Rowan screwed up his face in disgust. “Just what I thought. Covering up for your mentor?”
“My mentor?” I replied, incredulous. “What gives you that idea?”
“I saw you go in his office early in the year and a few other times,” he said.
Rage flared like a white-hot sun in my chest. “Are you still following me?”
His answer was a sneer.
He was exaggerating. I’d been in Professor Answorth office only one other time. Assistant Fordyce had sent me there to talk to him about improving my concentration.
My fists clenched and I wished there wasn’t a spell blocker in place so I could zap Rowan with the thunder spell Assistant Fordyce had taught me last week.
“I should give you a taste of your own medicine,” I said through clenched teeth.
Rowan narrowed his eyes, his medallion glowing. “Try me, Rivera.” He lifted his hand and, as he did so, the skin of his forearms came into view. Blue veins snaked up his skin, disappearing under his shirt.
I grimaced involuntarily. What in the holy hell was wrong with his arms? Those dark blue veins looked sickly.
“Stop! I can’t take it anymore.” Disha leaped up and darted out of the cafeteria.
“Disha, wait!” I went after her and so did Rowan, but I didn’t have time to argue that he should butt out. Disha needed her friends. With him at my elbow, we raced after her as she left the building.
She was running, which was so unlike her. She often told me sweating would make her hair go limp.
Down the path and across the quad, she cut through clusters of students, even ignoring the group that seemed to be growing a Jack and the Beanstalk type vine in the middle of their circle.
“Disha!” Rowan called.
She turned but didn’t stop running. “Leave me be. I want to be alone right now.”
“Disha, can we just stop and talk?” I was getting winded. The girl could run. Damn those long legs.
Seeing we were still behind her, she ducked around a hedge. Shoot. This was a full on chase, and I was wearing slip-on shoes.
Panting, I skidded to a stop, gripped my knees and sucked wind. Rowan took off past me. Angry, I shot up. There was no way I was going to let him be the knight in shining armor while I was the chick who failed gym class.
I ran around the hedge only to find a shed with the door thrown open. Disha and Rowan had to be inside. But what was that strange smell?
Praying I wouldn’t find pixie minotaurs, I dashed inside.
The interior was dark, lit only from the door behind me. Ahead, I could just make out a large store of gardening equipment—hoses, rakes, fertilizer, and a riding lawn mower. I had the brief thought that someone should invent a spell for grass clipping when I heard a moan and a yell coming from behind a row of shelving.
“Disha, no!” Rowan’s voice called.
A pulse of energy rocked the shed. Shovels clattered to the floor. A shelf tipped over and spilled. I froze, feeling the energy growing stronger, ebbing and flowing like a giant heartbeat.
Some serious magic was going down.
While everything in me told me to flee, I walked deeper into the shed, I wound around the tilted shelf to find Rowan staring at Disha who stood in the middle of what appeared to be a Satanic animal sacrifice.
My eyes darted from the giant pool of blood on the floor to the ancient runes sketched in salt around it. The carcass in the center appeared to be a dog, but it was too mangled to tell. Judging from the horror on Rowan’s face, this was not typical magic.
Unfortunately, Disha seemed to have stumbled into the middle of the circle of runes and was stuck, her arms out at her sides like a marionette, her hair floating as if she were underwater, and her feet dangling slightly off the floor.
I did the only thing I could think of. I yelled at Rowan. “Get her down!”
His head whirled in my direction, and his expression told me what a mess we were in.
“Get out!” He shouted, waving me away. “Go get help.”
“No!” Disha cried. “Get me off. Now. Now. Now.” There wasn’t time to get help. The spell was intensifying. It reminded me of the lich, making me think that if we took too long Disha could be sucked dry.
Without hesitation, Rowan acted. Extending his hands, he shot magic at Disha’s body. She sagged, her body dipping down and her arms going limp. For a split second, I believed he’d done it. Then her body spun, slowly bobbing up like a balloon as the room throb faster.
