Spark (Academy of Unpredictable Magic Book 1)

by Sadie Moss

  Lettering in the stone over the large entryway reads Wellwood Hall. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, with gables and turrets, massive wooden doors and ornately designed windows that sparkle in the sunlight. It’s several stories tall, with towers that stretch even higher, and the gray stone facade is covered in ivy and creeping vines. A few students are out and about, lounging on the steps of the building or walking in small groups down the paths.

  Wowza. Despite my efforts to remain cool, I’ve practically got my face squished up to the window as we do a slow drive by.

  This place has obviously been around for a while, and I start to wonder just how old it really is. How many students have graduated from here? And how did I not even know it existed? How did I not know about Unpredictable magic at all?

  There’s clearly lots to do around here. I see a building that looks like some kind of mess hall, an auditorium, and a massive looking gymnasium. Guess they don’t want their students to get bored.

  The driver loops back around after giving me the tour and pulls up in front of one of the dormitories. “This is where you’ll be staying, in our first year dorm. Women on the left, men on the right.”

  He helps me carry my bags up to my room. It’s an easy task, since I really don’t have a lot; I got rid of a bunch of stuff before I came here and packed up the rest in three small suitcases. I had to give up the lease on the apartment, since there’s no use paying for it while Maddy and I aren’t using it. I can’t justify the expense. Aurora managed to secure a scholarship for me too, which is amazing, but I’m not exactly rolling around in piles of cash. Mads and I will figure something out for the summer and holidays.

  My driver’s nice, but it’s not his job to babysit me, so once he drops off the last of my bags to my room, he leaves.

  And then… I’m on my own.

  My room is a quad on the second—and top—floor of the building. Another little tidbit I picked up from the driver is that the school is small, less than three hundred students, so I’m not surprised that the dorm buildings themselves are relatively small. It has a great view, and it looks like I’m the last one to arrive, since the other three sections of the room are already covered in décor. I’m not surprised. Everyone else must have known ahead of time that they were coming here. Me? I’m a week late, and a few days ago, I didn’t even know this place existed.

  Super.

  I dump my bags on the empty bed. It’s sort of a relief that I didn’t have a lot to bring with me. It means there’s not a lot to unpack. I get my clothes into the closet, take care of the bedding, and put the framed photo of Mom, Maddy, and me eating ice cream on the empty desk. My small photo album goes in the desk drawer.

  Mom had a large, ornate wall mirror and a few paintings, but I packed that all up and sent it to my sister, just keeping one small painting of a sailboat for myself. I hang that on the wall. Mom always loved the ocean; she went sailing a lot as a kid. She always wanted to teach Mads and me to sail, but we never got the chance before she got sick.

  When I’ve got everything unpacked and organized the best I can, I step back to admire my handiwork.

  My part of the room is definitely the most sparse. The other three areas have tons of pictures plastered all over, luxurious bedding, tapestries hanging from the ceiling, and desks crammed with knickknacks. It makes my side of the room feel… small. Cold. Inadequate, even.

  I shake off that thought. I’m not going to let something as ridiculous as room decorations get me down. So what if I have less stuff than my roommates? The few possessions I do have mean a lot to me, and that’s all that matters.

  I’m already registered, and I’ve been given a day to get myself settled in before I start classes tomorrow, or so Aurora told me, so I don’t have to rush off to anything just yet. Even though the driver gave me a mini tour, I figure I’ll check out the campus on foot, since I missed the official orientation and all that.

  And I have to say, whatever else I feel about this situation—the campus is beautiful.

  I really mean that. I can see myself going for runs in the surrounding woods, or just lying on the grass staring up at the sky. I wish I could draw, because if I had any artistic ability at all, my fingers would be itching for charcoals and paper. This place is like a breath of fresh air after being in the city for so long—like inhaling deeply when I didn’t even know I was holding my breath.

