Shifter In The Swamp (Academy of Necessary Magic Book 1)

by Martha Carr

  “Great insight into the obvious, Coulier.” Jackson clapped a weak, sweaty hand on her shoulder, and it immediately slid off again.

  “No, I don’t.” Alex swallowed. “I’m just…curious.”

  “Gross.” Grace grabbed Amanda’s wrist and pulled her quickly forward. “Come on. If we’re first into her classroom, maybe we can find a seat where we don’t have to watch him drooling through the whole class.”

  “I don’t drool.” He shoved his hands into his pockets but didn’t take his eyes off their next teacher.

  Amanda let the young witch drag her to the front of the freshman group gathering around Mrs. Zimmer. “Any idea what alchemy is?”

  “Not even a little. It has to be better than climbing a jungle gym while being shot at, right?”

  Alchemy was held inside an actual classroom in the main building’s north wing. The second they stepped inside, the freshmen sighed in relief under the air-conditioning pumping through the building, still wiping sweat off their aching bodies. Amanda laughed when the cold hit her, and Grace shot her a confused glance. “What’s so funny?”

  “I thought it got hot in LA.”

  “You ever been to California?”

  “No.”

  “First of all, it’s dry.” Grace tucked her bob behind her ear. “This place is like living in someone’s armpit.”

  Amanda snorted. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s awful. I don’t care how long you’ve been here. Second, it’s a lot cooler underground.”

  Right. Because they all used to live in tunnels.

  “How did you guys even—”

  “All right, everybody.” Mrs. Zimmer clapped as they filed into the Alchemy room, where sleek stainless-steel tables broke up the room's center in four long rows. “Grab a seat wherever you like and settle down. We have a lot to cover today.”

  The woman’s long braid swung back and forth across her back as she hurried toward her desk at the front of the room. The kids shuffled toward the tables, and Amanda willingly followed Grace toward the second table from the front. Chairs scraped across the linoleum floor, backpacks and bags slid off shoulders to lie on it, and the students all slumped in their seats in exhaustion.

  As Amanda settled into her chair, she caught sight of Summer walking past her table to take a seat in the first row directly in front of the teacher’s desk. The girl noisily scooted her chair out and quickly plopped into it.

  Huh. Figured she would’ve taken a seat in the back.

  Mrs. Zimmer glanced briefly at the new girl, then blinked and eyed the other students settling in. When the last freshman entered the room, Zimmer flicked her hand toward the door, and it swung shut on its own with a soft click. “I’ll wait ’til everyone’s sitting, but I’d appreciate you being quick about it. Yes, Mr. Everly. I’m talking to you.”

  A few sniggers rose at that. Some of the kids turned to watch Brandon the half-Crystal shuffling across the back of the room. He ignored the stares and ruffled his hand through his blond hair that was so light it was almost white. Chips of ice scattered to the floor around him, tinkling like glass.

  “Mr. Baker.” Zimmer pointed at Corey as he neared the front of the room. “How’s your eyesight?”

  “What?” The giant kid looked up at her with a blank stare.

  “Can you see across the room?”

  “Uh…yeah.”

  “Good. Then please take a seat either at the end of the rows or in the back. I want everyone else to be able to see too.”

  The half-Kilomea frowned in confusion, paused and searched for an empty seat, then lumbered back to the far row of tables and sat. The metal chair with a plastic seat and back groaned beneath his weight as he lowered himself into it.

  Amanda studied the room. Stainless-steel shelves lined both side walls. Those on the right held glass beakers and titration tubes, vials, copper bowls, and Bunsen burners. The shelves on the left were stuffed with jars and larger vials, all of them of clear glass and filled with powders and liquids of various colors. Two low sinks took up the far right corner, each with two spouts aimed toward each other. A tall glass case stood six feet high on the left of Mrs. Zimmer’s desk, and behind its glass door were even more beakers and jars and vials of different-colored liquids although these glowed with more intensity than any of the others. A round bowl with a tightly sealed lid contained a silver, mercurial liquid that pulsed every thirty seconds with silver light.

  She leaned toward Grace and muttered, “So this counts as our science class, then.”

