“I’m fine. Ava Marie walked with me. She didn’t want me to be alone. Plus, she wanted to be here.” Bridget glanced at the ghostlike girl who did not look like she wanted to be here one bit.
Before I could consider that further, Bridget dug into a bag at her side and drew out a loaf-sized object. It was wrapped in an old linen cloth that reeked of mothballs.
Rowan, Disha and I crowded in to get a better look.
“Take a step back,” she warned. “This thing is volatile.”
Slowly and carefully, she unwrapped it, revealing a large cylinder capped with metal cones on the ends. Each end was a muted silver, while the center was a streaked bronze that seemed to oscillate as it caught the light, its surface swirling with etched runes.
Ava Marie’s eyes widened and she took a step back. I half expected her to bolt to the door.
“Where did you get that?” Rowan asked, hunkering down to examine it closer.
“My dad’s private collection,” Bridget answered. “He has quite a few relics. Not sure how many are legal. Don’t tell anyone. I was going to use it to find a cure for Bobby. We were going to take the risk and open it, but now… I figured you should use it, Rowan. You’re in danger and, in the end, whatever you learn can help Bobby, too. I want that bitch who hurt him to pay for what she did.”
Rowan’s face was grave as he took it from her hands.
“Can someone explain what that thing is?” Disha asked.
“It’s a summoner for a specific type of Supernatural creature,” Bridget said. “If we do the incantation right, this puppy will summon a truth demon. You can ask it one question, any question, and get the answer. But only one. And only if we get the spell just right.”
Rowan returned it gently back to Bridget, gazing at the etchings.
“And if we get the spell wrong?” I asked.
“It’ll explode.”
“Perfect,” Disha moaned. “Of course, it will. This is another stupid idea. Let’s go.” She started to drag me away.
“I’ll do it. I’m not afraid. I’ve done something similar before,” Rowan said.
“Have you?” I asked, not quite believing him.
“Yes,” he said, his dark eyes unwavering.
“The four of you get to a safe distance.” He shook out his arms as if readying himself for a fight.
“The spell is written here.” Bridget opened a little book and set it on the stone. “I can’t really tell you how to pronounce the words, but maybe luck will be on your side.”
Rowan leaned over to read the spell. As his eyes traced the words, he nodded to himself. “I recognize the words. It’ll be fine.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Remember what we talked about. Taking a risk like this doesn’t sound worth it. There are other ways.”
Straightening, he turned his eyes from the spell and met my gaze. “It sounds worth it to me.”
I took a step closer and whispered so only he could hear me. “What if there truly is no cure? Everyone we trust keeps telling us that. Maybe you should just…”
“What? Accept this?” He gestured toward his face as if he’d become a hideous alien. “Live without my own magic and this awful void in my chest?” His voice was quiet and gentle but determined nonetheless. “I can’t, Charlie.”
His words hurt. Some part of me wanted to be enough to fill that void, but that was crazy. If I lost my magic, I doubted anything could ever replace it, and I’d found out about it only recently, while he’d had his since he was born.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said. “Please. Just let me do this.”
Disha stepped beside us. “Don’t mean to butt in, but I’ve just had a thought. What if we cast a protection spell over Rowan while he uses that thing. That way, if it explodes, he probably won’t die. Or… whatever it is the undead do when exploded.” She gestured a hand toward his body.
I mulled this over, realizing I didn’t have much choice. Rowan was going to do it with or without our protection spell.
“Fine. Let’s set it up. Bridget, Ava Marie, will you help?”
“Sure,” Bridget said dully, her eyes on the floating lights along the ceiling. Ava Marie simply nodded.
Disha, Bridget, Ava Marie, and I moved back down the long, dark hallway and began spell-casting, weaving several layers of protection around Rowan as he read over the little book. Bridget worked something over that used a lot of physical movements and some shouting, while Disha did her finger magic and Ava Marie did something with tiny lightning bolts. I accessed my cuffs, picturing magical bricks and laying them around Rowan’s body. After only a few minutes, we were sweaty, tired and ready to start.
