Shadowspell Academy

by K. F. Breene

  There was that word again. Magical. Uttered in complete seriousness as though it wasn’t straight out of a children’s story written by someone with a crazy imagination.

  Not something I could focus on at the moment, so I didn’t. I ran my hand down my face. “So…what are you saying? What are our options?”

  “I don’t know. We have to run, maybe. Take the money and try to find someone to hide us.”

  He was saying that these people—this school for the…talented—would absolutely kill us to get what they wanted. And what they wanted now was Billy.

  My little brother with the dimples and the out-of-control hair, the little boy that I’d rocked to sleep more than once when we were little, when Mom was too busy. I wasn’t that much older than him, but he…he was mine to protect. Just like Sam was.

  I sagged in my seat. I’d never felt so old or so alone, and for the first time in a long while, I desperately wanted my mother. I wanted to lean my head against her shoulder and breathe in the smell of talcum powder and lilacs that was uniquely her. To feel her arms around me and know that she would somehow make it right.

  Out of a distant memory, but as if spoken right next to my ear, I heard her say, “Take the risk no one else is willing to take. You were born for it, my love.”

  My father’s voice drifted over the moment. “I thought for sure you’d be next,” he said. “I worried I’d have to tie you to your chair to keep you from going. You have less sense than Thomas in that way. But Billy?” He looked up at me, his face stripped of its vitality and the dashing good looks that adorned the pictures on the mantelpiece. “Billy is not even a man yet. And he doesn’t have the survival instinct needed for this. Not him.”

  “I told you, Dad, Billy isn’t going.” I knew what I had to do, the plan forming quickly in my mind. I could pull it off. I had years of prep in my own way.

  “Wild girl of mine. You follow the wind like you always do,” my mother used to say. “The wind and the wild go together, hand in hand.”

  My eyes prickled with a rush of emotion and I dashed any tears before they could fall.

  “And tying me to my chair won’t work. If they’re expecting a boy to fill their ranks—well, then, I need to get a haircut and a sports bra. Instead of Billy, they will get a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Let’s see how they like that.”

  Chapter 4

  I stood in the tiny bathroom of our rundown house, staring at myself in the mirror. The thick, pre-dawn morning air raised goose bumps on my bare arms and across my exposed shoulders. A small tank top hugged my chest over an even tighter sports bra that flattened my already on the small side breasts.

  To help Billy, to save him from being forced to go, I’d have to present myself as a boy. Given that he was only sixteen, still fighting his way through puberty, I had a shot.

  But I’d have to cut my hair.

  I fingered the ends of my thick brown locks, tracing the soft curls that ran to my mid-back. There weren’t many things about me that were girly—there weren’t many occasions for pretty dresses and makeup in farm life—but my hair was high on that short list. It softened my sharp cheekbones and severe jaw line. It made the tiny cleft in my chin seem feminine and less like Clark Kent’s. Without it, my resting bitchface would be boosted to epic proportions, intense enough to make people jump ship in a raging storm to escape me.

  I sighed and gingerly picked up the scissors. With this hair, I’d be pegged for a girl, identified as easily as Ronald McDonald in a lineup of hard thugs. It had to go. I had to set the bitchface free.

  Heart racing and palms sweaty, I pulled one strand of hair away from my face and opened the blades of the scissors. The first cut was the hardest. After that, it would be easier. It had to, or I’d be sitting here all morning instead of getting on the road, trying to get to upstate New York before my father could pry himself from his chair in the living room and stop me.

  “We’ll find another way, Wild,” he said the night before. “We can take the money and hire someone to hide us. I still have a few connections from my school days—I’m sure one of them will help us.”

  I’d always thought my father was a terrible liar, the odd one in a family surprisingly great at manipulations and half-truths, although now, I wasn’t so sure. While I still didn’t know what to make of this magic business, he’d kept information about the academy from us for years. Maybe his fear of the place, or of Mom, had kept him quiet. Because I knew one thing for sure: he was lying through his teeth now.

