by LJ Swallow
The French doors at the rear of the room are open and I make my way to the doorway and peer outside. Metal garden furniture, set onto a paved patio area, overlooks a rose garden at the rear of the staff quarters.
Ash and Vincent huddle together in one corner.
"Will you listen?" Vincent’s voice is loud enough for everybody gathered outside to hear. Two guys drinking close by drop into silence and glance around.
Ash replies, too quietly for me to hear.
"I told you, keep away from witches."
"That’s not your decision to make," retorts Ash, louder.
My breathing shortens as I watch their confrontation. Do I want to listen to this?
"If you had any respect for me or your family, you’d leave her well alone." Vince’s voice is harsh and I wish I could see Ash’s face in the dark, to know what he’s thinking.
"How many times do I need to tell you? Maeve isn’t just a witch. She’s important to me."
Vincent pokes a finger in Ash’s chest, repeatedly. "I don’t give a shit. I don’t want to see you with her."
"Don’t come back here and start running my life."
I shrink back when Vincent grabs Ash by the jacket collar and slams him into the wall. "Listen, dickhead. Witches are no good. Don’t you care what a future-sighted witch did to me? I’m trying to protect you!"
Ash doesn’t move, and Vincent shakes him again. "I won’t allow this."
"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do with my life?"
I’m horrified by Vincent’s treatment of Ash as he pulls Ash closer, snarling something into his face. Aren’t they close? If I had a brother who bullied me, I wouldn’t want to be close to him.
Tears prick my eyes at the trouble I’m causing Ash, and anger at Vincent’s behaviour. Ash struggles to get away and I’m on the verge of walking over when Vincent grips Ash around the neck and shakes him, continuing to growl into his face.
Shit.
If I walked into a volatile situation, one or both of us could get hurt.
I step further into the shadows as if I’m watching a car crash and can’t take my eyes away. Vincent releases Ash’s neck and he slumps against the building wall, head tipped downwards and nodding as he rubs his throat. Vincent steps back with his arms crossed and snarls one last thing at Ash, who walks away with his head bowed, not looking back at his brother.
Before either can see, I scurry inside and hide myself behind a group.
Ash walks into the room and I watch as he wanders around, repeatedly rubbing his hand across his hair, his eyes clouded by distress.
Heart aching, I step out. "I lost you," I say brightly.
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Are you okay? You look pissed off."
He shrugs. "A few beers."
"Like Vincent, huh?"
He turns dull eyes to mine. "Yeah, he’s definitely had a few too many. Listen, I might stay here longer. Do you want me to walk you back to Walcott?"
The hurt I feel isn’t only for myself, but for Ash and what happened to him. "Are you sure everything is alright?"
"Tired. Drunk. I can catch you tomorrow."
"I shouldn’t have come here, should I?" I whisper. "Have I caused trouble for you?"
Ash reaches out as if to touch my hair, then tucks both hands beneath his arms. "No."
But you don’t want to come with me. Vincent stands watching us. I can’t touch Ash. Ash rubs the reddened skin on his neck.
He definitely can’t leave with me, either.
"I’m fine to head back alone," I say.
"Are you sure?"
"I’m sure. It’s only a short walk across the grounds and I don’t want you in trouble with your brother."
Ash’s brow tugs. "Why say that?"
"I’ll see you tomorrow, Ash."
Vincent may not want Ash to touch me, but I need Ash to know I care, and I place my lips on his in a swift kiss.
Do I want him to follow me? Yes. Do I expect him to? No.
As I walk back to Walcott house, the shock follows me. Not because Vincent warned Ash to keep away from me, but how he behaved towards his little brother. The one standing by his side and defending him against anybody who doubts or bad-mouths him.
If Vincent is prepared to publicly threaten his brother, how will he respond to anybody else who crosses him?
Chapter Eighteen
MAEVE
The first academy game begins outside the sports hall in the freezing January weather. Typical that tonight the sky is filled with pinprick stars and clear of clouds. I’m bloody freezing.
