CHAPTER ONE
I crouched behind a blue oak tree, trying to quiet the thumping of my heart. I was certain every living creature in the forest could hear it. Not ideal when I wanted to remain hidden. I tried to remember tips from my meditation class at Spellslingers—any quick exercise to quell my fear and make me battle ready. I focused inward and summoned my magic because that was a form of meditation for me, especially earth magic, my specialty. I felt its soothing energy travel through me, spreading to my extremities. My left eye twitched. There was an imbalance here. A trespass. The creature was close.
Inhaling deeply, I rose to my feet. Cold air filled my lungs and I winced from the sharp pain that followed. Who ever spread the rumor that the underworld was blazing hot? Not in this area. Cool night air and blue oak and sycamore trees—except for the demon hunting me, this place reminded me of home.
A thin slice of metal flashed in the moonlight and I adjusted my stance into a defensive position. No more hide and seek. It was time to kill or be killed. The inevitability of the moment didn’t make it any easier.
“I’ve finally found you,” the demon said. “And now I won’t let you go.”
I drew another breath and pressed against the thick trunk, the bark scraping my bare skin. I could do this. I had to.
“You belong to me,” the demon said. His voice was more high-pitched than I remembered. Almost nasal. “Your place is by my side, my beautiful bride. Your duty is to honor and obey me. Bend to my will.”
Not a chance. I emerged from behind the tree, the hilt of my own blade sure and certain in my hand. “Yes on the beautiful. No on the hitching my wagon to your black hole of a star. Gross.”
We shot forward at the same time, our blades crashing against each other. I called forth my magic and the blue oak arched over me—at first like a protective shield and then as a sword, its sharp branches jabbing the demon as smoothly and strategically as my own blade.
The demon’s blade glowed with a strange gray light that reminded me of an eclipse. A penumbra. He slashed at the branches and away they fell, dropping beside me with heavy thuds. Pain seared my arms. Empathy for the tree. I had to disconnect before it became too overwhelming.
The tip of his sword grazed my forearm and I nearly dropped my weapon. The demon saw his chance. He struck again before I could raise my sword in protest. Blood gushed from my arm, forming a dark red pool on the forest floor. I staggered backward and tripped over one of the fallen branches. My head slammed against the solid ground and my teeth rattled in response.
The demon’s face loomed over me. “Say my name, my beautiful bride. I want to hear it as it passes your dying lips.”
I lifted my feet and pushed with as much force as I could muster. The demon hunched over and I grabbed the opportunity to leap back to my feet. A swift kick to the demon’s chin was enough to unbalance him. He fell onto his back and I dropped to my knees, straddling his hideous figure. I clasped my sword above my head, ready to end this nightmare once and for all.
“Goodbye, Abraxas,” I said.
His name seemed to serve as a magical switch. The demon’s face morphed into someone younger and more human. The boy’s horrified expression made the pale fuzz on my arms stand on end.
“Cerys,” he whispered. “Don’t.”
Tears streaked my dirt-stained cheeks as I closed my eyes and plunged the blade into his chest. His body disintegrated beneath me and I collapsed onto the forest floor, sobbing.
When I opened my eyes again, the forest was gone. I was in my bedroom, soaked in darkness. A sheen of sweat formed a layer across my brow. I sat up and looped my arms around my knees, forming a ball. My bones shook. My soul fractured.
Haggis, my familiar, must have sensed my distress. She appeared beside me in absolute silence, her blue eyes glowing in the inky black of night, and curled up next to me.
“It was only a bad dream,” I reassured her.
There’ve been too many, Haggis said.
“I haven’t had one this bad in months.”
The warmth of her fur calmed me and I sank back against the soft mattress. The pitch black of the room told me it was nowhere near time to get up. I didn’t want to disturb my roommates, so I stroked my familiar’s back and tried to go back to sleep. It was a pointless effort. I had no desire to close my eyes and look upon that face again. I was only glad I didn’t wake up screaming. That hadn’t happened in at least a year.
You’re shaking, Haggis said.
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted.
Go see her.
“Not now,” I said softly. “It’s the middle of the night.”
I’ll go with you. She’ll understand.
Haggis was right. She would. I flipped back the covers and slipped out of bed as quietly as I could. I didn’t bother to get dressed. I grabbed my purple Spellslingers cloak from the closet. I didn’t bother with shoes. I preferred being barefoot anyway. That was the earth witch in me. I liked the direct contact between my skin and the ground.
I left the building and hurried across the academy grounds with Haggis trotting beside me. We passed by a forest, fountains, orchards and the hellhound enclosure before reaching the deep recesses of the property where some of the Spellslingers staff lived.
Her cottage was compact and symmetrical with a square red chimney that reminded me of a child’s drawing. Simple and sweet. Unsurprisingly, the interior appeared dark and quiet. I hesitated.
She told you to come whenever and she meant it, Haggis reminded me. You can trust her.
Trust. It wasn’t a concept I readily embraced.
You’re shivering, Haggis said. At least knock so you can go inside where it’s warm.
I swallowed my pride and rapped on the door. After a few anxious minutes, I heard the shuffle of feet and the soft click of the door.
