Good Witches Don't Lie (Academy of Shadowed Magic Book 1)

by S. W. Clarke

  So I’d stay. At least until I got answers.

  With that decision made, I thought: A dorm. If I had a dorm, that meant I was a student.

  I stopped. “Aiden, I’ve just jumped off a bridge and crossed through the center of the world. Now, just like that, I’m a student?”

  He stopped with me, coming to stand in front of me. “You didn’t cross through the center of the world, but you’ll understand that in time.” He paused. “And as to being a student, that’s up to you. I’ve only been asked to take you to your dorm.”

  I’d never had a dorm; even as a college student I’d commuted to campus. And I didn’t know how to feel about living in a tiny, strictly non-private space with an unknown quantity of a person.

  Amidst my resistance, a trickle of desire eked its way in. I thought of Maury and his wandering hands. I thought of Tommy Wilson in the sixth grade. And then there was my first foster family…

  They had all used their physical strength against me. And now I had power—unharnessed, but present. Waiting. I didn’t know how much power, but I would like to find out.

  Maybe I do want this.

  I refocused on Aiden. “Who’s my roommate? Do I have a roommate?”

  “You have a roommate.” Aiden spun, started walking. “And you’ll meet her now.”

  Way to answer all my questions in the least helpful way, Mr. Buttoned-Up.

  I paused, feeling eyes on me. When I turned my face and lifted it, I found a black-haired girl of maybe eighteen staring at me from high, high up. She stood on a landing jutting off a tree, and I could have sworn I saw wings peeking from her back.

  But it was mostly her eyes that caught me, luminous in the soft lamplight by her head. That stare could have laser-beamed me into dust.

  “Clementine?” Aiden called. He gestured for me to start first up a staircase winding around a tree, which only allowed us to go up single file.

  I dragged my eyes off the girl and started up the stairs. I heard another groan from Loki as he and Aiden followed.

  Though I’d expected the boards to be wobbly or creak beneath my feet, I found them solid. They didn’t give, which was a comfort. I wasn’t scared of heights, but there also wasn’t a handrail, and as we ascended higher and higher around the tree, I walked closer to the trunk, setting my hand on it.

  “The whole academy is built into the forest?” I said.

  “Yup.” Behind me, Aiden didn’t sound winded at all. “It was constructed eons ago by the fae. They preferred a high-up existence on this plane.”

  I practically missed a step at that. “This plane?” I eyed my cat down by my feet. “I knew there was a fairy realm, Lo-ki.”

  Below me, Loki let out a catty little meow. “Whatever. If you’d seen your eyes when you thought you’d landed in the fairy realm, you would have laughed, too.”

  Aiden chuckled. “There is a fairy realm. But we haven’t had access to it in centuries.”

  “Centuries, huh.” I glanced over my shoulder. That was a mistake; I spotted the ground way, way below me and nearly had a spot of vertigo. But I managed to regain myself before I stumbled.

  Aiden reached out, his hand hovering a little distance from my back before I caught myself. “Careful. Until you can fly, climbing these stairs can be daunting.”

  I ignored his hand and forged on. “Until I can fly?”

  “All witches flew,” he said. “Haven’t you ever read witch lore?”

  “I’ve watched Hocus Pocus,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t all. I remembered my mother reading me a story about a young witch and her broom, and how real the feeling in her voice had been. Almost as though the young witch had existed. “So we fly on brooms? Vacuums? Mops?”

  “No,” Aiden sighed. “Not on vacuums. Gods, you’re…”

  I swung my face over my shoulder, casting an imperious stare. “I’m what?”

  Aiden stopped hard, meeting my eyes. He blinked behind his glasses. “You have a lot to learn, is all.”

  “So do you”—I spun back around and continued climbing—”about sarcasm.”

  Loki snorted. “Way to make friends on your first day, new girl.”

  In secret, I’d always loved this kind of thing. The adversarial swipes. The edgy cuts. And I suspected Aiden did, too.

  “So, I asked, “why are we cut off from the fairies?”

