Oh god. Was I possessed? Was a Shadow Puppet some kind of demon? If it was, then I would need an exorcism, preferably before my head started turning in circles and I threw up pea soup all over myself.
My body jumped over a massive hole in the floor, landed gracefully on the other side, and followed Smudge Face to one of the few undamaged windows in the building. Coming to a halt, he put both hands on the glass and turned even blurrier, his entire body quaking on the spot. He stood like that for a couple of seconds, then the window turned to dust and fell to the floor like a curtain.
I couldn’t even be surprised anymore. I was too terrified.
Wasting no time, Smudge Face climbed out the window and jumped. My body followed, even though I was fighting with all my strength not to, ordering my legs to stop. When that didn’t work, I tried going limp, but it was useless. Next thing I knew, I was perched on the windowsill, looking down at a three-story drop.
I’d barely had time to process the fact that Smudge Face wasn’t a bloody stain on the concrete below when I was hurled down to my doom.
A scream of terror filled my head.
Heart thundering in my chest, I closed my eyes. My hair flew in all directions, buffeted by the rushing air. I waited for the crack of bones and the pain, but there was only a slight thud, and then the pounding of my own two feet.
My eyes sprang open. I was running again, quickly catching up to Smudge Face.
Where were they taking me?
I tried to scream for help again, but my throat didn’t obey my command.
Beyond the chain link fence, a black SUV waited, its engine idling. A perfect rectangle was missing from the fence, appearing as if it’d been cut with a laser, Smudge Face’s handiwork, I was sure. Christ, what more was this guy capable of? I didn’t want to find out.
Crashing sounds came from behind us. Smudge Face threw a quick glance over his shoulder, then sped up toward the SUV.
If they got me inside that car, I was screwed. Trey and I had heard enough stories about homeless kids disappearing after taking a ride with a stranger. No one heard from them again, and they probably ended up preserved and seasoned inside cans of dog food.
Well, I had no time for that. I had to get back and help Trey. I had to get him to a hospital before he… I pushed the thought away. He was going to be fine. He had to be.
Smudge Face ran through the hole in the fence. My body pressed forward, ready to go through it, too, the Shadow Puppet still controlling my every move.
I’d had enough. No creature, no matter how powerful, was going to make me leave Trey. I, Charlotte Rivera, wanted to, had to, would stay and help my friend.
Focusing all that I was into a single thought, I formed the word “stop” in my brain. I shaped it as carefully as I could and injected my pure, unadulterated will into it. Then I thought it as hard as I could.
STOP!
I came to an abrupt halt a few yards from the fence, my body trembling as if my own personal quake were raging inside of me.
Smudge Face opened the door to the SUV and hopped onto the driver seat. He glanced my way and had to do a double take when he found me frozen on the spot.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he exclaimed. “Hurry up. It’s probably the Academy.”
I clenched my teeth as my body lurched forward in a jerky step. The Shadow Puppet wedged itself harder into my very being. My other foot began to lift. I tried to keep it firm on the ground, but the force controlling my limbs was too much.
I was losing.
A snarl and a whimper came from behind. I wanted desperately to see what was headed my way, but I couldn’t. Then, a massive furry body collapsed against one of the huge abandoned pipes Trey and I often used as a hiding place. The pipe broke—exposing its steel skeleton and falling apart in big chunks of concrete. Sliding down its side like a rag, the werewolf collapsed in a heap, twitched, then went completely still.
What the hell was tougher than a werewolf? I did not want to find out.
“Dammit, c’mon!” Smudge Face hissed through his teeth while the SUV’s engine revved up.
My tenuous hold on my own body broke, and I staggered forward, arms windmilling. Quickly, the Shadow Puppet drove me toward the hole in the fence, and no matter how hard I tried to stop it, the thread of will I’d had over it was gone.
