Ritual of Magic (Academy of the Damned Book 2)

by Veronica Shade

  I raise my head and see the white wolf staring at me. If wolves could laugh, she would be laughing at me right now.

  She bares her fangs and moves to lunge at me, but she stops and lets out a sharp whine as a pale green woman steps between us.

  “Begone, All Mother!” the woman yells, hitting the wolf with a staff. The wolf whines again and jumps away. “You have no power here!”

  The wolf paces a few times, snarling and drooling, as though evaluating her options. I hear rustling behind me. I look and see several more green women, all of varying ages but dressed in old-fashioned clothes, standing between the wolf and a large tree.

  The hanging tree.

  I gasp. “By the goddess.”

  The women are all ghosts of people who had been executed here.

  I look back at the wolf and watch as she gives up on her quest to eat me and darts off into the woods, quickly vanishing into the brush.

  The woman who hit the wolf with her staff then stands over me. I can now see the dark bruising around her neck, and I can’t help but feel a little sick.

  “Hurry home, little one,” the woman says. “It’s not safe here.”

  “Who are you?” I ask her as I try to stand, but my legs are shaky.

  The woman looks to the others. They are all fading away.

  “Wait,” I say, but they are gone. I look to the lead woman.

  “That is a story for another time,” she says as she, too, fades from view.

  I sit for a moment with my hands on my knees, trying to stop myself from shivering. It’s not cold; I’m just overwhelmed. Did everything I just experience really happened? Did I really fly? See ghosts? Almost get killed by a wolf?

  I finally force myself to my knees. With the ghost women gone, I can only pray to Hecate as I make my way back to La Voisin that the wolf doesn’t come back for me.

  Chapter 17

  I take a hot shower, washing away not only the dirt and grime but also the cold that has seeped all the way into my bones. It wasn’t cold outside, even when it was raining. But after being chased by the wolf and seeing the ghosts, I just can’t stop shaking. Even though I’m thoroughly clean, I‘m still freezing, so I sink down to the floor of the shower and let the hot water stream over me as I hug my knees to my chest. I can’t believe what happened, what I saw. Impossible things.

  I shake my head and try to pull myself together. I’m fine. I’m alive. I just need to figure out what it all means.

  “Come on, Madison,” I whisper.

  The bathroom light dims for a moment and then comes back to full strength. I hold my breath. I can hear other students “oooh” and then laugh from the hallway and the other rooms. As soon as I got back to the school, the storm picked up again, and it is still raging outside.

  “It’s fine,” I mumble. “Just a power surge from a totally normal thunderstorm.”

  Still, I’m not sure I want to be caught naked if the power does go out. I’m sure I’ve used enough hot water too. I force myself to my feet and shut off the water. I open the shower door, and the bathroom is full of steam, for which I’m grateful. The room is warm and wet and comforting.

  I wrap a towel around me and step onto the fluffy bath mat. But when I wipe the condensation from the mirror and see the green face of the hanged woman, I scream.

  I turn around, but no one is there. When I look back at the mirror, she’s not there either.

  I take in a few short, shuddering breaths and want to cry.

  “It’s just my imagination,” I whisper as I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water. “It’s totally understandable. It’s not every day your life is saved by a four-hundred-year-old ghost.”

  I sigh as I wash my face and apply moisturizer. “And now I’m talking to myself,” I say with a chuckle and a little more volume. “I’m sure that’s totally normal, too, right? Like, a coping mechanism or something. I mean, I doubt there are any self-help books out there for how to deal when you’ve seen a ghost…”

  Or are there?

  I laugh and finish my face-care routine, something I’ve sorely neglected since I left Turkey Hollow. I don’t know if it is just that I’m so busy or the stress or that appearances don’t seem to matter as much here. When I was a cheerleader, I never would have slept with my makeup on. Now, there are plenty of days where I don’t even bother with makeup in the first place. Still, I should never neglect my moisturizer.

