I cringed inwardly. That was not the most important question at the moment. What I needed to know was just how deep this thing ran. Was Phorm acting alone, or was he merely in charge of the academic branch of something far more sinister and widespread?
In my distraction, the same gloved hands as before gripped my elbows, pulling them slightly behind my back. I looked to Castle with helpless eyes. She gave me a one-shoulder shrug and a rueful smile. I knew she didn’t want me to blame myself for her predicament, but this was all my fault. I never should have opened my mouth, knowing that Singh might be listening.
Selfish. That’s what it had been to tell her all of that. Just like it had been selfish to leave Braden alone in his impaired condition. Together, we might have fought our way out, like last time. But instead I had put him in danger. And for what? Maybe there was no big mystery at all. Maybe my father’s version was correct. Maybe being part of this insane world had driven my mother off a cliff. Maybe that’s what Lucas Billing had really done, too.
The bird man—Phorm?—cleared his throat. “We don’t have all night, Miss Song. Mr. Thomas anxiously awaits your action.”
I lifted my gaze to the unreadable avian face. An eerie silence hung over the clearing, muting the natural sounds of the forest. Was that part of the spell he’d cast on Castle, or were even the insects too afraid to move right now?
“I don’t know how to do what you’re asking,” I said at last, head drooping with defeat.
“Liar!” Serenity shouted, ripping off her mask. “You did it to me!”
A gasp went up from the crowd behind me. The bird man let out a growl and swept his hand toward Serenity, magically pushing the mask back in place. “Control yourself, girl!”
“She’s lying!” Serenity screeched. “Are you just going to stand there and let her?”
The bird man puffed up his chest. “Do not presume to tell me—”
“It’s true that I did it once,” I spoke up. “Inside the arena. To Serenity. But that was an accident made in self-defense.” I shot a glare at the red-cloaked witch. “It happened so fast. I don’t know the finger movements.”
“Magic is instinct, not knowledge, Miss Song.” The bird man sounded pleased with my confession. “You can and will transform this woman into a wolf. Tonight. Now focus on your fingers. Fill them with energy, as though you were pouring water into a plastic glove.”
Seeing no other choice but to go through the motions, I lifted my hands. I scrunched up my face as though exerting great effort. After several moments, maybe even minutes, I let out a wincing sigh and dropped both hands.
“It’s no use,” I muttered, rubbing them together.
“You weren’t even trying!” the bird man thundered in his deep, distorted voice. “You think me a fool!”
Professor Castle writhed on the ground, kicking up leaves as she slammed her feet down over and over again. She gestured to her mouth with her bound hands.
“Do you have something valuable to add to this conversation?” the bird man drawled, peering down his beak.
Castle nodded vigorously.
“Very well,” he sighed and swished his wand.
“First off,” Castle rasped, glaring up at him. “You look ridiculous, Yates.”
I reeled back, colliding with the solid chest of my captor. “Professor Yates?”
The man’s fingers dug hard into my elbows. “Be still,” he growled in a deep voice that didn’t seem quite natural.
“Professor Yates?” I repeated, gaping at the cult leader.
But of course. It made perfect sense. He helmed the Academy’s most prestigious program: Martial Magic. He had access to all the students with a propensity for violence. He had the Arena in which he could safely torture anyone who needed convincing. And he had intentionally cast my suspicions on Professor Phorm after Braden and I interrupted the sacrifice. I groaned inwardly at my own stupidity. No one who was up to anything good would be that loose-lipped with a student.
Yates threw back his head, beak to the starry sky, and laughed a little too maniacally for his next words to be true. “Another guess misses the mark!”
“Dude.” Castle chuckled. “I’m the freakin’ Divination professor. I know who’s behind every mask out here. And you—” she tilted her head back to look at the green-cloaked girl, “—you should be especially ashamed of yourself.”
“Silence!” Professor Yates roared, lifting his wand.