I was almost through the fence when a flash of blue light hit me, and I went flying sideways, falling and rolling over the ground as if I’d wiped out from my skateboard. As I came to a stop, my shoulders and chest lifted from the ground of their own accord.
Halfway sitting, halfway floating, I watched a dark cloud detach itself from my body and dash like a bullet toward the SUV. Unhinged, I collapsed down with an umph, my back hitting the ground.
Tires screeched as the SUV tore down the road.
I blinked at the dark sky, testing my feet and hands to make sure they were mine again. My body ached and my head was fuzzy, but I could move.
“Oh, thank God,” I murmured as my toes wiggled.
A dark figure appeared to my side. I flinched, pushed myself into a sitting position, and tried to scurry away.
“Are you okay?” A deep voice asked. It was a neutral question, no real concern or care behind it, like an EMT who was completely over it.
I narrowed my eyes to see better, but all I perceived was a man’s outline: tall, broad-shouldered, a cloak billowing behind him.
A warlock?
I knew some of them wore cloaks, even in the middle of the Georgia heat, as ridiculous as that sounded. I’d heard they could be proud individuals, very aware of their heightened status among Supernaturals as well as their ancient lineages.
But to me, he just looked like a guy dressed a bit early for Halloween.
He waited without moving, only his cloak fluttering, stirred by the light breeze that always blew around the building.
“I… I think I’m fine, but... my friend!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and nearly collapsing back to the ground.
My head spun. My legs threatened to give out. It took me a moment to find my balance, and when I did, I paused, afraid of falling on my face.
“My friend is injured,” I said. “We need to call an ambulance.”
The man’s head turned to the side and if listening to something, then he said coldly, “Your friend is dead.”
My heart clenched in my chest. “No. No. He’s not. Trey’s fine. He just…”
Tears started falling down my face, and I barely felt them. I wanted to believe this man was lying, but I had seen Trey’s blank stare. I had seen a truth I didn’t want to admit. My soul broke in two, grief dragging its claws down both halves.
“I need to see him,” I stuttered gulping on tears.
“Follow me,” the man said, his cloak whirling as he turned.
“No. I need to see, Trey. I need to go to him.” I stood rooted to the spot. Only one thought occupied my mind: Trey. I needed to… I had to...
Something moved to my left where the werewolf had fallen. Holding my breath, I slowly turned my head. The beast had gotten up and was about to—
The werewolf leaped toward the retreating warlock.
“Watch out!” I screamed as the creature flew through the air, maw flashing with enormous canine teeth.
The warlock began to turn, hands raised, but whatever he planned to do would be pointless. The werewolf was too fast.
A loud crack sounded. A gunshot. For a split second, the werewolf seemed to hover in mid-air, then dropped to the ground with a muffled whump.
The warlock’s head swiveled from side to side. I couldn’t see his face, but he seemed confused. A second figure, also wearing a cloak, peeled away from the building’s shadows. It strolled casually and confidently toward us.
“Rowan,” the warlock said in his deep voice. It was a name but uttered as a pissed-off growl.
“Father,” an also deep, yet more youthful voice responded.
Father? Who the hell were
these people? It didn’t matter. Where was Trey?
“What are you doing here?” the warlock demanded.
The newcomer, Rowan, tsked. “Is that how you thank me for saving your life?”
“Saving my life?” the older warlock huffed.
“I saved his life, didn’t I?” Rowan directed the question at me. “You saw it. The werewolf was about to bite his head off?”
I squinted, trying to see their faces, but managing to see little more than their silhouettes. Was that a spell of some kind?
“Um, yes,” I answered stupidly.
“See,” Rowan said, holstering a gun into a shoulder strap.
“A gun?” his father asked in a tone that made his disgust and disapproval clear.
Rowan shrugged. “Just giving it a try,” he said nonchalantly, though I perceived something like shame in his response.
“You disobeyed me again,” the warlock said. “But I will deal with you later. I’m on Academy business, at the moment. Come, girl.” He started to walk away once more, acting like someone who was used to having his every little command obeyed.
