Wilde Magic

by K M Charron

  What were you looking for Dad? Or, who?

  The next morning a groggy Ainsley slipped into her desk, her eyes having a difficult time focusing. She blew into the small opening in her coffee cup’s lid before risking a sip. The tongue burn was a minor price to pay for caffeine. Wasting no time, Professor Holmes began droning on about the rise of industry in America. So much for the promised interactive educational experience.

  Trying to take notes was proving difficult as she fell in and out of sleep. Her page showed a series of sentences begun with a few legible words followed by wobbly lines where her pen dragged across the paper as she’d nodded off.

  Every time she’d fall asleep last night, she saw her dad’s face telling her about missing girls—and begging her to find them. She’d wake up sweating, heart racing. It happened at least a half a dozen times.

  As her head lolled to the side again, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. A small folded piece of paper made its way into her blazer pocket from somewhere behind her. Her body stiffened, unsure of who was delivering it and, more importantly, what it said. Turning slightly, she tried to see the source, but couldn’t glimpse far enough out of her periphery, and she couldn’t turn all the way around without risk of getting caught.

  Her fingers felt thick and bulky as she unfolded it.

  Can we try again? How about meeting up tonight? Justin

  As if on cue, her face blushed. She hadn’t seen him come in. He must’ve sneaked in through one of the rear doors and sat right behind her. He was probably watching her ears turn crimson on either side of her ponytail.

  She didn’t have a lot of experience with guys. What did he mean, Meet up? Where would they go? What would they do?

  She tucked the note into her textbook and tried to keep taking notes on what Professor Holmes was lecturing about. Ainsley nearly jumped when she felt warm breath against her ear.

  "Did you read it?" Justin leaned in closer, practically touching her.

  She nodded, keeping her eyes to the front.

  "And?"

  "Shh, I don’t want to get in trouble." Coolness hit her face as his body moved away.

  Two minutes later, his warm breath tickled her ear again. "Fine, meet me after class?"

  As much as she wanted to keep a poker face, a slight smile broke through. Why did he have to be so cute? She shrugged her shoulders as two kids a row over shushed them. "I’m busy," she whispered. Harper’s warnings rang in her ears, and it wasn’t like she needed any more complications or distractions, even cute ones.

  When the bell rang twenty minutes later, she bolted, making it two rows down before a hand clasped her shoulder.

  "Wait up."

  She slowed, turning around. "Oh, hey."

  "Did you forget we were going to meet after class?" The way he was looking at her made her stomach flip.

  His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, but he wore it messy like he couldn’t be bothered to style it. Yet it was flawless. His Ashcroft blazer hung off his shoulders perfectly, and he wore his tie just slightly loose. He looked perfectly curated.

  "I distinctly recall saying I was busy." She kept down the stairs, weaving among the other students in an effort to lose him.

  No such luck.

  "Can I walk with you to the cafeteria?" His green eyes sparkled.

  "Ugh…"

  "It’s only walking to the caf,” he smirked. “I’m not asking for a kidney."

  Her knees threatened to buckle.

  "Um, sure." She’d made plans to meet Harper in front of the pierogi counter, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything to walk next to him.

  She tried not to push people as she forced her way through the flood of cafeteria-bound students when an elbow jabbed her ribs. "Ow!" Her eyes moved to see a huge grin on the face of a nemesis. Long black hair, olive skin. Naomi.

  "Oh, sorry, did I hit you?" The girl cocked her head to the side. "You should watch where you’re going."

  It took everything in Ainsley to not walk away, but she refused to get pushed around. If she let this go, there’d only be more. Ashcroft would become a prison; she had to stand her ground.

  "Your tough girl act is cute, but I’m not buying it, so back off."

  The girl broke out in manic laughter. Ainsley looked around her to see if anyone else was witnessing this lunacy.

  “And are we supposed to be afraid of you, new girl? Please."

  Justin stepped in between them. "Whoa, Naomi. What’s your problem?"

  "This has nothing to do with you, Justin." She crossed her arms and made a sour face at Ainsley. "This is between her and me, although I’m a bit surprised to see you’ve allowed yourself to get sucked in by this trash." She looked Ainsley dismissively up and down.“Although you’ve always been a sucker for charity cases." She shook her head with disappointment at his choice of hallway companion.