Castle lifted her hands as if that could shield her throat from his muffling magic. “Hey! Hey! Whoa! I had just one more thing to say. Then you can turn me into a wolf. Whatever, man. I hate this place.”
Yates paused, his wand still raised high. “Speak, now.”
“Or forever hold my peace?” Castle cracked. When no one laughed, she rolled her shoulders and muttered, “Tough crowd.”
“You have no idea,” Yates drawled, lighting up the tip of his wand with red magic.
“Ha. Yeah, actually, I do. Because I’m, you know, the Divin—”
“Say something useful or lose your tongue!” Yates screamed.
“Right. So.” Castle awkwardly hoisted herself into a sitting position, looping her bound arms over her knees. “As we’ve established, I can see the future, and it’s absolutely necessary to the survival of witchkind that both Meena and Braden survive this evening. So, if turning me into a wolf is what it takes to make sure that happens, I’m down to give it a whirl. Who knows? Could be cool.”
“It’s not cool,” Serenity shrieked. “It’s disgusting and humiliating and—”
“Aww.” Castle tilted her with mock sympathy. “Did someone sniff her friends’ butts?”
Yates flashed his hand at Serenity before she could respond. “You have my word that Mr. Thomas will be released as soon as your transformation is complete.”
“Your word. Yes, that means so much. Thank you.” Castle snorted. “Show us the boy. So we know you haven’t already killed him.”
Yates tilted his head in that creepy, bird-like manner. “I would think you already knew.”
“Bring him here,” Castle said in a low, warning tone that did not match her helpless situation. “So Meena will know she’s not doing this for nothing. You’ll never get what you want until she’s seen he’s safe.”
The golden beak pointed at me, and the cold eyes behind the mask studied my face. Finally, he asked, “That is the problem? You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I don’t trust you,” I snarled.
“If I fetch the boy, and you see that he’s safe and sound, ready to be released, then you will perform the spell?”
Castle nodded, her eyes urgent. Had she really seen a vision in which Braden and I were both necessary for the survival of witchkind? Or was she bluffing? At the moment, I guessed it didn’t really matter. I doubted that Braden’s presence would make it possible for me to do the spell I didn’t know how to do, but at least I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking the first opportunity to escape. If he were here, I could take him with me like last time. And Castle, too.
“Sure,” I answered breezily. “No problem. If Castle’s truly willing.”
“The sooner the better.” Castle tilted her head back and howled. “Let’s do this. Oh, wait. One more thing. My jacket.”
“Your jacket?” Yates said in a weary tone. “What about it?”
“Uh… it’s vintage?” Castle shot him a disdainful look. “I’d like it to stay in one piece, if you don’t mind.” She shrugged. “And besides, Meena was wearing it my vision of the final battle.”
A murmur rippled through the cult. Yates held up a hand. “The final battle?”
“Yeah. Drifters versus shifters. It’s going to be lit. Right up your alley. And for some reason, she’s going to be wearing my jacket when it happens.”
Yates leaped down from his stump, circling Castle. He poked at her jacket with his hand. “This jacket? What’s so special about it?”
“Uh, did you hear me? It’s vi
ntage.” Castle rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, man. Just because I see the future doesn’t mean I see every step in between. But I do know that if she’s not wearing this jacket when the time comes…”
“Then what?” Yates said, jabbing her with his wand. “Use less words.”
“We lose,” Castle said simply. “Everything.”
The gravity of her tone sent a chill down my spine. What if she was telling the truth? Drifters versus shifters? Were Braden and I going to be responsible for wiping out an entire species?
No, not a species. I thought of Rhea, trapped as a wolf for so many years she didn’t remember what her human face looked like. But she had one. Somewhere. She was a person, just like me. Or…?
“I’m sorry, Kim. You knew the rules.”
