Strange Academy (Hot Paranormal Romance)

by Wilde, Teresa

  “Let’s go to the library after class.” Dot, the acknowledged leader of the Junior Coven, was surrounded by bobble-heads nodding. “And find out about the guy who wrote it.”

  More students poured into the lab, hurrying to get their workstations set up. Their voices turned to indistinct mumbles as they clanked the delicate Erlenmeyer flasks and desiccators needed for today’s experiment, causing him near-physical pain.

  “Mr. Sun,” Gray said. “Those tongs are for crucible lids only, not for pulling Anita’s hair.”

  Anita whirled on Lee Sun, her eyes glowing neon red. “I’ll hex you into next week.”

  “No evil eyes in my lab,” Gray said. “There’s delicate equipment in here. Is everyone set up?”

  They weren’t. He started writing on the board anyway.

  He hadn’t finished when the medieval public address system crackled to life for afternoon announcements. After ear-splitting feedback that made the hydra burst out of Nikkos’s backpack in a wing-flapping frenzy, Cross’s voice filled the room. “Miss Strange’s classes will be taught by Ms. Yaga for the next three days due to an unfortunate accident...”

  With a snap, the chalk in Gray’s hand broke.

  Chapter Twenty

  Helping out with Jewel Jones’s day program was supposed to ease Sadie back into teaching after her three-day quarantine. But kindergarten-age Metas made Sadie’s fifth graders look like an angel choir. They weren’t malicious or anything. Just...needy.

  But for now, they were all mostly occupied, busy with their craft project. The noise level had lowered to a dull roar. They were divided into teams of two or three, taking turns lying on giant pieces of paper on the cafeteria floor, between the tables, making tracings of each other that they would decorate later.

  With the kids distracted, it seemed a perfect time to approach Jewel again about returning Pippa’s letter. Currently, Jewel was bent at the waist, leaning over to inspect the work of one of the teams. She was smiling down at them; the boys were smiling up at her. All smiles, all around.

  It made a bitter taste rise in Sadie’s throat. An inexplicable tension under her ribs warned her of something off. Something not right. She couldn’t help but remember the way that Jewel had nearly stolen the letter out of her hand, just as she’d been about to search it for clues.

  And Jewel had been avoiding her since their coffee weeks ago. It was definitely far past time for her to give Pippa’s letter back. An uncomfortable sensation crept over her, an unease at the idea that this Meta witch was keeping something from her. Not just the physical object of the letter, but something else, some secret...

  Putting on an air of confidence she didn’t quite feel, she caught Jewel’s eye. An ice-blue gaze narrowed on her, but when Sadie motioned her over, Jewel came.

  “So, Miss Jones,” she said, conscious of using her last name in case the children were listening. “I was wondering about my aunt’s letter, if I could—”

  “One moment,” Jewel said.

  She held up one long, slim finger. A silver ring glinted under the fluorescent cafeteria lights. That shining spark was truly lovely. Sadie just wanted to look at it forever. She would give up blinking just to savor every second of that striking twinkle. She knew she was supposed to be helping Jewel look after her class, but that seemed far less important than watching the light play off the ring. Or the pressure building in her ears.

  Suddenly, an intense tiredness came over her, like a curtain being drawn. A pleasant drowsy weight on her mind, compressing all thought, clearing the way for sleep.

  “Miss Strange!” screamed a soprano voice.

  She blinked into full awareness, instinctively scanning for Jewel, but finding no one taller than her waist. Shit, her ears had popped. Had Jewel just mojo’ed her and run away?

  She bit back a string of inventive curses, and concentrated on the voice that had seemed to come from the area of her hip. A six-year-old boy in a plaid shirt looked up at her with expectation in his eyes. He was one of four kids tugging at her skirt.

  “Denny ripped my paper,” a girl in a bubble-gum pink dress complained, her lower lip fat and trembling.

  “Miss Strange,” whispered a boy with crossed legs.

  “I hafta have some crayons.” Another boy thrust out a grubby hand.

  The last girl just seemed to like to hold onto skirts. She held her fist to her mouth, trying not to suck her thumb.

