The Curse Begins

by Abby James

  I shook my head, so he set them back on the desk then left me alone with the albums.

  I wasted no time opening the first one to find the photos were arranged in years. The years were marked in bold, fancy scrawl across the top, followed by individual photos of each student from each house. Interesting they weren’t arranged in year groups, but I guess, like me, new supes were found and turned up at Darkwells throughout the year. Whether they were first or second year would depend on how much study they had performed rather than any designated time of year.

  I did as the dean said and flipped ahead to the first felt bookmark to find a sea of faces staring out at me. I had to go through and read each name individually before I found who I was looking for since I had no idea what either of my parents looked like.

  Mum was first. My heart hammered a beat through my ribcage when my finger ran under the bottom of the name Gloria Seacrist. I’d often looked in the mirror and wondered how much of either of my parents was in my reflection. Did I favor one or the other, or maybe none at all? Mum’s hair was dark brown, where as mine was blonde. Her eyes were brown, mine green, her skin olive, mine fair with a few freckles across my cheeks and nose. But they were the surface differences. I scanned harder, mapping the round shape of her face, to my oval, her cute button nose to my slender one. And then I spotted it, a similarity. Her lips. The indent below her nose was the same as mine. And the shape too. But that was all. I stayed on her face a long time, but no matter how hard I analyzed every groove, ridge and dip her lips were the only feature we had in common.

  Before I flicked to the next felt marker I ran my fingers down over the photo as if in a caress. This was the first time I’d ever seen my mother and the feeling was strange. I never thought much about the way I would feel when I did see either of them for the first time, but I never expected to feel this emptiness. There was little emotion there. I’d lost them too early, and my life had been filled with decent families who cared for me. It would’ve been nice to have had the stability of one set of parents who cared for me, instead of my foster families changing on a rotational bases every few years, which meant I felt the punishment of getting too attached, but I’d never suffered abuse, or felt uncared for, and that had been enough to fill any yawning gap in my heart that a lot of foster kids suffered. Gloria Seacrist was my mother, but I felt little for the woman staring out at me.

  I flicked ahead to the next felt marker, then skimmed along until I found Miles Wright. It was only now, looking at dad’s photo, that I felt the first tug of sadness because I couldn’t even find something as simple as an indent below my nose that matched dad’s features with mine. He was good-looking, even though his haircut was dated and he wore sideburns that went out of fashion a century ago. Like mum his features were olive. Square jaw, straight nose, thick lips, all of his features blended to give the overall appearance of a strong personality. Unlike mum he wasn’t smiling at the camera.

  Did elementals find their aspects influenced their personality? If so, I would have to say dad looked like the sort of supe that would have the ability to harness fire; definitely not an air elemental.

  I put that one aside and turned to the marked pages of the other albums. The first was an album of the yearly tournaments. After Amy’s assessment, I was relieved to see, in most of the photos, people were smiling or laughing, like they were enjoying it.

  I found a few shots of mum with her team. As I took my time looking at each, I discovered a certain man that appeared alongside mum in each shot. A few were caught with them laughing together like they’d just shared a private joke. They looked to be enjoying each other’s company. I scanned the row of names, matching up each person to the name next in line until I reached him. His name was MacManus Hargreave. He could well have been mum’s boyfriend, before she fell in love with my dad. Or maybe they were just friends, like Hack and I.

  Thinking of Hack dragged me down a hole of guilt. I slouched back into the chair. Poor Laya and Hack, and what about Nathan? The only three people I cared about in the world and this was the way I repaid them for their love. Crazy to think it had only been yesterday I last saw them and in that time my world had totally flipped. I rested my head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling, feeling the sudden weight of the my situation press me into the seat.

  The dean returned carrying a piece of paper. “Here we are. Your timetable as promised.”

  He handed it to me then headed around to his side of the desk. I scanned the page, which contained a lot of blank spaces. “If I had known there was so little contact time at college I may have decided to attend.”

  “There is no point in sending you to class until you have a better grasp of your ability.”

  “What is Inclusion classes?”

  “These are compulsory classes for all students to attend. It fulfills Darkwells’ missions and values to encourage and enhance factional relations.”

  Sounded boring. “It says I have a weekly session with you.”

  “Aren’t you lucky.”

  We gazed in silence at each other, then he said. “They were a last minute add on, which Mrs Trouel was most disgruntled about, especially since it required her to rearrange a few things on my schedule to fit you in.”

  “Why are you bothering?”

  “Because, my dear, I think you could do with a little extra help.”

  “Thanks. Do I already suck that much as a supe?”

  “Do not think of it like that, for I do not. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a meeting with faculty in ten minutes and I have to be across the other side of the castle.”

  We both rose, then I led us across his office to the door.

  “And another thing, Miss Wright. During our lessons I will teach you some tricks to barricade your mind against fae invasion.”

  My cheeks scorched hot in nano seconds.

  “I will see you Monday next week.” He flashed me one quick smile and shut the door on me.

