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

by Tarah Scott

  “I haven’t spoken with him in a week,” I lie. It’s been closer to two weeks. “I’ll contact him.”

  “See that you do—immediately,” Olympia replies. “Then report to me right away. I hope his examination of Miriam’s house is more revealing than my own.”

  “You’ve been to the house?” I ask.

  “The first night I arrived.” She looks up at me. “You did not honestly think I would wait upon your convenience to escort me?”

  I dip my head in a slight bow. “Of course not. Forgive me for not escorting you. You found nothing, then?”

  “Not the tiniest trace of remains. As for Shadows, thankfully, the husks you captured seem to be all that is left of what she used. “

  It’s a relief that her investigation confirms ours.

  “I also assume you have heard nothing from Abaddon?” she asks.

  “The usual,” I say. “Those in the underworld might practice magic illegally, but even they have a code that doesn’t tolerate dark magic.”

  “By ‘the usual,’ I assume you mean things like Leilah Crowe selling false identifications?”

  I keep a neutral expression. “Yes.”

  “I want Leilah Crowe watched.”

  I look sharply at her. “We cannot condemn Leilah for her grandmother’s wrongdoings.”

  Olympia lifts her chin. “We are not condemning her. But neither are we naïve. When was the last time you heard of a High White Witch turning to The Shadows?”

  I can’t tell her the truth, for that would give Olympia more power in my life than is wise, but I’ve heard of such a thing once, in Mesopotamia. Even now, after all these millennia, I dare not speak the witch’s name. The Grand Witch wouldn’t know her. No one who hasn’t lived as long as Raith, Ethan, Caleb, Matthias and I would know her. But the ancient witch was as powerful a witch as any I have ever known. She was caught dabbling with Shadows and was burned to death. Thankfully, I wasn’t present, but I understand that her screams and the curses she spat at her killers were heard centuries after she died.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “We do not visit the sins of the parents upon the children. We are not the god of the angels.”

  “Four names preceded Leilah’s, and the wall named her as part of all four clans,” Olympia says. “This, after her grandmother died while consorting with Shadows.”

  So much for Olympia’s humanity. Four of Leila’s names from previous incarnations—especially one as old as Ciarah—shocked me. In all the thousands of years that Ciarah has passed in and out of our lives, we have kept secret our connection to her and, until fairly recently, our connection to one another. We wondered what the consequences might be if the wrong person discovered that beings as ancient as we five were bound to one woman. The Grand Witch of the North is a perfect example of the wrong person.

  “Have you consulted an oracle?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I have yet to decide who I might trust.”

  That is not a good sign. “I sense no evil in Leilah Crowe.”

  “Neither do I. But then, I was completely unaware Miriam was practicing Shadow magic.”

  “The Stone would never name a High Potential who practiced dark arts,” I say.

  “There is only one thing in life that is unchangeable, Blade.” Olympia tilts her head and makes eye contact with me. “Nothing stays the same forever.”

  We reach the southern edge of the garden and the scrape of a boot on the rocky path announces a newcomer. Olympia and I turn to find the new Headmaster, Domini, approaching. There’s something about that man that bothers me. His eyes lock onto mine and I realize he knows about the attempt on Leilah’s life.

  He stops in front of us. “I just learned of the attempt on Ms. Crowe’s life. I was on my way to her dormitory.”

  Franklin gasps in unison with Olympia’s, “A murder attempt?” Her eyes snap onto my face.

  “Ms. Crowe is fine,” I say.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” the Grand Witch demands, but before I can answer, she demands, “What happened?”

  “She was in Ethan’s martial arts class when a spear was yanked from the wall and thrown at her,” Domini says.

  “Who is the culprit?”

  I shake my head. “We don’t know. Magic was used. We have yet to discover who cast the spell.”

  Her mouth thins into a hard line. “In all the Illumina Academies’ years of existence, this has never happened in any school.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “I have our Watchmen investigating the crime scene,” Domini says. “I will want to speak with Ms. Crowe, as will the Watchmen Commander.”

