Reckless Witch: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Illumina Academy Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  “That is correct,” she replies, and I’m surprised at the compassion in her voice. “We aren’t certain when our ancestors first encountered The Shadows. All we know is they appeared sometime before the Hell Gates were sealed. We don’t know exactly when our ancestors created the Reaping, but we suspect it happened sometime after the Great Shadow War of the fifth century.”

  “Didn’t do us much good in the last war,” says a guy who looks a little older than me.

  “Are you sure?” Miss Mack asks. “How do you know what we learned in the Reaping isn’t what saved us?”

  “Saved us?” the guy snorts. “We got our asses kicked.”

  She tilts her head. “But we are still here.” Miss Mack runs her gaze across the class. “The one thing we know for sure is that one of our ancestors discovered The Shadows’ one and only weapon is the sowing of fear and hatred.”

  “That sounds stupid,” a guy in the back says.

  Miss Mack takes a few steps left and stops in front of another desk. “You think so? Let’s say that”—she glances around the room and her gaze halts on me—"Leilah Crowe tells Commander Vanderkoff that you intend to spread a rumor that he tried to kill you because you want his job.”

  Every head swivels toward me as if I’m guilty of Miss Mack’s hypothetical accusation.

  “Raith would never believe such a ridiculous lie,” I blurt.

  Something flickers in her eyes and I realize she’s peeved that I called Raith by his first name. What the fuck, are we in junior high?

  “He might,” she says, “if The Shadows have infected him. Feed fear, and doubt multiplies, leading to psychosis leads, which can result in violence.”

  “How do we stop them?” a dark-haired girl asks.

  “Stopping The Shadows is both simple and difficult,” Miss Mack says. “The greatest weapons used to defeat The Shadows are trust, love and harmony.”

  Murmurs of “What?” and “You’ve got to be kidding,” and “That’s stupid,” ripple through the room.

  Miss Mack walks along the front desks. “Yes, at first glance, the idea that love and trust can defeat The Shadows is preposterous. But consider that, with trust present, fear and doubt have little foothold. Trust accompanies some positive emotional attachment—real trust, that is.”

  “Sounds easy,” another student says. “So why were The Shadows able to infect so many people?”

  “Is it easy not to get angry when you learn that someone has told lies about you?” she asks.

  More glances come my way and it occurs to me that Miss Mack is exacting revenge for my fooling around with Ethan. Yeah, she’s got a thing for him.

  “It’s far easier to become angry when we perceive we have been wronged than it is to remain calm and try to ascertain if we really have been wronged, especially if you are already angry, bitter or just very sad.”

  “So, you’re saying The Shadows fuc— mess with our heads?” asks the young boy I peg as a wolf. “They use our emotions against us.”

  Miss Mack pushes her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Right, Billy. They play upon our vulnerability. If a husband lost a wife to illness and blames the doctors or maybe just fate, The Shadows can amplify that sorrow and anger. An enemy that can sow dissent can walk away and let their enemy destroy themselves. What’s tricky, is that they first center you, give you a sense of peace, of purpose. Then that sense of purpose is funneled into your greatest fears and sorrows. The most important thing—the one thing that can save your lives and your sanity—is to remember that you need one another. You must resist the urge to distrust. Stay in the light.” She points at the chalkboard. “Light versus dark. What does that mean?”

  “Light vanquishes dark,” Ariel answers with a smug note in her voice.

  “Good, Ariel. And?” Miss Mack prompts as she slides her gaze across us.

  I slump farther down in my seat.

  “What about you, Leilah?” she asks. There’s a hint of harshness in her voice.

  I hesitate. I’d never bought into the idea that all light is fluffy and good, while all darkness is unequivocally bad. Grams hadn’t either. Nature isn’t all rosy and light. There’s a dark, destructive side that’s necessary to the force of regeneration, she used to say.

  “Leilah?” Miss Mack’s tone ratchets up a notch.

  “There’s no light without darkness,” I say. “And no darkness without light.”

  Several students gasp and heads swivel my way.

  My cheeks warm. Shit. Wrong answer.

  “Spoken like a Crowe,” Miss Mack observes in frozen tones.

