Her Kind of Magic: An Academy of Demon Hunters and Angels Romance (Academy of the Supernatural Book 1)

by May Dawson

  “Thank you,” I said softly, and touched the torch to the kindling.

  We all stood in silence after that. Once Liam’s bier had burned down to the earth, we drove to Malcolm’s house, which was just down the road from campus. It was a stone one-story house, hidden from the street by the sweep of pines.

  When I slipped out of Gretchen’s van, Tristan and Cade were already waiting on the lawn for me. Cade’s expression was watchful as he turned to me, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. Tristan’s eyes brightened when he saw me in a way that sent sparks rising through my chest.

  Inside, Malcolm’s house was tastefully appointed, but almost blank; there were no personal photos, only original art. Everyone gathered in his enormous light-soaked kitchen, drinking beers and sharing memories. I’d been embarrassed by how I’d failed to speak at the funeral, but that faded in their company; they all seemed to understand.

  All the stories about Liam soothed my soul, including one that Malcolm told about Liam sneaking off campus in pursuit of beer and ending up rescuing a girl from a vampire nest. These stories were different sides of Liam, and they made me laugh, and then I was able to share some of my memories of our road trips and the pranks we’d played on each other.

  After a while, it occurred to me that Cade and Tristan were listening somberly or laughing, depending on the story, but it had to be awkward for them. They hadn’t known Liam. When I leaned toward Cade, he leaned into me, inclining his head to listen.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you guys here,” I said.

  Cade’s frown pitted his forehead. “I don’t mind, Deidra. If I did something that—”

  “No, you didn’t do anything,” I interrupted. Well, I’d made this even more awkward. That seemed to be a gift of mine.

  “I just thought you’d want a break from me,” he said. “I didn’t think you…”

  He trailed off, but he didn’t have to finish.

  I didn’t like him all the time, but I liked having him around.

  Gretchen stood near us, an amber bottle of beer dangling between her fingers, and Malcolm nodded to her as he joined her.

  “Is there any other family I should notify?” he asked Gretchen.

  The question distracted me from my conversation with Cade.

  “No one,” she said. “The boys lost their mother in their late teens, and their father died when they were in their twenties. And he’d walked out on them when they were kids. I don’t think they had anyone else.”

  “He wasn’t around much?” Malcolm asked casually. “Deidra’s grandfather?”

  She shook her head. “That’s one of the things I always admired about Liam and Conner. They didn’t have anyone who showed them how to be a good dad, but once Deidra came along, Conner was all-in, and Liam was the best uncle he could be.”

  As she spoke, Malcolm’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. Was I imagining that? But then he glanced to me, and a smile softened his face. “You can tell they were good men, looking at her.”

  Gretchen frowned, as if something was bothering her, but then she agreed with him.

  “To Liam,” someone said, raising their beer, and the rest of us echoed it back as we lifted our drinks.

  We stayed there, talking, late into the night, as the sun set and the stars rose in the sky. And the whole time, Cade and Tristan stayed with me, quiet and watchful and near.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next few days passed in a haze of classes and training. On Thursday night, after study hall and dinner, I headed to the dojo in the basement of the academic building. I was still trying to figure this place out. Julia seemed like one of the things I needed to make sense of.

  I was sore all over from that morning’s brutal workout—and my training with Nix didn’t help either—but I needed to get stronger in a hurry so I could keep up. I’d been coming down to the treadmill every night, putting more miles on my exhausted legs, hoping one day I’d be able to keep up.

  Julia was already down in the weights room, sweat trickling down her forehead and marking her t-shirt with damp spots. She was doing squats with some serious weight loaded on the bar, and she eased it carefully back onto the rack before she turned to me. “Deidra! You came. I didn’t think you would.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “You just already seemed pretty close to Hanna.”

  “She’s my roommate.” I flashed a tight smile her way. “It would make sense for me to try and get along with her.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. When she ran her hand through her sweat-damp black hair, I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on her bicep.

  “Nice tattoo,” I said, thinking of the girl with the thorns on her arm that I saw earlier.

  “Thank you.” She pulled up her t-shirt sleeve to show me the rest of her tattoo, thorns that crawled up her arm to wrap around the colorful pages of an open book.

  “What is it for?”

  “The rose circle.” She eyed me skeptically. “It’s part of Hunter culture, you don’t know it?”

  I wasn’t going to let her make me feel stupid. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you just explain it to me?”

  “Malcolm has one too.” Her voice was determinedly casual, and not fooling anyone. “He’s my godfather.”

  “Oh yeah?” She definitely wanted to make sure I knew that.

  She nodded.

  “You’re not supposed to get your tattoo until you’re an adult.” A masculine voice said from behind us. “But some people have been a bit presumptuous.”

  I turned. I hadn’t seen Killian come in, but he was starting to load the bar for bench press.

  “Some of us mature faster than others,” she said airily.

  “Sure, first year. Sure you do,” Killian returned. He was wearing a green shirt; I couldn’t remember if that makes him a second or third year. “A real grown-up would’ve waited until they graduated.”