  The silver brace is still on my wrist—leaving it on is mandatory, Aurora said—and as I walk around campus, I see that I’m not the only one. It looks like only the older people have their bands off. I’m guessing they’re either teachers or staff, because everyone who looks my age or close to it has a magical cuff on their wrist, same as mine. Some are decorated with colors or have names written on them, which I assume was done in case the band gets lost. I think I’ll keep mine plain silver. Nothing wrong with that. And I’m not going to dress it up and act like I’m happy about having to wear it.

  Although, it’s not like I’m super happy to have magic that can destroy buildings either, so… maybe I should just accept the lesser of two evils.

  One of the buildings I pass is definitely the campus mess hall. I can smell food as I walk by, and the tempting scents seem to drift down the large stone steps, drawing me toward the large structure. I veer toward it, eager to find out what the cuisine is like here, when I notice three men lounging near the base of the stairs, idly talking. Something about them catches my eye.

  I draw closer—and realize why.

  It’s the three guys from the bar that night. The ones I couldn’t stop staring at.

  Oh, shit.

  What are the odds, right? I mean, it would explain why I never saw them at The Den again. Classes just started, so they’ve probably been stuck here practicing their dangerous magic and would have to get permission to leave campus and all that.

  I quickly pull my gaze away so they won’t catch me staring and duck my head as I move toward the stairs. I was one of a couple bartenders on duty that night, and I don’t think they even noticed me mixing drinks behind the bar, so I’m hoping they won’t recognize me.

  No such luck.

  Chapter 9

  As I walk by, the blond says, “Um, I’ll take two margaritas?”

  I pause with my foot on the first step and glare at him, folding my arms.

  The one with the swimmer’s build and dark brown hair elbows his friend, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind Cam. He thinks he’s funny.”

  His voice is soft and deep, and something about it makes me want to hear him keep talking.

  The blond does look a bit sheepish. “Sorry. I would’ve called out your name, but I didn’t know it. You were the bartender last week, though, right? Over at…”

  “The Den. Yeah.” I figure there’s no point in playing dumb. I’m a horrible actress. “That was me.”

  “I knew it!” The blond—Cam, I guess—beams. He gestures me closer, his vibrant blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You a new student here? We haven’t seen you around this week; did you get in late?”

  “Um, yeah… something like that.” I walk over cautiously.

  “You must be a first year.” He notices my brows pull together and explains quickly, “We’re all second years, and we haven’t seen you around before.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. My powers only… uh, manifested a few days ago.” I gesture to the fading bruises that still mar my face. “That’s where I got these.”

  “It’s always a bit of a scare when your magic first sparks.” The brown-haired guy who elbowed the blond smiles gently at me. The man with the almost-black hair looks… well, I think if I spat on him, he’d look less offended by all this.

  “By the way, I’m Cam,” the blond says, grinning. I already picked up on his name, but I nod anyway, shaking his hand when he offers it. Then he jerks his chin toward the other two. “The judge of my comedic talents is Asher, and Broody McBrooderson here is Dima.”

  “Dmitri,” the su
rly guy corrects, in a tone that says if I ever call him Dima I’ll lose a limb.

  “Is that Russian for super friendly?” I snap, annoyed that he’s somehow decided he hates me when he’s known me for less than thirty seconds.

  Asher looks alarmed at the turn this conversation has taken, but Cam just laughs.

  “Oh shit! Looks like we finally found someone who’ll go toe-to-toe with you, Dima,” he says, punching his grouchy friend on the arm. Then he turns back to me. “Seriously, don’t mind him. We won’t let him bite.” He winks, then adds, “You’re new; I bet you could use a friend or two.”

  He’s right about that. Hopefully one of them will be able to show me the ropes around here.

  And my initial assessment at the bar wasn’t wrong. They’re all insanely gorgeous. Not that that’s the only reason I’m still talking to them, but it’s no hardship that they’re easy on the eyes. Cam’s got this all-American good looks thing going—tall and broad-shouldered, with tan skin and striking sky-blue eyes. Asher is muscled but lean, with forest-green eyes that seem to notice everything. His dark hair flops a little into his face, and he has a quiet, solemn air about him.