When she revolved back toward us, I gasped. Her eyes were gone. Well, not gone, but vacant. Milky white. Her hair flowed behind her like sentient snakes, accentuating how elongated and horrible her face now seemed.
Then she opened her mouth far too wide and let out a tortured scream.
Staggering back, I threw a hand over my face. “What’s happening?!”
“She’s possessed!” Rowan threw out another spell, his medallion pulsing on his chest, but I could tell it wasn’t working. Those blue veins I had seen earlier grew darker and more pronounced. Now they were creeping up his neck, too. He was going to kill himself and Disha if I didn’t do something fast.
My magic was useless here. I knew that. So, instead, I raced toward Disha, grabbed her waist, and tried to yank her out of the circle.
The magical heartbeat locked into me, pulsing through my body like a live wire. Images ran through my mind on a erratic slideshow—the lich, the werewolf, a dark figure. My muscles stiffened. My teeth snapped together. Disha, in my arms, vibrated as if she were having a massive seizure. We were stuck. We were dying.
A body hit mine, knocking us to the ground.
I lay there for what seemed like hours willing my body and brain to wake up, but it felt as though it had been replaced with cotton. As my head cleared, I realized that Disha, Rowan and I were lying in a clump on the shed floor. He had knocked us out of the circle.
I became aware of his chest under my head. The rise and fall of his labored breathing. The feel of his skin on mine.
I was laying on top of Rowan, our bodies intimately entwined.
Springing up, I untangled myself from the pile of arms and legs. Disha was limp, appearing unconscious. Rowan sat up, shaking his head. The blue veins were dark lines tracing up his neck. I didn’t know what that was about, but it couldn’t be good. One problem at a time, however.
“Help me,” I said, grabbing Disha under the arms.
He stood and lifted her feet. Together, we carried her out of the shed and set her on the grass. In the daylight, she looked even worse—pale, sunken and definitely unconscious.
“We need to go to the dean,” I said. “Or Nurse Taishi.”
Rowan shook his head. “My father can’t know about this. We should go to Henderson.”
“Henderson?” Disha would kill us if we took her to her crush as disheveled as she was, though that was a minor concern compared to her well-being.
“He’ll help and be discreet about it. Besides, he’d do anything for Disha. Hurry.” He waved his hands and this time the spell worked. Disha hovered off the ground and disappeared, allowing us to push her invisible body along the grassy area towards Henderson’s office, I assumed.
I wanted to ask why we needed to be discreet. Disha hadn’t done anything wrong but time was of the essence and we had to hurry. Still, I glanced over at Rowan. He seemed exhausted and more shaken up than I was. The blue veins stood out like a map of angry rivers climbing out of his shirt. There was something very wrong with him, and it seemed to intervene with his magic.
“What was that thing in the shed?” I finally asked.
Rowan’s expression darkened as he quickly navigated Disha’s body around a tree. “Dark magic. Looked like someone was attempting a summoning spell, probably something similar to what brought that lich onto the school grounds. All of this… it’s not good.”
“But why would Disha run in there?” I asked. There was no way my friend was associated with something like that.
“She would’ve died?” I thought about the lich and what it felt like as it sucked the very essence from my body. No wonder Disha was unconscious. “Will Henderson be able to help her?”
Rowan nodded, seeming distracted.
I looked up at the set of buildings I hadn’t noticed before. “Wait, what is this place?”
“Staff housing,” he said, pushing Disha’s hovering body against the brick of one of the three-story dorm-like buildings.
“How have I never seen this place before?” I had been on campus for months now and had never seen this particular structure.
“It’s restricted, magically hidden so students don’t track down teachers that give them bad grades and hex them in the middle of the night. I can get in because my father lives here and sometimes sends me up on errands. Now, stay with her. I’ll go up and find Henderson. If anyone asks, tell them you got lost or something.”
Of course he wanted me to tell a lie that made me seem like an idiot, but I didn’t object. We needed help for Disha.