  “Because of the forces of darkness.” He said it as simply as if he were naming a plant or a creature from a textbook. “At a certain point, they encroached so far that the fae didn’t feel it was safe for their world to be connected to ours. So they cut off the fae who were already on Earth from the ones remaining in their realm, and that connection has remained sundered ever since.”

  I came to a landing with another carved door. This one bore a pair of angular wings carved into its surface. They looked like a butterfly’s. “What became of the fae who remained?”

  Aiden shrugged his head toward his shoulder, a nameless expression crossing his face. “Well, they went on. And one of them is behind this door. She might be willing to answer a few of your endless well of questions.”

  I blinked, narrowed my eyes at him. “Questions are the sign of a curious mind.”

  He gazed back at me without an ounce of shame. “Or a lazy one, if you always rely on somebody else to answer them.”

  My mouth opened in mock-offense, even as charged energy curled inside me. He does enjoy this.

  Which made Aiden North my kind of nerd.

  Before I could shoot off my most scathing comeback, the door opened. And from it emerged a contender for Miss Universe.

  My mouth remained open as she stood haloed in light for a single, blinding moment. Before me stood a five-foot-nothing creature straight out of a picture book, purple hair swirling over her shoulders and a pair of elfin ears sticking out from between the tendrils. Wide, gray eyes regarded me with delight, her rosebud of a mouth widening into a smile.

  And, most remarkable of all, she possessed a pair of iridescent wings whose pointed tips rose right to the level of her head. Through them, the room behind her appeared gauzy and lavender.

  I scuffled around inside my cloak, attempting to free my pointing finger but failing to find the edges. Finally, I did. And I impolitely pointed straight at her. “You’re a fairy.”

  Her small, pink mouth widened into a grin, and with the smallest exhale, she stepped—or maybe leapt—from the doorway and threw her arms around me. “I never dreamed I’d meet a real witch.”

  That last part was something I’d have to get used to. Clementine, sure, but when someone called someone else a witch, I was used to things getting nasty—quick.

  Here, being called a witch wasn’t always an insult. Sometimes it was just…a fact.

  I was a witch.

  “Call me Clem.” As much as I didn’t particularly like hugs, it was kind of pleasant to be hugged by this immaculate, sweet creature. She smelled like fresh meadows and vanilla.

  “I’m Evanora Whitewillow. Everyone calls me Eva.” Her voice was muffled by my hair. When she pulled away, she left both hands seated on my shoulders. “I’m so happy you made it here safely. The headmistress said you nearly didn’t.”

  I took in a deep breath. “It’s a story, for sure. Probably best told while inebriated to dull the worst parts.”

  Eva’s eyebrows went up. “Oh…you drink?”

  That had been a joke, but the earnest worry on Eva’s face worried me.

  “I mean, not religiously.” I paused. “Don’t you ever?”

  The fae regarded me with even wider eyes. “We have spiced apple cider on special occasions.”

  I glanced over at Aiden, who only shrugged. “This isn’t like your typical college, Clementine,” he said. “We’re not here for that.”

  There was a vast chasm between the occasional drink and being here for that, but I sensed making that point wouldn’t matter much.

  Loki, who’d at some point appeared at my feet, let out another snicker
. “Oh, they found the perfect place for you, didn’t they?”

  “Okay.” I nodded slowly, twirling a finger first at Eva, then at Aiden. “Don’t worry—I’ll figure out your vices. Both of you.”

  Aiden cleared his throat, stepped forward. “Eva, I’m sure Clem would love to see the room.”

  Eva clapped her hands, apparently grateful to be free of my scrutiny. “Of course. Come in, get settled. I’ve got extras of…well, everything for you to get you comfortable.” She reached for my hand. Her fingers felt like velvet.

  When I turned to Aiden, he was already leaving. “Thanks, mage,” I called out.

  He glanced back, humor crossing his face. “You’re welcome, witch. I’ll be back to escort you to the dining hall in the morning.”

  Escort me. I nearly snorted at that. He was kind of nerdy, and kind of all right.