We’re divided into our respective houses and split into teams. I’m huddled with Jamie and Amelia, listening to Professor O’Reilly and attempting to catch Ash’s eye.
I arrived early with Jamie and Amelia, hoping to chat to Ash. Too late, because he was already outside the sports hall with Vincent. As soon as I spotted him close by, I waved at Ash instead and he nodded in greeting.
He’s with two shifters I’ve not spoken to much, and Ash isn’t speaking to them either. Instead he has his arms tight across his chest as he stares at the ground. Vincent stands at the edge of the assembled Gilgamesh teams, straight and to attention as he listens to Professor O’Reilly, like a leader with his troops on parade.
Amelia gives me a quizzical look and I shrug. Our silent conversation continues as she frowns at me. I haven’t told her what I saw Vincent do yet, because Ash doesn’t know I saw either.
But I will tell him.
I stand to attention as Professor O’Reilly inspects us all. Over the Christmas holidays, I bought myself the correct shoes and grin when he glances at my feet.
He steps back and clears his throat. "As you know, this house challenge involves physical endurance and mental agility." He looks straight at me as his voice bounces off the sports hall walls. "The weather today is perfect."
Huh? The air freezes me into an ice block as hard as the ground. All the witches shiver, but the shifters don’t notice the cold and Petrescu aren't bothered. I’m with Amelia and Jamie—and here’s our first disadvantage.
"This is not merely a game. The challenge you’ll face is an exercise in how to endure extreme conditions if your magic or powers are unavailable—or if you can’t use them without alerting humans."
What the hell are we about to do?
"Therefore, you are only to use skills a human can. Walcott—no magic. Petrescu—no speeding." I chuckle and then straighten my face as Professor O’Reilly glares. "Gilgamesh—keep your preternatural physical abilities contained."
Jamie swears beneath his breath and I shiver in my sport shirt and tracksuit trousers.
Professor O’Reilly walks to each team and hands out maps. "There are five waypoints and each has an item you need to retrieve and place in your backpack." He drops a black bag at each team’s feet. "You have a map and list of co-ordinates, which will help you locate each item. Once you’ve collected all five, you return. I will be marking this exercise based purely on speed and team skills. Every team member must return together."
I stare at the map as he continues his explanation about our bizarre endurance test. Problem one: I can't read maps. Can Jamie and Amelia? The others told me the challenges the houses compete in are a variety of physical and magical, but this is strange. No magic at all?
Walcott are screwed.
Sure, there’s a group of witches who are on the rugby team with Ash, but even they don’t have the strength the Gilgamesh kids do, even without their shifter powers.
I massage my forehead. I suck at anything physical because my stamina is crap. I was one of the last chosen when captains picked teams at school. Once a random vision zoned me out in the middle of netball, and I let through a goal. From then on, I became the person who captains fought over—fought over not having on their team. I’d say this hurt me, but honestly, I was relieved to be left out. I hate sports.
Please don’t let Jamie and Amelia down today.
I hud
dle closer to Jamie and Amelia as we pore over the map together. "This is insane," I mumble. "It’s bloody freezing."
"He’s a sadist," mutters Jamie as he picks up the bag. "‘Perfect weather’. Ha. The academy could’ve held this challenge later in the term when the weather was actually reasonable."
I rub my goose-bumped arms and glare at where the professor talks to Vincent. Vincent whispers something to the professor as he unsubtly gestures at the Walcott teams, and the two men laugh.
Impartial Vincent, huh?
Vincent hugs a clipboard to his chest and watches Professor O’Reilly. "Good luck, teams."
"Go!" yells the professor, holding the stopwatch above his head.
"Run and you’ll keep warm!" calls Remi with a laugh as he sprints past with Clive and Seamus, and the three bound into the woods.
"Can you read maps?" asks Jamie.
"Uh. No. I use my phone for directions when I need them."
"Professor O’Reilly kindly removed our phones as part of the test, remember?" says Amelia.
"This stinks!" I exclaim.