  10

  “Her timetable is set. There will be no exceptions.” Mrs Trouel peered through her round, thick rimmed glasses, which expanded her eyes to twice their size, or maybe she was normally bug-eyed.

  “But it’s her first class. This would be a gentle introduction,” Amy said.

  “I do not hold student’s hands, pander to whims, or abide demands, Miss Harper. Miss Wright will have to make do like every student before her. With all the hoopla yesterday I forgot to give Mr McGilus a scribe.”

  “Don’t worry we’ve got her one,” Amy said.

  She humphed, then returned to her computer screen, cutting off the conversation.

  “Dean McGilus has asked me to—”

  “I do not care what the dean has asked of you. The timetable is set as it is.” She glanced at her screen, then back to us. “You are due in class in five minutes. And don’t expect me to give an explanatory note for your tardiness.”

  Mental note to self: Mrs Trouel was a bitch.

  Amy grabbed my elbow and jerked me backward to the door.

  The usual small ripple ran along my skin where Amy touched me, then a sudden gust of wind swept through and blew the papers off Mrs Trouel’s desk. She leaped to her feet, turning red faced in a milli second. “Miss Harper!” She bellowed. “You are marked. “Let’s see what the dean has to say about this.”

  “But I didn’t do anything. At least I didn’t mean to. Geez, sorry.”

  She dragged me out of the office, her face a mix of fury and worry wrapped up amongst her freckles.

  “What just happened?”

  “Good question,” Amy said, racing down the corridor. “I’ve got minutes to get to Inclusion. I can’t be late and marked in the same day.”

  “What does it mean to be marked?”

  “You have to spend a week making sure all the pebbles on all the pathways are spread evenly.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “Or you will be sent to help Mr Laudman, the gardener. He’ll have you do something like
separating out the clover seeds from the poppy seeds for a week.” She glanced sideways at me as we sprinted down the hall. “Do you know how big clover and poppy seeds are?”

  I shook my head.

  “The size of a pinhead if you’re lucky. And they’re both black.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done that before.”

  “Only once and that was enough to make me swear I’d never be marked again. You think they’ve forgotten about you, but once marked, your name is magically tagged until the dean removes it. They will call you up at any time and it’s usually the most inconvenient time.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “I don’t know what’s up with my ability. I seem to be losing it lately. And it seems to be tied to my emotions. Whenever I get angry. I may have to pay a visit to Ms Lane. See if she can smooth me out a little.” She nudged me. “See, practically all supes end up at Ms. Lane’s door at some point or rather. Being an empath isn’t all that bad.”

  She pulled me to a stop. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but you shouldn’t waste your breath. I’m still disappointed. But I’ll get over it.”

  She hugged me, “Now hike it, girl. Your class is through the next corridor.”

  I did a double take at the door she had disappeared through as the serpent wood inlay snaked itself into place over the door, reaching its head across the door jamb, as if barring entrance or exit until the class had finished. Oh crap, did that mean the same would happen at my class door?

  I pulled the scribe from my back pocket and looked at the display. I’d met my first wereshifter last night. A big hulking, hairy guy called Harry, who lent me his scribe, a handy pocket sized tablet. Borrowing the tech idea from humans, the map gave directions to everywhere in the castle, shown as footsteps. Amy programmed my timetable into the database and now the scribe displayed my next class with handy little feet marching off in the direction I needed to head. Apparently the scribe vanished after you’ve stopped using it for a week, once it assumed you knew your timetable and directions well enough.

  According to the scribe I had a three minute walk to reach my class. Also according to the scribe class started in one minute. The glowing red countdown had me running.

  As I turned the first corner, a flashing one appeared, then the screen went black, the map gone. Luckily the room was only two doors ahead on my left. Once I reached it, I found a similar serpent to the one on Amy’s class door, and it too had its head rested over the door jamb. I tried the handle but it wouldn’t budge. Dammit. Great impression on my first day. What if I end up marked?

  I tried the handle again, this time I received a zap for my efforts.

  “Ouch.” I leaped back, my fingers tinkled and a throb radiated up into my wrists.

  Then, weirdly enough, the snake retreated, retreating its head back across from the door jamb and then further until it curled itself into a scaly ball, looking like a gnarled bit of wood.

  The door inched open with a creak reminiscent of a cheesy horror scene on a B grade movie. I entered into a sea of green. A large creeper hugged all the walls of the room. Large pots, over flowing with flowers, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows making the room smell fresh and outdoorsy. Soft drapes billowed across the open glass doors, dancing in the wind with looping mesmeric swirls.

  I expected a blackboard, desks and chairs corralling students into rows. Instead the chairs were arranged in a circle in the center of the room.

  All eyes were on me as I entered, a room of faces I didn’t know. Inclusion classes were the only classes where age and ability were not a prerequisite for admittance. The idea, so I had been told, was for strangers to mix in an environment that supported harmony and acceptance for all. But as I walked farther into the room, I didn’t see too many accepting expressions. A few girls smirked, which had to be a hangover from yesterday’s gossip. The guys were checking me out, roaming their eyes over the entirety of me without bothering to be polite about it. It seemed academy life with supes was no different from my high school days.

