Mage Shifter

by Lucia Ashta

  “Move!” Sadie roared as she lifted both blades above her head, poised for attack if the pots should do anything outwardly aggressive. That drew the eye of every person near us, and the low murmur spreading across the dining hall directed the rest of the attention our way.

  I flicked concerned glances from Sadie to the messenger flower pots to the row of trolls that had emerged from the kitchens. Though only waist high, including their fluorescent fro-hawks, the pygmy trolls were as fierce as Sadie … and moving in our direction.

  Ky helped Jas up from the table, mindful to take it slowly as she drew her injured leg above the bench seat, and Leander and I took Wren, wrapping one of her arms over each of our shoulders. The rest of our crew jumped ship, abandoning their food to join us in staring warily at Sadie, the flowers, and the approaching troop of trolls.

  Orangesicle, Berry Crush, and Rainbow were in the lead of the trolls. Never had the trolls looked so similar despite the varying tones to their hair. Their little old man faces were arranged in identical scowls, their aprons revealing too much flesh and clenched, angry, tight muscles.

  “What’s going on here?” Berry Crush crackled like splintering wood.

  “You’re disrupting the pleasant atmosphere we work hard to provide,” Rainbow added while crossing his stubby arms over his chest and causing Boone to raise his eyebrows. I wouldn’t have called anything the trolls did pleasant.

  But Orangesicle scanned the length of Sadie while the rest of the dozen or so trolls drew up behind them. “This is my woman,” he announced, though I was almost certain Sadie wasn’t his woman. With Sadie, I could never be entirely certain of anything. “If she’s about to inflict some pain on the messenger flowers, then she’ll have a good reason for it,” he said, and the rest of the trolls listened, tilting their faces up to Sadie, waiting for her explanation.

  “First of all,” she said, not lowering her weapons, “I’m my own woman. And second, can’t you see the messenger flowers are acting all weird? They marched over here to us and hopped on the table.”

  “Maybe they have a message to deliver,” a troll with a turquoise fro-hawk suggested. I was going to call him Turkey. “That is their job, after all,” he added, like we were all a bunch of fools.

  “They’ve never behaved like this before,” Leander said, and all the trolls listened. As second heir to the throne of the fae, the troll folk theoretically owed him deference, though the trolls hadn’t shown much respect to anyone since I’d met them. If they showed respect, it was because they wanted to, not because the troll folk were grouped into the general heading of fae.

  “You’re saying you think the Academy Spell is causing them to misbehave?” Berry Crush asked, tilting his blackberry purple fro-hawk in the direction of the offending flowers.

  But before anyone could reply, the fuchsia flower in the front pot spoke.

  “Lies cause trouble;

  they bury the heart.

  Truth sets you free,

  or causes trouble.

  The result is up to you.

  If you speak,

  you will speak truth.

  It is as I command it.”

  A dense, fuchsia fog circled the plant’s pot as it chanted, and when it was finished, it flashed, dispersing the fog across all of us onlookers.

  I blinked. “Did that flower just put a spell on us?” Disbelief sparked in my voice.

  “Yes,” Sadie replied, her voice tremulous, something I’d never heard from her before.

  “You can’t be serious,” Jas complained. “What happens if we don’t tell the truth?”

  Sadie shrugged in her Wonder Woman t-shirt. “I’m not sure, but I’m in no hurry to find out.”

  “The messenger flowers aren’t allowed to misbehave inside our dining hall,” Turkey thundered. “The dining hall must be in complete order at all times.”

  Well, that couldn’t be the truth, though perhaps it was his truth.

  “This is non … sense,” Jas said, tapering off in a high-pitched squeak. Her light blue eyes bulged in their sockets as she powered on, leaning heavily on Ky, her arm draped around his neck. “A spell can’t force…” She stopped to gasp for air. “A spell can’t … force … anyone to tell…” She stopped talking, panting before throwing her hands in the air. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? As if this wacky school wasn’t bad enough, now we need to watch every single thing we say to make sure it’s the truth?”