“It’s now or never,” Rowan said, turning around to face us. “If things go badly, I want you to run.” His eyes locked onto me.
I gave him a shrug. “If things go badly, I want you to stop.”
He raised an eyebrow, giving me no promises.
Great. We were both stubborn asses, perfect for each other.
While we held our protective barriers in place with outstretched arms and chanting, Rowan began the spell.
I couldn’t hear him over our own words, but I watched his movements carefully as he gestured over the summoner. His fingers worked fast and in intricate ways, more flexible than I’d seen lately. Maybe being a vampire made him a better wizard. Or maybe there were things Answorth was teaching him besides vampire restraint.
I felt the tug in my chest like an invisible suction as he drew magic from my supply. Did I have enough for the both of us? I had to hope so.
Suddenly, a burst of light filled the cavern as the summoner rose into the air. It began to spin, whirling faster and faster until it was a blur of gray and brown hovering off the cavern floor. A pulse began to beat the air, making the cavern tremble. The floating lights darted up to the glass ceiling, pinging off the surface as if trying to escape.
Panic stiffened my limbs as I waited for everything to come crashing down around us.
Instead, silver light slithered out of the top of the spinning summoner and quickly morphed into a ghostly figure.
Made up of silvery smoke, the truth demon was terrifying. Huge bull horns, a slender skeletal face, and fingers as long and pointed as knives, it really was the stuff of nightmares. It had rows of small sharp teeth and two holes where a nose should be. Though its body wasn’t solid, I had a feeling it could tear us into pieces if it wanted to.
Rowan didn’t seem afraid as the creature hovered over his head. He stared into those vacant eyes, his lips moving in a question I could not hear.
The truth demon’s gaping mouth responded, though again, I couldn’t hear the words and only felt the vibration its voice caused.
Rowan shook his head. Anger clouded his features. When he spoke again, he seemed to be arguing back.
Leave it to Rowan to argue with a demon.
Surprise, surprise, the demon did not seem to appreciate it. The pulse in the room beat like a wildly thudding heart. The walls throbbed in and out, dislodging rocks that skittered down.
The demon grew larger, brighter. It rose up, towering over Rowan, over everything until the piercing light was too bright to look at. I shielded my eyes as everything shook.
And then it was over.
The light died. The shaking stopped. I opened my eyes to find Rowan standing immobile at the edge of the pool. The summoner lay on the ground beside his feet, smoking.
Tearing forward, I skidded to a stop at his side and grabbed him.
His clothes were singed, his body smoking as if he’d just been engulfed in flame, then quickly snuffed out. A vacant expression covered his face before he blinked and refocused his eyes.
“What happened?” I asked, casting my gaze around, but the demon was gone.
Rowan shook his head as if coming out of a dream before responding.
“He said… he said the answer I seek, the cure to what ails me, is here. It’s somewhere here in the Academy.”
&
nbsp; Chapter Twenty-Two
SPRING SEMESTER
EARLY JANUARY
That was the answer? The solution to all our problems was here on campus?
We’d done all of this to get some vague, bogus clue?
No wonder Rowan was mad.
I reached to touch his face, say something to make him feel better, but he took a step back, eyes darting toward the cave’s entrance. A million thoughts seemed to be swirling inside his head, and it scared me. What was he thinking?
“Rowan, why don’t we—”
He disappeared in a blur.
Mouth opened, I turned, searching for him. Disha, Ava Marie, and Bridget were staring at the exit.
“What the hell?” I said, my chest feeling oddly empty as if someone had sucked all the breath out of my lungs.
Disha glanced in my direction, her head turning in slow motion. “Shit,” she said, her eyes widening in realization. “The museum. It houses every important artifact on campus.”
We stood frozen for a moment. Then, Disha and I tore after Rowan.
“Wait up,” Bridget said, retrieving the summoner and running after us. “What do you mean the museum?”
