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

by Tarah Scott

  I haven’t forgotten the shock and fear on Ethan’s face when the spear sailed unharmed through his fire. Need yanks at my heart. I start. Uh oh. That warm, fuzzy feeling means—

  I shake off the thought. I do not have genuine feelings for that damned dragon.

  A tall, good-looking blond enters the room.

  Fran glances at the guy and smiles. “I have to go. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  She jumps up and hurries toward the newcomer. Halfway there, two other girls descend on him like vultures. I’m not worried about Fran, though. She’ll get what she wants.

  “Thomas and Ariel are after you,” a voice behind me says.

  I turn and watch the thirteen-year-old kid crawl out of a gap between a bookcase and the window to the left. My face softens in sympathy. This kid keeps popping up at the oddest times.

  “They don’t like you,” he whispers. “You’re a Crowe. They say you’re calling The Shadows. That you tried to wake them—you know, the husks in the classroom.” Clearly warming to the subject, he slides into the seat to my left and continues, “They say you pulled The Shadows out of the crystal and ran Miss Mack out of her room in the dead of night and possessed her.”

  “That’s some story,” I mutter. The only thing that possesses that woman is desperation for a man she can’t have.

  The kid’s thin shoulders droop. “They say a lot about me, too.”

  I’m curious about that, but he clams up like he’s said too much, so I simply ask, “Is Miss Mack really gone?”

  “Dunno.”

  I study him for a few seconds, then say, “Thanks for the info, but maybe you should find a seat far away from me.” No point in making his apparently miserable existence any worse.

  He surprises me by flashing a genuine grin. “Maybe they’ll leave me alone if I’m in the company of a badass.”

  “Street witch,” I correct.

  “Even better,” he says.

  Creaking wood draws everyone’s attention to the front of the classroom, and I tense as one of the panels in the wall opens and Headmaster Domini enters. He’s wearing the Academy’s formal hooded Professor robe with long, sweeping sleeves. The Academy crest embroidered on the sky blue silk stands out. The silken threads glisten as they catch the light. A few rows in front of me, Fran straightens and flips her hair. I roll my eyes. The girl really needs a hobby.

  “Good morning,” Domini greets us with a smile that dimples his cheek. “I’ll be covering for Miss Mack today.”

  Several pairs of eyes flick in my direction. So, Thomas and Ariel have been busy worker bees, pinning Miss Mack’s departure solidly on me. I haven’t forgotten the strange occurrence when Miss Mack showed us the Shadow husks. I had thought them beautiful. No one should find Shadows beautiful. Did Grams find them beautiful? Is that how they entice a person into letting them in? Had The Shadows infected Grams? That’s not possible. The Commanders drove The Shadows away. Yet, I saw the Shadow husks myself. They are beautiful.

  I suddenly want to cry so badly I consider leaving. Leilah Crowe running from a room. Yeah, that would get everyone talking. They’ll talk a helluva lot more if I burst into tears in class. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Returning to New York was a mistake. Letting Ethan Bordeau mark me with his sigil was an even bigger mistake. Caring about Grams’ house and thinking I could have a real home and legitimacy is the mother of all big mistakes. Who am I kidding?

  I hold my breath and order my body to simmer down as Domini walks to the massive mahogany desk in the front of the room.

  He leans a hip against the front edge. “How many of you have heard the tale of the Demon Bride?”

  “She’s the Shadow Mage,” a girl says.

  “The most powerful mage to have existed,” Ariel interjects. “So powerful and perfect that when the demigod Damien met her, he knew he had to have her.”

  Domini arches a brow. “He didn’t just meet her, he created her.”

  “Created her?” A girl at the front sniffs in disdain. “A man clearly wrote that account.”

  “Perhaps.” Domini shrugs. “Damien had many apprentices, but the Shadow Mage was the only one who could control his Shadows.”

  “And a woman clearly wrote that,” says the blond-haired guy that Fran went after.

  Muffled snickers circle the room.