  Eva pulled me into the center of fresh meadows and vanilla. And I mean the epicenter. The place smelled like a Bed, Bath and Beyond, and I had never seen so many pastels.

  She swept up a few frilly clothes from what I took to be my bed. It was already made with a comforter and sheets. “I’ve been using this bed for visitors. I didn’t expect to have a roommate this late in the semester.”

  I stepped forward, sat down on the edge of the bed; it sank deliciously under me. Loki hopped up beside me, immediately curled up beside the pillow. I knew I would enjoy sleeping on this over the lumpy one I’d rescued from a curb in DC.

  She set the clothes on her own bed, which was almost completely covered in equally frilly pillows. Beside her bed sat a short, neat wooden desk, its surfaces smoothed to bring out the golden hue of the wood.

  To my surprise, a closed laptop sat atop her pristine desk.

  I don’t know why I was surprised by that. I guess I’d gotten the impression that this academy and modern electronics didn’t exist in the same place.

  I pointed at her laptop. “Where do you plug that in?”

  “Oh,” she said, tapping its surface with her nails, “we don’t have electricity here, if that’s what you’re wondering. Everything is powered by magic.”

  “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

  She twirled a hand through the air. “This academy is built almost directly on a line of power. We call them leylines. Headmistress Umbra has mastered the combination of air and fire magic as a wizard, and she long ago cast an enchantment over the academy that allows us the equivalent of electricity.”

  I stared. I couldn’t get around the part where they didn’t plug anything in. I pointed at her desk lamp. “Is that a lightbulb under the shade?”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  “Powered by magic.”

  “Yep.” An enchanting smile grew on her face. “I understand it’s a lot to process, Clem—I grew up in Vienna, among humans, so I know the worlds of humans, fae, and mages. I think that’s why Umbra picked me to be your roommate.”

  My eyes wandered as my brain struggled to activate new neural pathways. Lightning magic. Leylines. Fae. As I surveyed, each part of the room assailed me with its perfectness. No wrong lines. No dirt or dust. Pink and frill abounded.

  And my brain returned to something it understood well.

  This girl definitely has secrets.

  Nobody was this organized and didn’t have at least one skeleton in the closet.

  “How late in the semester is it?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Oh.” Eva straightened, gazing at the calendar pinned above her bed. “Well, we have about three weeks before the semester ends. Then it’ll be winter recess.”

  “So the same as a regular college.” Which meant I was drastically—probably irreconcilably—behind as a student. Especially at an academy for mages.

  Eva smiled. “Yes, just the same.” She crossed to a dresser, pulled open the top drawer. “You need sleeping clothes, don’t you?”

  I glanced down. Beneath the headmistress’s cloak, I was still wearing my dirty pajamas. “Well, I’m actually in desperate need of everything except sleeping clothes.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Pink appeared in her cheeks. “Because of what happened. The headmistress told me a little bit about it. Right… I’ve got an extra uniform.”

  Uniform? Oh, hell no.

  Before I could protest that her clothes were probably too small for me anyway, she had opened the second drawer. From where I sat, I could see she’d folded all her clothes upright, just like Marie Kondo, in perfect order. And I thought again: Secrets.

  People with such exact control over their lives felt out of control in ways not obvious on the surface.

  She pulled out two items with both hands, passed them to me. “Here’s the shirt and the skirt for our uniform. There’s a second blazer in the wardrobe. If these don’t fit, I can get Farina to resize them. She’s the best with tangible manipulations.”

  I was realizing it was best to pretend like I knew what that meant, or else I’d be asking questions all night. “Sure.” I accepted the uniform. “But do we really have to wear this?” I asked with a wink.

  Eva’s eyes went so wide she looked like a Japanese animation. She definitely didn’t know how to interpret my wink. “Yes, it’s school code.”

  I glanced down at the uniform, back up at her. “But look at it.”

  A flash of hurt crossed her face. “For what it is, it’s quite practical. I love not having to debate what I’ll wear each day when I wake up. Really eliminates some mental plaque and frees your mind up for more interesting endeavors.”