We didn’t answer. We just kept running at full pelt, out and out of the cave. Once outside, we turned and sprinted as fast as we could. The American Magical Historical Society Museum was all the way across campus, and it felt like forever before we came face to face with its architecturally-challenged facade.
“Oh, my god,” Bridget said, panting. Ava Marie jogged up behind her, eyes as large as dinner plates. We all stared at the destruction with awe on our faces.
The front door was torn open, broken in splinters and hanging on its side. A couple of guards lay at the bottom of the steps. One of them was moaning, staring at the night sky and holding his head. The other one was curled up in a ball, hands on his ankle.
All I could think was, Thank God, Rowan didn’t kill them. But that wouldn’t save him from getting expelled or even prosecuted.
I expected a blaring alarm and flashing lights announcing the intruder, but there was only an eerie silence. After a brief moment of shock, we hurried inside.
The interior was dark. Disha created a witch light and held it in the palm of her hand, illuminating our surroundings. Instinctively, we headed toward the place where my cuffs had been kept, the place where Georgia had died. I couldn’t help but think of Rowan struck down as Georgia had been.
When we reached the restricted area, we stopped in our tracks. Rowan was slumped on the floor, his back against the metal door that caged all the magical artifacts. Fist-sized dents marred the surface of the door and the wall around it. Black blood seeped from Rowan’s knuckles.
I took a step toward him, then froze as a deep voice spoke behind us.
“What is going on here?”
I whirled to find Macgregor and Professor Fedorov, standing shoulder to shoulder and looking ready for murder. Of course, no need for blaring alarms, a silent ward must have warned them and gotten them out of bed. Though, by the looks of Fedorov, you wouldn’t have known it. His hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place, and he wore perfectly pressed slacks and a silk button-down gray shirt.
“Rowan?” Macgregor said in a tone that was more tired than surprised. He wore a crumpled shirt and a cowlick stood up on the top of his head. He seemed messier and more tired than I’d ever seen him. He stalked in our direction, his gaze darting from his son to me, Disha, Ava Marie, Bridget and finally, the summoner in her hand.
“Is that… ?” Underwood pointed at the cylindrical object, unable to finish his sentence.
“A summoner,” Fedorov said, carefully but swiftly taking it from her. “Where did you get this?”
Macgregor’s fists clenched. His face turned red as he took another step toward his son. Their eyes locked, and it seemed as if years of hurt and anger rode the current that connected them.
“It appears that being this kind of dead isn’t enough,” Macgregor said. “You want to make it permanent. You used a summoner? Have you learned nothing from what I’ve been trying to teach you all these years?”
In response, Rowan jumped to his feet, growling, his upper lip twitching.
To Macgregor’s right, Fedorov laid a hand on the summoner and closed his eyes. “Truth demon,” he announced.
Macgregor frowned as if he’d been expecting something different.
“That’s right, Dad,” Rowan said. “A truth demon. It’s what I’m forced to do because my own father won’t listen or talk to me.”
“Are you kidding me? All I do is deal with you and the fallout of your terrible decisions. You think cleaning up your messes is easy?”
Rowan took a step forward, getting right in his father’s face. Fedorov made as if to interfere but Macgregor waved him off.
“And this,” Macgregor said, gesturing toward the beat-up door. “The demon wasn’t enough, you also had to destroy school property? Hurt school personnel? You’re out of control, Rowan.”
“There’s something in there I need,” Rowan said. “Something a good father would offer his son without hesitation. After all I did for you.”
What did Rowan mean, all he did for Macgregor? A look passed between father and son before Macgregor dismissed it and moved on. He shook his head, despair shaping his expression. “There’s nothing in there for you,” he said in a sad, tired voice.
“Bullshit!” Rowan screamed, his fangs unsheathing, his eyes flashing.
Macgregor didn’t even blink. He just stood his ground, even as his son’s terrifying face pushed closer, millimeters away from his own.