  “Ethan and I are conducting an investigation, as well,” I say.

  Olympia frowns. “Blade—”

  “I must insist,” I say before she can tell me no. “You can well imagine how Ethan feels with one of his students attacked in his own classroom. As you said, Grand Witch, this has never before happened. Our students have always been completely safe at The Academy. This attempt on Ms. Crowe’s life must be met with swift, hard justice.”

  Olympia purses her lips. “I expect you both to report to me upon finding any information.”

  “Of course,” Domini says, and I’m surprised to read genuine worry in his eyes. Maybe the guy is all right, after all.

  She begins walking and Domini and I fall in on each side of her, with her assistant close behind.

  “Domini, we must implement a spell that protects our students.” Her attention shifts to me. “Blade, I find this attack too coincidental given her grandmother was consorting with Shadows before she died.”

  “I do, as well,” I say.”

  “Look into the matter at Miriam’s home immediately. I have yet to receive information from Raith concerning the Watchmen’s investigation into Miriam’s death. Franklin?”

  Her slim assistant steps forward. He’s a strange man, his face so hard to read it might as well have been carved in marble. “Yes, Grand Witch?”

  “Retrieve the Crowe investigation report from Raith. I’ve asked him twice, and I’ll wait no longer.”

  “Yes, Grand Witch,” the young man replies.

  When he doesn’t move, Olympia’s already low voice deepens, “Now.”

  He spins smartly on his heel and heads down the path.

  Olympia faces Domini. “I am sorry that you are walking into this… There are no words.”

  His smile contains the same deadly charm as my own. “No need to apologize. No one could have foreseen this.”

  Her eyes darken. So, the Grand Witch of the North finds the headmaster attractive. He’s a good century younger than she…or, at least, I think so. Perhaps that’s what bothers me. He’s a bit too perfect. Too accomplished. Too appealing…and he’s not even Fae.

  Olympia gives a small smile and I seize the opportunity to say, “If you will excuse me, I am going to have a look at the sparring room.”

  Her eyes snap onto me and she’s all business. “Any news at all, Blade…”

  “Of course.” I hurry away.

  When I step from the garden into the center of the campus, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. I pull my phone from my pocket and read, See me. Now.

  I growl.

  Raith.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  LEILAH

  Rumors, legends and a history lesson

  I’m up at dawn, already claustrophobic after spending less that twenty-four hours locked in my room. At least, Stony is safe—and she didn’t really leave me, after all. I miss her comforting snore, but I’m relieved she’s at Grams’ house. I can imagine all the fun she’ll have, lazing about and eating Chinese food all day. She’s probably going to hope I never return from school. At least, with Stony in the shop, demons will think twice about entering the house.

  I pace my room. I’m not used to being this sedentary. I pause and glance at the desk where my useless phone sits. If I could get a signal, I could, at least, distract myself with som
ething on Netflix. I growl and pace again. The Academy doesn’t have to bother with a jammer. There’s just no signal out here. Nothing to distract me from wondering who tried to kill me and why. Almost more unsettling is wondering exactly what happened in Raith’s office yesterday.

  I still can’t fathom the idea of drinking Raith’s blood…or him drinking mine. Sharing blood with a vampire is highly personal. They might drink from willing—or unwilling—donors, but they seldom share their own blood with anyone except those they care for.

  I snort. There is just no fucking way Mr. Greek God Asshole cares for me. Ethan took me to Raith because I would have died, otherwise. Still, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that a lot more happened when I was dying than The Three have confessed. I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t been able to get them off my mind—Raith, in particular.

  Last night, I didn’t sleep as well as I usually do. Vague images of a dark-haired man too much like him plagued me. The murky image is replaced with Raith’s dark hair curling around the nape of his neck. Fuck, what am I doing? There’s only one explanation for the attraction—yeah, it’s an attraction, as much as I hate to admit it: vampire tricks. Vampires are naturals at manipulating pheromones. And it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a god. But personality and good character overrule looks. Period. Right?