  “I don’t think you have to watch anything,” Wren said from between Leander and me. “It looks like the spell will cut you off if you’re fudging the truth.” Wren almost sounded pleased at the idea. She was also the only one among us who’d been raised by peace-loving hippies.

  “You’ll do great, roomie,” Adalia said with a sudden grin. “I’m already looking forward to all the heart-to-hearts we’ll have.”

  Jas’ nostrils flared and she growled, setting her dangling nose ring to swinging. “I can’t take this shit anymore.” But again she trailed off, wheezing. “Okay, fine, I can take this shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.”

  No one argued with her point, not even the spell.

  “I don’t think any of us is going to like this overly much,” Rainbow said from beneath the vertical rainbow stripes of his fro-hawk, his thick brow furrowed with evident displeasure.

  Sadie hesitantly brought her blades down, though she didn’t sheathe them. “I’ll let Sir Lancelot know what happened. He’ll probably want to have the mages from the MAA get on this right away, not that those fruit loops have much of a chance of solving anything. They couldn’t find their asses with their own two hands half the time.”

  We all stared at her, even the trolls, and especially Orangesicle, who mooned over her as much as a grumpy troll could moon. Okay, then. So that was Sadie’s truth. Obviously there was no love lost between her and the sister academy for mages. No wonder she’d studied at the Menagerie even though she wasn’t a paranormal creature. The Academy Spell was wise enough to know where she actually belonged.

  And now the Academy Spell was drunk off its ass.

  “What should we do with the flower pots?” Ky asked after a few beats where we all just stared at them.

  “We’ll deal with them,” Berry Crush said. “They’ve misbehaved, and they deserve to be punished.”

  Boy, the trolls were fierce. Berry Crush spoke his truth in firm, unyielding tones. If he was ready to punish some innocent flowers under the influence, then I was glad I went out of my way to never cross the pygmy trolls.

  A grumble of agreement whispered behind him, and the trolls stepped forward, each bending down to grab an available pot. They mooned all of us, their bare asses hanging out of their aprons as usual, but every one of my friends, including Sadie, stayed tight-lipped. Now was not the time to get into a verbal sparring match with any of the trolls, not when any number of offensive truths might come tumbling out of our mouths.

  There weren’t enough pots for each troll, but each flower pot was a prisoner, held in the iron grip of tiny, stubby, four-fingered hands. Orangesicle gave Sadie a final once-over, then winked at her while rubbing his apron over his belly. Then the trolls turned back toward the kitchens and marched as a group, reminding me of fierce soldiers. They shot reprimands at the gawking students as they passed, and every creature in the dining hall directed their immediate interest to their food.

  My friends and I watched the parade of tiny, round butts until it faded into the kitchens.

  “I hope they take it easy on the flowers,” Adalia said softly.

  I nodded, but didn’t have high hopes for the poor flowers. “The trolls are absolutely terrifying.”

  “Truth,” Wren said. Even the wonky-ass Academy Spell knew it was.

  17

  The weeks flew by and I barely noticed the passing of time amid the chaos the Academy Spell inflicted across most aspects of life at the Menagerie. The messenger flowers hadn’t returned to their usual places, and I feared
the trolls had dealt with them—permanently. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the flowers, yet another casualty of whatever the hell had taken over the school.

  I doubted anyone else spent time thinking of the flowers, what with the latest additions to the ever-expanding list of malfunctions. Usually, student uniforms appeared magically, cleaned and pressed, within our wardrobes in the dorms. I’d long suspected the trolls were responsible for the upkeep of our clothing and rooms, but now I wasn’t so sure. For the last week and a half, clothing appeared apparently at random within our closets. At first, it had been a mix-up of sizes, and I’d had to alternately squeeze into skirts and shirts a size too small, or roll up the waist of my skirt and the sleeves of my shirt because they were too large. Poor Wren, she’d ended up in clothing at least two sizes too big for several days in a row. But this morning things had gotten worse. When I’d gone into my wardrobe to choose my uniform for the day, I’d found only several versions of a man’s uniform. For Wren, it had been the same.

