Urban Mystic Academy: Fourth Project (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 4)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  Poorva and Blake resisted my words, but Courtney exposed herself through a slight smirk.

  I turned to Dom, and he remained tall, shoulders squared, and I knew he was with me.

  The last thing I ever wanted though, was to divide the UMAs. That was not the approach I was going for. But amid the situation, the line drew itself and couldn't be ignored.

  I guess it made sense for a group to have growing pains as it found its ranks and order. I'd just never expected the natural law to affect our group.

  But still, I couldn't escape the judging glares of Poorva and Blake. They were like the UMA police, and their conviction that I'd betrayed them was clear.

  As much as I wanted to return to the wholesome union, I couldn't. My mind was too far gone with the notion of finding Shane. There was just no way I could chance losing him for good. Even if it meant betraying the UMAs.

  I choked down that final thought, surprising myself with its weight.

  At first, I felt terrible about it. But then, I latched onto my desire, my need to make things right, and I knew I had to keep going.

  Blake's voice shot my attention back to the discussion at hand.

  "So where do you stand in all of this, Dom?" he poked.

  Dom turned his gaze to me and said, "I thought that was rather obvious."

  Blake exhaled and shook his head. "Great."

  Poorva's brows lifted in surprise as she studied Dom and me. Suddenly, I became uncomfortable in their scrutiny, thinking that Dom and I had something going on.

  Had we?

  Poorva had always joked about it, telling me I blushed every time I spoke of him.

  But no, they had to know how I was linked to Shane. He was the other half of me, making me whole for the first time in my life.

  But their judging stares sent flutters through my belly, threatening to make me lose hold of my sanity.

  Too much was happening at once, and my mind churned into a mess of confusion.

  I shook my head to clear it and decided to use full honesty with my coven.

  "My priority is to save Shane. And I have to believe, if it was any one of us, lost the way he is, we would do the same for them." I looked to each of them, searching for their opinion on that claim. "Right?" I pressed. "If it were me. If it were any of us. We'd work together to save them. Right?"

  "But to go against Ms. Kelly?" Poorva whimpered.

  "She gave us our knowledge. She helped hone our skills. She knew the day that we work independently would come. She's seen the signs already." The more I spoke, the more I realized the truth. "She knows we plan to do this."

  "Well, not me," Blake blurted. "I intend to wait for her orders."

  "Me too," Poorva said. "This is crazy talk, Brynn. Everything is riding on it. Our existence, for starters."

  I turned to Courtney. She kept her eyes on the floor, refusing to look up. Her avoidance proved I was on my own. Now, I could only pray that Dom would stay with me.

  Without another word, I moved through the chamber, looking on shelves and in boxes. As much as their caution resonated within me, I still believed with all my heart that I was doing the right thing. My gut was strong and urged me forward, proving I was on the right path.

  They watched in silence as I searched the chamber. No one asked what I was looking for. They already knew. But clearly, they'd already looked for the lost pages too, maybe even got rid of them, but didn't say a word.

  My blood boiled in me, thinking they might be withholding the pages from me. But maybe Ms. Kelly had put them somewhere safe.

  As I exhausted every location where they might be hidden, I slowed in my search and gazed at my friends. My shoulders dropped as the air fell out of me in resignation.

  "No one will help me?" I asked. "We'll just leave Shane in the abyss, wandering for all eternity?"

  The silence was deafening.

  I turned to Dom and caught the agony in his gaze. He was either hurting about Shane and his death sentence, or he was preparing himself for the wreckage I was about to face once my darkness set in.

  Either way, his pain would turn to resolve.

  The way mine did.

  And that was what allowed me to walk away without the solution I had come for.

  It was my next steps that rattled me, though.

  Without the lost pages, I had only one other hope—one other lifeline.

  As much as I tried to deny it, I knew I'd turn to Laney again. She was the only one who was willing to play with fire. And without the lost pages, I was stuck. I needed her skill to move forward.