  At Sadie’s feet, a chubby girl lay on the floor on a wide sheet of newsprint, her partner tracing around her body with a fat purple crayon. His pink tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration.

  And Jewel was nowhere. I volunteered to help her with her senior kindergarten class, not teach it, dammit.

  She took a deep breath. She could handle this. They were just six-year-olds.

  “Do you want to start all over again with a new piece of paper, or should I put some tape on the rip Denny made?” she asked Bubblegum Girl.

  She sucked her lip a second. “Tape.”

  “Okay, I’ll be over in a minute,” Sadie told her.

  “I hafta have some crayons.” The demanding hand came out.

  “Wait your turn, Josiah.” She turned to Cross-legged Boy.

  “I hafta have some crayons,” Josiah shouted.

  “Fine.” With a gloved hand, Sadie scooped a burnt umber crayon from the floor and gave it to him.

  Josiah ran off, clutching his prize to his chest like everyone around was conspiring to snatch it away.

  “Uhm, Miss Strange.” The clingy girl tugged on her skirt. “You shouldn’t give Josiah crayons.”

  Cross-legged Boy’s legs were even more crossed.

  She gave him her full attention. “When Ms. Jones comes back, I can take you to the bathroom.” And leave the rest of the kids with Jewel, alleluia. “Can you wait?”

  “Sompthin’ bad happens when you give Josiah crayons.” Clingy Girl clung closer.

  Cross-legged Boy considered carefully before nodding seriously in answer to Sadie’s question.

  “Go color your drawing,” she told him. “Ms. Jones will be back soon.” Sadie turned her attention to Clingy Girl. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

  But Clingy Girl just stared down the long room. Sadie followed her gaze. Josiah’s paper moved, but there was no breeze. Her stomach sank as Clingy Girl’s warning registered. Something bad happens...

  A red-orange thing lifted itself from Josiah’s paper with a growl. Clingy Girl grabbed both Sadie’s legs, locking her in place. An ominous tinkle came from near Cross-legged Boy.

  A snout filled with jagged teeth opened in a thunderous roar. She gulped as the beast stepped out of Josiah’s paper, towering over them all, as tall as the catwalk above the cafeteria. It stood on hind legs, a thick tail lashing behind it, stubby arms hanging uselessly against its chest.

  Tyrannosaurus rex. The king of the thunder lizards.

  But not really. It was a six-year-old boy’s drawing of a T-rex. Its teeth were a zig-zag line. Cafeteria tables showed through the holes where Josiah had missed with the crayon. Did it have what looked like a letter of the Hebrew alphabet scribbled on its head? The dinosaur turned a colored-outside-the-lines eye on the kids, who had stopped drawing to stare.

  “Holy shit,” she swore before she could stop herself.

  “Teacher said a bad word.” Josiah pointed at her. “Get her, Crayon Dino!”

  “Everyone out. Now.” She grabbed the two nearest kids, Clingy Girl and Cross-legged Boy—now Mysteriously Damp Boy—and hauled them toward the exit.

  *

  ***

  ******

  ****

  *

  From his position on the cafeteria catwalk, Gray chuckled. Sadie looked like a hen hustling her chicks out of serious trouble.

  Little did she know the only danger the monster posed was staining the children’s shirts. The thing was made of crayon, after all, not the teeth and claws of a real extinct predator. From his vantage point, h
e could see what she couldn’t. The T-rex was two dimensional, no thicker than a doodle. The chairs it slapped with its tail barely moved an inch. Josiah still had a lot to learn about Talent.

  Still, good thing he’d come to watch over her. Rumors had flown about what had sent her away for three days. Cross had kept quiet, but let the word “quarantine” slip. Gray had come today to ensure she wouldn’t infect any of the students.

  No, he couldn’t lie to himself. He needed to see she was okay. She looked fine. But why was she wearing gloves?

  He returned to the task at hand. He had a couple of potions on him, but if he used them from the catwalk, Sadie would find out he’d been spying.

  A few minutes later, he was outside the door to the cafeteria, watching Sadie, who was trying to drag a fire extinguisher across the hall. Her sweetheart ass wiggled at the effort. Dressed entirely in black, from high-necked blouse to lace-up boots, she looked like an undead schoolmarm.