  I shake my head. Forget Raith. Concentrate on figuring out who wants me dead. I’ve never been one to run away from conflict, but nearly dying has me spooked. As far as the students are concerned, I’m the granddaughter of a black witch who died practicing Shadow magic. Yeah, that hurts. It hurts like a bitch. But I can’t blame them for hating and fearing me. They can’t know they’re wrong. If they were right, I should be shunned. But killed? I stop. If the Grand Witch believes Grams is guilty of the crime, she must not love that Grams’ granddaughter has been named a High Potential.

  “Goddammit, Grams. What the hell were you doing?”

  And where is your body?

  An intense sorrow stabs. I can’t even visit her remains. If I didn’t know better, I would almost think that Grams is still punishing me.

  Can a spirit be called from the dead when there is no body on the earthly plane? Were there any pieces of flesh, bone…blood? I wish I’d asked for details. Even if I could, do I want to call her from the dead? Magic dances along the hairs of my arms. The sigil heats and the magic evaporates with a zap.

  “Ow,” I cry, and rub my arms. “Damn you, Ethan.”

  I cross to the window and stare out at the burgeoning light stretching across the sky.

  The Illumina is claiming that Grams died while using Shadow magic. I detected no lies when The Three told me she’d died while practicing dark magic, so they must believe that’s the truth. That, or I’m wrong.

  Or she’s guilty, my inner voice says.

  No fucking way.

  My spidey sense isn’t right a hundred percent of the time. I have to be wrong this time. But wrong about all three men? They believe what they told me. Including that the Shadow husks in Miss Mack’s class were gathered from Grams’ house.

  Impossible.

  Grams hated evil. She lived her whole life in the light and helped others learn white magic. Yet, I am perfectly at home in the dark…in the shadows. I make deals with unsavory characters who operate in the shadows. Despite my efforts, I recall a particular drug lord in Chicago who wanted a disguise that would fool the police when they came looking for him at his girlfriend’s place. He’d paid me enough money to keep Stony and me in our tiny apartment for six months.

  Eddy Hanks hadn’t been the worst drug dealer in Chicago, not by a long shot, but he had a mean streak that would give a badger pause. He did give me pause, but I can’t blame fear of him for my decision. Eddy is human, but his girlfriend is Fae. When the Fae go bad, they’re akin to demons. I’d tried telling myself she was the reason I took his money, but it’s a lie. I was simply weary of being two months behind in rent and fending off my landlord’s sexual advances and his threats of eviction.

  The money got us out of that dump. Yep, I stiffed the bastard of a tenement owner and got Stony and I into a one-room basement apartment with a tiny fridge and a hotplate. We stayed inside the apartment that first week—no criminals, no fake IDs or disguises—and ate Chinese food, a little Mexican, and binge watched half a dozen Netflix series. When I finally took a stroll in my old neighborhood, I learned Eddy was looking for me. He liked my disguise and wanted half a dozen more for the boys in his crew. Bottom line, he wanted to make me his newest bitch.

  I can’t repress a grim smile. I’m good at making fake IDs and disguises; the best, really, and Eddy knew it. What he didn’t know was that when pushed, I can give a badger pause, too. I regret not being there to see the look on his face when the cops busted down his door after getting an anonymous tip that the drug dealer was back at his girlfriend’s place. But, although I might give a badger pause, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to be anywhere that Fae bitch could sense me when the cops hauled her boyfriend away.

  I lean my forehead against the cold widow pane. I wish I could say I turned Eddy in because he was a world class asshole, but I did it to save my and Stony’s bacon. What’s worse, Eddy isn’t the only person outside of the law I’ve helped. Maybe Raith is right. Maybe I am no good. Maybe Grams wasn’t any good, either. She did kick her fifteen-year-old granddaughter out onto the street.

  I straighten. Did she kick me out so that she could practice Shadow magic?

  A loud knock on my door brings me bolt upright in bed. It takes several heartbeats before I remember that I’d crawled back into bed just as sunlight began to reach across the sky. Sunlight now streams in through the window. The knock persists.