  And going back to her, against the UMAs, would be the moment I sold my soul.

  Dom and I left the chamber in silence. The other UMAs followed behind us, watching curiously as to what our next moves might be.

  They knew they'd left us with little to work with, probably hoping that was enough to stop us.

  But nothing would be enough to stop me.

  My mind was already searching for quick solutions to their roadblock. I only hoped I'd find one that would allow me to live with myself.

  It was clear the direction my planning was going would not.

  With that thought, I slowed my pace outside of the church.

  "Don't let me do anything stupid," I whispered to Dom. "I'm beginning to feel like I can't trust myself."

  I tried to stifle the words as they left my mouth. I knew they would block me from what I was planning. But I couldn't stop them. They were my call for help, and Dom heard it.

  "I won't," he nodded. "I got you."

  I took a huge inhale and let it blow out of me in slow motion.

  As we approached the Jeep, Courtney stormed over to us. Poorva and Blake slowed behind her and watched with sharp focus.

  "Don't fuck this up, Brynn," she barked, louder than necessary.

  My nerves fired from every spot on my body in reaction to her assault.

  She moved closer and pushed me. "You know the pain I've endured. You know the torture," she seethed. "I don't need you going off, half-cocked, and making it worse." She pulled on my jacket as if to hold herself up.

  "Courtney," I gasped. "I would never..."

  She pushed at me one more time, and I fell into the passenger's seat of the Jeep.

  She slammed the door on me and stepped back.

  "We're counting on you to do the right thing," she blasted at the window and turned on her heels.

  She returned to Poorva and Blake as they stood, jaws dropped. She stomped toward them with righteous indignation, as if she showed me.

  At first, I was annoyed, but then I tried to see it from her perspective. She was as deeply woven into the past as the rest of us. Shane. Dom. Me. We were all connected to it in a way that affected our lives in the deepest essence of our beings.

  Courtney was connected to it the most out of all of us.

  I was even convinced she actually belonged in the past.

  And she knew it too.

  Dom slammed his door as he settled into his seat.

  "What the hell was that about?" he spat.

  It was about her knowing action had to be taken.

  I was sure she was urging me forward, without Poorva and Blake knowing.

  Was I crazy to think that?

  I turned to Dom and felt crinkling in my coat by my ribs.

  My eyes widened as I held his gaze.

  Reaching into my jacket, I pulled out a bundle of papers and knew in that instant that Courtney had delivered her message.

  With perfect clarity.

  Chapter 12

  Dom bombed out of the lot as I stared at the ancient papers in my hands. I glanced back and saw Courtney watching as we drove away.

  She'd slipped the lost pages to me.

  She wanted me to try something bold.

  My heart welled up with joy, knowing I wasn't going against all the UMAs.

  Now I had Dom and Courtney to back me up. They had faith that whatever I was about to do, it just might work.

/>   And they each had a lot riding on my success as well.

  Courtney needed closure with her sisters and her life in the past.

  Dom needed, well, I wasn't entirely sure what Dom needed, but it was something like not bursting into wolf-form any more and resolving whatever caused him such deep angst.

  I turned my attention to him as he focused sharply on the road.

  "What's your connection to it all?" I spilled without filter, realizing I had no idea how he fit into everything.

  His hand jolted, shifting the wheel, and we nearly went off the road.

  "Whoa!" I called out. "Didn't mean to strike a nerve."

  He steadied the Jeep and let out a small huff.

  "No, it's just that..." He hesitated. "It's just that we've never really talked about it before. I'm not sure it would be helpful." He shook his head like he wanted to forget the conversation was even happening.

  "Well, I want to know," I said with a shrug. "I want to know your story."

  He exhaled slowly and pressed his mouth to the side. "I don't know what to tell you. This is too much, too fast. Let's just say we'll talk about it another time. Deal?"

  He grinned innocently with lifted brows, and I couldn't fight a face like that. His alluring charm held ridiculous power.

