by Sadie Moss
We can’t put it into action right away though, and in the meantime, there are still classes to attend. Life goes on. Yippee. If I was Roxie, I might be able to slack off a little in class, but God knows if I relax here, I might find my grades slipping even more, so I have to stay alert.
As if the universe has heard me and decided to fuck with me just that little bit more… my charm stops working two days later.
I’m in Defensive Magic, which is one of the subjects I’m doing worst in since I don’t share the class with Cross. We’re all working on our technique, and Professor Nicholls asks me to demonstrate how my spell is going.
I do the hand motions, just like I practiced, and I know I got it right because I’ve been getting barely any sleep, staying up all night perfecting these—
But nothing happens.
My heart leaps into my throat, climbing so high that I think I might actually choke on it.
Professor Nicholls looks at me oddly, shrewdly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What do I do? What do I do? Think of something, think of something, come on, Gabbi, you can improvise moves in dance when you freestyle, why can’t you think of something now?
I do the hand motion again, my gestures shaky and a little uneven. And this time, oh thank fucking Christ, the magic happens, and a small storm cloud appears.
It’s weak as fuck, but at least it’s there.
Professor Nicholls looks at me for a long moment, as if I’m a bug under a magnifying glass, and I just want to disappear.
“Are you feeling all right?”
I think I would actually prefer to get the shit kicked out of me by the fae than deal with this kind of terror and humiliation. The entire class is staring at me, and I want to throw up. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just—had a late night last night. Drank too much, partied a little too hard, y’know how it is, professor.”
I give him what I hope is a roguish smile, the kind of confident “I’m a young, hot party girl” smirk that I’m sure Roxie gives people all the time.
Professor Nicholls looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes, then moves on to the next person.
It takes everything in me not to collapse in relief. I kind of want to burst into tears. As soon as I get out of here, first thing I need to do is get ahold of Cross and ask what the hell is up with my charm. I just got it recharged, and it wasn’t cheap. How is it crapping out on me when I’ve only had it for a couple weeks?
The rest of class is fine. I’m not asked to demonstrate anything else, and I cram my books into my backpack at the end, ready to sprint out of here and track down Cross and make him take me back to that shop.
“Roxie? A word?”
My stomach flips over and my heart is right back in my throat again, choking me.
I look up to see Professor Nicholls with his arms folded, his fingers tapping against his suit jacket, one eyebrow raised. “I’d like you to stay for a moment, please.”
“Um… sure.” I don’t know how I can exactly say no to him. I could lie and say I have another class right away, but I’m pretty sure he knows I don’t, so… I’m screwed.
Professor Nicholls sighs, walking over to the chalkboard and doing a hand motion that cleans it off. “I don’t even know how to begin this conversation, Roxie. I honestly don’t. I have never seen such a promising student, such a strong and competent student, go from the top of my class to the bottom in so short a time.”
He looks truly pained as he says this, and it occurs to me that most of the teachers at Radcliffe really do care—even Angelique, who’s come up with some of the most creative insults I’ve ever heard.
“Today was bad, but you and I both know that it wasn’t just one night of hard partying that had you struggling today. You’ve been struggling for weeks. At the start of the semester, you were so capable and clearly head and shoulders above the rest of the class—and now it’s as if you’re not even a first year.”
He turns to face me fully.
“Now, if your hand movements were sloppy and you were goofing off in class or daydreaming, I would write it all off as a simple lack of commitment. But your hand movements are quite good. They have an elegance to them that I appreciate. I often tell my younger students when I volunteer at the local after-school center that our magic movements are like the meeting of math and dance. The math comes from the way you build hand movements into equations that equal a particular spell, and the dance comes from the grace, rhythm, and specificity of the movements. The execution.”
I chew on my lip. I’ve had the exact same thought, and I wish I could take pride in the compliment he gave me. But I can’t, because it really doesn’t matter. No matter how much I practice, I’ll never be able to do more than mediocre spell work—if that.
“But you cannot create magic without the third element the final point in the triangle,” Professor Nicholls goes on, running a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “And that is the power. The innate magic that lies in all of us. I’m sure you’ve learned in your other classes that your magic can be affected by your emotions, your mental state?”
I nod. I haven’t learned that from my other classes, actually, because that sounds like something you probably learn your first year, and Roxie is in her third. She’s supposedly way beyond that kind of basic stuff.
Professor Nicholls sighs. “So that leads me to only one conclusion. One possible explanation. When my student can execute the hand movements perfectly but doesn’t seem to have the magical power behind it, and after such a strong and powerful start and two years’ worth of perfect grades…” His arms drop to his sides. “Is everything okay, Roxie? Are you all right?”
That—was not what I was expecting. Professor Nicholls is a hard-ass, everyone knows that. Not because he’s a jerk, but because he’s so passionate about what he teaches, so he expects a level of excellence.
I didn’t expect him to sound so fatherly and concerned, and now I feel even worse. Like I’m personally failing him.
“I know it can be hard to keep your head above water sometimes,” Professor Nicholls goes on. “And whatever is going on, I hope you remember that you can talk to one of our guidance counselors. That’s what they’re here for. We want you to achieve excellence, and I know that you’re capable of it.”