“I’ve already told you, Rowan. There is no cure. Accept it!”
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?” Macgregor asked. He seemed so exhausted, so done with this whole thing. Yet… he appeared to be telling the truth. It was obvious it hurt him to see his son this way. Could Rowan not see that?
“The truth demon told me that what I need is here at the Academy.” Rowan whirled and punched the metal door with such force that the reverberating sound hurt my ears. A new dent, dotted with his dark blood, was left behind.
“You can’t trust a truth demon, son. You know that,” Macgregor said. “They’re tricky. They twist the truth.”
“But it’s still the truth,” Rowan shot back. “Give it to me, Father!” He lunged toward Macgregor, hands aimed toward his neck.
Disha yelped. My cuffs flared as I put my hands up, unsure of what to do.
Before he reached his father, Rowan shot up like a rocket. His back slammed against the ceiling, wrists, and ankles pinned in place as if he’d been crucified.
Fedorov stood with his hands above his head, pointed at Rowan. His cufflinks shone blue and purple, sparking with electricity. He was an item warlock, just like me.
“Are you alright, Macgregor?” he asked, not taking his dilated gray eyes off of Rowan.
“I’m fine,” Macgregor responded, straightening his shirt and taking a step back to better glance up at his son. “I don’t know how else to tell you, Rowan. You say I don’t listen, but it is you who is deaf to reason.”
“Don’t act like I don’t know you,” Rowan screamed from the ceiling, his anger anything but slaked. “You always put your precious Academy and your quest for more magic before anyone, and you always think you know better. When my medallion chose me, you couldn’t stand it. Same when the cuffs chose Charlie. You tried to take them away from her because you always want to be the one to decide. You wanted it all for yourself. And now that there’s something here that can help me, you deny me. Your own son. And, like always, your solution is to try to get rid of me, to send me away so you can be left at ease with your precious Academy.”
“Are you done?” Macgregor said his tone cold and calm like the sky before a storm.
Rowan’s mouth twisted, but he said nothing else.
Macgregor nodded to Fedorov, who slowly lowered Rowan from the ceiling by be
nding his hands downward.
Rowan landed on his feet, arms stiff at his sides, legs pressed together. He was straining to move, but he was still under Fedorov’s control.
“I tried to protect you, but clearly I can’t,” Macgregor said, turning his back on Rowan.
I could still see the dean’s face and the pain and hurt that shaped his features. It was so fierce that it tore at my very soul.
He took a deep breath, then lifted his chin. “You are… expelled,” he said.
“What?!” Rowan demanded. “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can,” Macgregor responded, facing Rowan again, his expression wiped clean of all emotion. “You are also forbidden to go back home. I will not put your mother, brothers, or my grandchildren in danger with your irresponsible behavior. If you attempt to enter the property, you will be magically barred.”
Rowan tried to interrupt, but Macgregor raised his voice and drowned out his protests.
“When you decide to see reason, we can talk. Until then,” he paused, swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to see you.”
“But… I need your spells,” Rowan said, the consequences of his father’s decision dawning on him. “And Charlie’s magic.”
“Find someone else to do them for you. Pay for them like most vampires do… if you can afford them.”
Rowan frowned, seeming confused by this last bit.
“Or…” Macgregor turned his full attention to Disha, Bridget, Ava Marie, and me for the first time, “get one of your friends to do them.”
Walking closer, Macgregor singled me out. “You’re lucky I don’t expel you all, too. You’ve been treading on very dangerous ground lately. Just keep this in mind, there’s only so much Dean McIntosh can do to protect wayward, rule-breaking students.”
“Disha and the others didn’t do anything. It was all me,” I offered, wanting to save them if I could.
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, trust me. I know exactly who’s responsible.”
I bit my tongue as all the words I wanted to say crowded there. Baseless protests would do me no good. He was right. We’d been behaving like idiots, like spoiled children who thought themselves above all rules and common sense.
Supernatural Academy: Sophomore Witch Page 16