  None of his “connections” would help us. No one would shelter us from this particular storm. Someone had to go and pull out the threat by the root, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the little boy I’d cared for over the years. He was too pure of heart—too good. He was too much like Tommy.

  No, it had to be me. I had the skills to make it, the ability to adapt in pressured situations. I’d tried to remind my dad of all that. I was the one who’d brought home Whiskers, the bull that would keep our farm going a little longer. A few years ago, he had been the pride of the livestock auction, anticipated to demand a fat price. But with my fast tongue and an ability to read and manipulate, people, I’d gotten him for a fraction of the cost.

  I could use that in this school. I knew I could. And a part of me looked forward to duping the people who’d killed my brother.

  But to do all that, I had to cut this danged hair.

  “I can do this,” I whispered, steeling my courage. I took a deep breath and moved my shaking hand to the dark strand of hair.

  “What are you—” Sam’s voice went straight through me.

  “Ah!” My fingers convulsed and the scissors’ sharp edges cut through a chunk of hair.

  I sucked in a breath as my sister moved closer. She’d walked up without me hearing her. The little fart was getting really good at sneaking around.

  “Here,” Sam said, reaching for the scissors. “I’ll help. You need to get going, you’re running out of time.”

  Her lack of surprise was more than telling.

  “You listened through the vent, didn’t you?” I accused, letting her take the objects of my hair’s soon-to-be destruction. She pointed to the small stool and I sat. “Was it just you, or did Billy listen, too?”

  “Just me. I remembered that envelope from when Tommy got it. Dad hid it in his normal hiding place that time, and I looked through it. It was the same one, right? With all the money?”

  “Yes. This one was meant for Billy.” I stared at her in the mirror, seeing the same hard look I wore. Resting bitchface number two coming right up. The women in our family were if nothing else, survivors. I was proud of her for that, proud that she was hard like me. When I left, I knew she’d keep Billy and Dad safe. My heart gave a funny thump I didn’t like. I rubbed at my chest, knowing it for what it was.

  If I left them, and something bad happened, would they be okay? What if Dad got hurt again? What if the twins got sick? What if, what if, what if. They flowed through my mind, making my anxiety rise with each beat of my heart. They were all I had in this world worth fighting for—but that meant leaving them.

  “Billy’s too young for college,” Sam said.

  “I know.”

  “He’s too nice. He believes me half the time when I tell him fibs.” Her lips quirked upward.

  I smiled back. “I know that too.”

  “He’s too like Tommy.” Her voice dipped low along with her brows as she snipped through the strands of my hair. I flinched as if I could feel each cut. “He wouldn’t stand a chance at a college—special school or not.”

  I huffed out a laugh even though I agreed. “He’s not as sweet as Tommy—he just seems like it because he uses his charisma and dimples to get what he wants. You’d probably get further if you tried that.”

  “I have. It’s easier just to tell people what they want to hear. It saves time.” She shrugged, unbothered by that fact.

  I laughed again. Our mother would’ve been proud of the twins’
ability to get out of trouble. I was pretty sure that was a parenting fail. Then again, when you were down on your luck and barely had two pennies to rub together, some careful and harmless manipulation wasn’t the worst thing in the world if it got you an improved deal. It was better than taking Robin Hood’s approach and flat-out stealing.

  “Regardless,” I said, worry eating my guts, “you’re right. Billy is not old enough for this. Life has already steamrolled me. He’s still too gullible. He’d believe they want the best for him.”

  “I know,” she said softly, slicing through another sheet of my beloved hair.

  “It’ll be up to you to step in with the ranch. You’re better at numbers and managing than Billy is. You’ve got to make that money last as long as you can.”

  “I know.”

  “You can make him cook, though. You’re rubbish at that.”

  Another little smile lifted her lips. “I’m going to be a chef one day, just you watch.”