  “Regardless of who wrote the accounts, there is truth in them.” Domini folds his arms across his chest, his black robe pulling against his bulging biceps.

  Again, Fran flips her hair.

  “His equal, though?” the blond-haired guy challenges. “He’s a demigod. She was mortal.”

  “True,” Domini agrees. “But humans should not be underestimated. Was it not the sorceresses Senorn and Eledin who sealed the Hell Gates? A spell that, to this day, the demigod himself cannot break.”

  The room goes silent, every eye fastened to Domini, including mine. He pushes off the desk. “Perhaps, to truly understand the Shadow Mage, we must first understand Damien, the demigod of Shadows. We know that Hades left Hell and fathered Damien with a wealthy shipmaster’s daughter, Aella. When Aella’s father learned that his unwed daughter was pregnant, the shipmaster threw her out onto the streets. She lived a life of misery and never revealed to Damien the identity of his father.”

  I shift in my seat. We all know the story, but it still hits close to home for me. Getting tossed into the street hurts.

  “After his mother’s death, Damien met a sorcerer by the name of Falco”—Domini’s eyes gleam—“who discovered Damien’s powers. For years, Damien apprenticed with the sorcerer. Eventually, his father, Hades, revealed himself to Damien and granted him entrance into Hell. But it wasn’t until Damien found an Atlantean sorceress of great power and strength that he knew he had met his destiny.”

  “Elexea,” Ariel said.

  Domini smiled. “Exactly. She learned to control The Shadows and became known as the Shadow Mage. Like Damien, she, too, grew up on the streets of Atlantis and, in her, Damien believed he’d found his Demon Bride.”

  A shiver slides down my back. I know these stories. We all know them. Damien, who created The Shadows, is responsible for the genocide of our kind. I hate him as much as everyone else does. Still, my heart goes out to the woman who felt so alone that she fell in love with the wrong man.

  “What was that, Miss Crowe?” the headmaster’s baritone shatters my thoughts.

  I tense. I hadn’t said anything…had I? As every head turns my way, I blurt, “Who really knows what happened?”

  “Trust a Crowe to claim the Shadow Mage isn’t evil,” someone murmurs.

  “That’s not what I said.” Was it?

  Domini raises a hand, commanding our attention. “A true scholar retains an open mind.” He glances around the room. “Who knows what happened next?”

  “Archon realized the Shadow Mage was becoming too strong,” the blond guy says. “He warned the Atlanteans about her.”

  “The kings sent an assassin to kill her.” Domini winks. “We know the true fate of Atlantis, don’t we?”

  “Could anyone really be powerful enough to destroy an entire nation?” Fran asks.

  Domini’s brows raise. “The possibility boggles the brain, doesn’t it?”

  The hint of accent in his voice snags my attention. The sense of familiarity I experienced the first time I met him returns, but stronger.

  “Too bad she didn’t take Damien down with her when she sank Atlantis,” a guy in the back says.

  “Demigods are not easily killed,” Domini says with gravity.

  “If he didn’t die when Atlantis was destroyed, what hope do we have of killing him?” Fran asks.

  “Are you saying we should give up?” Domini asks.

  Cries of “Of course not” and “Hell no” and “Fuck The Shadows,” go up.

  “There’s your answer,” Domini says. “So, why rehash a history that we’re taught from the cradle?”


  “That’s what I’d like to know,” a guy mutters.

  Domini chuckles. “It’s wise to know one’s enemy, right?” He walks slowly past the front desks, his robe billowing slightly. “Why does Damien want to find the Shadow Mage and make her his bride?”

  “He’s in love with her,” Ariel says.

  “Perhaps,” Domini says.

  “She died when Atlantis was destroyed,” Thomas says.

  “That is what Archon tells us,” Domini says. “But let us remember that, at the time Atlantis fell, Atlanteans were no longer magicians of light. They had become power hungry, which is why Damien and the Shadow Mage flourished. The Atlanteans didn’t try to kill her because they wanted to stop an evil being. They sent an assassin because they feared her.”