Well, I wasn’t going anywhere with him, warlock or not. I had to go to Trey. I couldn’t leave him alone. Turning in the other direction, I marched toward the building’s side entrance.
“I think you’d better listen to him,” Rowan whispered behind me.
I ignored him.
He sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I’d only taken a few steps when the warlock noticed I wasn’t following him. “I said come with me, girl.”
He waved a hand, and my body became unresponsive again, though this time it felt different—more like invisible walls around me rather than cold seeping into my muscles and bones.
“What the hell? Let me go,” I said, discovering I had full use of my voice. “I need to go to my friend. I need to—”
“What friend?” Rowan asked. “I can go check.” Steps sounded behind me, then Rowan appeared at my side.
“Don’t bother,” the warlock said, joining us. “Her friend is dead. We need to go. More might be coming.”
Again, there was that cold indifference in his voice as if he couldn’t care less another human being had died. Maybe he knew Trey was just another homeless kid, nothing but a Regular no one would miss.
Except I would. I would!
“Let me go to him,” I sobbed, tears sliding down my cheeks, while I tried to stop them because letting them out felt like accepting that Trey, my big brother, was gone. My heart kept telling me he couldn’t be… gone. There had to be a mistake. I would go up and see he was alive, albeit hurt. We’d go to the E.R. They wouldn’t turn us away.
“Father,” Rowan pleaded.
“I don’t have time for this. It’s not safe here.” The warlock moved closer, and laid a hand on the side of my neck. Everything went dark.
Chapter Four
FALL SEMESTER
EARLY SEPTEMBER
I awoke to the sounds of AC/DC blaring all around me. Trey was blasting the boom box again. God, he was so inconsiderate sometimes.
I opened my eyes and realized I had no idea where I was.
Nothing about my surroundings made sense. First of all, it seemed like I was suddenly in an episode of Hoarders. From the dusty couch I was lying on, I could see nothing but piles of what appeared to be a yard sale gone wild.
At the foot of the couch stood an eight-foot-tall tiki statue with big grinning teeth, a bicycle, and what seemed to be an old phone booth from the 1950s. Next to that was a ceiling-high stack of National Geographic magazines, which soared at least fourteen feet. A stack of afghans lay six or seven deep at my feet.
As I sat up, more piles became evident—mounds of mismatched shoes, a life-sized stuffed tiger, a naked mannequin wearing only an old fez and a smile.
Where the hell was I?
Behind me, a black and gray ferret stretched and jumped onto my lap. I lurched up with a yelp, unseating him. He scurried under a pile of clothes.
“Oh, crap. Who are you? Where in the hell are we?”
He peeked out from his hiding place. I leaned down and patted his head, and that was all the invitation he needed because he climbed my leg and began sniffing in my pocket for treasures. He looked a bit rat-like, but at least I knew something was alive in this crazy place.
The AC/DC switched tracks to Back in Black, one of my dad’s favorites. Not that I needed to think about him right, not when….
Trey.
Oh god.
What had happened to him? Was he still in that building alone? That thought slammed into me like a lead weight. I needed to go back. I needed to find him. I didn’t care if those awful people were still there. I had to go back to him.
The thought of my friend made my heart crumble much like the window Smudge Face had disintegrated. If I got my hands on that man… Violent images flooded my brain as I pictured all I’d do.
Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to drown me.
I refused to believe he was dead. It wasn’t real, not if I didn’t see… his body.
I needed to get out of here and catch a ride back to our building.
Fists clenched, I wound my way through the piles, seeking out their owner. I figured all of this had something to do with the man who had paralyzed me and knocked me out. He could use a good swift kick in the balls as far as I was concerned. Then I’d make him give me cab fare back.
I followed the footpath through the mess, dodging a teetering stack of taxidermied crows, of all things.
