by Sadie Moss
Cam just cocks his head at the two of us, waggling his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. “Awesome. C’mon then, show me your room.”
“That better not be a euphemism.” At least my mouth can keep up with banter even when my brain is a few steps behind.
“Oh, God no.” He laughs, his full lips parting to reveal white teeth. “My euphemisms are much worse than that.”
That makes me chuckle, and the two men frame me on either side and escort me back to my dorm. Well, technically Dmitri’s there as well, but he doesn’t do anything except walk behind us like a tenacious storm cloud.
I want to ask Cam what’s up with him or see if Asher has any insights, but I don’t want to invade Dmitri’s privacy or gossip, or talk about him like he’s not there. And besides, I just met him. It’s none of my business if he’s got a stick up his ass.
“I’m up on the second floor, in the southern corner,” I tell Cam once we get to the year one dorm I’ve been assigned.
“Excellent. Now I know which windows to throw stones at,” he says with a faux-innocent smile.
“Don’t bother, I’ll just let down my hair and you can climb up.”
It’s extremely lame, as far as jokes go, but Cam and Asher both laugh like my response is actually funny. Dmitri’s scowl deepens, which I wouldn’t have thought was possible.
“We’ll see you later, Sin.” Cam leans forward and brushes his lips over my cheek in a kiss so soft he might as well be a ghost. But I swear I feel a delicious tingle spreading out from every place our skin touches.
“My name’s actually Elliot,” I murmur. “Just for future reference.”
“Elliot,” Asher repeats, a smile blooming across his face as Cam pulls away. “That’s pretty. I like it.”
The three men leave, and now there’s nothing for me to do but go back upstairs to my room and wonder how the hell I ended up with two—three?—gorgeous guys as my only friends on campus.
Not that I’m going to make a move on any of them, necessarily. I’m here to learn how to control my magic. I came to this academy for Maddy’s sake, and my mom’s. Not to find true love.
Although… if a little fun were to happen, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I can easily imagine begging Cam to get between my thighs, or having slow, deep sex with Asher.
Argh! Focus, Elliot, I tell myself as I climb the stairs. My shared dorm room is a short walk down the hallway on the second floor.
When I reach it, I hear several voices coming from inside. Guess my roommates are back.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself to meet them. Cam and Asher were both so friendly. Hopefully these girls are like them, and not like Dmitri.
Pasting on a smile to counteract my resting bitch face, I open the door. As soon as I step inside the room, the talking stops, and three heads swivel around to look at me.
There are two redheads and a blonde, although one redhead has fiery, carrot-colored hair and the other has darker auburn locks. The auburn-haired one looks startled at my entrance, her gaze dragging over me like she’s not quite sure I really exist. The other redhead rolls her eyes, and the blonde looks offended.
“You could knock,” she says, every syllable dripping with scorn.
“This is my room,” I reply. I close the door behind me and step farther inside. “I’m Elliot.”
“Elliot?” The blonde raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”
“If we’re going by the archaic idea of assigning gender roles to names, sure, why not.”
The auburn-haired girl laughs, then snaps her mouth shut when the other two glare at her.
“I’m Megan,” the carrot-haired girl says dismissively. “The one who thinks this is funny for some reason is Kendal.”
Kendal goes pink, pressing her lips together so hard they practically disappear as her anxious gaze flits between the other two. I can immediately sense the pack dynamics here. The blonde who’s regally tossing her hair over her shoulder right now is the leader, Megan’s the lieutenant, and Kendal’s at the bottom of the totem pole.
And here I thought I left all that bullshit clique stuff behind in high school.
Apparently not.
“And that’s Alyssa,” Megan finishes up with a flourish, indicating the blonde princess lounging on the bed closest to mine.
Alyssa’s gaze flicks over to me, then she looks away. “Family?”
“Excuse me?”
She looks back over at me. Her dark brown eyes are full of disdain. Jesus, she and Dmitri would probably get along great.
“Your family,” she repeats, louder. “Who are they?”
Oh. “My last name is Sinclair.”
Alyssa gives a little sniff. “My parents specifically asked the dean that I room with people who are of our level.”
Anger sparks low in my gut. Sure, I’ve been pretty much out of the loop in the magical community for the past several years. But my parents were damn powerful magic users, thank you very much, even if they weren’t from those hoity-toity blue blood families.
“Trust me,” I shoot back in a low voice. “We are definitely at different levels.”
I can and will kick this girl’s ass if she keeps giving me trouble.
Kendal clearly gets the intention behind my words, because her eyes widen even more, and her gaze bounces quickly around between the three of us. When she looks back at me, I shrug, and she gives a small cough that may have started out as a laugh. Her two friends turn to look at her, their expressions a mix of annoyance and studied disinterest.
“I’m from the Marquet family,” Alyssa drawls, directing her attention back to me. She says it with a haughty air, like I’m supposed to know what that means; like I should understand the implications and start kissing her ass immediately.
“Good for you.” Bravo, you stuck-up bitch. You won the family lottery, I guess. What an amazing accomplishment.
“Megan here is from the Bergman family, and Kendal is a Chaucer.”