  And then to make my day start great I spied the other Elert sister. Her eyes could not narrow any further than what they were as she looked at me. No doubt she would’ve received the exaggerated version of events from her sister.

  “How did you get in here?” Came the shrill voice from a lady halfway around the circle. She rose from her chair and barely reached the height of some of the students beside her who were still seated.

  “The door opened.” My voice echoed around the room.

  The teacher, I assumed, marched across to the door and hard stared it for a few minutes. I glanced around at the circle not seeing any spare seats, so turned back to watch the teacher as she continued her examination of the door.

  She let it go and headed back inside, frowning and shaking her head. Once along side me, it was as if she suddenly remembered I was there. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, I got lost.”

  Her eyes flicked to my scribe as her lips straightened into a thin line and one eyebrow shot skyward. “I can see how that would happen.”

  My cheeks heated. Dammit. And on my fair skin, a faint blush turned siren red.

  “Take the spare over there.” She waved her hand to the corner of the room, where a chair waited, draped in creeper.

  My footfalls were the only sound in the room for the time it took me to clomp over to the chair. The creeper had wrapped itself around the legs and backrest, making it impossible to extract without breaking off a few branches, and I wasn’t sure if that was acceptable in a place like this, but how in hell did she expect me to get my seat?

  I tried to weave one branch back through the slats at the back of the chair, but the vine was thick enough it wouldn’t bend. I froze with the first snap, indicating I’d just managed to break something.

  “That’s not the way to treat it,” came a voice from beside me.

  I jumped, having not heard him approach. My pulse lurched to high speed when I looked over my shoulder and into Emrol’s turquoise eyes, which at this moment reminded me of a stormy ocean.

  I straightened. “Maybe you should show me.”

  “Like any headstrong creatures, it must be treated with a firm but gentle hand. Benevolent patience works best. Allow it to slowly understand who is master.” His turquoise eyes did not leave mine.

  “I also tend to find honesty is best. Trickery and mind games will only encourage the vine to resist you.”

  “And that goes for the master as well as the vine. A partnership can not be formed, an agreement cannot be made if the trust is not both ways.”

  “I have not lied to you.”

  The distance between us was uncomfortably tantalizing. I could feel all the hairs along my neck and arms stand erect as though they wanted to reach out and touch him.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I tried for an outraged voice, but his eyes were doing weird things to my libido.

  “I think you do, Miss Wright.You have everyone fooled.”

  “If you’re so easily fooled it’s not my fault.”

  “You are more than you seem.”

  “Says the fae who uses his banned ability.”

  He laughed. And damn if the sound didn’t sound musical. It reached down into my stomach and tickled a few butterflies into flight.

  “I am determine to unravel you.”

  Holy hell. What was I supposed to do about that? It was the hottest thing, without being crude, a guy had ever said to me.

  “There is your chair, Miss Wright.”

  I stood there stupidly, watching him walk away to take his seat, but the noise behind me made me turn in time to see the vine unravel itself and creep back up the wall. I snagged the seat before any more branches decided to return now the fae had gone and awkwardly carried it over to the circle.

  The teacher tapped her pen on her clipboard beady-eyeing me like the delay was solely my fault. I didn’t see Emrol when I first came in, but she didn’t seem at all pertur
bed by his tardiness, only mine. But I shouldn’t forget the fae had no qualms in using his ability despite academy rules.

  There were no spare places in the circle except next to Emrol, of course, by design I’m sure. And I must have missed something when I first came in because there were no spare seats at all in the circle, but he had managed to find one. On the other side of him was the other Elert sister, who wore an expression like she was smelling or tasting something awful. She flicked her head away when our eyes met, sending the clear message that I would not be tolerated nor could I expect us to be friends.

  “For the benefit of the new girl we will move around the circle and introduce ourselves. Lee, you can start.”

  This was the point at which the new girl switched off. I had more important things on my mind and they all centered around the fae sitting beside me, who’d just crossed his knee, placing it close to my thigh, making the hairs under my denims stand to attention. It was a deliberate ploy to annoy me. And it worked, but I couldn’t decide what was the stronger emotion, annoyance or… Just don’t, just don’t, just don’t. I wanted to tell him to lower his knee, but that would let him know I was aware of his knee close to me. No way would I release that secret. Instead I tried to focus on the introductions.

  Once we’d arrived back at Lee and everyone knew my name and I only knew the name of the infuriating fae next to me and Ms Marble, who was guiding today’s session, we began.

  “Again for the benefit of Miss Wright, who can tell me why we attend Inclusion classes.”

  A lean girl with a mouse like face shot her hand in the air. Ms Marble inclined her head toward the girl, whose name I would know if I’d listened.

  “To prevent a reoccurrence of the Cruces war. A war that raged for ten years against opposing factions and killing millions of human and supernatural alike.”

  “That’s right, thank you Miss Perigree.”

  Ms Marble shot her small eyes toward me. “And can you tell me the outcome of the war?” She sucked her cheeks in and pouted her deep red lips.

  “No, I can’t.”