As the piles dwindled, an office appeared. It wasn’t clean by any means, but it was cleaner. There was more room to walk and the walls and ceiling were visible—all oak paneling and scrollwork that made the room seem more 19th-century British study than storage room. A giant wooden desk dominated a raised platform and behind that, bookshelves crammed top-to-bottom with books.
Then I saw her.
An older woman on a wooden ladder, reaching for a tome on a high shelf and rocking out AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.
“Hello?” I tried, but the music was too loud.
Her bottom—in a green, flowered skirt— swayed to the music. She had on orange and yellow striped tights and blue orthopedic shoes. My anger turned to confusion.
“Hello!”
She startled, lurched sideways, lost her footing, and began to fall.
Oh, no! I’ve killed an old lady.
But in my second of panic, the woman waved her hands and stopped herself mid-fall, then hovered there, staring at me.
I stared back because, well, magic.
She waved her hands and, simultaneously, lowered herself and turned off the music. Silence fell around us as we eyeballed each other.
Her face was lined, but in a soft, well-loved sort of way, as if she’d spent most of her years smiling. Bright blue eyes regarded me and assessed me in one sweep. Her gray hair was long and curled in messy waves that fell past her shoulders. A green beanie that matched her skirt sat atop her head and pink beads swayed on her neck. The outfit made me think of an old hippie who had never lost her flower power.
“Um, hi?” I said. I was a verbal genius in odd situations.
“You’re awake. Welcome. Please, sit down. I’m sure you have questions.” She gestured to an old wingback chair near her desk. It was occupied by a stack of manila folders brimming with papers. I eyed it, then straightened my back. I had no intention of sitting, anyway. I just wanted out of here so I could go back home.
“Oh.” She flicked her hand and all the folders disappeared off the chair. The distinct crash of items falling and cascading sounded at the back of the room. Well, that explained the mess in the back. She was a disorganized witch.
There had to be a spell for that, but what did I know?
“Please, darling, sit,” the woman insisted.
I stood my ground and, next thing I knew, I was staggering toward the chair as the witch wiggled her fingers in my direction.
&nbs
p; What was wrong with these people? Did they think nothing of free will?
Satisfied, she sat across the desk and laid her clasped hands on a stack of papers.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling? Confused as hell. That’s how. Where am I?”
“This is my office.” She gestured around the room like I was an imbecile.
“I mean, other than this room, where am I? Last I remember, I was on the street while some guy commanded me to follow him and, since I wouldn’t, he knocked me out. So kidnapping, which I’m pretty sure is illegal even for warlocks. I need to get back. Right away.”
Just remembering what happened brought the rage back, which the flower power lady seemed to sense. She wiggled her fingers and soothing acoustic music began to play. The lights dimmed and she lowered her voice.
“Yes, that warlock was Macgregor Underwood. He’s not really a people person, but he is very good at what he does. Handsome, too.” She tilted her head, smiling as if picturing him.
Macgregor Underwood and his son, Rowan, were the men who had both rescued me and kidnapped me. I made a mental note of their names for later use.
“And you are?” I demanded.
“Irmagard McIntosh. Counselor McIntosh to the students here. I’m... well... the school counselor.”
“Students? School?”
“Why yes, dear. You’re in the Academy, a bit North of Aberdale, Georgia.”
The Academy.
I vaguely remembered Macgregor Underwood had mentioned something about that.
But the Supernatural Academy? I couldn’t be here.
“No, no, no. You don’t understand. My friend…” I choked on the last words. Was Trey alone in that abandoned building, the rats circling his lifeless body? My hands trembled as I gripped the chair for support. “I have to go.”
From what I knew, this damn Academy was in the boonies. For most of history, it had been hidden from Regulars to help keep its existence a secret. Though, these days, Supernaturals could build anything they wanted, wherever they wanted. God, it would take me forever to get back.
“Oh, dear,” she said, as if reading my emotions again, though this time I was sure they were plain on my face.
Supernatural Academy: Freshman Witch Page 3