  Then Naomi pinned Ainsley with her beady gray eyes. "Ashcroft is an elite school for exceptional students from the best families. If I were you, I’d get that welfare ass outta here."

  Heat spread across Ainsley’s cheeks, radiate down her neck, and into her chest. She heard Harper’s voice in her head. Don’t let anyone find out you’re here on scholarship. A queasy ball formed in her stomach.

  “You have no clue what you’re talking about,” Ainsley said with her head high. “I have every right to be here. I earned my place at this school, did you? What I’m trying to figure out, is why you’re such a bitch. Did Mommy not hug you enough?" She stuck her lower lip out and made it quiver.

  Naomi smiled. "There it is. I knew you couldn’t be the sweet, wide-eyed girl you seem to be.” Her voice dropped viciously, “I know what you really are." She blew Ainsley an air kiss before laying another shoulder into her and walking past.

  "Charming people everywhere you go."

  Sydney stood there with a delighted expression. Did she stalk the halls waiting for these moments?

  Ainsley’s hand went to her injury as a thunderous rage welled inside her. "Fuck off, Sydney. No one gives a damn what you think."

  Justin stood there, mouth open.

  Ainsley squared her shoulders, desperate not to show how embarrassed she was. No one could possibly know that what Naomi had said was true.

  "Have a good lunch, Syd. Don’t choke on it," she said before walking away.

  Justin rushed after her, his hand gripping her shoulder.

  She shrugged him off, the knot in her stomach twisted tighter. "I’m meeting Harper. See you later." How could he be friends with someone like her?

  The anger inside her welled up as she headed to the pierogi counter. Harper was already in line.

  "Hey, how’s it going?" Ainsley asked, inspecting Harper’s choice of uniform alterations. Instead of the white or gray knee socks that most of the girls wore, Harper liked patterned or pictured ones. Today was Wonder Woman. She’d also adorned her blazer with superhero buttons.

  "Got an A on my bio lab, so a pretty good start. You?"

  "Pretty shitty. Naomi hates me, which she conveyed by basically hockey checking me twice and announcing that I should leave Ashcroft because I’m a poor charity case who doesn’t deserve to breathe such rarified air, and, of course, Sydney was there to pile on afterward." She inhaled sharply. "When is the hazing period over, it’s not as if I’m the only new addition to the school. What the hell?"

  Harper squinted in a way that conveyed both pity and relief that it hadn’t been her. Ainsley thoroughly understood.

  “Oh, no! I’m so sorry. People suck, especially the spoiled, bratty ones who seem to live in abundance here. And now you see why I keep my scholarship such a freaking state secret." She whispered the last bit. "It’s a big enough school. Maybe you can avoid her?"

  “Oh, and Justin saw the whole thing. He even jumped in to defend me." She started to sweat again, just thinking about it. "I don’t know where Naomi gets off. No one knows I’m here on scholarship except you."

  Harper quickly crossed he
rself. "I didn’t say a fricking word."

  "I know, I know. Relax. I’m not blaming you. She’s probably guessing. It’s not like my backpack or shoes are designer. There’s a lot of ways she could have sniffed me out."

  They got their orders. "Can we sit outside?” Ainsley asked, “I need a change of scenery, and the leaves are changing color. I just want to go somewhere I don’t have to ignore being glared at."

  Harper nodded and led the way into the courtyard. They sat on a bench, the sun warm and welcoming as birds chirped. Ainsley could almost pretend things were good.

  Ainsley despised that most of her little time at Ashcroft had been spent talking about Sydney Lockwood and her evil minions, but it was as though she was possessed and couldn’t help herself. "Is Sydney’s whole group like her?" She took a bite of pierogi slathered with sour cream.

  "I’m assuming you’re not actually concerned about the whole group but more specifically, Justin?"

  She shoved another mouthful in and muttered, "Maybe. What do you know about him?"

  "What do you mean?" Harper pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Like what are his hobbies, what are his extracurriculars, how many siblings does he have?"