  I blink. The students’ snubs I get, but the teachers’?

  Students turn in their seats and stare at me. After three heartbeats, all but Ariel swivel around and begin minding their own business. She watches me with a cold calculation that makes the street witch in me stand at alert.

  Miss Mack returns to the chalkboard and writes a spell in Mandarin. Many of Grams’ potion books contained Mandarin spells. I know a thousand or so, though not this one.

  “Light vanquishes darkness. It was with light, L-I-G-H-T”—Miss Mack jabs the chalk against the board with each letter—“and only light, that the Commanders used to banish The Shadows.” She faces the class. “From birth, we’re taught meditation and creative visualization with color. Who here knows what the different colors mean?”

  “White is for protection,” Ariel says with haughty righteousness. “Green removes toxic emotions.”

  Several other students call out different colors and their uses.

  Miss Mack nods. “Excellent. “Now, what about armor?”

  I try not to roll my eyes. Any witch worth her salt understands metaphysical armor. Without it, we leave ourselves open to all kinds of attacks on the spirit and magical plane—something we’re taught from childhood, as well. Though, I’m ashamed to admit, I don’t rebuild mine as often as I should. With Stony around, I’ve gotten lazy about adding protection.

  “My armor is like a medieval knight’s,” a guy in the back says.

  “Excellent,” Miss Mack says. “What about herbs? As per law, I’m sure everyone here has sachets hung about their homes that contain herbs like chamomile, calendula, basil, angelica…” Her gaze sweeps the classroom.

  “My mother adds allspice and grass,” says one student.

  “Yarrow,” another says.

  “Verbena,” another adds.

  Miss Mack nods. “Good, very good. Protection against negativity, along with the cleansing of toxins is our first defense against Shadow infection.”

  “Isn’t that a spell?” Billy points at the board.

  “It is,” Miss Mack says.

  “But The Shadows feed on magic,” another student says.

  “That’s right, which is why we are very careful about how we practice magic. You High Potential students are here at The Academy because of your power but, as everyone knows, all citizens of Margidda are required to attend school in order to learn how to practice light magic—and light magic only.”

  Translation: that’s the excuse the Illumina uses to control Margidda.

  Miss Mack returns to the board and taps the spell. “This spell is unique because it is performed within a lucid dream.”

  I come to attention. A spell within a lucid dream? That would mean—

  “That means you are casting the spell while maintaining an altered state of mind,” she says, finishing my thought.

  Or an alternate reality.

  “That’s like an alternate reality,” a guy says.

  “There are some who believe dreams are an alternate reality,” Miss Mack says.

  “But lucid dreaming is knowing you’re dreaming and taking charge and even creating in that dream,” the guy says. “That’s different than regular dreaming. You’re creating that dream world.”

  Miss Mack nods. “That is what we have found to be the case.”

  “So it’s a virtual world,” the young shifter says.

&n
bsp; “Virtual worlds are created in the waking world,” Miss Mack replies. “They are not created solely with the mind, as in a lucid dream.”

  “So I can go to, say, Hawaii and check out the chicks in bikinis,” another male student says.

  Laughter ripples through the room.

  “With lucid dreaming, you can create a version of Hawaii in your mind,” Miss Mack says. “But you are not actually visiting Hawaii.”

  “So close,” the guy says, a more laughter.

  “The Shadows can’t feed off magic cast within a dream?” Ariel asks, and I’m surprised at the genuine interest in her voice.

  “There is a fragile balance,” Miss Mack replies. “But, yes. Only a small amount of magic works within a lucid dream—and I do mean lucid dreaming. You must be in total control of the dream. And—this is paramount—the person casting the spell must be at complete harmony within themselves.” She laughs. “Something not easily accomplished in everyday life, much less when facing a foe as insidious as The Shadows.”

  She runs a finger alongside half of the symbols. “This is the section that guides one into the meditative state. Once focused in the meditation, you purposefully step into the lucid dream.”

  My mind races as I scan the instructions. Calm body and breath. Remember something you are grateful for. Affirm: I will focus my attention…I can do it. I will do it. I am doing it. Once in the meditative state, no distractions. From there, you tell yourself to dream, that you own the dream…and the dream begins.