  And though the start to our day had been highly inconvenient as Wren and I tried to make ourselves comfortable in ill-fitting clothing, it hadn’t properly prepared us for how the day would actually go.

  The moment we emerged from our room and into the hallway, Sadie pressed herself to our backs, taking the role of my bodyguard to a whole new level of seriousness, head swiveling in every direction at once it seemed, making me hella nervous. Before we could make it ten steps down the hall, it had started to snow. Inside. In the middle of the academy’s perma-spring weather.

  Wren and I sighed heavily and shook the snowflakes from our long hair, but proceeded onward. If this was as bad as things got today, it would be an improvement.

  “How are you feeling today?” I asked Wren, thankful that the passing of time had brought about her almost full recovery. She still tired faster than before, and was weaker than I remembered her being, but she no longer winced with every movement.

  “I’m feeling even better today, thanks.” She smiled at me, her eyes illuminated with the beginnings of well-being again.

  “I’m so glad. I was really worried about you. It felt like it took forever for you to get better.”

  “It seemed like several forevers to me,” she said. “I can’t believe I caused all that harm just by trying to learn to adjust my size and move. I guess trees aren’t meant to move, huh?” She grimaced timidly, though I didn’t miss the hope flaring in her forest green eyes.

  “I think what happened was an accident, and that it doesn’t at all mean you shouldn’t continue to experiment—just in controlled situations. I can help you.” I smiled. “You should absolutely explore more of what you can do. You’re the only tree shifter McGinty has ever seen.”

  “True.” She flicked snowy accumulation from her shoulders. “But I never would have forgiven myself if Jas hadn’t recovered the full use of her leg.”

  “I know, Wren. I get it, trust me. I can’t help but feel responsible for everything that’s gone down at the school since I first arrived. But thank God Jas is okay now, and getting better each day, just like you.”

  Wren smiled, but I didn’t miss the sadness in her eyes. Rationalizing guilt away was a lot easier to talk about than to feel. I knew my friend carried the burden of the severity of Jas’ injuries every single day, just as I carried the weight of every death and attack that had taken place in my three terms.

  I stopped just short of pushing open the door to the outside, and Sadie, who was walking backwards, covering our retreat, bumped into me. She unsheathed her blades and whirled on me in the same motion.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, hands out in front of me. “Take it easy, Sadie. You’re too jumpy.”

  She didn’t meet my gaze while she spoke, instead scouting the large entryway to the girls’ dormitory. “Things don’t feel right,” she said. “I’m just being cautious, and I think I have every reason to be. You have noticed how crazy this place has gotten, right? You didn’t miss it in your gaga lovey-dovey world with Leander?”

  I didn’t bother answering, shoving the door open instead, forgetting whatever it was I’d been about to tell Wren. I held it open for the two women behind me, and Stacy, Tracy, and Swan turned the corner and swam into view.

  Great.

  “Hold the door,” Tracy said, flicking long blond hair over her shoulder. The buxom trio was in form-fitting uniforms, unlike Wren and me. How were they immune to the Academy Spell’s tricks? Not even Adalia had avoided the prank of ill-fitting clothing.

  The brunette, Swan, paused in the middle of the doorway to glare at me and smirk cattily. “It’s the least you can do after what you did to Stacy.”

  Stacy, right behind her, barked in agreement.

  “I didn’t do anything to Stacy,” I said, and not for the first time. “At least … not intentionally. I didn’t know what I was doing when I performed that spell. I’ve told you that already.”

  Stacy barked several times in a row, no doubt trying to scold me. The upside of her transformation was that I couldn’t understand her, though she was sure to be annoying the vamps we shared the dorm with, who slept during the daytime.

  I smiled tightly, tired of apologizing for something that wasn’t my fault. The second the Cat Pack was through the door, I let it fall shut, spun on the heel of my trusty Converse, and stalked away, Wren and Sadie behind me.