A sour-faced Katherine yanks her hair into a ponytail and jogs by—for once, I spot she’s in agreement.
"Come on!" urges Amelia. "We won’t win, but I don’t want to be the last team back."
"I don’t understand. Why are powers banned?" I grumble as my feet thud across the hard ground after her and Jamie.
"In the future, we may need to hide from hunters and humans," says Jamie. "Supernaturals could face situations like this."
"Collecting items in the woods?"
Jamie scowls at my sarcasm.
"Don’t worry, you’ll have the chance to show off your mental magic skills at that challenge," says Amelia, shooting us a warning look. "Walcott are bound to win that one with you representing us."
"What does that entail?" The cold bites my cheeks and I slow from my run. At this rate I’ll be exhausted before we reach the first stop.
"Not running around in the cold," she says and nudges me. "The competition involves a mix of mind reading and blocking another from reading your mind."
"Again, useful skills when we’re in the world," adds Jamie. "Like map reading. We got lost in this challenge last year and had to shelter in the woods overnight."
"Bloody hell," I mutter under my breath. Suddenly Andrei’s decision to use family influence to stay out of competition makes sense. "Didn’t anybody look for you?"
"Matt was with me. He’s good with fire."
I glance at Amelia. "But we’re not allowed to use magic."
"I think once we’re out of the competition, and lost in the middle of nowhere, magic is allowed," puts in Amelia.
"Why can’t we just play Quidditch instead?" I mutter.
Jamie snorts at my words as he stops to examine the paper map in his hand. "There’s a waypoint over here, I think." He indicates the edge of the woods where the bonfire was held a few months ago.
"I didn’t think any of the points were outside the grounds." Amelia takes the map from him.
"Are you saying I can’t read a map?" he asks tersely.
"No, but you did screw up last year. Remember?"
I hop from foot to foot as Amelia scolds Jamie. The two fight like siblings sometimes and the squabbling always amuses me.
I’m handed the map and told I make the final decision. Amelia pouts when I agree with Jamie, who grins and runs onwards. I trudge after him, wishing my tracksuit bottoms were thicker as my legs numb.
We reach the academy perimeter and I gaze upwards at the fence. "We can’t climb that."
"Shifters can. See, unfair advantage. We need to follow the fence-line until we reach a gap in the trees." Jamie starts walking to the right.
This is insane. I hated compulsory sports lessons when I was younger, but at least we never ran around in the dark.
The further we move into the trees, the less light we have as the canopies block the bright moonlight.
"Is there anybody around?" Amelia asks me.
"No."
"Then I’ll create some witchlight."
"No. We’re not supposed to use spells," retorts Jamie.
"Oh, come on, we can barely read the map. I’ll conjure light long enough to check our bearings, and then I’ll put it out." Amelia draws her index finger along her palm, criss-crossing until a tiny spark appears.
Amelia rubs her thumb and fingers together, closes her palm and her fist shines. She unfurls her fingers and a tiny ball of white light glows in the centre of her palm.
"Wow," I whisper. "Is that something I could do?"
"I’ll teach you. This is elementary magic."
I stare at the light. The academy spends time advancing my unusual magic skills, but I don’t know the basics. I guess I missed that part of the schooling since I spent hours learning geography at a normal school rather than creating magic lights.
"Gilgamesh and Petrescu have an advantage thanks to their eyesight," says Amelia. "Why shouldn’t we use something that’s our advantage too?" She cups a hand over the light to partially hide the spark, but the magic still illuminates her hand.
"We’ll lose points if we’re caught," Jamie complains.
"Isn't that better than getting lost all night again?" she snaps back.
"Can we keep moving and maybe work on the team spirit? I’m fricking freezing." I stride in the direction Jamie indicated.
Amelia’s light dulls as she shoves the hand in her tracksuit pocket.
We head along the rough ground towards the edge of the woods, occasionally tripping over stumps and large rocks. The trees thin into a clearing, where a log from a felled tree covered in moss dominates the space.
"I think this is the place." Jamie turns slowly in a circle.