The calm, concerned look on Nicholls’ face reminds me so much of my dad that for a moment, I’m tempted to just burst into sobs and confess everything. I don’t, of course, but my eyes sting with tears anyway.
“Oh. Um.” Professor Nicholls looks unsure how to deal with this, then walks over to the desk and grabs some tissues. “Here you are.”
I take the tissues and dab at my eyes. “Thanks. Sorry.”
Professor Nicholls sighs. “Listen, Roxie, whatever it is, I hope you can talk to someone about it. Because whether I like it or not, the school policy—well. You need to meet with the dean to sort this out. It’s at a point where you simply can’t continue, and I know that my class isn’t the only one where you’re just barely scraping by.”
That almost makes me cry more. “Okay,” I manage.
“I really hope we can sort this out, honestly. But if you can’t keep up in your classes, you can’t continue at the school. That’s nothing personal, it’s simply a fact.” He cocks his head at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you sure there’s nothing you’d like to talk to me about?”
Fuck.
It’s like being doused with cold water. I can’t confess to him. As kind as he’s being right now, he’ll change his tune the moment he realizes what I am. Who I am. I can’t trust him, or anyone.
I shake my head. “No, thank you though, Professor. I’ll—I’ll handle it. And I’ll set up that meeting with the dean.”
Professor Nicholls nods, looking a little suspicious still. But before he can say anything else, I quickly grab my backpack and run out the door.
Chapter 22
I’m shaking with adrenaline as I hurry across campus. I’m practically stumbling,
and I have to force myself to try to walk normally instead of just dashing around like a drunk person.
Oh my God, I feel so sick.
My knees are wobbling dangerously, and I have to stop and grab onto the back of a bench beside the pathway as they turn into noodles. I hang onto it for dear life, trying to steady my breathing.
In and out. In and out. Nice deep breaths. It’s okay, Gabbi, you got this.
Except that clearly, no, I do not “got this.”
Maybe it will only raise more suspicion, but I can’t go to my classes for the rest of the day. I just can’t. How could I possibly handle struggling through them when I know all of my professors are looking at me with this suspicion in their eyes? All of them are talking to each other and to the dean, and God only knows what conclusions they’re coming to.
And who’s to say that my classmates aren’t saying similar things? They must’ve all have noticed something’s up. I know there are a lot of us on campus, but not that many, and when the girl who used to kick everyone’s ass academically suddenly hits the bottom of the barrel, people pay attention to that kind of shit.
I’m inching closer and closer to the day when I can’t hold onto my Roxie cover anymore. When my failing grades and weird behavior finally push people to start asking more questions, beyond just “what the fuck is wrong with Roxie?”
I need to swap back with her before that happens. I can’t afford to take my time or play it safe any longer. Roxie was up to something, and I’m going to find out what it was.
No matter how dangerous it is, I need to talk to the fae.
There’s one small, teeny-tiny little problem with that, of course: I still don’t know how to find them.
The fae creature who attacked us found me, not the other way around, and it used a portal of some kind to vanish. As our research showed, it’s now really difficult to just accidentally stumble into the fae realm, so they won’t be easy to locate.
But I’ve got to try.
I decide to start at the subway station Cross took me to when we went to Bartholomew’s shop. It’s not much, but I have to start somewhere. Fae live in underground cities, and the subway is underground, so it makes sense, right?
…right.
Feeling less than confident but full of determination, I leave the beautiful bubble of Radcliffe’s campus and head down into the subway platform.
Okay. If I were a fae, where would I hide an entrance to my city?
I’d want to make it easy to access for my own fae people, but not something an idiot mortal could just stumble into, but also the sort of entrance a mortal could find if they really wanted to. The books said that the fae aren’t exactly friendly to humans, but that they do occasionally like messing with them or making deals with them. So I imagine they’d make it possible for a human to find their realm if that human is really determined.
Hmmmm…
I try pressing various tiles on the walls of the subway platform. Nothing there. Then I try going into the bathroom and trying various things in there like flushing the toilet twice, pressing the tiles, jumping up and down on spots on the floor.
I feel ridiculous.
Okay, so maybe this subway station is a bust. Or maybe I’m not doing something correctly, not bringing an offering or saying the right words or whatever.
Ugh.
As I exit the bathroom, my shoulders droop like someone’s just dropped a giant weight on them. I can’t find the fae, we barely have a plan, my charm isn’t working, my professors are suspicious, hell, Bianca’s going to start giving me side-eye again as soon as she finishes having fun with that new boy-toy of hers—
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the imposing body stepping into my path until it’s too late. A yelp of surprise escapes me as I crash into the solid wall of muscle, and when I look up, I realize it’s not one, but three tall figures.
“Whoa, cupcake, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Blue-green eyes and bronze hair eclipse my vision as Cross grabs my arms to steady me.
Kasian and Theo flank him, one on either side.
“Are you okay?” Kasian asks, looking worried. “Cross said you didn’t show up to your afternoon class, and Theo saw you practically sprinting off campus, so we did a tracking spell on you.”