  After I use a gust of wind to blow out my hair, I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and put on socks. The days of running around in anything less are over now that the New England autumn has set in. After dressing, I stand at the window for a while and watch the storm.

  Rain streams down the windows, and the sun that was struggling to give light through the thick clouds is setting. It’s not night yet, but the thick gloom of twilight hangs in the atmosphere. I can’t see the yard clearly, but I’m almost certain the statues are moving again.

  I can’t be the only one who has seen them. Does no one else around here ever look out the windows?

  Tomorrow, I’ll head back out with my camera and get evidence that not just my statue man, but all of the statues are moving. I don’t know how or why or what it means, but I will figure out their meaning somehow.

  A jump at a knock on my door.

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  Jaxon enters, and I roll my eyes and look away.

  “Get lost, jerk.”

  “So, you are mad at me,” he says as he steps in, leaving the door open behind him. “I thought so when you wouldn’t talk to me when I saw you downstairs covered in muck. Figured I’d give you time to shower before finding out what happened. Where did you go? I thought you were right behind me.”

  “Just stop talking,” I say. “I told you the storm was coming and we needed to head back. I never should have let you talk me into staying in town. It was stupid and dangerous.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Jaxon says. “I get you’re upset, but chill. I didn’t know it would get that bad. I mean, not like I ever got picked up by a storm before.”

  “Chill?” I ask, crossing my arms. “How dare you. I told you it was dangerous! Why didn’t you listen?”

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he says. “We survived. No one saw us. Everything is fine.”

  “You forced me to use my powers!” I say, stomping my foot. “That was wrong! We shouldn’t have been in that situation.”

  “That’s why you’re mad?” he asks. “Because an air witch had to use her air powers? That’s why we have them! We are blessed by a freakin’ goddess to have powers. We should use them when we need them. What’s messed up is that we have to hide at all.”

  “Well, you can take that up with Ms. Brewster,” I say. “Or your mom. See what they have to say about your Devil-may-care attitude with regard to using powers.”

  “I just don’t see the point of having powers if you aren’t going to use them,” he says. “Especially to save your own skin.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t understand. You’ve never killed someone you love before!”

  Jaxon starts to open his mouth, but then he stops. “Yeah…you’re right. Sorry. If you don’t want to use your powers, if you just want to live a totally normal, mundane life, then you should have that right I guess.”

  The passive-aggressive tone to his words are not missed by me. I turn my back to him, staring out the window again.

  “Fine,” he says. “Whatever.” And I flinch when I hear the door slam behind him.

  I don’t know why I keep giving him chances to be my friend. He’s a jerk, and he thinks he knows everything about being a witch. Well, he doesn’t. I know I sure don’t.

  It’s almost totally dark now as I survey the yard. The rain has eased to a slow drizzle again. I look toward the gate, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of white.

  My heart beats fast in my chest. Was it the wolf? Did she follow me? Why would she have it out for me? What did I eve
r do to her, or the Native girl? Were they even real, or were they apparitions of some kind?

  I shudder as I feel the thrumming on the ground of the wolf’s footsteps as she chased after me. She was definitely real. And the girl, she reminded me a bit of Beau. She seemed modern in her hair and dress, except for elements that reflected her heritage. One string of beads through her hair. The silver ring with Native symbols.

  So, no, they weren’t ghosts. But who are they and how did they know who I am? And why did they seem to be singling me out? I mean, I could understand if they didn’t want any witches here, but there are witches here, and have been for hundreds of years. Why say I didn’t belong?

  I’m probably overthinking things again. Maybe the girl and her wolf would have attacked any witch they happened to catch out in the woods.

  Still, I don’t think I’ll be leaving school grounds by myself any time soon. The last thing I want to do is face that wolf again.

  There’s another short knock on my door, and Krista enters without waiting for an invitation.

  “Hey!” she says. “What are you doing? Let’s go watch a movie or something.”