  “They didn’t fear Damien?” a girl asks.

  Domini lifts a brow. “Interesting, isn’t it, that we have no legends from the Atlantean pantheon about them trying to destroy Damien. I suspect they feared his father, Hades, would bring war upon them if they tried to kill Damien.”

  “I guess that’s one reason to keep the Hell Gates closed,” Thomas says.

  “Yes.” Domini nods. “We must never allow the Hell Gates to reopen.”

  “It is possible to keep them closed forever?” a girl asks.

  “We had better hope so,” Domini says. “If Hades is ever freed, he will exact retribution on Margidda for locking him inside all these millennia. And the gods help us if he and Damien join forces with The Shadows.”

  I abruptly remember why Domini seems even more familiar today. The other night, when I found Grams’ place, the man smoking the cigarette. I recall Headmaster Domini’s office, the other day, he’d been out on the balcony smoking a cigarette. I stare. What was Headmaster Domini doing near Grams’ house?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  LEILAH

  The Grand Witch of the North

  Three hours later, I leave my second class of the day, Reaping Preparedness, the Watchman at my side. “Remember, don’t get angry,” Mr. Denney had said. Trust. Meditate. Sing fucking Kumbaya, if you have to. Okay, so I added the last part, but that’s about what Reaping Preparedness amounts to. Oh, and, whatever you do, don’t use magic.

  Bottom line, make sure no one dies.

  It takes a helluva lot more than mediation and sweet songs to keep from killing another person.

  We break from the path between dorms and I slow at sight of the Grand Witch standing outside Penncarrow Hall. A skinny man hovers beside her like a vulture, her assistant, I bet. He watches my every step as I approach, and my heart is pounding when we reach them.

  The Grand Witch smiles and says in her deep alto, “My dear Leilah.”

  The Watchman angles his head in acknowledgement to her, then steps aside as I say, “Good morning, Grand Witch.” I give a slight bow, first to her, then to her over-attentive assistant.

  He smiles.

  “How are your studies, my dear?” she asks.

  “Fine.”

  “Are you being treated well, child?”

  “Sure,” I hedge.

  Her expression turns serious. “I have learned of the attempt on your life.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that might be why she’s here.

  “Are you well?”

  I’m startled by the embarrassment that washes over me. I had a couple of friends in Chicago, where I’d lived for the last five years, but they seldom asked if I was all right—and never had someone of the Grand Witch’s status noticed me.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  Two girls approach and she motions me to walk with her. Her assistant and the Watchman follow at a respectful distance.

  We stroll to the large oak twenty feet from the door and she faces me. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  I give her the basic rundown, which isn’t much, and by the time I finish describing how even Ethan’s dragon fire hadn’t stopped the spear, her expression is grim.

  “Only very powerful magic is unaffected by dragon fire,” she says. “I don’t like this, at all.” She studies me for a long moment. “Have you any idea who might want to kill you?”

  I want to tell her to talk to Thomas and Ariel. They’re spoiled and troublesome, but murderers? If I’m honest, I’m far angrier at the possibility that they’re bullying the thirteen-year-old kid.

  I shrug. “Not everyone loves me, but I don’t know anyone who might dislike me enough to kill me.” Uncertainty niggles, and I say, “Maybe someone has tried and convicted me of practicing black magic because the Illumina convicted my grandmother of the crime. Rumors are floating around about how I practice black magic.”

  She gives a slow nod. “Yes, you believe our judgement against your grandmother is unjust.”

  It’s not a question.

  “You’re damn right, I do. My grandmother was a very powerful white witch. She didn’t practice black magic and she sure as hell didn’t play with Shadows.”

  Her expression softens. “People often change. Miriam…well, she wasn’t the same woman you knew all those years ago.”

  “You talk as if I’ve been gone eons. Seven years isn’t that long.”

  “It can be an eternity, child.”