  Dmitri, the bastard, is breathtakingly handsome as well. He has a razor-sharp jawline shadowed with a bit of scruff, piercing dark eyes, nearly black hair that gleams in the sun, and shoulders that indecently stretch his damn t-shirt.

  Don’t do it, Elliot, a little voice in my head warns. Do not let yourself be attracted to someone who’s such an ass.

  But despite that very sensible voice in the back of my mind, I find my gaze lingering on him several heartbeats too long.

  “So, what kind of magic do you have?” Cam asks, and I almost jump. I rip my gaze away from Dmitri, blinking a few times as if to clear my vision.

  “Um… it was described to me as a kind of sonic boom.”

  “It was described to you?” Dmitri scoffs under his breath. “You weren’t there for it?”

  “I was a little busy with your mom,” I reply sweetly.

  Cam busts up laughing, and Asher ducks his head down, a small grin on his face. I swear I hear Dmitri growl.

  “I can absorb magic that’s sent at me,” Cam says, his eyes still dancing with humor. “Gives me a temporary boost of strength and power. And I can teleport, which I would definitely do right now to impress you and show you how awesome I am, but…” He shrugs and holds up his brace, upon which has been painted a dick.

  I cock an eyebrow. “Classy.”

  He just shrugs, completely unashamed. I find myself grinning in response. I haven’t met someone who’s this damn open and shameless in forever. It’s the complete opposite of my personality. I’m more closed off than a clam shell, but… I like it. I like him.

  “Dmitri can phase and duplicate himself,” Cam goes on.

  “Phase?”

  “I can become incorporeal.” Dmitri speaks slowly, like he’s having to tell me what two plus two is. “Allows me to walk through walls and things like that.”

  “And Asher here can read minds,” Cam finishes, elbowing him. “Even control them a little.”

  Unlike the other two guys, Asher looks horribly embarrassed. “I don’t use it,” he says, shaking his head. “Or I try not to, anyway.”

  His fingers trail lightly over his brace, as if making sure it’s still there. It’s clear he feels his power is more of a burden than a gift. I totally get where he’s coming from.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about my power either,” I admit, stepping a little closer to him. “I’ve gotten so used to being without magic, I’m not sure how to function with it.”

  Asher shoots me a warm, grateful smile, and it lights up his face. My stomach flutters, and I have to firmly tamp down those stupid butterflies.

  No. No way am I going to be attracted to two—okay, fine, three—men at once. That’s just asking for trouble.

  “We’re never going to learn how to function with it with these damn braces on.” Dmitri scratches at the skin around his band like it itches. “It’s unfair of them to do this to us. The other schools don’t make their students wear armbands.”

  “It’s to make sure no accidents happen.” Cam shrugs, clearly unconcerned.

  “It’s because they think we’re freaks,” Dmitri growls.

  “It’s because we think we’re freaks,” Asher says quietly. His voice is firmer than I would’ve expected. I don’t think he’s the oldest of the guys—that would be Dmitri, I’m pretty sure—but he’s got this quiet confidence that makes him seem almost ageless. “Everyone here thought they didn’t have magic. That they were a disappointment to their family. They’re ready to hate themselves, and it’s easier to direct that hate onto other people than it is to unleash it on themselves. Everyone’s emotions are running high. That’s why the braces are on.”

  My brows rise so high they must be nudging my hairline. “That was… really insightful.”

  Asher shoots me a small smile, and I find myself smiling in return, a pleasant warmth blooming in my chest.

  “Ash is our resident philosopher,” Cam jokes, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “And he’s got a point. Most of the staff at the school are on our side. If it were up to them, maybe we wouldn’t have to wear the magic suppressing bands. But they’re in the minority on that. A lot of people didn’t think there should even be a training academy for us at all—they argued that we were too dangerous and should just get our magic suppressed without a choice.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  Jesus. That’s fucking awful. At least I had a say in the matter, even if I didn’t like what my two choices were. And I can understand why Aurora wouldn’t want me walking around with Unpredictable magic unless I knew how to control it.