Castle had believed in my vision, even if my own father didn’t. Just because he had seen my mother’s body, retrieved from the bottom of a cliff, didn’t mean that shifters had nothing to do with it. Perhaps the shifter hadn’t attacked my mother but…
With a sudden jolt, my nightmare from several days ago returned to mind. Three wolves begging me to join them. Three witches wanting the same. And I… I had jumped off the cliff to avoid making the choice.
But what if that hadn’t been me? What if I had been witnessing my mother’s death out of order?
And what was it that had made my mother jump but a voice inside her head?
A female voice. One she trusted enough to obey.
Rhea.
A black cloud of fury rolled over me, blotting out everything but this.
“Give me the jacket!” I ordered. “And bring me Braden. Then I will do as you’ve asked.”
Chapter 8
Professor Yates rose off the ground and back onto his stump, which was definitely not so tall that he couldn’t have just stepped up like a normal person. But it was evident now that this was a man who relished a dramatic performance.
Well then, so be it. I had already severed one arm, murdered one man, and turned one girl into a wolf. Who could even say what I had done to my own father? If Yates wanted drama, I was the witch who delivered.
I flexed my fingers, willing them to remember whatever movements had called forth the so-called moon magic my blood contained. My heart ached for my wand, not just for the focus it would lend to my spastic power, but also for the support it signified. All of this would be easier if I knew my mom and grandma still had my back.
A tiny worm of doubt wiggled its way into my resolve. My grandmother had gifted me the wand after I’d saved Rhea’s life, but perhaps she was operating on outdated information. Being dead didn’t make her psychic, did it? How was she to know what had transpired in the moments before my mother threw herself off that cliff?
But if Mom is part of the magic now…
I emitted a frustrated growl. Being a witch was way too complicated, and this Academy didn’t teach anything in the right order. The source of our magic should have been the first lesson, its sentience the second. They shouldn’t just assume our families had taught us all of that themselves. Sometimes families failed. Sometimes families lied.
A bright red blast from Yates’ wand jolted me from my thoughts. It slammed into Castle, enveloping her jacket in a spiderweb of magic. An instant later, the jacket landed with a thump, limp and empty in the leaves.
Castle remained where she lay, hands still bound, looking startled and a lot more vulnerable in just her poet shirt and breeches. With her jacket off, I could see that the brass-studded holster at her hip was empty of its wand. What had they done with it? Would she be able to get it back? Would she even be worried about it after what I was about to do?
“A spell to magically remove someone’s clothes?” Castle sneered up at Yates. “Why am I not surprised?”
Yates ignored her. He pointed at the jacket on the ground and then at me. “Put it on.”
“What?” I taunted. “You can zap it right off but not on?”
Yates’ irritated sigh whistled through his hollow beak. “The wards in your cloak prevent such things. Otherwise someone might zap you into a straitjacket in battle, and then where would you be? Now, put it on.”
The man at my back released my elbows, and I stumbled forward. Apparently I’d been straining to get away more than I’d realized. Righting myself, I stepped up to the crumpled jacket that I had been coveting all during Divination class. Had that been a premonition of my own? What could it mean that I would be wearing this in the final battle between witches and shifters? Why would we lose if I didn’t?
I reached for the clasp at my throat. The green-cloaked girl emitted a small sound of consternation.
I froze.
My eyes slowly rose to meet the hateful pair behind the hummingbird mask. A torrent of emotions crashed through me—shock, horror, sadness, rage—but the one that finally took hold was embarrassment. How had I not recognized her beautiful green cloak right away?
“Leia?” My voice came out a raw whisper.
Yates looked sharply at his left-hand minion, confirming my suspicion with his reproach. Leia drew back as though he might strike her, and I clung to the shard of hope that she was here against her will.
“But you… you’re a healer…” I shook my head. “You can’t…”
Yates laughed so hard he doubled over. Serenity joined in the cackling, and soon most of those behind me were chuckling, too.
Leia lifted her chin, pointing her imperious beak to the night sky. “Just because you don’t like us doesn’t mean we don’t require healing too, at times.”
