that you’re the mage son at the mercy of your witch family. For the first minute, you’re not sure which reality is real.

  If they had a Dream Theater here then I was screwed.

  Bask and Sleipnir crouched either side of me with their hands resting on my shoulders.

  Had they seen everything…? When I studied their troubled expressions, I shuddered. Oh yeah, they’d seen or lived through it, the same as me.

  “I suffered being trapped for many decades,” Magenta murmured. “Fairy tales are a nonsense. You didn’t need others to save you because you wished to be the knight to save others, and you did. You rescued me from the dark.”

  I caught my breath, raising my head to stare at her. Then I wiped away my tears on the back of my hand. “Huh, maybe I am a legend.”

  Magenta smiled, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re mine.”

  “You think that you’re the only one to be treated like the monster?” Sleipnir shifted uncomfortably. Mist circled his head in agitated laps, pawing the air. “It’s the monster who’s awesome enough to create their own tale.”

  Bask brushed the air around my foot like he was desperate for the touch, but would take even the vibrations of my magic. “I know isolation too, see, and being broken. But you’re with us now, and we’ll protect and love you.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “Plus, if I ever meet that Mesilande bitch, I’d break my hatred of getting blood on my pretty gloves.”

  Magenta nodded. “They’re decidedly pretty gloves. But unfortunately, when we catch the witch, both our pretty gloves will be shamefully stained.”

  Bask preened, before lowering himself closer to me. I pushed away from Magenta because I’d had enough shocks today not to want to add electric ones into the mix. The way that Bask caged me, made me feel like prey, but I’d never hungered to be caught so much in my life.

  “I want to kiss you now, but seeing as I can’t…” Bask’s eyes glittered. “Imagine that I am and then that in my mind you haven’t been a virgin since the moment we met.”

  Was that me whimpering? I didn’t whimper. “Is that because of the eyefucking? I mean, I’m pretty certain that it was me eyefucking you.”

  I yipped, as Sleipnir wrenched me by the curls, pulling me back towards Magenta. He held me in place for Magenta who silenced me with a kiss.

  I melted into her, as her tongue twined with mine. The kiss was firm and possessive: a promise that I was no longer alone. When she drew back, I was panting.

  “Soon, neither you nor I will be virgins, and it won’t be in our minds,” Magenta murmured, as her lips grazed my ear.

  Okay, I hold my paws up, that time, I definitely whimpered.

  Sleipnir traced down my spine, and I shivered. “I take it that you wish this?”

  Did Mr Fierce love curling up and pretending that he was a ball that’d magically come alive…? Yeah, he did.

  I grinned. “I knew that you were a jinni. Just don’t make my wish go wrong.”

  “It’s already gone wrong.” Damelza tapped her foot next to my head, and I looked up at her, as she glowered down at me. Whoops, I’d forgotten that this was a lesson and not a snogging session. Maybe I could blame the trauma as a Get out of Jail Free card. The Princes crowded behind Damelza, watching our snuggling with way too much interest. “Enough with the disgusting PDA. You survived the Memory Theater, which is more than I expected.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Damelza pulled her coat of feathers closer around her. “We all now know that you’re used to that.” I winced. Wow, right for the heart. “Here in the academy we believe in sharing both the good and the bad. Once your most private moments have been extracted, they no longer belong to you.” I frowned, realizing that the kaleidoscope of images was still turning on th
e wall. Had my memories been added to it? Bile burned my throat. “Your past and secrets now belong to the academy, like you do.”

  No one could steal my past or pain, and no witch could. Just because they’d extracted a single moment from my life, didn’t mean that they knew me, or that they owned me, any more than my mum had or the House of Jewels, no matter what any of them thought. There’d been a time when I’d have allowed myself to be married off as the dutiful son, but because I’d had magic, they’d thrown me away. So, this furry cat was claiming his own tail back.

  “What about your secrets?” My eyes narrowed. I was going for it… “Gateway.”

  Damelza’s eyes flared. “Watch your mouth, mage.”

  “Watch it say things like: we’re training to be assassins on missions. But what are the other secrets? This whole academy trades on memories, desires, and hurts.” I nodded at the feather charm behind her ear. “You can hide your lies from my power, but no one can hide secrets forever.”

  Magenta’s smile was grim. “Your ancestors burned me because of my inconvenient truth, but witching heavens, look at this…I’m back. The past can’t be buried, any more than secrets can.”

  Damelza gripped Magenta and me, hauling us both to our feet. “I’m the new generation of the House of Crows; you’ve no idea what I’m capable of. You fight for me or I can bury you, the past, and any secret that I wish. This academy offers you new worlds of opportunity, but I’m the Principal. I rule here, and no one has ever escaped.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rebel Academy, Wednesday September 4th

  Magenta

  I’ve never regretted the close bond to my crow familiars who kept me company for the long years that I was trapped in Hecate’s Tree. When their raucous calls awoke me in the bedroom of the West Wing, before the pale sun had dawned, I did regret, however, their timing.

  It was almost as frustrating as the occasion when I’d lain on the forest floor and built up the courage to touch myself in the way that the Rebels appeared to in the Wank Count (although, my ladybits were shaped differently than the twins’ descriptions of their pricks, I was certain that they’d still work), and Echo and Flair had tumbled onto me, pecking at my intimates. I’d screeched, shoving away the familiars. It’d turned out that they’d thought beetles must’ve wriggled into my drawers.