  I was suddenly very cognizant that he was here, listening to our conversation, but I still want answers to some of my questions. “Why did you call Hanna baby killer?”

  “She didn’t actually kill a baby,” Julia said. “But she might as well have.”

  I looked at her impatiently, waiting for her to go on.

  “We all hunt with our families when we go home for the summer,” she began.

  I couldn’t tell if she meant to be hurtful or if she was just obtuse. I obviously had nowhere to go this summer, no family to hunt with.

  “So she was out with her mother, and a family was attacked by vamps—kind of like what happened with your family, from what I heard—and Hanna fucked up and the vamps got away with the kid.”

  From what I heard. A thrill of irritation shot through me at the thought of Hunters casually discussing my parents’ murder at the hands of the vamps. It made me flash back to being a little girl all over again, carried in my uncle’s arms, opening up my eyes and seeing blood splattered across the walls.

  “She’s never been quite right since.” Julia said. “She just can’t get her head into the work.”

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  “Awful for the kid,” Julia said. “If she can’t hang, she doesn’t belong here. Simple as that. No one wants to get killed because they can’t trust Hanna to watch their back. Do you?”

  “I’ll make up my own mind about who I trust.”

  Julia shrugged. “Your funeral. Do you want to fight tonight?”

  “What?”

  “You missed hand-to-hand this afternoon since you and Nix were doing whatever you were doing, and I was so disappointed,” she said. “I wanted to see what you’re made of. I heard you’re pretty tough.”

  “Who did you hear that from?” I asked.

  No matter how cold my responses, she seemed unperturbed.

  If she weren’t a stone cold bitch, I might want her to be my friend.

  “Fight me,” she begged, a teasing note in her voice, as playful as if she was trying to cajole me out to the movies or to the
mall.

  “Sure,” I said. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

  When I turned around, Killian was lying on the bench press and Tristan was spotting him. Tristan shook his head, just slightly, as if he didn’t approve.

  Well, I didn’t really care about his opinion, either.

  Something occurred to me, something that I’d almost forgotten. My uncle’s arms were a web of colorful tattoos, and his back and shoulders and pecs were covered in runes which were usually covered up. I didn’t think about them much.

  Liam had the same tattoo as Julia. The circle of the Rose.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Let’s go.” Julia pushed open one of the glass doors that led from the dojo out into the yard behind. Beyond her, I could glimpse the shape of pines; there was nothing between us and the woods except a strip of grass.

  Tristan sat up from the weights bench and sighed. When he pulled his t-shirt up to wipe his brow, he revealed sweat trickling down the deep groove of his pecs, the perfect, chiseled squares of his abdomen above the indent of his hips.

  “Wait up,” he said, dropping the hem of his t-shirt. “Where you go, I go, Trouble.”

  I glanced from him to Julia, but his gaze was on me. Oh. That sent a warm flutter through my chest.

  “That’s not much of a nickname,” I said.

  “Just wait,” Killian promised me, humor in his voice. “Tristan loves giving nicknames.”

  I cocked my head to one side, curious, as Tristan bounded to his feet. Despite his workout, he seemed to have plenty of energy.

  “Let’s wait until I’ve had the chance to win her over to reveal all of my dorky side, all right?” Tristan said to Killian. “You coming?”

  Killian snorted. “No, nothing about this is a good idea.”

  “True,” Tristan said. “And this is stopping you?”

  “It is tonight.” Killian slung his towel over his shoulders, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll be watching whatever god awful scifi series my roommate is obsessed with now. If you two geeks develop a sense of self preservation, you’re welcome to join us.”

  “Maybe next time,” Tristan said.

  Killian checked his watch, looked up at Tristan with a meaningful look, then shrugged. “Good luck.”

  “We’ll need it,” Tristan said, resting his elbow on my shoulder like we were old friends.

  “Gross, you’re so sweaty,” I said, even though he still smelled good—even the scent of Tristan’s fresh sweat was pleasant, musky and boyish but good in a strange way—and even though I didn’t mind.

  Julia’s eyes flickered between the two of us. “Are you two done flirting? You want to come fight?”

  “Don’t get so keyed up,” Tristan said lightly. He unwound himself from his relaxed posture, his arm dropping off my shoulder, and sauntered toward the door.

  “Why are we going to need luck?” I asked as we left the warmth and lights of the dojo behind for the cool, pine-scented forest.

  “Oh, curfew starts in twenty minutes, Cade hates everything about this, and Julia is a menace,” he rattled off casually.

  I had serious misgivings, but it was too late to turn back. The three of us picked our way up a narrow trail through the forest, which was dimly lit by moonlight that trickled through the lacy interwoven tree branches above.

  Tristan thought this was a bad idea, but he’d still come out with me. Where you go, I go, Trouble. He moved quietly along the rocky trail, light on his feet, barely making any sound. He was so close to me that he could brush against me if he misstepped, but he didn’t.

  The three of us emerged into another clearing, like the one we were in for our daily physical torture, I mean, training sessions. There were already a dozen people, mostly guys, forming a ring. The grass at its center seemed to shimmer under the gray moonlight.