“I liked you,” I said quietly, shoulders slumping under the weight of her betrayal.
She snorted, either in disbelief or derision. I thought back to the night she’d saved Braden. Had she been in the clearing when he was stabbed? Was this why she had the skills to patch him up at all? Because she had already been training for these purposes before she was ever assigned to a magical department? I wanted to read more into her not letting him die, but I realized she had probably just been following orders to keep the drifters alive.
My eyes fell on Castle, who gave me a pitying, apologetic look. She had known, but for how long? Had she seen all of this happening? Was that why she’d recklessly answered my questions at all? All of this must come to pass to win the war I hadn’t even known was raging?
Yates cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to his golden mask. “You think of us as the bad guys now, my child, but once you set aside the mortal ideas of morality you were so cruelly and irresponsibly raised with, you’ll find we are, in fact, the good guys, fighting those who would enslave us, for our chance to stand in the sun, unafraid and unashamed.”
It was an appealing message. I could see how easy it must be for him to recruit students from magical families, the ones who had been forced to hide their special abilities their entire lives. But in that moment, I was suddenly and deeply grateful for my father’s decision to keep me away from these people.
My heart ached with guilt and worry. What had I done to him?
“But waste no more time,” Yates hissed. “Take the jacket. We must begin.”
Leia made another tiny noise. “But sir, the cloak—”
“Your efforts of enchantment are appreciated, sister, but Miss Song has agreed to cooperate.”
I yanked open the clasp and let the heavy purple fabric puddle at my feet. “What did you do to my cloak?”
Leia glowered at me, but it was Yates who answered. “She merely placed a ward that would prevent you from playing your transportation card. Standard procedure, but no longer necessary. I trust that you shall keep your word.”
“And you, yours?” I asked, bending to retrieve Castle’s jacket. I felt too exposed in only my jeans and light sweater.
“But of course.” Yates bowed low with a flourish that didn’t convince me. At all. Yet what choice did I have?
“Then bring me my friend,” I demanded, shrugging into the jacket.
The soft leath
er squeaked as I pushed up the sleeves, which were two inches too long for my arms. A pleasing warmth immediately encompassed my torso, but it was only Castle’s leftover body heat clinging to the fabric inner lining. Nothing magical about it. But at least it made me feel like a bad ass.
Yates straightened up from his dramatic bow, lifted his wand, and traced an incomprehensible pattern in the air. It ended with a downward slash that shot a bright burst of magic onto the ground.
Braden materialized between Yates and Castle. He teetered on bound feet, and then toppled over with an angry shout that filled my stomach with joyful nerves. He was alive. And in good enough condition to be royally pissed.
Castle scooted away from Braden’s violent attempt to right himself, but his tied hands were stuck beneath his chest at the wrong angle to do the necessary push-up. Also, he was probably still drunk. I felt a surge of fury toward him—all of this might have been avoided if he had stayed sober—but it quickly faded. He looked too helpless in his ratty sweatpants and that silly space cat shirt to stay angry.
Without thinking, I stepped forward to help him. Two strong arms immediately caught me around the waist, hauling me backward. My heels kicked at my captor’s knees, and I swiveled at my rib cage, trying to jab him with my elbows. He grunted as my blows connected with his cloaked biceps, but his hold never faltered.
“Don’t be stupid, Meena,” the deep voice growled against the back of my neck. “Just get this over with.”
I went slack, startled by the familiarity in the stranger’s tone. Someone else I would recognize without the ridiculous bird mask covering his face? Or just someone who believed our power imbalance gave him the right to use my first name?
My captor set my feet on the ground, unfurling his arms from around me until his gloved hands were resting on my hips. The intimacy of his touch turned my stomach, but almost as if he could sense that, he hooked two fingers through the belt loops on either side of my jeans so that I still couldn’t move, but he wasn’t actually touching me. The mystery deepened.
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