  Ainsley tried to hold back a smirk. Harper couldn’t be that sweetly naïve, could she? Noting the socks again, she straightened her expression. "I mean you were here last year. What’s his story? His he a player? An asshole? Does he spend his weekends in animal shelters and protesting for clean water in Africa?" She shoveled in another forkful. Had Harper’s stress eating rubbed off on her?

  Harper scowled, her eyebrows knitting together as if this might be the hardest question ever asked. "I don’t know much. He’s popular, good-looking obviously, and he seems genuinely nice––the only one in his that group that really is. I mean, Jax is adorable,” she sighed delightedly, “but he’s a catty jerk sometimes, too. And gay, that’s also inconvenient.” She seemed to find her original point again and said, “As athletic as Justin looks, he’s only on the rowing and archery teams. Most of his courses are AP, so he’s smart.” She shrugged. "That’s about it."

  "Don’t know much, huh?" she said nodding and laughing. "So, no possessive ex-girlfriends or arrests that I should be aware of? Oh, God, he doesn’t date anyone in his special little circle, does he?"

  "No, he’s single. Most people are pretty open with their relationships here, so I’d probably know if he was."

  "You’re sure he and Sydney never…"

  "Dated? No way. He’s too nice for her." Harper pushed her plate away. "I thought you were staying away from him—from all of them? Did you already forget what we talked about?"

  Ainsley pushed the pierogi’s around her plate. "I’m only curious, nothing to worry about. But you’re sure about Sydney? She seems pretty possessive of him."

  “As far as I know, they were ever together. And Sydney has a boyfriend. You’ve seen their clique as they stalk the halls, know the hot black guy with the perfect smile and smoldering eyes? That’s Sydney’s boyfriend of over a year, Langston Bello."

  Ainsley had noticed him. It was hard not to. "First, I love your descriptions—smoldering eyes? Do you read paperback romances from the grocery store in bulk like my grandma? And second, wow you do pay attention around here! You’re a good person to know."

  "Once in a while,” she giggled, “and though it seems like I’m one step behind stalker, I promise I’m harmless. I just pay attention. Not many people really do. But people fascinate me. If I wasn’t going to be a world-famous physicist, I might’ve been a psychologist or a criminal profiler." She stretched her utensil over to snatch the last forkful of cheesy dough from Ainsley’s plate. She chewed and smiled wide, showing off the repulsive muddle.

  "And you’re disgusting."

  "Hey Ainsley, how are you?"

  Caught off guard, Ainsley looked up and saw Helen from her lit class, with a few eager looking girls standing beside her. They were all staring at her.

  "Hi, Helen."

  She did a quick sweep, so it didn’t appear too obvious that she was analyzing the girl's friends. The last thing she could handle was another group of girls blasting her for no reason.

  One of her friends had her brown hair tied up in a high pony with dark eyeshadow and thick winged eyeliner that made her look as if she had cat eyes. The other girl had a red chin length bob, so bright it definitely didn’t come from nature, and wore a layering of silver necklaces that made her resemble a bohemian artist.

  "This is Casey, and that’s Jill." Helen leaned in close and whispered, "Everyone’s talking about how you told Sydney off. Again! We, um, we wanted to thank you." Her voice was soft, and she seemed to be scouring the courtyard for anyone who might be eavesdropping.

  The redhead leaned forward. "No one stands up to her, at least that I’ve ever witnessed. I wish I’d gotten to see it. Is it true you told her to F-off?"

  A combination of pride and wariness gripped Ainsley. Were they were tricking her, gathering information to bring back to Sydney? God, this place was making her paranoid.

  "It wasn’t a big deal."

  "Are you kidding? It’s a huge deal." The ponytail girl—Casey—said. "I know I wouldn’t have the guts."

  Just then Ainsley saw the doors open, and Sydney, Khourtney, and Ava walk out into the busy courtyard. Seriously? This was deliberate. They were set on trying to intimidate her, although she still had no clue why. There was no fricking way she’d give them the satisfaction.

