The Grove

by J. R. King

  “That’s not quite how I remember it,” Kaleb whispered.

  “I bet not,” Rome said.

  Mrs. Brill stopped beside his desk. “Excuse me, Mr. Navarro. Did you have something to add?”

  Rome shook his head tightly.

  “You can read aloud then – the top of page three.”

  Kaleb grinned. “You can read, can’t you?”

  Rome glared at him. “Yes…” He collected himself quietly before reciting the passage. “By 1574, the vampire crisis had ravaged the Irish countryside, devouring most of Scotland and England as it spread. It threatened everything, including the economy and power of the European nations. Less than a year later, the Witches Collective was founded by Alistair Scott, an early settler of the Americas. Scott proposed a radical strike against the vampire threat; and by 1577, that plan was put into effect.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Brill said. “Now, the Witches Collective was a proposal by Alistair Scott, intended to end the war and instill an age of peace. By combining our efforts under one movement, the magical community was able to produce an expendable army, capable of keeping our enemies at bay. It was, in a way, the light in a time of extreme darkness. And although the response was felt, it was far from adequate enough.”

  “What do you mean by expendable?” Rome asked.

  “Why don’t you continue reading and find out?”

  He glanced down at the words. “Because I think you’ll put it more elegantly than a stiff old textbook.”

  “Read,” she said. “It wasn’t a request.”

  He sighed. “The Witches Collective set out to mimic Boyle’s experiments, using similar practices in the conception of their new army. The concept of lycanthropes,” Rome said, pausing to evaluate the word, “originated from…”

  “It’s pronounced: na’wal,” Mrs. Brill said.

  “…from nahuals, which are witches with the ability to transform into beasts. Werewolves, as they are more commonly known, were imbued with an instinctual hatred for vampires. They were created to entice, subdue, and devour them.”

  Rome felt his pant leg crease as a careful hand ghosted over his thigh. Kaleb’s stare held his own, and when the bell rang, he all but jumped out of his seat.

  “Not yet!” the teacher said. “The bells will be off due to this morning’s assembly. I will dismiss you when the lesson is complete.”

  “I’d like to continue,” Kaleb said. His voice was low, his gaze now locked on the front of the room. “The witches of old saved themselves from these terrible beasts by banishing them to another world. A realm they named, Lumara. With nothing left to threaten them, they lived out the rest of their days in peace, unaware of the spectacular mess they had discarded.”

  “That’s quite enough,” the teacher said.

  “Is it? There’s so much more missing from these pages…”

  Mrs. Brill reigned in her reproach, doing the unthinkable and dismissing class early. “You’re all excused,” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll be covering the Salem trials. Be sure to bring your textbooks!”

  Kaleb rose to leave and the teacher hooked a finger at him.

  “Except you, boy. We need to have a chat.”

  Rome waited outside, pressing a shoulder into the wall. The lesson had ended all too soon for his liking, and he wasn’t remotely interested in the version his History text had to tell. “Hey,” he said, hurrying after Kaleb. “Can we talk?”

  Kaleb didn’t bother to look at him when he answered. “No.”

  Rome saw an opportunity and decided to take it. He grabbed Kaleb by the arm, dragging him unceremoniously into an empty classroom. The lock clicked at his back, and he squared off with him. “I wasn’t really asking,” he said. “You’ve got to understand something; this is kind of like the weirdest moments of my life happening all at once. And I’m trying to roll with it, but there are still some things I just don’t get.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Kaleb drifted along the tables, maintaining a healthy distance between them.

  Rome watched him, pacing in the space like a caged animal. “How about this?” he said. “You ask a question, and if I answer it, then I get to do the same.”

  Kaleb stared at him from the opposite side of the room. “Sounds reasonable.” He stood there stiffly, trying to decide on a topic. “Did you know I was going to be here?” he asked. Rome shook his head, and Kaleb hurried to rephrase. “Do you know who I am?”

