by Wendi Wilson
Catty, feminine laughter pealed out again and something burst into life inside me. Like an imaginary switch was flipped that I couldn’t turn off. One I didn’t want to turn off.
I saw Easton’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear his words over the buzzing in my ears. A familiar feeling coursed through me, the same feeling I’d had in the shed with the vagrant who tried to attack me.
A rogue thought shot through my mind, one that told me I should stop whatever was happening. I pushed the thought away. The rush of power flowing through my veins felt too good. I reveled in the feeling for a moment, letting it build to even greater heights inside me.
Easton must have seen something in my aura, or in my face, because he shouted my name as I harnessed the power inside me and focused it on my hips. Then I bucked, digging my toes into the mat and raising my hips with one forceful thrust.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
My eyes widened with surprise as Easton flew through the air, landing in a heap on the other side of the mat. They widened even further when I realized every other person in the room was on the floor as well.
And they damned-near popped out of my head when I realized I was watching all of them from above.
I was in the air. I was flying. The instant I realized it, the floor zoomed up toward me and everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
24
“December.”
I could hear someone calling out to me, but the black void I was swimming in was too all-encompassing. I wanted to stay there, where it was safe and warm and free of complications. I liked it there, in the dark.
“December, please wake up.”
Despite my desires, the blackness faded away and I could sense light behind my eyelids. I tried to lift them, but I had to blink a few times to get them to stay open. Once I was able to focus, Easton’s face swam into view.
“Easton?” I croaked out. “What happened?”
“You had a little accident, is all,” he said, his voice gentle. “You hit your head and knocked yourself out.”
“Again?”
I couldn’t believe I’d passed out again.
“Yeah, it’s becoming quite the habit with us,” he said, smiling. “You pass out and I wake you up. Like the story of Sleeping Beauty.”
“I don’t know that one,” I said.
“I’ll explain it later,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”
I took stock of my body and groaned, “My head hurts, and I’m exhausted. Where am I?”
“We’re in Rowan’s office,” he said. “He just stepped out to get you some food. He knew you’d be waking up soon, and that you’d be hungry.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after nine.”
Nine? I’d lost nearly six hours. Geez.
“Do you remember anything?” he asked, and I felt like I’d had this same conversation before.
Because I had.
“Running. Jiu Jitsu. You pinning me to the floor.”
“That’s good,” he encouraged. “What else?”
A memory sparked inside me, just a flash, but I lost it as quick as it came. I tried again to remember, but the creak of a door opening stole my concentration and I glanced over to see Rowan shuffling through the entryway, a large tray in one hand and his cane in the other.
Easton jumped up and rushed over to take the tray from him. Rowan nodded his appreciation, then his eyes landed on me. His face lit up when he saw my eyes were open, and he hobbled over a little more quickly to my side.
That’s when I realized I was propped up in the corner of his sofa, and a fire was roaring in front of me. Rowan sat down next to me, placing his palm against my forehead.
“How are you feeling, December?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Her head hurts,” Easton added.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but his face remained determined. He wasn’t going to let me pretend everything was okay for Rowan’s sake.
Rowan’s hand moved around to the back of my head, and a tingling sensation erupted across my scalp. It was intense for several seconds before it started to die out, taking the pain with it. By the time Rowan removed his hand, I was totally pain-free.
“How’d you do that?” I asked, wobbling my head from side to side, just to make sure the pain was completely gone.
“Healing power,” Rowan said, leaning back against the couch. “I’m afraid it takes a lot out of me these days.”
I sat up, leaning in to peer into his face. It looked a little more pale than usual.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, going into panic mode. “I told you I was okay.”
“It’s quite all right, dear,” he said, patting my knee. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”
As I watched in silence, some of the color returned to his cheeks. I breathed a sigh of relief. Rowan was old—God only knew how old—and it would kill me if something happened to him because of me.
“We should talk about what happened in the gym,” he said, sitting up a little straighter and looking me right in the eye.
“I don’t…really remember,” I admitted.
“Mr. Oberon,” Rowan said, “please describe the events as you remember them, for December’s benefit.”
Easton shot me a look filled with apology, then began to speak.
“We were sparring on the mats. I had her in a full mount, and was encouraging her to bridge out and knock me off of her.”
His words triggered a memory, and I added, “Tiana and Aubrey were there watching. And laughing.”
Easton nodded. “Yes, and I told you to ignore them,” he said with an arched brow. “The next thing I knew, I was across the room, flat on my back.”
I gasped as images of what happened played through my mind on fast-forward. Oh, God. Oh, no.
“What is it, December?” Rowan asked, his voice kind, despite everything. “Do you remember something?”
“I wanted to win,” I said, my eyes stinging. “I wanted to show Easton, and those awful girls, that I could do it. Something inside me…changed. Something powerful built inside me until it burst free. I saw everyone on the floor and…I was in the air.”