“Hurry,” I said.
Rowan ran up the porch and disappeared. I put my hand on my invisible friend’s body.
“It’s going to be okay, babe. Just get better and I’ll let you give me as many makeovers as you want.”
Voices from around the other side of the building caught my attention. Stiffening, I worked on my lie, trying to make myself appear as confused as possible. But then I recognized one of the voices, and it happened to belong to Dr. Henderson.
I jogged along the building and turned the corner only to see him and Professor Answorth clustered together in a dark corner, locked in a heated conversation.
“I don’t think you understand the severity of what we’re dealing with here.” Professor Answorth leaned towards Dr. Henderson with a stern look on his blue eyes.
Dr. Henderson, expression angry, shot back with a finger in his colleague’s face. “You don’t know what you think you know, Answorth. And I don’t appreciate the threat.”
Professor Answorth softened. “Look. I want to help you. We’re in this together.” Then he leaned in and whispered something in Dr. Henderson’s ear.
I needed to hear what they were talking about. Maybe Answorth was the thief and he was trying to get Henderson on his team. Creeping forward, I didn’t see the trashcan until my hip banged into it. A loud clang echoed through the courtyard.
Both men whipped their heads in my direction, fear and guilt written all over their faces.
Chapter Fifteen
FALL SEMESTER
MID DECEMBER
Stinky garbage lay between the angry-looking professors and me. I thought about throwing myself into it. Anything was better than this.
Professor Answorth stared down at the waste I’d spilled, then up at me. I stood frozen, my heart thudding.
“Um, hi.” I lifted a hand and gave them a lame little wave.
“What are you doing here?” Answorth asked, his tone unfriendly, nothing like normal.
“I... was… looking for Dr. Henderson.” God, sometimes I sucked at coming up with lies.
Dr. Henderson glanced up from a rotting banana peel, which he’d been staring at with an expression of shame etched in his features. He frowned at me, clearly surprised by my need to see him.
“Is that right?” Professor Answorth said. “It couldn’t have waited until his office hours? Staff housing is off limits to students. For good reason.” He gave Dr. Henderson a disgusted glance.
Oh god! Was he insinuating that I… ? That Dr. Henderson and I… ?
The heat of shame and distaste rose to my cheeks.
“I didn’t know that,” I said, my words coming fast. “I just have a question about… uh… about Satanic sacrifices.” I cursed inwardly. “Um, something weird I read in a book.”
Shit! I’m such an idiot. With a capital “I”.
The blond professor shook his head and started walking in my direction. As he passed, he waved a hand, and the garbage can righted itself, while all the spilled junk floated back into it. He stopped in front of me, his face stern. I wrung my shirt and stared at the ground, hoping Disha was still invisible behind me.
“I think…” Answorth said, measuring his words, “you have a good head on your shoulders, Ms. Rivera. I dearly hope you do not prove me wrong. Good day.” The heels of his fancy leather shoes tapped against the stone courtyard as he walked away.
I groaned and rubbed a hand down the side of my face.
“What is this about Satanic sacrifices?” Dr. Henderson asked in an irritated tone that made it clear he didn’t believe my excuse.
I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s really about Disha.” I turned and pointed toward the wall where Rowan had left her.
“What kind of joke is this?” He frowned toward the empty-looking spot.
“It’s not a joke. She’s invisible,” I said, just as the building’s front door opened and Rowan walked out.
“Oh, thank God!” Rowan exclaimed, joining us. “Dr. Henderson, Disha was sucked into some Satanic sacrifice, and she won’t wake up. You have to help her.”
He took a step back, his eyes searching for the proof.
Rowan waved a hand, causing Disha’s invisible shape to flicker for a second.
“Oh, Disha!” Henderson exclaimed, panic thick in his voice. He glanced all around nervously. “Let’s go through the back.” He led the way, hurrying us through a service entrance and quickly guiding us into a small studio apartment.