  “I believe it.” The surest way to get any of us to do something was tell us we weren’t capable, to dare us to show our ability. I closed my eyes, no longer able to bear the sight of my shortening locks. “Make sure everyone shares the duties. Don’t just take it all on because they are lazy and give you flak. I learned that lesson the hard way with all of you. Don’t let them sit in their own stink for too long. You have to yell at Dad sometimes to make him wash up. And he can help in little ways.”

  “I know.”

  “And don’t lose your head and run off with whatever cute boy you have a crush on this week.” I peeked at her in the mirror.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Billy wouldn’t let me, anyway. He threatens anyone who tries to get close. Not like I need the help.”

  I chuckled. Yeah, she was going to be more like me than she realized.

  “He’s protecting you. Tommy and Rory did that with me growing up.”

  “I don’t need protecting. Guys think I’m weak ’cause I’m a girl. But I’ll kick them in the balls and take all their money if they mess with me.”

  I burst out laughing and leaned forward till my forehead touched my knees. Sam swatted me and I sat up straight again.

  “I never needed protecting either.” The words felt ominous, almost like a jinx. I sure hoped I still didn’t need protecting, but I was about to go into the snake pit of the unknown. If my father could be believed and magic did exist, I would be up against a whole lot more than a farmer with a set price for his livestock.

  Chapter 5

  “Please be safe, Wild,” Sam said with tears in her eyes, standing with me at the door.

  Light streaked across the sky in layers of yellow, orange, and pink. The sun wasn’t far from making an appearance over our struggling farm. A mournful, deep moo sounded in the distance, almost like Bluebell knew I was leaving.

  I’ll be back, I thought. I wasn’t going to end up like Tommy. I would fight as dirty as I had to, so I’d come home when this was done.

  I tapped the handle of my knife in its sheath on one hip and then tapped the misshapen crossbody bag hanging over the other hip. The invitation, trinkets, contract, and some of the small fortune were tucked inside. I’d strapped the watch to my wrist.

  My father had said that Tommy had gotten close to forty grand, half of which he’d taken with him, just in case.

  Turned out my mental calculation had been off. Way off. They’d given Billy eighty grand.

  Eighty thousand dollars!

  I’d nearly passed out when we’d counted it and had made Dad count it again to be sure. I couldn’t believe so much money was in a wad in a nondescript envelope on the table for anyone to open.

  I’d left most of the money behind for the family with instructions on where it would help the most. Ten grand was plenty for me. Having spent my childhood trying to one-up Rory, Mr. Mischievous Bad Boy Lacking Morals, without my brother catching on and taking me to task for acting like a common thief or thug, I was good at getting what I needed when I absolutely had to have it.

  “In a game of survival, there are no rules,” my mother had always said. “Play to your God-given strengths, Wild, and don’t feel bad for it.”

  I would live by that now. Mother said so.

  First on the list: steal myself a ride to the airport. A couple days ago I couldn’t get the truck to turn over and hadn’t circled back to figure out the problem. My bad.

  “Take care of everything,” I said softly, hugging Sam tightly. “Make up a lie to appease Billy. Let Dad have some moonshine to ease the blow. And stay out of my room. I’m coming back to it.”

  A tear rolled down her still baby soft cheek. Her red hair flared around her head as the first rays of the sun hit it, a fiery halo. “I guess it’s Billy’s and my turn to grow up, huh?”

  I gave her a sad smile. “That time has come and gone. Now it’s time for you to stop being lazy and letting me handle everything.”

  Her surprised laughter sprayed spit across my face.

  “Nice,” I said, wiping it away, and with it, my own tears.

  “Stay strong,” she said, her large blue eyes tracking me as I walked toward the door. I knew she was quoting our mother just as I’d done in my thoughts. “But don’t be afraid of your weaknesses. Take every opportunity to laugh. Let yourself cry. I’ll hold this place together.”

  God, how many times had Mom said that? Too many to count. I brushed away more tears and turned away with a nod. I’d let myself cry later. Right now, I had to get going. My time was counting down.

  The gravel crunched under my feet as I made my way past the cow paddock and down our long driveway, thinking of the stranger who’d shown up without a sound.