  “Let’s go.” Julia clapped her hands together as she stepped into the ring. “Remember the rules. No one talks about what happens here to the cadre. No one takes it back down the path. We’re all friends again when we leave here.”

  She flashed me a grin as she walked backward, out of the circle, before she glanced around the rest of the crowd. “All right, who’s up first?”

  “You’re not going to lay low and check this place out before you start making a name for yourself, huh?” Tristan sat down next to me in the grass as the first two opponents stepped out. His voice was low and husky in my ear, and it sent a flutter through my body.

  I leaned toward him to ask softly, “Who says I’m going to make a name for myself?”

  “I’ve got a feeling,” he said. “I didn’t say if it was going to be good or bad, though.”

  “Thanks,” I said drily.

  There was a brutal sound of a fist slamming into flesh, then again, and again, and my eyes jerked from Tristan to the ring.

  This place really was like fight club. The rest of us sat around the mats while two kids fight. It went beyond sparring; they seemed like they were trying to hurt each other. Julia seemed to relish being the master of ceremonies for this mess.

  When a big guy stepped out on the mat and Julia called for a challenger, Tristan raised his hand.

  “I thought you were above all this,” I said as the kids around us yelled for him. The racket reminded me of the dining hall, even though there were only a dozen of us.

  “Really?” He pulled his shirt off over his head, exposing those cut abs and defined pecs again. He was far more built than I had guessed from his tall, lean frame in his school uniform. “Would—would that impress you? Because I’ll put the shirt back on and sit down.”

  His teasing made me grin. He grinned back before he dropped his t-shirt onto my head.

  “Rude,” I told him, pulling the t-shirt off my head—which smelled like him, like spicy aftershave and plain white soap and a hint of fresh, boyish musk, not unpleasant—and wadding it up into a ball.

  Despite myself, I leaned forward, feeling tense, as he squared off against the guy who was so much bigger than him.

  Tristan was tall, but I didn’t know where the academy found the other guy; he was a good 6 foot 6, ridiculously tall, heavily muscled. I hoped for Tristan’s sake Big Man was slow to match, because this guy had reach on him, he had weight, and if he got Tristan on the ground, it was going to be all over.

  “You’ve got this,” I told Tristan’s back anyway.

  He flashed the cutest grin over my shoulder. The boy had dimples.

  To my surprise, the big guy tried to circle Tristan, his expression wary. When he finally went after Tristan, Tristan seemed to move impossibly fast. He ducked under his arm and came up behind him. His foot shot out, slamming into the back of the guy’s knee.

  Their fight was close, but Tristan won in the end. Sweat trickled between his pecs as he came off the field, his fingers pressed over the bleeding corner of his lips. He threw himself onto the ground next to me, then sat up as if he were full of restless energy.

  “Are you all right?” I leaned forward and murmured into his ear as the next two fighters squared off. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

  “If I told you I was hurt, what would you do?”

  The teasing note in his voice stirred a restless ache between my thighs that was entirely new to me.

  I was better at fighting than flirting.

  I licked my lips, trying to decide what to say, and his gaze flickered to my mouth before it returned to my eyes. The two of us were leaning intimately close. Someone grunted in pain in the ring. Right. There was a fight going on, but I didn’t care.

  “It’s all right,” he told me, leaning back. “I heal fast.”

  Maybe he thought he’d made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

  “Where does it hurt?” I asked him, belatedly. My voice came out husky, uncertain.

  “Here.” He patted the cut in the corner of his lips with two
fingers.

  I glanced at the crowd around us. Everyone was focused on the two shirtless guys in the ring, who were closed up on each other, trading furious blows. No one noticed Tristan and me in our private conversation.

  Quickly, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth. It was just supposed to be a quick, playful kiss, but he tilted his head and his lips met mine full-on.

  His mouth was soft and tender above that hard-lined jaw, and his bright hazel gaze held mine, alert and watchful. He kissed me slowly, like he was savoring me, and my lips parted in response.

  He was smiling when he leaned back. “Well. You are full of the unexpected, Deidra Ainsley.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered. I didn’t make a habit of kissing boys I barely knew, but there was something about Tristan that was irresistible.

  It felt like someone was watching me. I glanced away across the crowd to see Julia. Her eyes seemed to glitter in the darkness, and she didn’t look away when our gazes met.

  I leaned to whisper into Tristan’s ear, and he inclined his head, his curls almost brushing my face.

  “I think Julia hates me,” I whispered.

  “Good,” he said. “I knew I liked you.”

  “Jerome wins,” Julia called, grabbing the hand of one of the guys and jerking it up. He raised his hand above his head, but he looked confused.

  Then her gaze met mine again. “I call next. I want to challenge the new girl. See what she’s made of.”

  Her words sounded playful but there was nothing nice about the way she looked at me.

  “Fantastic,” I said, and for the first time I’d used that word in the past few days, I meant it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Julia and I were circling each other, looking for a chance to land another blow. Blood trickled steadily from her nose and the corner of her lips, and I could taste the iron tang of blood in my own mouth.

  Cade and Nix stepped into the circle of trees. Julia suddenly stepped away from me, her hands dropping to her side.