  "Fine," I murmured, keeping my eyes off him.

  Holding my averted gaze on the road didn't help, though. My thoughts spiraled with ideas about him—thoughts like whether he'd ever had a girlfriend, but more importantly, ideas of why he was cursed as a werewolf.

  I cringed from even thinking about his private life but more-so from using the term 'werewolf'. It sounded so childish. But in truth, his condition was far from juvenile. It was full-blown masculine to the point my heart rate accelerated just thinking about it.

  I cracked my knuckles to redirect my thoughts to the present.

  "So, what should we do now?" I asked, noticing we were driving in a new direction.

  "My house," he stated matter-of-factly. "No one's home."

  I swallowed hard and snuck a peek at him with a side-eye.

  "Seriously?" I muttered.

  "Yeah. Can you think of a better place to study an ancient spell for raising the dead? Coffee shop, maybe?" He let out a small laugh.

  He was right.

  The only way to really look at the lost pages would be in total privacy. But I wasn't sure total privacy was such a good idea. I mean, there was no question my heart and soul belonged to Shane. But with Dom around, I couldn't help but think he had other notions. I just wanted to avoid any awkward, distracting situations the best as possible.

  Before long, we turned down a typical suburban road lined with maples and mailboxes. Each house had a similar look with small variations—modest colonials for the most part.

  Halfway down the street, Dom turned into his driveway and pulled right up to the double garage. With a press of a button by his visor, he set a garage door in motion, and it lifted, inviting us in.

  "Will your parents be home soon?" I asked, hopping out of the Jeep.

  He glanced at his phone. "Nah, it's only 3:30. They get home around 7:30 or eight. Workaholics." He shrugged.

  I nodded, thinking of my own mother, probably crashed on the couch with a dirty martini.

  "I guess it's better than a parent who avoids work," I murmured. "I never get any personal space."

  He pushed open the inner door, and we stepped into the downstairs area. I glanced around, and my first impression was positive. Everything was new—a modern, oversized leather sofa, in what must be a man-cave area, took over the space, and the house smelled of sandalwood and lavender. Something told me his dad took charge of decorating, and mom likely focused on the finer details.

  "True. Not sure what's worse, parents who ignore you or parents who are too up in your grill." He headed up the stairs to the main living space, and I followed.

  I watched him climb the steps and couldn't imagine how his parents could ignore him. Any other parents would be proud, wanting to show him off and set him up for success. But it was true, as I thought more about him, he navigated each day as if to just get by. If his parents had pushed him, he'd be so much more.

  I wasn't sure which of our situations was worse.

  "Well, it sounds like both of us have kind of had to raise ourselves in a way," I murmured.

  He slowed at the top of the stairs and glanced back at me. "I guess you could say that." He pulled off his coat and hung it on a hook in the hallway. As I moved out of the stairwell, I did the same thing but kept the lost pages with me. "Hungry?" he asked.

  "Starving."

  How could I be hungry again? I'd gorged myself at Laney's earlier, but I supposed that was a few hours ago, and I had a lot of fasting time to make up for.

  I followed Dom into the kitchen and watched him whip out bread, sliced turkey and cheese, mayo, and pickles. Like a pro, he threw together a bunch of sandwiches and then reached for a gallon container of chocolate milk.

  With only muffled words of satisfaction, we scarfed down the food like our souls had been deprived, requiring replenishment.

  Wiping crumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand, I sat back on my stool and grinned.

  "That was awesome," I said.

  Dom finished his chocolate milk in one chug and smacked the empty pint glass down on the island.

  "Yup. Good stuff," he agreed. "Come on," he said, clearing away the bulk of our mess. "Let's go to my room."

  Feeling like a guilty schoolgirl sneaking around with the class jock, I followed Dom down the hallway to his bedroom. Basic art covered the walls where family pictures of vacations and momentous events should have been. His room was the last door on the right, just after the bathroom.