  Then comes the spell…

  “The second half is the incantation that is spoken while in the lucid dream.” Miss Mack points to the symbols that begin the spell.

  I’d never thought about casting a spell during a dream. Why would that be necessary? The spell is complex. Even with all my illegal street witch experience, I know I can’t succeed. Is the focus and concentration that the meditation achieves before the dream begins what is needed to cast such a complicated spell?

  “Let’s have a student demonstration, shall we?” Miss Mack asks. She adjusts her eyeglasses on her nose and scans the room, but I already know who she’s going to pick. “Leilah?”

  I rise and start toward her, but she says, “No, Leilah. Sit back down at your desk. You will enter a dream state. We don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.”

  Thomas sends me a smirk that says that’s exactly what he’d like to see.

  I return to my seat.

  “Typically, a person lies prone while working this magic,” Miss Mack says.

  A shiver of dread slides down my back. Fight The Shadows while lying down? That’s scary as hell. I fix my attention on the blackboard.

  “If you will, Leilah,” Miss Mack orders.

  She retreats to one of the lab tables, leans against it and folds her arms. I try my best to ignore her and the few scattered snickers. Slipping into an altered state of mind is as natural to me as breathing. Grams used to say that I must have spent many lifetimes learning how to achieve altered states. I relax my body as I study the spell’s five symbols. The first four are easy enough: fire, light, peace, earth. I know how to draw my power into the shapes and breath them to life. After all, they were the first things Grams taught me, even before ABCs. But it’s the last symbol I don’t understand. It’s not one I’ve seen more than once or twice, I think. I’m only half sure it means mirror. It’s definitely not a shape I’ve ever breathed life into.

  “Sometime today, Ms. Crowe?” Miss Mack prods.

  More snickers.

  I commit the spell to memory.

  Earth. Check

  Fire. Check.

  Light. Check.

  Peace. Check.

  I close my eyes and am instantly surrounded by trees, blue skies as far as the eye can see, and tall, gently swaying meadow grass. I shift my attention skyward and close my eyes as the sun warms my face. This is one of my favorite places. I’ve come here since childhood. I release a breath, then pull the first Mandarin symbol up in memory.

  Earth.

  Solid. Grounding. My feet connect with the soil beneath me.

  Fire.

  Energy flares inside me, nearly breaking my concentration. I breathe deeply and ignore the commotion that accompanies the symbol. I can’t break the rhythm. To break rhythm while casting a spell is to open a door to chaos. All kinds of bad things happen when a witch halts before finishing a spell. I focus on the next symbol.

  Light.

  Purity, but also power. I wince as brilliant light penetrates my closed eyelids and try to block the roar in my ears. Quickly, I call up the next symbol.

  Peace.

  The roar in my ears dulls and breathing grows less strained. Inside me, the force kicks into a higher gear, like someone just switched the volume to high. Now, for the final symbol.

  Mirror.

  The memory resists.

  Concentrate, Leilah.

  Mirror.

  For a split second, I’m cocooned in an orb of light. Perfect. That’s what I want in the dream.

  The light surrounding me abruptly shatters with an ear-splitting crash. Light folds in on itself, sending bolts of energy back at me. I scream. The lightning jolts are a thousand tiny needles piercing my body.

  This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t happen.

  A deep voice booms over the chaos. Pain doesn’t allow for distraction or concentration. He said something in Fae, I think.

  The lightning vanishes, but the needle pricks still stab. I blink back tears and find myself curled in a ball on the floor, hair covering my face. Someone gently, carefully, pulls me to my feet.

  “Rather irresponsible to cast that spell without full understanding of the magic. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Mack?”

  I recognize that British accent. I snap my head up. Familiar deep blue eyes meet mine.

  “Commander Tyrion,” Miss Mack breathes. “An unexpected pleasure, sir.”

  I yank free of his grip.

  “The pain will dissipate soon,” Blade says.

  I stare. Did she say ‘Commander’? Blade Tyrion? The Fae commander who rallied others during that last stand to save Margidda?