  "Maybe that’s part of the problem," Ainsley said. “If no one will stand up to them, it gives them the illusion of power." Ainsley watched their faces fall, a mixture of surprise and defensiveness. "I know they can be intimidating, but the more people that stand up to them, the less they’ll get away with. What’s the worst thing that can happen?" As she remembered Harper’s face last night as she’d told her about Emmie, she realized that it might seem like a loaded question. Still, maybe if she set the example…

  An eerie feeling overwhelmed Ainsley. She looked to see Sydney gawking at her. What a freak. Her dad said that the most defensive and obnoxious people often have the most to hide. That they kept others at arm’s length, so no one got into their business. Was that what this was? Did the queen bee have a few secrets of her own?

  Targeting Ainsley didn’t make sense. She’d done nothing to any of them that was threatening—except not falling in line. Sydney pushed, tested her, and instead of cowering, Ainsley had pushed back. So now she was a target.

  Ainsley inhaled deeply. She grinned and waved at Sydney who appeared to wished she could murder Ainsley on the spot. Harper was right, she shouldn’t egg her on, but something inside her just wouldn’t let Sydney Lockwood win.

  Harper sighed, her regard moving from Ainsley to Sydney. "You are playing with fire."

  "She shouldn’t stare at people like a psycho," Ainsley replied, her voice raised just enough to carry.

  Helen’s face turned ashen right before Ainsley’s eyes. Apparently, it was one thing to be brave behind Sydney’s back, but quite another in front of her.

  "We should go," Helen announced, bolting with her friends on her heels.

  Ainsley glanced up and noticed a few other students watching her. God, she was not a circus sideshow.

  "You’re already becoming a local legend," Harper whispered.

  Ainsley shrugged and drained the last of her Coke, suddenly parched. "That may be taking it a bit far. Isn’t it weird that Helen heard about my tiff with her that soon? I mean, it’s a bit odd to drag people over here because I had it out with the queen bee."

  Harper stood, tray in hand. "You might not have been listening before, so I’ll say it again. Bad. Ass. You’re a badass." Harper nodded toward the tray deposit station.

  Ainsley had never considered herself a badass before, but maybe that was because no one had ever given her a reason to become one. Ainsley pulled her shoulders back, feeling a bit lighter.

  Sydney

  Chapter 1
8

  Late September

  The Wilde’s coven was off-limits to apprentice witches outside of normal operating hours, and since it was six in the morning, Sydney was definitely breaking the rules. She kept telling herself that it was for a good cause, a private one to be sure, but one worthy of the risk.

  Sydney dropped the small glass vials into her bag before creeping out from behind the Potions room door. She’d had to wait for Oswald, the coven caretaker, to leave with his squeaky cart full of God knows what before she could slip out. At least he was noisy. That cart was as good as a cowbell around his neck.

  The rooms were kept dark during off-hours, which considering that witches had remarkable night vision, she didn’t mind. But she wasn’t sure how Oswald stumbled around without the torches lit since he wasn’t remotely magical. In fact, he was the only non-witch the coven allowed inside the Nest and tunnels.

  Syd made it over to the area where apprentice witches kept their magical artifacts and grimoires. She scanned the names until she spotted the one that said Wyatt. She waved her hand over a small wooden door, her heartbeat quickening with each second. A soft click sounded, and the door popped open. Taking a deep breath, she gingerly put her hand inside the blackened space. Clenching her eyes, she waited for the trap––a shooting pain, burning, a binding coil––but there was nothing. She was relieved but also slightly disappointed that her fellow students were so blindly trustworthy. Idiots. Oh well, it worked in her favor.

  No need to restrain her victorious smile this time. She flung the door open, and her hand felt around for the heavy book. Under the silk of Jake Wyatt’s ceremonial robes, his wand, cauldron, and a few glass jars, her fingers reached the hard leather binding. Sydney’s breathing hastened as she pulled the hefty tome out.

  She placed it on the table behind her and lit a single candle, illuminating the symbol. It was the Crest for the Wyatt family. She ran a finger along the book’s spine; its red cover beckoned her to open it. Sydney looked from one page to the next, searching for anything useful. She didn’t consider this cheating, per se. How they executed their spells and charms was up to them. Since there was no way her fellow apprentices would willingly help her—not that she’d ask—she had to help herself. Peeking into his grimoire would just give her more information, not hurt his performance. Besides, the stakes far outweighed the deception, for her anyway. No one else was at risk of being shipped out of the country.