I rest against a tree, legs aching from running around woods in the middle of a bloody winter night. "What exactly are we looking for?"
Amelia holds her hand half a meter from the floor. "A small wooden post painted with Walcott colours. About this big."
"They were in a hole last year," puts in Jamie and kicks at piles of leaves. "This time they might be buried."
"Are these definitely the coordinates?" asks Amelia, gazing around.
"Yes." Jamie rubs his head as Amelia holds her hand out to illuminate the map again. He swears under his breath.
"Only I haven’t seen or heard anybody else nearby."
"Probably due to you pair arguing about what direction to go in every five minutes," I say. "Most will be ahead of us."
Something moves in the trees and I look up for a clearer view, body switched to alert. Nothing.
"Are we still on the academy grounds?" I whisper.
"On the edge. They wouldn’t send us outside without escort. Not in the current state of affairs."
I relax—briefly—because footsteps thud towards us, cracking sticks as they approach, before a pink-cheeked, gleeful Clive and his friends burst into the clearing.
"Looking for this?" asks Clive and holds up a stake-size wooden pole.
"Yes. Where are they?" I ask.
Clive taps the post against his mouth. "They were all inside that tree trunk.
Jamie scoots over and crouches to look inside a large hole in the trunk. I cringe as he sticks his hand inside—I’ve seen enough horror movies not to do that. Clive whispers to Remi.
No way.
"There’s nothing in here." Jamie stands and I’m relieved there’s no giant spider or crazy spell on his hand. "There should be one for each team."
"Oh, whoops!" Clive chuckles and looks to his friend. "Did we accidentally take two, Seamus?"
"You bloody dickheads!" snaps Jamie. "Give the post to us."
He taps it against his chin. "What do you reckon, Remi?"
Remi shrugs but shares Clive’s nasty glee.
"If you’ve hung back to gloat, then you’re wasting time," I retort. "Go and find your other items before Petrescu beats you."
"But we already have our three, and we’re
headed back to the sports hall." He mock-gasps. "Don’t tell me this is the first location you’ve found? We’ve found all ours."
"Give me the pole and go!" Jamie snaps and steps forward. Clive tosses the post to Remi, who catches it and twirls it in his hand like a baton.
"Guys, please," says Amelia. "You’ve already beaten us. There’s no need to behave like this. Just give us the post and let us carry on."
Remi looks from us to Clive, who shrugs. In the second Remi takes to break eye contact, Jamie lunges forward to grab the pole.
Remi yells out a laugh and parries Jamie’s hand with his forearm, as his fingers almost reach the pole. "Nice try, dude."
"Come on," grumbles Seamus, a wiry guy with golden hair and amber eyes whose movements remind me of a predatory creature—a lion? "Let’s go." He pulls a phone from his pocket. "If we go soon, we can make complete the challenge in less than two hours."
"What the hell?" I protest. "How do you have a phone? Vincent took them all from us."
"Whoops, I guess he forgot to take mine." Seamus snickers.
"Deliberately?" asks Jamie.
His reply is a smirk.
"Let’s go. Leave the witch losers to their fun," says Clive.
"You can’t leave with our item," calls out Amelia as they start walking. Clive waves the pole in the air over his head. "You can’t, Clive! Don’t!"
Jamie shouts after him too and I stare in disbelief at the deliberate cheating.
"Arseholes!" A lightning bolt shoots through the trees, momentarily lighting up the surroundings with a sliver glow, before hitting Clive squarely in the back. He yelps in pain and stumbles, but keeps his grip on the post.
Chapter Nineteen
MAEVE
Amelia stands in the middle of the clearing with her arms outstretched, palms outwards as she trembles in anger. The small bolt isn’t enough to injure Clive, but she used magic.
Clive spins around. "What the hell, witch?"
"I’m sick to death over how you treat people, Clive," says Amelia in a trembling voice. "Ever since you began dating Katherine, you’ve become a total arsehole."
He strides over, rubbing his shoulder. "You shouldn’t have done that."