“Congratulations.” I know it sounds sarcastic, but I’m having a hard time caring. I have no idea who any of these families are. Mom didn’t exactly coach me in who had the highest magical market value or whatever.
“I haven’t heard anything about you.” Alyssa eyes me like I might actually be a lizard person in disguise. “How did you get here?”
“Same as you. I have Unpredictable magic.” I fold my arms, deciding to stop playing along. She’s not going to miraculously start being nice to me if I pander to her; it’ll just make her think I’m another nervous sycophant she can lord over like Kendal. Which I am most definitely not.
The blonde girl scowls at me. “Fine. But who are your—”
I hold up a hand. “It shouldn’t matter who my family is. I don’t know anything about the fancy families you come from, and I don’t care, okay? I’m just here to learn how to control my magic. Got it?”
The queen bee of our dorm room looks affronted. Her head draws back and her jaw drops open slightly. I’m sure the people she bullies don’t talk back to her very often. Kendal looks shocked, and Megan is taking her cue from Alyssa and shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
Jesus. I have to get out of this damn room, or I’m gonna say something I really will regret.
I turn and walk out the door without another word. As soon as it closes behind me, an explosion of muffled, angry voices floats through the thick wood. My jaw clenches unconsciously. Great. I’ve got a snob and her two lackeys for roommates, with prissy, rich parents who’ll probably make my life hell if I so much as breathe the wrong way near their precious angels. Never mind that those precious angels are “freaks” of magic just like the rest of us who are stuck here.
As I head back down the hallway with no real destination in mind other than not here, I do my best to shake off the creeping worry crawling up my spine.
It doesn’t matter; I’ll manage. I’ve been in tougher situations than this, and I can handle a spoiled brat or two.
> How bad can it possibly be?
Chapter 10
The next morning, I eat breakfast alone. I don’t see Cam or Asher, or Dmitri for that matter—not that I’d want to sit with that walking, talking bad mood—and I’m sure as hell not sitting down with a bunch of strangers.
The common room in the dining hall is actually kind of pretty, with big, cozy tables and a massive fireplace. I find myself a corner to sit in where I can keep my back to the wall and observe everyone. It’s pretty easy to identify who the other first years are; they’re the ones who still look a bit nervous or can’t stop fiddling with their wrist bands. Everyone else looks settled in and comfortable, which I guess makes sense. It’s a three year program, so that’s plenty of time for the academy to start feeling like home for the older students.
I’ve just finished eating when a bell starts ringing from… somewhere. From inside the dining hall, it’s hard to tell where the sound is coming from, but I saw a chapel of some kind on the grounds during my tour. Most people in the magical community practice some form of Wicca, but it’s nice to have a meeting place with designated sacred ground. There are some spells that can only be cast in a sacred space too, so I’m not surprised the school has one.
As the bell drones on, everyone gets up and starts moving, and I try to remember what I was told about the schedule. Some kind of school-wide assembly’s happening today, I think?
I follow everyone out to the auditorium, which is just one building over. There are rows of seats arranged in the sweeping space, and at the front of the large room is a raised stage with a podium in the middle. Dean Hardwick stands behind it, waiting for the gathering students to settle. He’s a tall man, with salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. I haven’t met the head of the school personally, but I read his bio on the academy’s website, so I recognize him from his picture there. I didn’t really look up any of the other teachers; I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be put in the hands of a nutcase.
The dean clears his throat, smiling down at all of us as we find our seats. I’m still trying to figure out where to sit when I hear, “Pssst!”
I turn and see Cam, Asher, and Dmitri all sitting together. Cam waves me over, indicating an empty seat next to him.
Unable to hide my relief, I walk toward them—but as I do, Cam moves one seat over, changing the empty seat to one in between himself and Asher.
Smooth motherfucker. Also a good wingman, if that’s what he’s doing for Asher. I honestly can’t tell if Cam’s just being friendly, or if he’s genuinely flirting with me for himself, or for Asher, or… for all three.
Now that sends a shiver down my spine. Two of them, their mouths and hands on me…
I sit down quickly before I can think more about that and do something stupid like blush.
“Morning, Sin,” Cam whispers, bumping me lightly with his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” I murmur.
“Convocation,” Asher explains. “It’s the formal opening of the semester. The dean gives a talk, mentions some recent achievements by students, and we learn about any big changes over the summer.”
“Settle down, everyone, settle down,” Dean Hardwick says. In spite of myself, I find myself thinking that he has a rather nice voice. Not sexy or anything, God knows he’s old enough to be my dad, but soothing. “Welcome, everyone. To our returning students, welcome back for another school year, and a special welcome to our new first years.”
Cam pokes me in the side, and I bite back a grin at his infectious excitement.
“For those of you who may not be aware of our school’s history, here at Griffin Academy, lovingly referred to as the Academy of Unpredictable Magic, we work to help you take your special and unique magical abilities and curate them into something that will carry you far in life. To make your magic a tool that you will use, not a tool that will use you.”
Holy shit. That sounds ominous. I look around and see that some other students are shifting a little uncomfortably in their seats—probably other first years. Dmitri just looks pissed, more so than usual. But there’s something else in his expression too… sadness, maybe?