  I still hadn’t figured out where the hell he’d gone.

  Magic, I heard my father’s voice say.

  But I swatted the thought away.

  Near the junction of the main road and our driveway, I turned right at a packed-dirt path, one I’d taken a million times throughout my youth. But now weeds struggled through the hard crust, trying to reclaim the wildness of the land my two accomplices had pounded flat and clear, running to each other’s houses in the long, lazy summer days, or in the wild, storm-thrashed winter evenings.

  A strange tingling sensation between my shoulder blades interrupted my thoughts. Rory’s parents’ house loomed a quarter mile away, a decrepit, sagging structure that should’ve been condemned years ago. Only his father lived there now. Pam had taken off about when Rory did, leaving Buck with no one to pick on. Leaving him alone with his drinking.

  The feeling of being watched coated my body in uncomfortable shivers, my skin twitching like a fly-stung horse. I kept at the same pace, careful not to look around. A predator would attack if they thought their prey had been alerted to their presence.

  I nearly lifted my hand to flick my hair, intending to use the movement to covertly glance to the side—only to remember my hair was now cropped close, a shaggy sort of affair that I’d covered up with a dingy old ball cap. Sam had assured me that while the cut would work for a boy, it could be styled into something more feminine if I needed it. I doubted I would need it.

  Left devoid of that crutch, I adjusted my bag and staged a trip, staggering off to the side and looking behind me at the offending clump of nothing. Trees lined both sides of the path and sprinkled the fields beyond, giving someone ample opportunity to hide. Birds chittered a chorus of warning, alerting their fold that a human walked in their midst. The still morning air left leaves and grasses unmolested. No movement caught my notice.

  In a measured pace, I kept going, focused on my surroundings, ears strained for any sound.

  Because something or someone was there. I was sure of it. Silently stalking me. Mountain lions weren’t as common in our part of Texas, but it was a possibility, and they were incredible hunters.

  And yet, I knew this was no animal. Humans and animals had always triggered different anticipations and expectations under my skin. Essentially, they read d
ifferently when it came to how dangerous they felt. I’d played some intense hide-and-seek with Rory and Tommy when we were kids—to get caught would’ve meant a pummeling.

  Something about the way an animal stalked its prey felt straightforward to me. Scary, but logical. Their motivations were as predictable as their approach. The opposite was true of human hunters. Their style of stalking changed with their mood and emotions, and their ability to stay hidden was enhanced by their increased intelligence.

  Humans were the most dangerous predators.

  The hairs on my arms twitched, a low level of warning rolling through me that had nothing to do with being eaten, and everything to do with being in far more danger than any animal could bring to the table.

  A human, then. An expert with a higher-level intelligence. Apparently, he could move without a sound, hide without disturbing the still foliage, and likely pounce when I was least expecting it.

  A pair of dark sideburns and a condensed body of muscle flashed in my mind’s eye. I increased my pace. At some point, prey was prey, and it needed to scamper off before the predator took it down. If I was up against the man who’d brought me the envelope, I had no illusions about my role in this game of cat and canary.

  I made it to Rory’s old house as quickly as I could without looking like I was hurrying.

  The same old Chevy sat in the gravel driveway, hardly used anymore by the look of it—cobwebs woven between the mirrors and the body, leaves collecting on the cracked wipers. Buck, Rory’s dad, didn’t work, preferring to live off of the state, and had no friends to visit. He’d be inside, sleeping off his nightly alcohol binge.

  I slipped beyond the brown, scraggly hedge and tiptoed along the side of the house to Rory’s old bedroom window. At the base, I paused as a memory from the past assaulted me—Rory clutching my arm, asking Tommy and me not to leave him. I’d been nine at the time, too young to recognize my friend was a scared kid afraid to be alone with the monsters that made up his world. Rory’s dad had started shouting then. The shouts had grown louder, accompanied by the soft sound of his mother’s sobbing. Tommy was the one who’d known what to do. “Come on,” he’d said. “You can stay with us tonight, Rory. They won’t miss you.”