The last few words were barely a whisper as I realized the ramifications of that happened. If I was in the air, that meant my wings were out and everyone had seen them.
Everyone knew they were black.
Rowan nodded, his lips turning up at the corners. “Your power is emerging. That’s good.”
“Good?” I asked in disbelief. “How can that be good? I could have hurt someone.”
I wasn’t going to admit that my worst fear, even more so than injuring my fellow students, was that my secret was out. And I’d have to live with the consequences.
“We Sylphs are a tougher lot than you give us credit for,” Rowan said, patting my knee.
“Everyone is fine,” Easton added. “It was a magnificent burst of wind, but the floors and walls are padded. No one got hurt.”
“Wind?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Easton said. “It came out of nowhere.” He looked over at Rowan and added, “I’ve never seen anything like it. There was no build-up. Not even a hint of a breeze before it exploded from her.”
“Interesting,” Rowan said, his eyes glazing over.
“I’m not normal,” I whispered, Easton’s words playing over and over in my mind. “I’m a freak, aren’t I?”
Easton opened his mouth to protest, but Rowan beat him to it.
“No, December. While you are correct in assuming that what you are capable of is not normal, you are, by no means, a freak. Mr. Oberon’s words were most accurate. You are magnificent.”
I wanted his praise to warm my insides and make me feel special, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that not only was I different in appearance, but apparently, my powers were different, too. There was something inherently wrong about me.
“
Do you feel up for some training today, dear?” Rowan asked. “If not, we can postpone until tomorrow.”
As much as I wanted to go curl up in my bed and mope, the prospect of gaining knowledge about myself and the new world in which I found myself immersed was much more tempting. I forced a smile and nodded my head.
“I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Rowan replied, smiling. He looked at Easton. “Mr. Oberon, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course,” Easton said before reaching over and squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
After he left, Rowan offered me the tray he’d brought in. It held a sandwich stuffed with meats and cheeses and a cup of water. My stomach grumbled its thanks and Rowan chuckled, turning to organize some papers on his desk while I ate.
A tap sounded on the door as I washed down the last of the food with water. Rowan shot me a kind smile before calling out for the visitor to enter. The door swung open, revealing an older gentleman with sparkling gray eyes and a beard that rivaled Rowan’s in its length and fullness.
“December,” Rowan said, pointing toward the man, “I’d like you to meet our school’s headmaster, Finn Oberon.”
I had already started to stand, reaching out to grasp the headmaster’s hand, when Rowan mentioned his name. I froze mid-motion, my mouth forming a surprised “o” as my eyes widened.
“Finn Oberon? As in the Finn Oberon?” I squeaked.
The old man smiled, saying, “I see my reputation precedes me. Please, call me Finn.”
He moved a step closer and took my hand, which was still outstretched. I came to my senses and squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude,” I said, my cheeks heating. “Shaela told me a little of the history of this place, and I guess I just assumed…”
“That we were all long-dead?” Finn finished for me when I trailed off. At my nod, he chuckled and looked at Rowan. “You haven’t told her, then?”
My gaze shot to Rowan, who gave his colleague a withering look while saying, “I hadn’t gotten that far, old friend.”
Old friend? What was going on?
“Ms. Thorne,” Finn said, the twinkle in his eye sparkling even brighter, “might I introduce you to Mr. Alvaro Rowan Dobbs, co-founder of Oberon Academy.”
I sucked in a sharp breath as my gaze chased back to Rowan, who had the decency to look embarrassed. I mouthed his full name, but no sound escaped my lips.
“I planned to tell you today, December,” Rowan said, sending his friend an accusatory look. “I decided to wait until you were a little more comfortable here, at the academy and with me, before I dropped that bombshell.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I celebrated my four hundred and ninety-seventh birthday earlier this year.”
“I’m five hundred and three,” Finn said, lifting a palm.
“Wh-what?” I stuttered.
“Breathe, December,” Rowan said.
“You told me Alvaro Dobbs was your great-great grandfather. Or was it three greats?” I said, throwing his own words back at him.
“I know,” he said, an apologetic expression on his face. “Again, as I said before, I didn’t want to shock you unduly on your first day.”
“Will I live that long?” I asked, that shock still spiraling through me.
“Possibly,” Finn said. “We don’t really have a precedent to which we can compare you.”
“What my dear friend means,” Rowan said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, “is that you’re one of a kind.”
I knew what he meant, but my brain just wouldn’t accept it.
“No. That’s not possible, is it? There are no other half-humans here?”
Finn gave me a gentle smile as he reached out and took my hand. “As far as we know, there are no other half-humans anywhere. Dalliances between Sylphids and humans aren’t uncommon, as they tend to find us irresistible, but they have never resulted in offspring. Not until you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
25
The next few weeks rushed by in a busy blur. My classes were fascinating and, with a lot of extra reading and studying, it didn’t take me long to catch up to my peers. So many things I’d learned before were wrong, the facts skewed to make humans look weak and idiotic while making the Zephyrs our larger-than-life heroes.