“If you were trying to give us the slip, you’ll have to be a little sneakier than that,” Cross teases. “Going to see your fourth boyfriend?”
“Very funny,” I snap. I’m not in the mood to be given shit right now.
“You’re right,” Theo says. “This isn’t a laughing matter.” He glares at Cross. “Gabbi running off on her own without telling anyone where she’s going and with no magic to protect her is definitely not something to joke about.”
He sounds offended, and I kind of gape a little in surprise. I didn’t expect Theo to sound so hurt.
“You’re safe though, and that’s what matters,” Kasian says, his tone soothing. “What were you doing?”
“I was trying to find the way to the fae realm.”
“All on your own? Aww, lookit, she’s all grown up!”
Cross’s words are teasing, but I can hear the strain he’s trying to hide in his tone, and I feel like an asshole for running off on my own and making them worry. I reach out and squeeze his hand briefly, and his posture relaxes a little at my touch.
I sigh. “I know we had a plan, and this wasn’t it. It’s just—my professor told me I have to set up a conference with the dean.”
“Which one?”
“Nicholls. But he sounded worried, not like he was angry with me. I can’t blame him for noticing something was wrong.”
“So now you have to go to the dean. Shit.” Cross glances around quickly, but fortunately nobody seems to be listening or even standing near us. “This is bad.”
“Yeah. That’s why I was trying to go to the fae. I need to figure out what happened to Roxie and how we got switched. My time’s running out.”
“I’ll say,” Theo mutters.
“Well, just going to a random subway station probably isn’t going to get you very far,” Kasian reasons.
“Why not? Fae have underground cities.”
“Yes, but they’re also very proud people. They wouldn’t have a dirty, often-used place like this as the entrance to their city. They’d want it to have a little pomp and circumstance.” Kasian seems to consider this for a moment, a small line appearing between his brows. “In our readings, there was talk about fae landmarks in the city. Places that were supposedly marked by the fae or were related to the fae in some way. We can try those.”
Theo nods in agreement. Cross shrugs as if to say sure why not, but if he’s got a better idea, he doesn’t voice it out loud.
Kasian has made a list of the city landmarks, because Kasian is a TA for a reason and actually took a lot of notes in his notebook from our research, and we start looking. I’d be super helpful if this was my Baltimore—I know where everything is. The Star-Spangled Banner fort, the Washington Monument at Mt. Vernon Place… but this isn’t my Baltimore, and the monuments are all different.
We stop by a couple places, and it’s cool to see a bit of the history of Valencia, but neither of them seem to have any fae entrances when the guys do their magic to reveal hidden enchantments. I just stand back while they do their thing. My dinky little charm isn’t going to help at all, and I’d rather not accidentally get hit with a spell while they’re concentrating.
After two busts, we try the third one.
It’s a tall spire that rises up into the sky and looks like a unicorn’s horn. Officially it’s called the McLarson Spire, after the general who won several major battles during the Revolutionary War and was famous for having unicorn blood in his ancestry—or so he and his family always claimed.
Unofficially, it’s called everything from just “the Spire” to “Horny Tower.” Because teenagers exist in every universe.
“McLarson always said that his uni
corn blood came from an ancestor who won a deal with the fae,” Kasian explains. “And the fae supposedly helped McLarson win a few key battles in the war.”
I hope that this one isn’t a bust too.
Holding my breath, I stand back as the three men do a series of complex hand movements. Basically, what they’re trying to do is three spells at once. Theo is doing a spell that detects the presence of fae magic, Cross is doing a spell that reveals all hidden things, and Theo is doing a spell that undoes any traps or locks.
Fae magic is pretty powerful, and I’m not surprised it would take three simultaneous spells to get the portal to reveal itself, if there even is one.
I watch as magic sparks at the men’s fingertips. The way the three of them use it is so practiced and fluid, and I think Professor Nicholls was right—there is an element of dance to it. The same kind of rhythm and fluidity. I almost wonder if there are groups out there that do in fact set their magical spells to music, either to learn them better or for the sake of performances.
If I could do magic, that’s what I’d do. A blending of the two art forms.
There’s also something completely unique about the way each of them does their magic. Kasian’s movements are very precise, as if he’s measured out down to the millimeter how far to turn his hand counterclockwise. There’s something almost militant about it. He’d be an amazing ballet dancer, with his passion for excellence and his patience and discipline.
Theo’s movements, on the other hand, look lazy and spontaneous, as if he’s making them up as he goes. If he were a dancer, I’d say he’d be doing tap and jazz, incorporating that element of fun and spontaneity into classical movements, his feet flying.
Cross, meanwhile, looks like he’s attacking the air. His movements switch from big, forceful gestures to small, calculated ones, but every single one of them feels like he’s trying to drive a stake through the heart of whatever he’s looking at. It’s an almost violent kind of magic. I don’t even know for sure what type of dance he would do. Some kind of battle dance from days of yore? I think, though, if he could find a way to channel it, he’d be great at Latin dances like tango, salsa, and cha-cha.