  The kindness in her voice makes me wish I could drop the issue. I hesitate, then ask, “Exactly how did my grandmother change so much?”

  A soft light enters her eyes. “Miriam was once amongst the most law-abiding citizens in Margidda. Yet, she kept Shadows, used Shadow magic. She became secretive, reclusive.”

  I can’t argue with that last.

  “The evidence is irrefutable,” she goes on. “Sadly, I saw her little these last few years. Had I made an effort to spend more time with her, perhaps I would have noticed how far she’d strayed from the light.”

  Strayed from the light? Oh God, don’t tell me the Grand Witch of the North is a religious zealot? Whatever happened to separation of church and state? Oh, yeah, that’s the American government, not the Illumina. Is this why everyone in Margidda has to be vetted through the Illumina before they can practice magic? Our leaders are getting religious?

  “Are you certain you don’t know the people who were named on the Stone with you?” she asks.

  “No,” I blurt. She’s caught me off guard.

  “What about your grandmother? Are they friends of hers?”

  I frown. “I don’t recall anyone by those names.” I want to say that it’s strange that the names appeared on the Stone before mine and stranger still that I’ve been associated with all four clans, but it’s clear she’s as much in the dark about those names as I am. It’s also clear she’s troubled by the appearance of the names. Does she think I had something to do with the names or maybe that I’m lying? Does she, too, think I’m a dark witch?

  “If you recall anything, you will let me know?” she asks.

  I nod and hope my confusion doesn’t show.

  She waves toward the Watchman. “Stay close to your protector. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  Frustration supplants my confusion.

  She lifts a brow. “I have displeased you.”

  She read my mind. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course, she’d read my mind. She’s the Grand Witch.

  She laughs softly. “I am old, my dear, but not so old that I have forgotten the look of frustration from a young person who feels an older person of authority has dismissed her.”

  I search her gaze. “Grams and I had our differences, but she was no black witch.”

  “That is a hard case to make. She died while casting spells using Shadow power.” Before I can reply, her eyes slide past me and I turn to see her assistant waving at her. Her gaze returns to me and she smiles. “I must go. We will talk more. Until then, you are to do as Raith commands.”

  I stiffen.

  She laughs again. “I know. He can be a complete prig.”

  I blink.

  Her eyes twinkle. “But he is very nice to look at.
Still, it’s a shame his parents taught him how to speak.”

  A laugh bursts from my lips. I clap a hand over my mouth. Warmth spreads across my cheeks.

  “He is very good at what he does,” she says. “Do as he asks, at least until we find the person who tried to kill you.” She sighs. “If I do not attend to Franklin, he will have a stroke. I will see you again soon.” She brushes past me and she and her assistant walk away.

  I turn toward my dorm, then reconsider and veer right. I want to have a talk with Raith. The Watchman steps in my path.

  I stop short and frown up at him. “What are you doing?”

  He nods toward Penncarrow Hall. “You’re supposed to go to your room.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Says who?”

  “Raith.”

  A group of girls pass us and stare as they ascend the half dozen steps to the door. No way do I want gossip getting around that a Watchman tackled me and dragged me back to my dorm room.

  I’m going to find a way out of my room and hunt down Raith. And not to talk.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  LEILAH

  Tweens

  I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling of my room. A little less than a week at The Academy and I’ve managed to get myself imprisoned in my room—with no tree outside the window. Grams would love that.

  I glance at the Excalibur sword on its rack in the closet. At least, I was able to work off a little energy this afternoon during the war games training. Ethan allowed me to spar only with him and at some distance from the other students. I should have been embarrassed by being singled out but, at this point, what difference does it make? It’s clear he drew the short straw and has to protect me from flying weapons, teenage and twenty-something angst, and the occasional psychopathic Academy student who’s got a hard-on for killing Crowes. On the upside, Ethan is a superb warrior, and sparring with him was the most fun I’ve had at The Academy. I would never tell him, but I know he went easy on me. If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll continue sparring with me and I’ll actually learn something in my time here.