  Grace tried to hide her smile and shrugged.

  Chapter Six

  “Okay.” Mrs. Zimmer rested her fingertips on the surface of her desk and leaned forward, scanning her students’ faces. “Now that everyone’s settled let me start by saying it’s obvious that all of you are exhausted from your first class of the day. I get it. However, if you’re going to learn anything in this class—not to mention make it through the full two and a half hours without blowing yourselves up—I expect you to stay on your toes. Alchemy is one of the most volatile, unpredictable, and dangerous disciplines taught at this school. Or anywhere else, for that matter. It’s also one of the most rewarding if you do it right.”

  “So we’re basically in a Potions class.” The blonde girl named Jasmine—Amanda thought she was a witch or at least a half-witch—drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

  Zimmer raised her eyebrows, and a tight, unamused smile made one side of her upper lip twitch. “No, Miss McVar. Alchemy and potions are definitely not the same things. Please raise your hand the next time you have a burning desire to interrupt me during this class, and if I’m finished and ready to start answering questions, then I’ll call on you.”

  Jasmine slumped back in her chair and folded her arms. Someone in the front row snorted, and when Mrs. Zimmer glanced down at the culprit, Amanda realized that someone was Summer.

  “As I was already planning to explain,” Zimmer continued, raising her eyebrow one more time at Jasmine, “there is a very clear difference between alchemy and potions. First and foremost, I’d say potions is simply a way for those with far fewer skills in casting spells to achieve their intended effect with magic. Can’t cast a ward on your own? Sure. There’s a potion for that. Need a healing spell but can’t mend a cut or a broken bone on your own, even if your life depended on it? Yes. Potions for that too. They’re time-consuming, messy, and don’t pack nearly as much of a punch as the time, energy, and resources required to concoct them might otherwise make you assume. I don’t enjoy potion-making so we won’t do any of that here.”

  The classroom fell silent. Summer’s chair creaked when the girl leaned forward over the front table and stared eagerly up at their teacher.

  “Alchemy, on the other hand, is quite the opposite.” Zimmer swiped a few stray hairs away from her face and drew a deep breath. “Alchemy is the science of transmuting pre-existing magical properties from their dormant forms into new forms, reagents, and vessels to actively repurpose those properties into something anyone can use.”

  Corey grunted in the back. “What?”

  “It means you’ll learn how to transmute and harness magic that already exists outside yourselves to use it on your own. Without spells. Without potions. Often without any of your magic at all. Don’t worry about trying to wrap your heads around all this at the very beginning.” Zimmer chuckled. “It’s an advanced science. Highly useful. Much faster and more potent than spells or potions. Also much easier to screw up.”

  The teacher walked away from her desk and pulled a large keyring from the pocket of her dark green shorts. She stopped in front of the glass case to unlock it, pulled out a jar of something that looked like perfectly round black stones, and locked up again before bringing the jar with her to her desk. Then she pulled a large plastic tub from beneath her desk and set it on top. “Maybe a little demonstration will connect the dots for you a little more succinctly. Mr. Everly.”

  “Uh…” Bra
ndon jolted upright in his chair and gaped at her.

  “I need one of your hairs.”

  “You…my…what?”

  “You can have one of mine,” Alex piped up, pointing at his head. “I have lots.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Montoya. If you were a half-Crystal, I’d gladly accept. I asked Mr. Everly.”

  Alex’s shoulders slumped, and Jackson thumped him in the arm. “Tough break, man.”

  “Shut up.”

  “We’re all waiting, Mr. Everly.” Zimmer stuck one hand on her hip and held the other out toward the half-Crystal sitting in the second-to-last row.

  “Okay…” Brandon had to try twice before he managed to pluck a few strands of hair. His chair scooted back loudly when he stood, and he hesitantly made his way up to the front of the classroom before depositing them in the teacher’s open palm.

  “Thank you. Return to your seat.”

  A few kids sniggered at Brandon as he headed back, pausing every couple of steps to look at Zimmer over his shoulder.