He slammed the door behind us and instructed Rowan to lower Disha onto the queen-size bed that dominated the space. I glanced around the tiny kitchen, the sitting area beside it, and an open door that led to a bathroom.
“What kind of Satanic sacrifice are you talking about? Where would she run into something like that?” Dr. Henderson asked as he leaned over Disha, checking her pupils and pressing a hand to her forehead.
I walked closer to the bed, my steps small and hesitant. Disha’s hair was plastered to one side of her face, which was paralyzed into a grimace of fear. Her hands were twisted into claws, and she seemed as stiff as a wooden plank.
“I don’t know what kind,” Rowan said. “She was trying to hide from us and ran into one of the gardening sheds. That’s where it was.”
Dr. Henderson seemed to grow as stiff as Disha for a second, then sprang to his feet and ran to the little kitchen. From the cabinets, he retrieved several items and hurried back. He thrust a blue box of Morton salt into Rowan’s hand, and a matchbook and four candles into mine.
“Underwood, draw a circle of salt around her. Rivera, light candles north, south, east, and west of her,” he instructed as he picked Disha off the bed and deposited her on the hardwood floor.
Rowan opened the box’s spout and quickly poured a circle of salt around Disha’s body. When he was done, I lit the first candle and placed it above Disha’s head.
“No. Outside the circle,” Dr. Henderson ordered.
I moved it right away and hurried to set the other three candles in place. As soon as I lit the last candle, I stepped aside and stood next to Rowan. We exchanged a worried glance and watched Dr. Henderson remove his shoes and socks, then take a clock from the wall and lay it in the circle next to Disha. Stepping in himself, he planted his bare feet on either side of her’s.
Without pause, he started reciting something in what sounded like Latin. “Vade retro satanica potestas. In nomini lux. Exorcizamus te, immunde spiritus.”
He put his hands out, palms facing Disha and repeated. “Vade retro satanica potestas. In nomini lux. Exorcizamus te, immunde spiritus.”
At first, nothing happened. Just as I was beginning to worry, white light shot out Dr. Henderson’s hands and hit Disha right in the chest. She began convulsing, her legs and arms la
shing out, but staying within the salt circle as it seemed to burn her when she got too close.
Disha groaned. Her body came off the floor—her legs, arms, and head dangling. The light whooshed around her like a comet. Her hair swung as it passed through it. The light rose to the ceiling, hovered there for a moment, then plunged back into Disha. She glowed for an instant, then jerked and collapsed back on the floor.
Everything went still.
Rowan seized my hand, squeezing it tight. My eyes opened wide in shock. I stood frozen, wondering if he even knew what he was doing.
Dr. Henderson was a statue, except for his lips which still moved silently.
Was it done? Had it work?
My answer came in the form of a black shadow that shot out of Disha’s mouth. The apparition swirled like smoke above her for what felt like an eternity, then dove into the clock beside her.
Rowan exhaled and let go of my hand, clearing his throat. My gaze remained locked on Disha. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but I didn’t know if I should talk.
“What the hell was that?” Rowan asked, breaking the thick silence.
Trembling, Dr. Henderson stepped out of the circle and sat—or more precisely, collapsed—on the bed. He took a few minutes, panting and rubbing the back of his neck, before answering.
“A time demon,” he finally said. “When they possess somebody, they steal their time, taking over and leaving no memory of what they made their victims do. Undetected, they can live inside someone as long as they please. It’s fortunate you were with her when it happened. She might have...” He trailed off, peering down at Disha with tenderness and relief.
Rowan gave me a sideways glance, then asked, “How did you know what type of demon it was?” His voice was full of accusation and suspicion.
Dr. Henderson blinked up and focused on Rowan. “Something else that was fortunate,” he said. “In a staff meeting yesterday, Dean McIntosh warned us a time demon was on the loose. Someone released the creature from an old clock at an antique shop in Atlanta. Apparently, it’d been wreaking havoc in the city. I made an educated guess.”
Supernatural Academy: Freshman Witch Page 12