  He stepped in first and turned back to me. "So, this is my room." He moved aside, allowing me to enter.

  I was immediately drawn to the large windows that overlooked a wooded back yard. Peace and tranquility radiated in through the glass.

  "Do you get deer back there?" I asked.

  I turned to him and watched as he straightened the covers on his unmade bed.

  "Sorry, it's a bit messy," he mumbled. "Yeah, deer come through, turkey's too. And I've seen a coyote or two."

  "That's amazing," I beamed. I would have loved to have a room with such a beautiful view.

  I stepped over to his desk area and perused his numerous trophies. His calculator, notecards, and pens scattered across the surface next to his laptop, but mostly I noticed his personal trinkets. Items like shot glasses from beach towns, ticket stubs from Six Flags and the movie theater, and various river rocks, fishing lures, and a two-dollar bill. It was funny what you could tell of a person from their desktop.

  Then a strange thought occurred to me.

  I'd never been in Shane's room. I didn't even know where he lived.

  "I wonder what Shane's room looks like," I whispered.

  Dom narrowed his eyes on me. "Don't know. That guy was a bit of a mystery."

  "Is," I corrected. "Is a bit of a mystery."

  "Right. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I just meant that I never really knew much about him. Kind of kept to himself a lot. But not in a weird way, more like, a mature way, like he didn't have time for the foolishness of high school."

  "Yeah, I suppose that's what I liked about him." I glanced out the window remembering his face.

  "Like," Dom clarified. "That's what you like about him."

  I huffed with a grin.

  "So should we have a look at those papers?" he said, smoothing his comforter as best as possible.

  He sat on the edge of his queen-sized bed and patted his hand on it to have me sit down too. "Spread them out across the bed," he directed me.

  I gripped the bundle of torn pages and sat across from Dom. Unwinding the cord that held the papers together, I then placed them carefully on the navy blue flannel bedspread. I carefully separated each page, four in total, and set them in order.

  "The
re's writing and pictures on both sides," I said, studying the handwritten scrawl that filled each page.

  The black ink was blotchy, and watermarks made some phrases difficult to read, but for the most part, the ancient pages had been well preserved, showing the worst effects of time through their yellowing, faded appearance.

  "Incantation of Souls," I read aloud from the top of the first page.

  I trailed my eyes along the lines of the spell and looked up at Dom.

  "What if it works?" I whispered.

  "Isn't that what we're hoping?" he replied with raised brows.

  I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I guess so."

  Seeing the infamous pages in front of me sent nervous jitters through my bones. It was suddenly getting very real, and I had to prepare myself for anything.

  "So, we chant these words," I mumbled, turning the page over. "Then, it looks like we're supposed to sit still and silent." A picture of a person sitting cross-legged with their arms raised out to either side filled the backside.

  My eyes moved to the next pages and sketches of a triangular structure, just like the portal with lightning and chaos all around it, depicted more of the story. Whirls of black mist crossed the pages along with more chants, leading to the last page.

  Dom and I leaned over it and stared.

  The last page had ink only on one side. No words, but just a drawing.

  We studied the faded, blotched lines of what appeared to be a butterfly. But upon closer inspection, the body and head of the creature took on an eerie human form. As my eyes widened, taking in every detail, I gasped, recognizing the hollow-eyed skull where it's head should be.

  Death's Head Moth.

  I pulled back from the pages with a gasp. Staring at Dom, I fought the urge to run. My breath sped up to near panting as my heart raced a million miles an hour.

  "It's okay," Dom urged. "Deep breaths. Come to the window."

  He stood and led me over to the glass. As I looked out at the tranquility of the woods, I worked to regain control of my breathing.

  "It's just a panic attack," he said. "You're not dying. You'll be okay."

  His word choice seemed fitting for the occasion, but in all honesty, he understood exactly how I was feeling. My panic attacks always felt like I was dying, and having him say the words helped me gain control over it.