Year One: Dreamers

by Cara Wylde

  Get a hold of yourself, stupid. I started gathering Professor Lovecraft’s papers in a neat pile. I stood up, holding my notebook close to my chest. I felt the strong pull to walk out of this office with Professor Wyvern and explain myself to him, to make it clear why I was in Professor Lovecraft’s office.

  He spun on his heels, giving Professor Lovecraft a dismissive wave, and banging the door closed behind him. Professor Lovecraft blinked, confused for a second, then shrugged and went to arrange the books on the massive mahogany shelves.

  “I should go, too,” I whispered. “Thank you so much, Professor. This has been really helpful.”

  “It was my pleasure, Miss Aleksiev.” He looked at the three volumes I’d left on his desk – forgotten, in fact. “Would you like me to sign these for you?”

  I could smack myself over the head. I ran to the desk and placed a hand on the small pile that bore his name on the covers. What could I say?

  “Yes, please! That would be so lovely!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was safe to say that my first week at Grim Reaper Academy had been quite a disaster. On Friday evening, I went to the Holy Chapel to check the scoreboard. I wasn’t at the bottom of it, but I wasn’t far from the bottom, either. The Holy Chapel was empty. No one came here, unless they wanted to check the scoreboard. Even then, they probably preferred the Unholy Chapel, which was in the opposite wing. I wasn’t a believer myself, so I didn’t blame them. Headmaster Colin had come up with the idea of placing the scoreboards in the chapels instead of having them around the Academy, thinking it would do the students good to have a conversation with either God or Satan, from time to time. I doubted his plan had worked.

  I spent the weekend writing papers, trying to make a dent in the extensive bibliographies the professors had given us, and dream jumping. The universe of the cosmic beings was out of my reach. And even after my long meeting with Professor Lovecraft, I didn’t have anything convincing to take to Aunt Katia, so she’d give me her map. When I learned Professor Lovecraft had been a dream jumper before he was turned into a vampire, I thought he might be able to show me the way. But he could barely remember that one time he’d accidentally jumped to the Great Old Ones’ dimension, so I couldn’t hope he’d be able to guide me now that he hadn’t dream traveled in centuries.

  I was back to square one.

  Monday started with PE. I put on my PE uniform, which consisted of a tight tank top, tight leggings made out of a soft, yet resistant material, sturdy boots, and short fingerless gloves. I’d noticed that not all the girls wanted to wear the PE uniform, and instead sometimes came to class wearing their short uniform skirts. They thought they looked sexier wielding their scythes in skirts, or something. Professor Wyvern didn’t seem to care, and the general impression was that everyone did what they wanted in PE. I braided my long blond hair and pulled the thick braid over my shoulder. I didn’t like to have my hair in my face when I practiced. A touch of bronze eyeshadow, pink blush, and coppery lipstick, and I was good to go. I’d been blessed with clear, pale skin, and I was grateful. I rarely needed to apply foundation or concealer.

  Down in the gym, the students in my group were filing in one by one, too bored after they’d just had breakfast. I’d skipped it myself and just had coffee in my room. Hayley spotted me and ran to my side.

  “Where were you all weekend? I went hiking with a bunch of NDC and MDC girls, and I wanted to invite you.”

  “Locked up in my room. Studying.”

  “You have to give me your phone number.”

  “Sure. Give me your phone.”

  She fished it out of her uniform blazer. Just like Silene and Scarlett, who were in our class too, she was wearing her skirt.

  “PE in a skirt? Really? I don’t get you.”

  She shrugged. “We’re not doing much, anyway. I don’t have time to change before Mythology, and you know Mr. Halo hates us being late. Professor Wyvern doesn’t care.”

  “Yeah.” I tapped my phone number into her phone. Professor Wyvern came in, dragging his scythe behind him. It made a horrible noise as it scratched the floor. I returned Hayley’s phone. “He’s pretty absent, isn’t he? I wonder how he even got the job.”

  “Someone else taught PE two hundred years ago?”