  The witch was already busy preparing the items for her demonstration—a bottle of clear, slightly blue-tinted liquid from the plastic tub, a measuring spoon, an empty glass vial, and a box of matches. “It’s commonly understood that the science of alchemy was first introduced and used on this planet for creating the kemanas across the globe. Or at least that’s as much as we’ve come to understand since no one truly knows the time, place, or method in which they were created. Anyone who was here for the kemanas’ inception is, of course, dead. The crystals powering each of these haven cities are, in and of themselves, transmuted reagents for much more powerful and long-lasting magic straight from Oriceran. Magic harnessed and funneled directly into a different object so anyone and everyone with the capacity to use it can do so.”

  Zimmer pulled the stopper from the empty vial and dropped Brandon’s hair into it. “There are ways to reverse the effects of alchemical work on any physical vessel, but that is better left to the professionals. I’ve seen more than my fair share of incredibly stupid and arrogant magicals lose a few limbs trying to accomplish such a feat. Some of them are dead, too.”

  “Jesus,” Jackson whispered. Someone in his row shushed him.

  Amanda couldn’t take her eyes off Zimmer’s quick, precise movements with her tools.

  “When done correctly, alchemy allows us to turn anything into a useable power source for whatever magic we choose to work with. Like that of a Crystal, for instance.” Mrs. Zimmer unscrewed a small vice bolted to her desk, and the thin metal clamps opened enough for her to set the vial between them before she quickly screwed it shut again. “Dormant magic in Mr. Everly’s hair, of course. His very DNA. Add to that the stripping agent—”

  “Stripping?” Brandon’s voice broke, and most of the class burst out laughing.

  “Not of you, Mr. Everly.” The teacher didn’t look up from her work. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say no one wants to see that.”

  More laughter filled the air as Zimmer carefully poured the blue-tinged liquid into the measuring spoon.

  “You will learn the exact measurements necessary for transmuting any amount of magic into your new reagents, and I expect each one of you to memorize these measurements before we move on to more complicated procedures. Yes, there will be tests.”

  A collective groan rose from the students. Amanda frowned and shot the kids sitting in her row a sidelong glance. What, they’ve never had tests before?

  The Alchemy teacher funneled the small amount of blue liquid carefully into the vial and removed it from the clamp. Then she shook the vial vigorously. “This is the simplest way to strip down the inactive magical properties. The most effective in a pinch. It doesn’t work for every type of reagent though, and I also expect each of you to know the difference between which items you can successfully handle this way and which ones will only waste your time if you try to work with them in simple terms like this. Or which ones will kill you if you get it wrong.”

  Someone in the back gulped.

  By the time Zimmer finished shaking the vial, the stripping agent had turned a bright electric blue, and Brandon’s hair floating in the substance was now a visible silver strand within the glow.

  “I need a volunteer.”

  Summer smacked the table and raised her hand instantly. The sound startled some of the other students, and Zimmer looked down at the new girl for a fraction of a second before scanning the other hesitant faces. No one else raised their hand.

  “Miss Cameron.”

  “What?” The small, wide-eyed witch named Blake sitting at the end of Amanda’s table blinked furiously and blushed a deep shade of red.

  “Come up to my desk, please.”

  “I…but she raised her hand.” The girl turned to stare at Summer.

  “I did. It’s still up,” Summer said eagerly. “I’ll come help.”

  Zimmer ignored her. “I’m asking you, Miss Cameron. Don’t make me ask again.”

  Blake’s chair scooted back noisily as she stood, then she walked rigidly to the Alchemy teacher’s desk, her blush gone and replaced by a ghostly white.

  Summer scoffed and slumped back in her seat, her hair falling into her lap.

  Amanda frowned at the back of the new girl’s head, then quickly wiped the expression away. Since when does she care so much about being picked?

  “Take out one of those pumice stones, please.” Zimmer nodded at the jar of perfectly round, semi-porous stones.

  Blake struggled to remove the jar’s lid, then hesitated with her hand poised over the opening.

  “They’re rocks, Miss Cameron. They don’t bite.”

  Some of the students giggled, and now a deep flush battled with the terrified blanch in the witch’s cheeks.