  “Déjà vu.” He pointed to the fire extinguisher.

  “Gray.” Fear and determination warred on her face.

  And a tinge of relief. She was glad to see him. Good. She seemed to have forgotten about the closet incident. “Where are the kids?” he asked.

  “William Sweetwater was studying in the language lab. He took them.” She grunted with effort as she dragged the extinguisher another inch toward the cafeteria door. “I gave Josiah a crayon and now there’s a T-rex in there.”

  “Why are you wearing gloves?”

  “The bad luck spell,” she said, between heaves.

  “Who hit you with a bad luck spell?” Gray’s fist clenched. Whoever it was, there would be hell to pay.

  “No one. I found it in my classroom.” Struggling, she moved the extinguisher another inch. “It went off by itself. Cross quarantined me for three days in Pippa’s cottage. I had to walk behind his car—it wouldn’t start when I was inside.”

  “Sadie.” Taking her gloved hands, he drew her up.

  He’d only wanted to make her pay attention, but she stepped too close. Each breath pressed her closer to him.

  He drew her glove off. Her lips parted slightly.

  His chest ached when he saw dozens of little slashes in the fine skin of her palm and fingers. “What...”

  “Bad luck paper cuts. Every time I turned a page. The gloves helped.”

  “It never occurred to you to stop reading, I suppose.” He dropped her hands and stepped away. “What do you imagine you’re doing with the fire extinguisher?”

  She glanced toward the double doors. “I’m going to kill that thing or die trying.”

  He hid his laughter behind a choking cough. “Die?”

  “It’s my fault the demon’s here. I’ll deal with it.”

  He looked at the floor until he could trust himself to keep a straight face. “Demons are my job.”

  “No, Gray.” She grabbed the front of his shirt, panic widening her chocolate-brown eyes. “Please. Don’t go in there.”

  Damn. The day he couldn’t take care of a crayon golem, he’d hang up his Bunsen burner for good. But there was something about the pleading look in her eyes...he felt ten feet tall.

  “This is the danger I face every day,” he said, as if he was the hero in a Jerry Bruckheimer film. “Fighting evil. Protecting the innocent. Each moment could be my last.”

  “Gray, I—” She choked on her words.

  “Shhhh.” He laid a finger on her lips, wishing he could stifle his amusement as easily. “Don’t say it.”

  She nodded. “In stories, when knights go into battle, they take a favor.”

  She untucked her filmy black blouse and reached under the waistband of her skirt, drawing out a long, candy-pink, satin ribbon. He was speechless as she tied it around his upper arm.

  “Huh?” he said, finally.

  “Oh, it ties up the back of these undies.”

  His throat went Sahara dry. “So what’s keeping them up now?”

  “Hm.” She considered. “Force of will?”

  “And you expect me to go in there thinking about your underwear?” He pulled her against him. “Are we having a truce?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she stuttered. “Not if you don’t come out of there alive.”

  “And if I beat it?” he asked.

  She pulled his head down to her. The open-mouthed kiss lit a fire inside him. She devoured him, holding nothing back.

  She broke off the kiss, leaving him hard. Their ragged breathing was the only sound in the hall. “Kill it and we will have the truce of your life.”

  He checked down the hall. Empty. Good. He let his smile break through. “I’ve got an insanely strong demon to defeat.”

  *

  ***

  ******

  ****

  *

  Sadie hiked up her skirts and started running. Blood pounded in her ears. Her high heels tapped on the tile like a useless SOS. She had to find help. If the monster killed Gray, she’d never forgive herself.

  She just couldn’t imagine a world without that big alumnus in it, putting himself in danger to rescue the helpless. Okay, so he’d shoved her in a closet. Fighting demons made up for it.

  She heard voices around the next corner and sped up. Let it be someone who can help, she prayed. She slid Risky Business-style around the corner to find herself facing Sterling Gray and Henry Nine.

  Crap. “Boys, it’s not safe here.”

  Sterling and Henry looked at each other. Sterling spoke. “The prefect said Uncle Gray was fighting a golem in the caf and we could watch.”