  I glanced back down at the uniform. “Mental plaque, huh?” That sounded academically appealing. But I still didn’t want to wear the uniform.

  I mean, I was an adult. This wasn’t high school.

  If I stuck around, I’d have to explore the strictness of the boundaries around “school code” and what it meant to be a student at this place. The foster system had given me excellent training.

  Eva’s hand found my shoulder again. “I think we’re going to get on spectacularly.”

  That wasn’t so much an assessment of this conversation, I could tell, but an attempt to shape the future. She wanted to get on spectacularly.

  I set the uniform aside, only briefly meeting her eyes. This kind of sincerity made me want to lean away. “Thanks for this.” I stifled a faux-yawn.

  Sorry, Eva, but you can’t squeeze water from a stone. And I was that stone.

  She nodded turned away, purple hair floating over her shoulders. “Sure. You seem tired.”

  Truth was, I was exhausted. I’d been woken in the middle of the night, and I was running on four hours of sleep. Even in the midst of all this strangeness, this novelty, finally sitting on a bed had a dulling effect on my brain.

  “Sorry,” I offered, recognizing my own standoffishness.

  She turned back around, smiling. “Don’t be. Sleep.”

  So I did.

  As I lay down in my bed next to Loki in a tree in the middle of the forest in Eastern Europe, I realized for the first time since I’d left the foster system that I had absolutely no way of knowing what tomorrow would bring.

  Everything had gotten strange. And it was only getting stranger.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke to Loki’s wet nose bumping my cheek. Typical; he always wanted food right at dawn.

  He stared down at me, his eyes an inch from my own. “Wake up, chub face.”

  That wasn’t typical.

  I gasped, shooting up to a seat. Around me, the scent of fresh meadows and vanilla wafted through the air.

  And in the other bed, the most lovely, bewinged girl I’d ever seen slept away like Sleeping Beauty. Well, if Sleeping Beauty wore a pink satin eyemask.

  “Holy shit.” Then I threw my hand over my mouth, because the fae in the bed on the other side of the room—yes, she was a fae; it was all coming back to me now—twitched in her sleep.

  Given everything I’d seen from Evanora Whitewillow, she probably valued her be
auty sleep.

  Loki, who’d fallen down to my lap when I sat up, sighed. “Well done. You’ve already offended your new roommate in her subconscious, which is way more powerful than the conscious mind. Now she’ll never give me snacks.”

  My eyes slid down to my cat. “Words are coming out of your mouth.”

  He looked at me with those judgmental, lidded eyes. “We’ve been over this. No, it wasn’t a dream. Yes, this is all real.”

  By now Eva was slowly waking. Her hair remained unmussed as she sat up. “Good morning, Clem.”

  I swallowed. “Hey, Eva.” I resisted calling her fairy.

  And as Loki hopped off my bed and proceeded to butter Eva up, I re-realized that he was right.

  It was all real.

  I was at Shadow’s End Academy. I was a witch. My cat could talk.

  And, as my eyes fell to the uniform still perched on the bed’s edge, I knew I would have to put that thing on.

  Well, best not to start needling the teachers before I’d even met them. So as Eva and I both got out of our beds and she showed me how to use the shower and sink in the small, adjacent bathroom, I determined while washing my face with what felt like real spring water that I wouldn’t bend any rules.

  At least not today. And maybe not until I knew my way around this place, got the lay of the land. I could do that, right? I didn’t always have to do things my way.

  When it came to the uniform, I reluctantly pulled it on piece by piece. The skirt was a green-and-red plaid, just like Catholic school uniforms. I even buttoned the white shirt all the way up, though it felt like a hazard to have my carotid compressed by the stiff collar. In the back, it had two vertical slits. For fae wings, I realized. So I pulled on the blue blazer to cover them.

  Finally, I turned around to face Eva with my arms out. I really wanted to appear uncomfortable. “Ta-da.”

  She gasped. “Oh, it fits you perfectly! No manipulation necessary—well, except for the wingholes.”

  Great. Just what I wasn’t hoping for. But she was right: somehow it fit like a glove.