  “Yeah. Mrs. Charon. She was good, according to Mila. She cared about her students. But Wyvern is… I don’t know. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be here.”

  “I heard he’s not that great with a scythe.”

  “You’re gossipy, aren’t you?” I chuckled. But I couldn’t deny I was interested. “I don’t buy it. The Unseelie are great warriors.”

  “The scythe is just not his weapon of choice. And he wasn’t a Grim Reaper. Ever.”

  My eyes went wide. “He wasn’t?! Then why is he teaching us?!”

  “Who knows? I heard some RDC girls say he is good with this long, thick whip-like weapon made out of dragon skin. It’s a special kind of combat his ancestors invented.”

  “A whip. He’s good with a whip.”

  “I think it has a name. Can’t remember…” She tapped on her temple. “Hydra Tail. Or just the Hydra. Something fancy.”

  “I would like to see him wield the Hydra,” I whispered, eyeing him up and down. He was hot, that was impossible to deny. Hot in that rugged, uncaring way… Like you could look at him and wonder when he’d showered last, then realize you didn’t give a shit because he smelled too good to wash all those intoxicating pheromones off.

  “Earth to Yolanda?”

  I snapped out of it. And blushed. Hard. What was I thinking? No, I wasn’t developing a crush on Professor Wyvern. Ridiculous.

  “Today, we’re going to practice programming our scythes to do what we want them to do: cut through physical matter or cut through energy. Each of you, please grab one wooden block and one flowerpot.” He motioned toward the few dozen wooden blocks and flowerpots lined up against the wall. He already had one of each before him. “Allow me to demonstrate.” He took a step back, grounded himself, then swung his scythe at the block. The blade went right through it, cutting it perfectly, not a splinter littering the floor. It went through the wood like a hot knife went through a block of cheese. “Physical matter.” Next, he focused on the flower – a beautiful orchid growing majestically in its plastic pot. He swung again, this time aiming a few inches above the flower. With the naked eye, the only thing one could see was that he’d cut through sheer air. But the moment he placed his scythe back on the ground, holding it straight, the orchid simply withered. It was instantaneous. It withered and died before our eyes. “Energy.” He studied us for a minute, as if trying to figure out if we were ready for this. “Initially, I proposed to Headmaster Colin that we should practice on frogs or slugs, but he wasn’t keen on the idea. Flowers work just as well, with the caveat that they require more focus. A plant’s energy field is not as vibrant and… well, obvious. It vibrates at a lower frequency, which means that you will have to have laser focus to be able to see the thin, light aura around it. The good news is that plants don’t have strings of life. So, it’s enough to see their energy field to achieve a decent strike. You don’t have to look for details.”

  “Does that mean animals have strings of life?” Jace asked. Ivor chuckled next to him, and Jace punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. It’s a valid question.”

  “Language, Mr. Merlin. Yes, some animals do. The bigger the animal, the more prominent the string of life. For some reason, frogs and slugs have them, even if they’re small. Maybe because we’re supposed to practice on them. Not that I’d expect Headmaster Colin to understand that.”

  He sounded grumpy. And when he was grumpy, his voice took on a lower note that made him even sexier. Not that I was paying attention, but I could see that the girls around me had their eyes glued to Professor Wyvern. He wasn’t doing anything special, and yet they were fawning all over him.

  “Excuse me,” Hayley rais
ed her hand. “Is there any way we can… err… save the plants after we… err… practice on their energy fields?” She was looking at the orchid, her big brown eyes filled with sadness.

  I smiled. Her high empathy was endearing. I liked to think I had some empathy myself, but watching Hayley, in that moment, I felt like I was a cold-hearted bitch. I would’ve never hurt any living, moving creature. When I was a kid, I used to catch spiders and build a whole ecosystem for them in jars. It was all nice and fun, until I realized I also had to feed them, and they ate flies and bugs, which made me feel very conflicted. Thank God for Corri later, Mila’s pixie, because she could teleport in flies that had already died in mysterious circumstances.