  Cam shrugs. “Way of the world, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart.” The words come out automatically, a knee-jerk response. I actually didn’t hate the way sweetheart sounded rolling off his tongue, but after a few years of working at The Den, it’s second nature to shoot down any guy who tries to call me by a pet name.

  “No, you’re not.” He arches a brow, grinning wider at me. “You’re way too fiery for that. How about Cinnamon?”

  For some reason, that word sounds even better coming out of his mouth, but there’s no way I can admit it. Avoiding his gaze, I clear my throat. “Why Cinnamon?”

  “Because it’s a little bit sweet, but with a hell of a kick.”

  I roll my eyes, hoping the flush I can feel warming my cheeks isn’t too obvious. “Sounds more like you think I’m a cheap stripper with a heart of gold.”

  He chuckles. “Nah, definitely not. I can see what you mean, though. How about Cinn?”

  “Is that with a ‘c’ or an ‘s’?” I cross my arms over my chest, enjoying the fact that I get to negotiate for my nickname.

  “Which do you want it to be?”

  I don’t even hesitate. “‘S’, definitely.”

  Cam’s bright blue eyes spark with humor and something else that sends a little thrill through me, then he nods decisively. “Sin it is then. I like that.”

  Dmitri grunts under his breath, pushing away from the stone pillar at the base of the stairs. “You two done flirting yet? We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.”

  What a dick. Seriously, what is his deal with me?

  “Sure. Go. I’m not trying to impinge on your busy social calendar,” I shoot back, flushing for an entirely different reason as anger flares inside me.

  He freezes, eyes narrowing. His striking face turns stony as he gives me a challenging look, like he’s daring me to cross some invisible line. His gaze drags down my body and back up again, and it’s like I’ve been set on fire. Fuck, I want to hear him say other things in that deep, dark, dangerous tone of his. He has this commanding, dominating aura, and I don’t know which I like more, the thought of him ordering me around or of me getting to order him around. Proud and stubborn as he clearly is, I bet he likes to be in charge
everywhere.

  Heat flares through my body, and I’m instantly appalled at myself. Goddamn it. This guy’s an asshole. Why am I thinking about what he’d be like in bed?

  Especially not when I just met two sweet, equally hot men who seem more than happy to have my company. I don’t need to waste my time chasing after some guy who hates me for indecipherable reasons.

  Dmitri hasn’t responded to my taunt with words, but his stare hasn’t eased up at all either.

  “I should get back to my dorm anyway,” I blurt, just to give myself something to say to break the awkward silence.

  Cam steps forward, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’ll walk you.”

  Before I can respond, Asher reaches out and catches my hand, tugging me out of the way as a gaggle of students traipse up the stairs toward the dining hall. They’re a big group, and I end up crowding close to him to avoid getting jostled. He smells like citrus and lemongrass, and when I suck in a deep breath, trying to regain my equilibrium, his scent invades my nostrils.

  I have the strangest impulse to step even closer to him, to bury my face in the soft fabric of his t-shirt and see if he smells that good all over. I manage to resist the urge—thank God—but I can’t quite bring myself to step away like I normally would.

  My face must be bright pink. I don’t quite understand what’s going on. I’m not usually the kind of girl people take to immediately; I’ll be the first to admit I’m a bit closed off, maybe even a little cold. But Cam and Asher are both friendly enough to compensate for my lack of social skills. Plus, I’m all alone here and could use some friends, and Maddy’s voice is in the back of my mind reminding me to branch out, to be social, to have fun and meet people.

  “Sure, you can walk me if you want.” Mustering my courage, I glance over at the blond man with a smile that’s only a little forced. I start to step away when I realize I’m still holding Asher’s hand—and he seems to realize it in the same moment, because he lets go quickly, glancing down and clearing his throat, clearly embarrassed.