  “That was two questions,” Rome said. “But no.” He took a moment to compile his thoughts, noting the nervous twitch beneath Kaleb’s eye. “You know what I am though, don’t you?” The smile dressing Kaleb’s face was more than enlightening.

  “Is that why you’re afraid of me?” Rome said.

  “Afraid?” The response Kaleb gave was nearly a snarl.

  “Hey, relax. I don’t want any trouble, alright.”

  “You mean you don’t just want to devour me right now?”

  Rome really didn’t like his tone. “Have you said anything?”

  “Not yet…” Kaleb shrugged. “I’m still thinking on it.”

  Rome watched him take a few calculated steps. “I’m not looking to jeopardize what I have here,” he said.

  “So you’re trying to tell me that it was just a coincidence?”

  Rome pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, attempting to hide how much he was salivating. “I don’t know. And either way, I don’t really care.”

  “You should,” Kaleb said. “You might be surprised to know who you’re staying with.” He strode towards the door, stopping to meet Rome’s gaze. “If you think you’re anything more than a pawn to these people, you’d be sadly mistaken. Vampires aren’t the only thing they shoved through that portal. And as soon as they see you aren’t useful, I’m sure that’s where you’ll be going too.”

  “What do I have to do for you not to say anything?” He watched Kaleb laugh, any real humor devoid from his face.

  “You’re an idiot if you think they don’t already know. How else would a lone wolf have happened to slip under their radar, with just enough luck to be placed at this school on the day of my arrival?” Kaleb shook his head heartily. “First rule of politics: nothing happens by chance.”

  Chapter Five

  Opposites React

  Vardel Academy was teeming with life. Two days ago, it had been as empty as a promise. The air was crisp, rustling leaves outside as students littered the grounds and filled the halls with vibrant chatter. Rome closed his locker, turning to look at the bustling hallway. He unfolded the schedule in his pocket, skimming over it for his next class. As the day had worn on, he’d found himself with less and less certainty about his intentions of staying. The subjects were peculiar, and the teachers… Rome didn’t even know what to make of most of them. He couldn’t say things weren’t interesting, though.

  If only the architecture had been a bit more mundane. It was his first day, but he still didn’t think he should be this lost. Rome double-checked the room number, staring at the doors in front of him. Located between room two-hundred and seventy-three, and room two-hundred and seventy-five was a janitor’s closet. Beyond the last two lonely classrooms at the end of the hall sat an awkward bend (one he rightfully decided to follow). Every time Rome felt like he’d figured this place out, there was more to uncover; more hallways, more nonsensical paths. They had to have done reconstruction at some point, and something, somewhere along the way, had gotten lost.

  The bell rang out just as he found what he’d been looking for. His eyes drifted through the open door and past a slew of unfamiliar faces. The students inside were anything but freshmen. “Excuse me,” he said, tapping his knuckles against the door. “Is this Elements class?”

  The woman standing at the front of the room looked up from her seating chart. “You’re in the right place,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Rome.”

  “Oh, yes. Please, do take a seat.”

  Rome followed
her gesture to an open chair near the middle. It wasn’t until he set his backpack down that he noticed that Danny was seated beside him.

  “And here I thought you’d dropped out on your first day,” Danny said.

  Rome shook his head. “Not yet…”

  He stared up the aisle, squinting curiously at the objects arranged at the front of the room. A ceramic bowl, a clay pot, a feather, a candle, and a light bulb sat atop the narrow, beaten table. Bubbly font proclaimed Ms. Crown’s name on the board just behind them. She began speaking, and Rome tuned out the beginning of her explanation while taking a moment to examine the room.

  The class was older than he’d realized at first glance. It definitely predated any of the ones he’d set foot in so far today. Lined with several perfectly rectangular windows he couldn’t have accounted for from the outside, the paned-glass frames were bolted onto bare stone, giving the walls an unfinished look. Shelves and tables littered with unknown powders and jars were crammed into every crevice, and the wood flooring had been stripped away, leaving only smooth concrete beneath their feet.