  “All right, all right,” I mutter, and jump from bed.

  I cross to the door and sense the absence of magic as I open the door. I blink at the sight of a man the size of a troll, dressed in body armor, standing at my door. Watchman.

  He informs me that he’s my escort for the day while I attend classes.

  I blink. “What time is it?”

  “Nine,” he replies.

  I have a 9:30 class, but had assumed Raith would keep me incarcerated indefinitely. Hell, I’m not going to argue with good fortune.

  I tell the Watchman to hold on, then close the door, quickly change my sweats for jeans and a t-shirt, grab my jacket, and rush out the door before word can arrive that Raith wants to keep me locked up. I ignore the Watchman as he falls in beside me in the hallway.

  I grab a quick bagel and coffee—also ignoring the stares the Watchman elicits—then head to History class. History. I can’t believe it. I really am in high school. I walk a little faster. The damn Watchman keeps pace alongside me without breaking a sweat.

  We reach the classroom and I give the Watchman a cool look as he turns and leans against the wall outside the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. I enter the room and head for the back of the class. Stares follow my walk to the far corner desk. Apparently, everyone has heard about my near death. Popularity isn’t as grand as I thought it would be.

  I drop into my seat as Thomas and his sidekick, the shrew fairy Ariel, enter. Their gazes lock onto me. One look at their dark expressions and I tense. Thomas brushes past Ariel and reaches me first.

  “Proud of yourself?” he hisses under his breath. Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he adds, “You got Miss Mack suspended.”

  I blink. “She’s gone?”

  “There’s only one way you could have succeeded in getting her out of The Academy,” Ariel spits as she joins Thomas.

  The other students in the room are now openly staring.

  I keep my gaze glued on Ariel. “The fact Miss Mack experimented on her students had nothing to do with her getting tossed out?”

  Ariel’s eyes narrow.

  “Look,” I force a calm tone, “I didn’t say anything about Miss Mack.” I’m betting Blade did, though, and the knowledge elicits a stran
ge wave of affection.

  I catch sight of Fran as she enters and heads my way.

  “We don’t allow black magic here,” Ariel says.

  Black magic? That’s their gambit? I should have known it wasn’t my near death that has everyone whispering. I never really stood a chance of being accepted here.

  Thank you, Grams. I direct the thought outward before catching myself and stifle a gasp as Thomas steps closer.

  “You don’t belong here. Leave,” he hisses.

  I will my suddenly thundering heart to slow, and throw up my mental armor with the command that no one, not even a loved one—especially a loved one--can penetrate the thick, turtle shell-like steel I envision as a second skin. I lift my arm and the weight of the armor is as familiar as an old friend just returned home as I drape it over my chairback. Then, slowly, I lift my eyes to Thomas. His pupils dilate and he falls back a pace before catching himself.

  Fran reaches us and gives Thomas and little Ariel a dagger-filled look. “Scram,” she orders.

  Thomas’s head snaps in her direction. He glances at me, face red, then says to her, “You’d better be careful who you associate with, Fran.” He spins away and Ariel casts me a last venomous look before following him to desks near the door.

  As Fran slips into the desk beside me, her expression softens and she says, “I heard what happened in the sparring gym. Are you okay?”

  “Right as rain.”

  “They say Ethan actually flew off with you in his arms.”

  “I heard that, too,” I say. Not that I remember anything beyond the thwap, thwap, thwap of wings. I still regret that.

  “Any idea who tried to…” Fran’s voice trails off.

  “Could be just about anyone.”

  She shivers. “That’s really terrible. I’m so glad you’re all right. I’ve never heard of anyone trying to murder someone at any Academy.”

  I hadn’t, either. Fran natters on about her classes and I’m surprised by the desire to return to the solitude of my room. I glance at Thomas and Ariel. The fear in Thomas’s eyes a moment ago tells me he glimpsed my armor. Good. Are he and Ariel capable of murder? Maybe. Do they have the ability to use magic that can’t be stopped by dragon fire?