  “No, Miss Clarke. I’m afraid we can’t revive the plants.”

  “Not even if we water them?”

  Professor Wyvern smiled indulgently, but the flicker of impatience in his dark eyes spoke volumes. He wanted this conversation to end. In the next two seconds, preferably.

  “No. Not even if we water them.”

  Hayley whispered in my direction: “I’m glad Headmaster Colin didn’t let him bring in frogs and slugs.”

  “Me too.” The truth was that was why I’d hated Biology in all its forms in school, and why I’d later avoided all programs that required dissections in any way or shape.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? One wooden block, one flowerpot. Chop-chop.”

  I went to get mine. I chose a random block, but when it came to the flowers, I didn’t know which one to take. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel comfortable knowing the one I picked would be condemned to die. They were all healthy, beautiful, and blooming. I felt Professor Wyvern step closer to me.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Aleksiev? Should I pick for you?”

  “N-no. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He scoffed. I threw him a side glance. He had his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his scythe tucked leisurely under an arm. He dressed casually, from what I’d noticed. He was the only professor at the Academy who wore either jeans or leather pants, and plain T-shirts or white, boring shirts he never buttoned up all the way. He was wearing one of those right now, and I couldn’t help but notice how it expertly revealed a sliver of soft, dark hair. I liked men with chest hair. It was nothing serious, though. An innocent kink, so to speak. Very common, indeed. He seemed careless and carefree, and like he didn’t belong here at all. He belonged in his own pocket universe, at the Unseelie Court, where he’d probably be teaching tweens how to wield a Hydra Tail or something. One look at him was enough to know he had no business teaching at Grim Reaper Academy.

  “How about that one?” His arm brushed mine when he pointed at a plump rose.

  I stepped sideways. Where he’d touched me, my skin buzzed inexplicably. I ignored him and finally picked a small, shriveled geranium. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ivor Gray grab the rose, and I bit my lip. I turned, only to be met with Professor Wyvern’s piercing gaze. I hadn’t expected him to be blocking my way. His eyes were fixed on my lower lip, as I was still biting into it. I released it and averted my gaze. He was so tall, with shoulders so wide, that I couldn’t see past him.

  “Don’t disappoint me today, Miss Aleksiev.”

  I blinked. “I don’t remember disappointing you in any of the previous classes.”

  He grinned. “That’s what you think.”

  “I don’t… understand…”

  “I’ve been watching you. Your swing is not nearly as elegant as you probably think it is.”

  What was he talking about?! My swing was freaking perfect! Mila herself had taught me her technique. Why was he being such a jerk, and today of all days?

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said instead. “And I’ll try harder.”

  “Yes, Miss Aleksiev. Try harder.”

  He finally stepped aside, and I walked past him with a sigh of relief. Hayley had said he was absent in class – physically there, but with his mind far, far away. Well, not today.

  Professor Wyvern paced the floor casually, his brown eyes moving from one student to the next. We were standing before him, in a semicircle. The gym was large, with mirrors covering its walls from top to bottom. As we practiced, we were supposed to observe our own stance, the way we moved our legs, arms, and swung our scythes. Personally, I thought the mirrors were overkill. They were more distracting than helpful.

  “Leave some distance between you. Wouldn’t want anyone walking out of here with a chopped ear or finger.”

  He said it so casually, but it was no joke. Programming a scythe wasn’t easy, and to expect a bunch of beginners to do it on their first try was madness.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hayley said, a little panicked.

  “Center yourself first,” I whispered. “Breathe in and out.”

  “Miss Aleksiev, I hope you’re not giving anyone advice.” Professor Wyvern stopped before me, his hands behind his back, feet apart. He looked like a general, and for a second, I felt like I was supposed to salute him or something. “You’re a student here, and in no position to teach anyone anything.”

  “No, sir, I know. I wasn’t.”

  “Good. If I hear you talk again in my class, that will be ten worth points for each disturbance.”

  I clenched my jaw and nodded. Satisfied, he turned to Hayley.