  “…In any case,” Ms. Crown said, “elemental magic can manifest quickly. And if we don’t focus on learning control early on, it can have some disastrous effects.”

  A sigh drew Rome’s attention over his shoulder.

  “And what if we don’t have an element?” a girl asked. “Do we really have to sit through this class?”

  “Now, now,” the teacher said, “don’t get impatient. That’s what we’re here to find out. And please, everyone try to remain upbeat. This is a fantastic field of study; and even for those that do not possess an element, it is still very useful to learn the art of defending against elemental attacks.”

  Rome raised his hand.

  “Yes?” the teacher asked.

  “Are you sure I’m supposed to be in this class?”

  Ms. Crown nodded. “Due to your age, the staff felt it more appropriate to start you off here. Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine.

  “Now, the items you see before you have been enchanted,” she said. “If you are naturally attuned to one of them, then it will react to you. Don’t be nervous everyone, but please do exercise caution. Today is mostly about finding out what your elements are. Control… now that will come in time.” Ms. Crown set a fire extinguisher on her desk. “Alright, who’d like to go first?”

  Students jumped up from their seats and hurried towards the front of the room, each hoping to get their turn at the mysterious objects. Rome was less enthused, moving slowly and making his way over to the line. He noticed Ariahna was in this class then. She had been the last to arrive, examining the objects with a wary expression. The teacher broke his focus abruptly.

  “Wait!” she said, stopping the boy who’d eagerly stepped forward. “Let me guess. Guessing is my favorite part.” Ms. Crown stared at him for a moment, resting her fingers underneath her chin. “Fire… Yes, I’m going to say fire for you.”

  Danny leaned into Rome, grinning from ear to ear. “This is my favorite part,” he whispered. “Wait until you see the outcomes. I hear she’s always wrong.”

  The boy approached the items, gazing at the first one set out in front of him. The bowl was filled with water, and he slipped his hand reluctantly into the liquid, watching as it rose towards the lip. When he pulled back, a swirling mass sat in his palm. The boy stared at it, hypnotized for a second before smirking back at his friends. He tossed the ball playfully into the air, catching it smoothly a couple of times. It was on the third throw that it flew just a little too high, touching the ceiling in a moment of suspense before splattering like a water balloon.

  “Oh,” Ms. Crown cried, watching the water drip onto her desk. “That’s why we’re not supposed to be showing off…”

  The boy shrugged apologetically.

  “Please go wait in the area marked for your element.”

  The line moved forward, and next, a girl came to occupy the front. She touched the bowl and the pot, passing over each disappointedly. It was when her finger touched the feather that it began to tremble, and she gazed at the teacher in a startled fashion before withdrawing her hand. Ms. Crown urged her to continue, so the girl reached out again. She’d barely touched the edge of the feather when it jumped into the air, levitating there for a second. It fell back onto the table with a gentle sway, and the girl sighed in relief.

  And so it continued in that fashion, each student hurrying forward in anticipation of making the feather float or the candle spark to life at their touch. One boy managed to make the pot of soil assemble itself into a tiny dirt statue, stacking ledge after ledge until it resembled a set of stairs. He laughed his way over to his designated section, crossing his arms proudly.

  Rome was just hoping he wouldn’t be the only one with nothing to show. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t waited. Danny was next in line, and Rome watched him step up to the table as Ms. Crown tapped her fingers together in contemplation.

  “Hmm… You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” She hemmed and hawed, squinting at him before coming to a decision. “Air,” Ms. Crown said. “You’ve got a flighty nature about you.”

  Danny frowned at her before mumbling, “Thanks?” He turned to the table, glaring at the bowl of water before passing over it entirely. Earth and air were quickly discounted, and he somehow managed to melt part of the candle when attempting fire (which Ms. Crown assured him did not mean he had that element). Only one object remained: the lonely light bulb sitting at the end. No one had even attempted that one yet. No one had gotten that far. Danny stepped towards it determinedly, reaching for the coiled metal.