  “It’s a dangerous demon,” she said. “No watching.”

  “We heard it was a crayon golem Josiah made,” Henry said.

  “Well, yes,” she admitted.

  “A baby could beat a crayon golem.” Sterling laughed. “If we don’t go now, it’ll be over. We won’t see anything.”

  She shut her eyes against the hot humiliation pouring through her. Gray. She fisted her hands.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to miss the show,” she said, and somehow managed to keep her teeth from grinding.

  *

  ***

  ******

  ****

  *

  With satisfaction, Gray crunched down on one of the carrot sticks he’d stolen from the kitchen. Sitting on the cafeteria table gave him a good view of the last bit of crayon melting into a puddle of colored wax. There was nothing like a healthy snack to celebrate a job well done.

  Actually, there was something better. And Sadie had promised him that, too. Too bad she’d never get to see him take on a real demon. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  Unless...hmmm. He grabbed two fistfuls of his Christian Dior shirt and pulled in opposite directions. He was rewarded with a tearing sound as the fabric parted.

  “Sterling,” a familiar voice said. “How does tearing your own shirt help to fight a crayon golem?”

  The back of Gray’s neck went cold. He closed his eyes.

  “Dunno, Miss Strange.”

  He turned to see his nephew, Henry Nine, and Sadie. Sterling and Henry looked confused.

  She tapped her foot. “It seems to me the only reason someone would rip his shirt would be to make the fight look harder than it was. But I’m just a Non. I don’t understand these things.”

  Busted. “Boys, I need to talk to Miss Strange.”

  “Is it over?” Henry asked, disappointment in his tone.

  “C’mon, Henry,” Sterling said. “I heard Mr. Flambeau is going to give a fireball demonstration on the soccer field.”

  “Cool.” The two boys walked toward the caf doors. “I thought you Gray House people weren’t supposed to talk to Nons.”

  Gray saw Sterling shrug. “Miss Strange is...I dunno. She’s okay.”

  “This is your fault,” Gray told Sadie, when they were gone.

  “Really.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t looked up at me with those
big brown eyes like I was some kind of hero.”

  Anger flashed over her face. “Why can’t you ever admit you’re wrong?”

  “Because the heir to the Gray House is never wrong.”

  “I suppose the Gray House heir apologizing is the eighth sign of the apocalypse.”

  “Then you do understand.” He tried a charming grin. “So, about our truce—”

  “I’d rather eat the paint off a house. I want my ribbon.”

  A snake of irritation tightened its coils in his stomach. She’d promised. He wouldn’t let her back out now.

  “We had a deal. I’ve got a meeting tonight. Come to me tomorrow after dinner.” He put the ribbon in his jacket pocket.

  In addition to her promise, they needed to discuss what had happened to her. He was beginning to see her point about these accidents happening. A bad luck spell didn’t just appear out of nowhere.

  Maybe someone was playing nasty tricks on her, testing their powers on a Non for malicious kicks. He might just have to watch over her for a while.

  Her chin jutted. “Don’t hold your breath. On second thought, do. You’d look good in blue.”

  A dark calm settled over him. Not anger. But she would do as he said. No options. “You’re coming to me, Sadie. One way or the other.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One way or the other. Over the next twenty-four hours, Sadie shivered every time she remembered Gray’s words and the self-assured tone of voice he’d used to deliver them. It took something even scarier to get her mind off the subject—what she saw lying in wait for her in the otherwise deserted hallway outside her classroom.

  Instinctively, she retreated around the corner she’d just turned and flattened herself against the industrial green wall. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and her eye twitched mercilessly.

  Something strange was going on.

  Voices murmured. They’d seen her. So. Fight or flight?

  She remembered Pippa accusing her of giving up. Fight, dammit. She wasn’t going to let Pippa down again.

  She rounded the corner, this time projecting outward confidence. The sound of the heels of her black lace-up ankle boots echoed in the hall. She tried not to show her tension under the scrutiny of eighteen pairs of eyes following her progress, their whispers dying as she approached. Every step sent dread into her stomach, because every step brought her closer to her fifth grade English class.