  I give a half smile. “Thanks. I could use some friends right now.”

  Ivy peeks out from behind her. I hadn’t even seen her come in. “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “Just…Jaxon,” I say as I sit on my bed and pull on some shoes.

  “I heard raised voices,” Ivy says as she nudges my sopping wet shoes from earlier that I left by the door. “Was that you guys?”

  “Probably,” I say. “We had a crazy time in town. The storm was wild. Like, almost unnatural. I had to use my powers to protect us from this churning cloud. It was intense.”

  “Wow.” Krista’s eyes go wide. “How was the rest of the trip to town? I guess I should have sucked it up and went with you.”

  “No way.” I pull my hair into a simple ponytail. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to do anything you are uncomfortable with. But town was…interesting. Here...” I pull out my cell phone and show them the picture I took of the old photograph. “What do you think?”

  Krista looks at the image and then hands it to Ivy who then passes it back to me. “I don’t know. It’s old?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah. It says it’s a picture of La Voisin’s founders. But there are five people in the image instead of four. Weird, huh?”

  Ivy shrugs. “Maybe it’s a friend or librarian or something.”

  “Or someone wrote the wrong thing on the image,” Krista says.

  “I…hadn’t considered that,” I say, taking the phone and looking at it.

  That actually makes really good sense. I keep taking what I read in books as truth. But the information I am getting could be wrong—either intentionally or unintentionally. After all, the faces in the image aren’t clear, and there’s no date. The clothes would indicate the right time period for La Voisin’s founding, so someone who found the photograph later could have just assumed it was the founders, wrote that on there, and didn’t think anything of it.

  In fact, everything I have read so far could be wrong in some way. Even Giselle’s notebook is just her thoughts and ideas. Nothing in there has been tested for accuracy. I guess I need to be more careful about putting so much stock into what I read. All I can really trust is my own eyes. Not that I really know much about what I’m seeing with my own eyes these days either.

  I nod and put the phone away. I’m not sure I can tell them about what happened with the Native girl and the ghosts. It’s all pretty crazy, and I’m not sure I want to drag them deeper into my drama.

  I force a hopefully normal-looking smile at my friends. “So, what movie are we going to watch?”

  That was the first time in longer than I can remember that I just sat down and watched a movie for fun. I think half that school was in the lounge room, eating popcorn, drinking sodas, and watching Hocus Pocus. I mean, it is October. Time to get into the Halloween spirit, even if it is still more than three weeks away.

  It felt nice to be a normal teen again for once.

  After the movie, we all drop our cups and bowls in the kitchen, and everyone heads back up to their rooms. I’m one of the last to leave, and I can’t help but see the massive mess we’re leaving behind.

  I have no idea who is responsible for housekeeping at La Voisin. It’s always clean, but I never see anyone cleaning. I look around the empty kitchen, half expecting a troupe of house elves to enter and start washing the dishes. But when nothing happens, I figure I can wash the dishes myself.

  When I lived at home, cleaning the house was always a good way to clear my head. I go to the sink, roll up my sleeves, and turn on the water. It’s not hard. The dishes are just some buttery bowls and sticky cups. I make quick work of it. When I look around for a cloth to dry the dishes before I put them away and come up empty, I summon a warm breeze instead. They are dry in moments.

  I’m nearly finished putting them away when I hear hushed voices. My heart skips a beat as I remember hearing the whispering in the woods today, but then I calm myself with the reminder that there are living, breathing people in La Voisin house.

  I can’t make out who it is, but the voices sound irritated. The clock on the wall says it’s after midnight, so I figure it must be some of the teachers, not students. I shake my head, trying to ignore the voices. It wouldn’t be right for me to eavesdrop. But as I make my way to the kitchen door, I hear something I cannot ignore.

  “Who summoned that storm?”

  I nearly gasp, but I slap a hand over my mouth. I knew it! I knew the storm was unnatural!