  The teacher stopped him short.

  “Danny,” she said, “maybe the water…?”

  He glanced back at her, shaking his head. “Not water,” he said. His fingers curled carefully around the shaped glass. The room was silent, all eyes set on him. Seconds slipped by, counted only by the ragged beating of his heart. And then, a soft spark caught his eye. A zip of energy raced up the coil, bright blue and wild. The bulb lit in a sudden burst of light, and the room erupted in gasps.

  Mrs. Crown stuttered at the front of the class. “That is—well—my goodness, I don’t even know what to say! It’s been years since someone’s managed to make that light glow. Danny, this is just fantastic! Electricity will suit you nicely,” she said. “Very well done!”

  Danny smirked. “Told you it wasn’t water…”

  Rome was staring at him as he passed, his eyes slowly drifting back to the front of the line. That’s when he remembered, he was the front of the line. In the time it took him to hesitate, the teacher had already guessed earth. Great, he thought. The one thing he found most interesting had just been taken off his list of possibilities.

  He let out a breath as his fingers slipped through the soothing surface of the water. Rome stared at the shifting image of his reflection. He hoped the disappointment wasn’t showing on his face when he wiped his hand off on his pant leg and moved on to the next. He followed suit with Danny, passing over the pot of soil. The feather and the candle had no reaction, and he didn’t even bother trying the light bulb. Rome shrugged. “There’s always bound to be one, right?”

  “There’s still two to try,” Ms. Crown said. “There will be no giving up in my classroom. I won’t allow it. Now please, continue.”

  “Hey,” Danny said, “just do it. Stranger things have happened than the teacher being right for once.”

  Ms. Crown set her hands questioningly on her hips.

  “Fine,” he said. Rome snatched up the light bulb, holding it for longer than was really necessary to emphasize his point. He set it down a bit too quickly, hearing it clank against the table.

  His fingers slipped into the soil with as much disregard, feeling the moisture in the loose earth. He’d already decided; if this didn’t work, he was walking out of the classroom and not coming back. A pulse snapped him out of the thought. Rome squinted at the dirt, trying to decipher the odd p
ull he’d begun to feel between his heart and his hand. It was tingly, and warm. And just the softest squirm of something against his palm nearly sent him reeling back.

  His whole day had felt like this – like one uncertain surprise after another. The classroom was quiet as vines rose up out of the potted earth. They twisted around his wrist, sprouting small flower buds and leaves. Rome watched as the greenery spread up his bare arm and began to overtake his sleeve. “It’s not stopping,” he said. “What do I do?”

  By now it had reached his hairline, and Ms. Crown was sprouting something of her own – a proud smile. She placed a gentle hand over his shoulder, making the greenery recede just as the flowers began to bloom. “There, you see? As it turns out, I am not always wrong.” A few students snickered at that, and she sighed patiently. She looked past Rome, at the last person in line. “Aria,” Ms. Crown said, “would you like to finish us out?”

  Ariahna smiled before drawing her index finger upwards in the air. The candle lit from several feet away, and she watched Rome’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “That’s alright, Ms. Crown. I already know.”

  They moved to join their respective groups while the teacher sorted out the mess that remained on her desk. She swept the last of the dirt into her open palm before depositing it back in the pot. “Now that we’ve identified what everyone has, why don’t we start by splitting you off into pairs? Since nobody has the sub-element of ice in this class, we’ll have the fire users pair with earth. Water people please pick someone with air or electricity. And air, since there are so many of you, you may pair with whomever else you like.”

  Students dispersed throughout the room, talking and pairing up with friends when they were lucky enough to have opposing elements. Rome had moved towards Danny, despite Ms. Crown’s recommendation. He frowned when Scarlet stepped in front of him, strutting towards Danny with a smile. Her hair might as well have whipped him in the face as she passed. “Danny?” he said.