“Some of you may be feeling rather lost right now,” Dean Hardwick continues, his voice softening. “Perhaps even betrayed. But no matter what, you have a home and a family here. I encourage older students to welcome your new classmates and help them feel at home.”
Cam nudges me and winks. On my other side, Asher gently squeezes my hand for a second before letting go. My chest warms, the anxiety that’s been squeezing my heart ever since I found out I’m an Unpredictable easing up a little. These two have certainly made me feel at home, whether as a friend or as possibly something more, I’m still not sure. But at least I know they’ve got my back.
The other part of what Dean Hardwick said takes me by surprise though—lost? Betrayed? What’s he talking about?
“This prestigious academy has a long history of helping those with Unpredictable magic find their home in the magical community. We’ve had students go on to be valued members of their communities, including local Circuits and border patrol.”
Border patrol basically means you’re in charge of making sure the illusions that hide our magical communities from prying eyes hold. It’s an exhausting but respected job, given its importance.
“Is it just me?” I whisper, glancing between the two men on either side of me. “Or does he make it sound like parents wouldn’t want to send their kids here?”
Cam pulls a face. “Well…”
“Some people are proud of having an Unpredictable kid,” Asher whispers. “My parents are. So are the Marquets.”
The Marquets. Right—Alyssa’s family. I’m a little annoyed I know that.
Asher keeps his green eyes trained on the dean, speaking low under his breath so we won’t get busted for talking during an assembly. “Unpredictable magic is extremely powerful, so it can be great to have someone like that in the family.”
“But other people… don’t see it that way,” Cam says, the light in his eyes dimming. He glances over at Dmitri, and I know without him saying anything that Dmitri’s family is one of the ones who sees Unpredictables as freaks.
No wonder their friend is so pissed all the time. Mom loved me unconditionally, and I know Maddy would never reject me as a freak, and I’d certainly never reject her. But even now, my dad’s decision to walk out on us years ago still hurts, and I know it hurt Mom and Maddy even worse than me—for better or worse, I transferred a lot of my pain into anger. And the idea of Mom ever rejecting me… it makes me want to throw up.
Hell, I’d be a little mad at the world too if my loved ones thought I was a freak.
Dean Hardwick keeps droning on. It’s all well-intentioned stuff, but honestly, I’d rather just get right to my classes. I want to get this brace off, see what I can actually do, and find out whether any of this is actually worth it.
“What’s your first class?” Cam asks when the convocation finally finishes. We all get up and begin to troop out of the building in a massive wave of bodies.
“Magical Control,” I say.
There are several different kinds of classes, and they vary a little from year to year. For most of them, we’ll be allowed to take our bands off, but not all classes require that—History of Magic, for example. Aurora told me that for the ones where we take our bands off, we’ll be in training rooms that have wards on the walls to prevent the magic from leaving the area and wreaking havoc, and that the professors and staff are all trained in how to handle out of control spells and spell casters. At least for first years, anyway. Once you hit your second year, they start to trust that you can actually use your magic without bringing the whole building down with you.
In my year, there’s Magical Theory, which is apparently all about how and why some people have magic and others don’t, how magical powers manifest, how we organize and classify magic—all that kind of stuff. There’s Physical Training, since using m
agic is really draining, and without physical strength, it can be harder to control our powers. There’s Practical Magic, where we’ll learn how to use our various abilities in a safe environment. There’s Combat class, where we’ll learn to fight both magically and non-magically—though why they think we’ll need this skill, I’m not entirely sure. There’s a History of Magic class, all about our society and where we came from. And Magical Control.
It’s a lot, in other words, and I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed.
“Oh, yeah, first year with Roman.” Cam grins, coming to a stop on the walkway outside the auditorium. “You’ll love it. He’s intense but a great teacher.”
“Is Roman his first or last name?”
“First.” Cam’s brows furrow. “I actually don’t remember his last name. Most of the teachers are a little pickier about how you address them. If you called Professor Binns by her first name, I think she’d take your head off.”
Asher shrugs. “But Roman’s always just been… Roman.”
“What, like Beyoncé?”
I hear a snort behind me, but by the time I whip my head around, Dmitri’s face is set in a grim mask. Did he really just laugh, or have I finally started hallucinating?
“It’s a really helpful class,” Cam tells me, the mid-morning sun picking up gold highlights in his hair as we walk up the steps of Wellwood Hall. “Probably the best one to have your freshman year. Being able to control your magic makes everything else easier, and Roman’s got an iron clad control on his. It’s insane.”
“Strong willpower,” Asher explains once we walk inside. He looks at me, the corner of his mouth curling upward in a small smile. “Like you.”
I feel my face heat up. I’m not really used to new people being nice to me or flirting with me—at least not in a way that I enjoy—and it’s totally throwing me for a loop.
“It’s on the third floor, east wing.” Cam points as he gives me directions. Then he claps a hand dramatically over his heart. “And now, we must part ways. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that.” He grins devilishly. “Take care of yourself, Sin, and try not to set off any sonic booms unless I’m there to see it.”