  “You do know it isn’t your fault, right?” Wren whispered. The gropey gaggle was on our heels, big boobs and shiny hair proudly on display, apparently heading toward the dining hall for breakfast too.

  “I do know. Thanks, Wren.” I smiled warmly at my friend, who worried about me nearly as much as Sadie. Taking her arm, I led her off the sidewalk and onto the grass of the large open quad that joined most of the buildings on campus. “Let’s let them get ahead of us,” I said, noticing that Adalia and Jas were making their way from the girls’ dorm toward us. They were in foreign uniforms too. The slight Jas looked like her uniform was in the process of swallowing her for breakfast, with how large it was across her small frame.

  “What’s up, bitches?” Jas called out the moment she was close enough.

  “Hey,” I said, not bothering to correct her. We’d all tired of telling her we didn’t like to be called “bitches.” With Jas, it was usually easier to just let her latest offensive comment pass.

  I opened my mouth to say something else, probably a complaint about our wardrobe malfunctions, but the thought was swallowed whole. Power surged in my veins.

  The jolt of it sent me stumbling. It took me several misplaced steps to catch myself from falling onto the grass.

  “Rina, what’s wrong?” Sadie barked urgently, following me onto the grass, alternating between looking at me and sweeping across our surroundings, searching for my enemy.

  Whatever was happening had its source within me. Magic bubbled up inside me, surging through my veins, my lungs, my brain, pulsing through me with each beat of my heart, spreading and growing.

  Wren and Adalia moved to each side of me, reaching toward me. I shrank in on myself, making sure they couldn’t touch me, before weaving between them and backing away.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warned, rubbing my hands along my arms in an attempt to dispel whatever was moving through me. But of course it was pointless.

  I shrieked, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out. I was burning up from the inside out, and on the outside I was shivering from an imagined cold.

  Another wave of my magic jolted through me, forcing me to contort from the … not exactly pain; it was more like being tickled when you didn’t want to be, nerves stimulated beyond the point of comfort.

  The grass seemed to be growing at preternaturally stimulated rates, winding around my shins. The bright green blades swayed, licking at the skin of my legs.

  “No, no, no,” I mumbled, until a particularly loud moaning and creaking drew my attention to the wily willows that lined the quad. The large trees, with their long flexi
ble branches covered in leaves that reminded me of hair, were moving toward me in slow, lumbering motions.

  “Uh, Rina,” Jas said, but I didn’t bother looking at her; I wasn’t sure I could. My vision was in the process of narrowing, the edges of it clouding with a thick, coppery gold.

  “I think we need to get help,” Adalia was saying, but I didn’t catch the responses, though I realized the others were answering her.

  More magic rocketed through every part of my body, groaning and wailing until I wasn’t entirely sure the sounds came only from the wily willows; some of them might have come from me.

  Blades of grass slid up my thighs, weaving around me like snakes, though I didn’t feel threatened by them.

  “They’d better back the fuck off,” Sadie growled, but I couldn’t tell who or what she was referring to.

  I brushed at the grass before it could climb further up my pant legs. It retreated all the way down to my ankles, as if scolded, before resuming its climb.

  Frantic shouts echoed around me. Though I registered that they were from my friends, my brain didn’t process their words, just their energy. They were freaked out, as I had been, as I probably still should have been. However, a strange sort of calm was overtaking me, so much so that when I felt my mountain lion reaching for me, I barely reacted beyond reaching back for her.

  She was outside of me, wanting in. I longed to feel her as a part of me again like I’d never wished for anything before.

  Inviting her to return to her rightful place inside me, I sensed the first tendrils of her magic drifting toward me. And when the beginnings of her magic began seeping into me, it melded with my mage magic.

  The instability I’d been sensing for weeks now, probably months, rushed forward, erupting up and outward from my body like a shockwave, knocking me to the ground. The blades of grass wrapped around me like vines tugging on my legs, slowing my fall so it was only mildly jarring. My head hit the ground behind me softly, the impact dampened by the thick cushion of long grass.