  “Miss Clarke, your stance is pitiful. Feet must be hip width apart. With your right hand, you will hold the middle of the handle, and your left hand will be positioned close to the heel. Not that close. Good. Now focus your intention on the blade.”

  Hayley fixed her gaze on the blade. Nothing happened.

  “Make it glow, Miss Clarke. Make the runes sing.”

  That was silly. The runes didn’t sing. But yes, when the Reaper made the connection between the mind and the blade, the blade glowed eerily, and the runes magically engraved on it shimmered. Hayley tried harder. A faint glow of pink and orange pulsated around the runes, making the blade vibrate slightly.

  “Now, will it cut through matter, or energy?”

  Hayley looked up at him, confused. She had no idea.

  Professor Wyvern chuckled. “Keep practicing.” He shot me a side glance before walking away. “Well?”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I swirled my scythe in the air, putting on a show. I moved my right foot back and pivoted on my left. With a swift, sharp, perfect swing, I cut the wooden block in half. My blade glowed red and angry. It wanted more. Because I wanted more. I wanted to prove myself, let him see that he was wrong about me. I was already trained. I didn’t need him. I turned to the poor geranium in its clay pot and focused on the thin veil of energy surrounding it. It was weak, indeed. Barely visible. I’d probably chosen the only flower available that wasn’t exactly thriving, which made me feel at least a little bit better about what I was about to do. I swung again, and the blade cut half an inch away from its petals. The flower died on the spot, withering sadly within itself. I looked up at Professor Wyvern. I couldn’t help but smile, knowing I’d done admirably. But my smile faltered when I saw the professor wasn’t particularly impressed.

  “A passable demonstration, Miss Aleksiev. If you were chopping firewood.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and tipped my chin toward the block I’d just split in two. “Technically, it’s what you wanted.”

  He grinned. “That’s ten worth points.”

  “... that you’re giving me?”

  “That I’m taking.”

  “What for?”

  “For chopping that unfortunate flower’s energy field with a complete lack of elegance and grace.”

  “Elegance and grace…”

  “Grim Reapers are artists, Miss Aleksiev. Never forget that.”

  He moved on, and I couldn’t help but mumble under my breath: “As if you’d know.” He stopped in his tracks, just for a second. I thought he was going to storm back up to me and confront me, demand that I said that again. He didn
’t. And I realized then that he’d heard me perfectly and chosen to dismiss it. He either didn’t care what the students talked behind his back, or he cared so much that he couldn’t deal with this sore spot. I was sure it had to be a sore spot. All the professors who taught at Grim Reaper Academy had been Reapers in the past, except for Mr. Lovecraft and Mrs. Crane. But they weren’t teaching subjects that could make or break a Reaper. Professor Adrian Wyvern did, and he was pretty bad at it. By the end of the class, only two other students had been able to perform the task in a passable manner, as he’d earlier described my attempt – Jace and Ivor. Scarlett was so frustrated that she almost burst into tears, and Hayley was disappointed too, but more capable of keeping her emotions in check. She’d managed to cut the wooden block in two, but she’d failed with the flower.

  “You could have done better,” I told her, honestly, “but I don’t think you wanted it hard enough.”

  “You’re probably right. I just… I don’t want to kill the flower.” She took the pot in her arms, hugging it to her chest. She’d chosen a white lily.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Miss Clarke?”

  “Nothing.” She blushed. “I was thinking I could practice on it until our next class.”

  Was that a smile tugging at the corner of the professor’s lips? If it was, he was fighting it with all his might.

  “If you don’t bring the plant back next time, I will be forced to sanction you.”

  “Yes, of course. I know.” Holding her head down, she shuffled away quickly, like a cat. “Are you coming, Yoli?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  So, I stayed behind, waiting for all the students to leave the gym. Professor Wyvern noticed me after a few minutes. He propped his scythe against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied me from head to toe, waiting for me to speak. I cleared my throat and tried to sound reasonable and mature. Which I was, by the way. I hadn’t been born yesterday.