  I cross the kitchen toward a door at the other end, closer to where the voices are coming from. The hall is dark, so I can’t see who it is. I strain to hear the voices float on the air, but they are some distance off, so they’re a little muddled. I can’t quite make out who is talking.

  “I have no idea,” someone replies. “Someone powerful, clearly.”

  “Madison?”

  I raise my head, thinking they are talking to me. That I’ve been caught. But when they keep talking, I realize they are talking about me. They think I could have summoned the storm?

  “No,” one of the voices says. “She’s not powerful enough. Not yet.”

  I want to snort. My goal in coming here might be to learn to calm a storm, but I could never be powerful enough to summon one.

  “Then who?” someone asks. “And why?”

  “To destroy La Voisin?” someone suggests.

  Someone laughs at that. “Let them try. I’d wring their necks.”

  “Well, they got too close for comfort if you ask me,” one of the voices says, growing quieter.

  Footsteps shuffle. The people are moving away.

  I crouch down and move into the dark hallway to follow them. This is good information. It helps put my mind at ease a bit anyway. I wasn’t the target of whoever summoned the storm after all. The school was.

  “What about the statues?” the first voice asks. I have to assume it’s Ms. Brewster, considering the person seems to be in charge, but I can’t say for certain. I can’t see them, and the voices are still distorted. I suppose it could be any woman, even someone I don’t know.

  “What about them?” Duncan Stewart replies. Even with the distortion, I can tell his Scottish brogue.

  “I saw them moving in the storm,” the woman says.

  Ha! So I’m not the only one who saw!

  “We need to do something,” the woman continues. “The ones in the hedge are getting too close to the edge of the school grounds.”

  The ones in the hedge? What does that mean? The statues? And what happens if they get to the edge?

  “Aye,” Mr. Stewart says. “I’ve tried to move them back, but they are too strong. Like they have anchored themselves to the ground.”

  “Then do something about it,” the woman snaps. “Use a sledgehammer if you must.”

  The other woman gasps. “What a horrid thing to say!”
There is a long pause. “Besides, you know we can’t.”

  “Well, we can’t have them reaching the property line either,” the first woman says, clearly irritated.

  “I’ll figure it out.” Mr. Stewart grunts. “Dinna fash.”

  “You better,” the voice says. “Or it will be your neck on the line.”

  At that, the footsteps pick up speed and leave the hallway.

  I sit back and lean against the wall. It’s not a good idea to follow them. I’m lucky I wasn’t caught already. I’m energized though. I want to run to my statue man and tell him what I heard. I’m not crazy! The statues are moving, and I’m not the only one who knows it. And they are reaching for something. The property line. But why? What happens when they reach it?

  I almost laugh, then stand up and turn back down the dark hall toward the kitchen. But when I do, I feel a sudden sharp pain in the back of my head. I think I must have run into something in the dark, but then I slump to the ground, feeling nauseous.

  When my head hits the floor, I hear, “Meddling brat,” in that familiar Scottish brogue just before I pass out.

  Chapter 18

  I wake up with a pounding headache, the sun streaming in through the open blinds of my room. I try to sit up, but the spinning makes me nauseous.

  I lay back down and can tell the pain is coming from the back of my head. I reach up and find a tender knot, but thankfully it’s not bleeding. But considering how sick I feel, I know I probably have a concussion. Sometimes it happened to the girls on the cheer squad if they took a bad fall.

  Since I already had some sleep, it must not be very bad. Some rest and ice and a pain reliever should be all I need. But I’ll have to get out of bed.

  I sit up again, much slower this time, and make my way to the bathroom so I can find some pain pills and get a glass of water.

  Meddling brat.

  I gasp as the words echo through my mind. Mr. Stewart! That’s what happened, why I passed out. He must have hit me over the head with something and then carried me up to my room. It was so late, everyone would have been in their rooms and not seen a thing. If I’d had a roommate, though, he wouldn’t have gotten away with it.