  The smolder in his eyes isn’t sensual, as it had been last night. He’s angry, but not at me.

  “I didn’t think she could cast the spell, sir,” Miss Mack hurriedly explains. “It’s such an advanced spell. It’s like asking her to solve the Hodge conjecture. Who thought she’d get that far? I…”

  Blade smiles at me. “The last symbol is a mirror, Ms. Crowe.” Elegance drips off his every syllable. “Not a literal mirror. It is, instead, the difference. You cannot have light without darkness. Nor can darkness exist without light. The challenge is to understand the difference. That is the symbol’s meaning. Difference.”

  I’m so caught in the alure of his eyes that I struggle to hear what he’s saying. He hasn’t once looked away from me, but I don’t feel awkward. His expression is almost tender. Strange, he hadn’t seemed the tender type in the club. Sexy, likely very inventive in the bedroom. But tender? I feel as if I can fall into those eyes because, beneath the sensuality and polish, he’s there to catch me.

  Those gorgeous eyes crinkle at the edges. “Shall I escort you to the infirmary, Ms. Crowe?”

  I drop my gaze, a little unsettled that, in the span of a few seconds, I’ve so easily fallen under his spell. I’d never had that reaction to a Fae before. Why this one?

  “I’m fine.” I turn toward Miss Mack.

  She’s wide-eyed and obviously mortified that Blade caught her torturing a student. She blinks rapidly and says, “Well done, Ms. Crowe. How brave of you to volunteer to attempt that spell. Please, take your seat.”

  Obviously, Miss Mack wants to sweep the incident under the rug. I’m half tempted to call out her bullshit, but with the anger I sense bubbling in Blade, she’s already in trouble. I decide to vacate the limelight and sit down. My legs are a little weak, but I manage to smoothly lower myself into my seat. Ariel shoo
ts me a dagger-filled look, but I don’t care. Living on the streets, I’ve come across a lot tougher characters than her who don’t like me.

  “Commander Tyrion,” Miss Mack’s coo is a little unsteady. Her guilt rings like a bell. “This is such an honor. What brings you to our class? It’s not often we see you here.”

  “I’m observing,” he replies curtly. “We shall speak later. Until then, Miss Mack, continue.”

  Miss Mack pales and grips the edge of the lab table. All eyes follow Blade as he walks to the back of the classroom. He leans a shoulder against the wall and looks like a damn movie star. His eyes lock onto mine and all I can think is that I haven’t noticed the crease in his cheek before.

  “Shall we move on?” Miss Mack’s high heels click across the room to her desk. When no one responds, she claps her hands. “Students!”

  I turn in my seat along with the rest of the students—all except Fran. Her big brown eyes stare at me. Her faint smile never wavers. I glimpse Blade. He hasn’t moved and his eyes are hooded. I slide down in my seat and face the front. My cheeks heat with the memory of how I’d grabbed his collar and kissed him at the club. I now regret not having gone home with him. If he ever again says ‘my place’ within earshot, I’m going.

  “Voila.” Miss Mack says.

  The gasps in the room jerk my attention back to her. She’s holding aloft a crystal shard, but it’s the dark streaks running through it that make my heart skip a beat.

  “Shadows,” Miss Mack murmurs.

  My heart begins to pound. On the black market, those are worth a king’s ransom. Shadow magic is supposed to be among the most powerful magic in existence. A tremor ripples through my stomach. Grams was certainly powerful enough to harness Shadow magic. Was that why the Illumina pinned the crime on her? There certainly weren’t many witches capable of harnessing that much power. Framing Grams still didn’t make sense.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Ariel’s voice is at least two octaves higher.

  “These are husks,” Miss Mack stresses. She twists the crystal back and forth. “Think of them like deactivated viruses.”

  Deactivated? All sound from the classroom fades as I stare at the crystal. Even Blade vanishes until there’s just me and the trapped Shadow husks. The dark ribbons inside the crystal don’t appear dead. The more I stare at them, the more I imagine them breathing, pulsing. Do I hear soft whispers emanating from the crystal? The sound reminds me of black velvet. So beautiful…