My courses at Oberon Academy taught me differently. I learned that what I’d felt in my gut had always been true—the Zephyrs let us flounder until near desolation, then revealed themselves to “help” us. They gave us the bare minimum, keeping us completely dependent on the scraps they tossed our way so we could never break free of their hold.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Their hold over humans was the culmination of more than two centuries’ work. While remaining invisible and unknown to the humans, the Zephyrs had manipulated them, whispering into the ears of humankind’s greatest minds while they slept. Giving them the ideas for the very inventions that ultimately caused our downfall. It started with factories that spewed pollution into the sky and eventually evolved into creations that resulted in toxic waste. Waste that poisoned the soil. The water. The very air we breathed.
When we were two steps away from extinction, they appeared. The mighty saviors, come to save the planet we all shared and give us back our lives. Or some version of our lives that included worshipping Zephyrs as gods of mercy and benevolence.
But they weren’t done. The end game wasn’t to make humans eternally indebted to them, willing to do whatever it took to please the Zephyrs and raise themselves socially and financially.
The Zephyrs wanted total domination. After eons of hiding in the shadows, watching humans rule the Earth, they felt it was their turn. They wanted us to serve them completely, living only to please the Zephyrs and catering to their every whim.
They wanted to own us.
And the Sylphids were determined to stop them.
I learned that, surprisingly, Sylphs and Zephyrs were basically two races of the same species. Originally, they all lived together in the same realm, coexisting despite their differences, like two sides of the same coin. Where Zephyrs were self-serving and egotistical, caring only about wealth and power, Sylphids were more social and fun-loving.
I think that fact probably surprised me the most. After living with the Sylphs for more than a month, I’d yet to see evidence of any jovial, celebratory behavior.
With the one exception being Shaela. She was most-often cheerful and full of laughter, coercing me to do things she considered fun, like sneaking down to the kitchen at night to raid the pantry and have a picnic under the stars. Or sneaking up to the observatory to pick flowers for our room. Or sneaking into the woods just to hang out, away from “all the negativity,” as she liked to call it.
The girl was probably a spy in another life, as much as she liked to sneak around.
We were laying on a blanket, staring at the stars with bellies full of apple slices, when I asked her about Sylphs, and why they didn’t seem to be anything like they were in the history books.
“War will do that to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
My head whipped to the side, and I stared at her profile, but she didn’t look at me. She kept her eyes on the sky.
“War?” I asked, when it looked like she wasn’t going to say more.
She sighed and turned her head to stare into my eyes. After a moment of silence, she sat up and spun around to face me, cross-legged. I sat up and mimicked her position, waiting with baited breath for her to speak. I knew that whatever she was about to say, it was big.
“Look around you, December. What do you see?”
I did as she said, saying, “Trees, grass, stars. The school.”
“Is it, though?”
“What?” I asked, confused by her question.
“Is it a school?”
I shrugged, knowing she was leading up to something, but not really sure what.<
br />
“Sure, we live in dorm rooms, go to class, eat in the dining hall,” she said, “but think about what we’re learning. Our classes are all geared toward the study of Zephyrs—their history, their motives, their relationship with the humans—and has little to do with anything else. Then there’s gym, which is all combat training, all the time. We’re either fighting physically, with our bodies, or we’re using magic to battle our opponents.”
“Magic?” I cut in. I hadn’t seen any of that happening as I ran laps and sparred with Easton.
“It’s a second semester course. Ms. Jeannie will change the daily workouts after winter break to include elemental use and conjuration.”
I wanted to interrupt with more questions about the magic, but I could tell Shaela wasn’t finished with her explanation of the school and its purpose. I held my tongue and, with a sad smile, she spoke.
“They’re training us for war, December. Eventually, someone will have to put a stop to the Zephyrs’ grab for power and supremacy. The humans don’t stand a chance against them. At least, not alone. It’s up to us. So, Finn Oberon, Rowan Dobbs, and Robin Goodman opened this school. A place to learn. To train. To create our army.”
She’d stopped referring to Rowan from the old days as Alvaro after I learned the truth—that he was the Alvaro Dobbs that helped found the school. It still sent a little shiver through me when I thought about it. He and our headmaster had been alive for centuries. The thought spurred my next question.
“If they’re training for war, why hasn’t it started yet? I mean, we’re talking hundreds of years here, and nothing has happened. Nothing has changed.”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Numbers, maybe? The Fae live a long time, so they don’t usually have children until they are at least a couple of hundred years old. So it takes a really long time to build up our population. When I told you Robin Goodman is my ancestor, what I meant was that he is my grandfather.”