  “At least not yet. We’ll cover those later in the semester.” Mrs. Zimmer smirked as she gently rocked the glowing vial back and forth. “Go ahead.”

  Blake reached into the jar and snatched up a rock, then held it away from her at arm’s length with a grimace.

  “Describe what’s in your hand, please.”

  “What?”

  Zimmer sighed. “I’d intended this to be a quick and painless demonstration, Miss Cameron. Don’t hold us up on the very first day.”

  “It’s…it’s a…rock.” The witch slowly brought the stone closer and turned it over in her hands. “N-not that heavy. Lots of little holes all over it.”

  “Good.” Zimmer drew a thickly padded glove from the plastic box on her desk and set it down. “Now throw it.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you should pay a visit to the med ward after class, Miss Cameron. I’m sure Nurse Aiken would be happy to help you discover what’s wrong with your hearing. I said throw it!”

  Blake jumped with a little squeak, turned, and chucked the rock blindly at the side of the classroom. The stone rose in a small arc, fell, and bounced twice on the linoleum floor. A round of laughter filled the room, and the witch tucked her brown hair behind her ears with jerky motions as she scowled at her classmates.

  “That’s fine. Please take your seat.” Zimmer pointed at the rock on the floor, and it zipped through the air right in front of Blake’s face, making her jump and squeak again before the teacher caught it deftly.

  Then the girl scrambled back to her chair at the end of the table and tried to hide by slinking down so far in her chair she almost slid right off it.

  “Now you’ve seen it,” Zimmer continued. “A simple pumice rock. Not that heavy. Lots of little holes in it. We call that porous, Miss Cameron. For future reference. Yet, it’s still strong enough not to break beneath that astounding display of strength in your throwing arm.” The woman’s voice was flat as she set the rock on the desk and uncorked the glowing vial. “Alchemy allows us to change the physical and magical properties of anything around us, sometimes even at the molecular level.”

  She upended the vial over the rock until every last drop had trickled from the glass. When
she finished, a puff of white smoke—or steam—rose from the stone, followed by the crackle, hiss, and creak of what sounded a lot like splintering ice. The rock wobbled slightly on the desk and a sheen of icy crystals formed around the surface.

  “That’s a neat trick,” Tommy muttered.

  “That’s science, Mr. Brunsen.” Zimmer pulled on the thick glove and grinned. “Magical science.”

  She picked up the stone with her gloved hand and turned it around in the light. “I’ve alchemized Mr. Baker’s Crystal magic into a perfectly natural stone as a new reagent.”

  “What’s the point?” Jasmine asked.

  Without hesitation, Zimmer stepped beside her desk and chucked the ice-encrusted stone at the floor. It shattered with a loud pop and sent shards of ice scattering across the surface. The students sitting closest shied away, hauling their feet off the linoleum to avoid the shrapnel. A puff of frigid air and steam rose from the cracked-open center of the pumice rock, and the students gasped and muttered in various degrees of surprise.

  “The point, Miss McVar, is to gain an understanding of the way alchemy works. With that understanding comes a much better grasp of how to use what’s around you to harness and use the magic you couldn’t possibly wield on your own.”

  “Hey, Brandon,” Evan shouted. “She turned your hair into a Crystal bomb!”

  The kids laughed.

  Amanda turned to look at Brandon, who sat with his arms folded and glared at the shattered ice-rock on the floor. He didn’t look too happy about being the teacher’s demonstration guinea pig. When she faced forward again, Summer turned over her shoulder to look at her and waggled her eyebrows.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  “So you’re gonna teach us how to make magical bombs,” the new girl stated.

  Some of the other freshmen cheered in excitement. A small handful shrank farther into their chairs.

  Zimmer glanced at Summer with a raised eyebrow. “That’s only one of the applications, Miss Flannerty. As I’m sure you already know. Magical bombs are reserved for advanced-level alchemy. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a few years to wrap your head around that kind of knowledge.” She returned her attention to the rest of the class. “Now, I want each of you to grab a textbook from that shelf over there—in an orderly fashion, which at the very least I hope you’ve learned how to accomplish since you first got here—and return to your seats. We’re starting on page four.”