“Cerys?” Alana’s face peered at me through the screen door. “I’d ask if everything is all right, but that seems a ridiculous question given that you’re on my doorstep in your cloak and nightclothes.” She held open the door. “Come in. I’ll make tea.”
As I crossed the threshold, Haggis shot past my feet, unwilling to be left behind. It took me a moment to realize that the druid was nude. Her long white hair hung loose, covering her breasts. I jerked my head away and she laughed.
Druids, Haggis complained.
This was your idea, I shot back.
“My apologies,” Alana said. “I did not even think. One moment, please.” She disappeared into a nearby room and returned wearing a plain white nightgown trimmed with lace that swished around her ankles. “Better?”
“I wasn’t offended,” I said. “Just surprised.”
“Another nightmare?” Alana didn't look at me. Instead, she padded into the kitchen and filled the copper kettle with water before setting it on the stovetop. I followed her and sat at the small square table next to the window. The kitchen was the type of quaint and charming room that you would expect from a druid. No one knew exactly how old Alana was, just that she was a survivor. Like me. Aside from the fact that she served as my school therapist, I also viewed her as a kindred spirit. She had a way of kindly and gently prodding me in an effort to peel back the layers of protection I’d formed over the years. That was the reason I was here now. Safety. Security.
Sanity.
“You don't like chamomile, do you?” Alana poured boiling water into two mugs.
“No. It's kind of you to remember.”
Alana spared me a glance over her narrow shoulder. “Tough. I am giving it to you anyway. Sometimes it is better to be given what we need rather than what we want.” She brought the two mugs to the table and set one in front of me. My nose wrinkled in response.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll drink it because I'm a good guest.” I lifted the mug to my lips and inhaled the aroma. The steam felt good on my face. That was worth something.
“Tell me about this nightmare,” Alana said, settling into the chair across from me.
I shifted awkwardly. “It’s probably nothing. My birthday is this week. I bet it’s anxiety about getting older.”
Alana laughed deep in her throat. “Is that so? In that case, I should be collapsing in fear at my age.”
Beside me, Haggis meowed. “It isn't polite to interrupt,” I said.
Alana offered a patient smile. “How thoughtless of me. Not to worry, Haggis. I serve all my guests, no matter how many legs they stand on.” She crossed the room and retrieved a sealed container from the refrigerator. The smell of fish wafted through the room when she lifted the lid. She set the container down on the floor next to the table so that Haggis could join us.
She is very accommodating, Haggis said. She submerged her head inside the container.
This is the real reason you encouraged me to come here, isn’t it? I accused. “Haggis is very appreciative of your hospitality.”
Alana returned to her seat. “Now, where were we? It is unlikely that you have shown up in the middle of the night to tell me that you dreamed of puppies and unicorns.”
“Unless the puppies were being impaled by unicorn horns,” I said. “I think that qualifies as a nightmare.”
Alana laughed softly. “Yes. I forget the macabre mind you have. It isn't something you share very often.”
No, it wasn't. My friends viewed me as a personal source of vitamin D. Their own personal ray of sunshine. My instinct was to take care of everyone and make them feel better. Macabre didn't comport with my image.
“I dreamed about…him again,” I said.
Alana gave me a sympathetic look and sipped her tea. “And how did that make you feel?”
“Frightened. Ashamed. Guilty.”
“Those are very strong emotions. No wonder you could not find your way back to sleep.” She rubbed her thumb along the side of the mug. “Have you given any more thought to being open with your friends?”
My mouth formed a line of grim determination. “No. No one wants to hear about that.”
“I think it is more you do not want to relive it.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure that's part of it,” I admitted. “My roommates have their own issues. I don't need to burden them with mine.”
Alana smiled. “We have talked about this, Cerys. When you share the burden, the weight grows lighter.”
I gripped the handle of my mug. “I am not subjecting my friends to my own personal horrors. It isn't fair.”
Alana examined me closely. “That is the advice I offer you now. You want these nightmares to end, do you not?”
“Are you suggesting that if I share with my friends that the nightmares will stop? I don't think it's that simple.”
“I never said anything about being simple.” Alana took another sip of tea. “I can give you more herb packets to help you sleep, but I suggest you find an outlet for your buried emotions. We have discussed healthy coping mechanisms. The only one you haven't yet tried….”
I held up a hand. “I’ll take the packets, thank you.”
Alana didn't argue. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and moved to the counter where a row of copper canisters lined the wall. She plucked the lid off the one in the middle and retrieved three herbal packets. She placed them in a clear bag and dropped it onto the table next to my mug.
“I expect to see you in our next session,” she said. “No excuses.”
“Thank you, Alana,” I said. “I appreciate your help. I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep.”
She gave me a gentle pat on the back. “I am old now, my dear. I do not need the sleep I used to. You know you are always welcome here. Druids and earth witches…There is a connection between us. We must look out for one another.”
I forced a smile. “You look out for everyone, Alana. But thank you for trying to make me feel special.”
Alana's expression grew weary. “You are special, Cerys Davies. And very loved. Believe it.”
“I do try.”
“Get some sleep,” Alana said. “You have Professor Langley tomorrow, yes? You do not want to be deprived of sleep for his class.”
No, if there was one class in which I wanted to be awake and alert, it was Professor Langley's. Even as a Third Year, I still felt a small quake of fear when I entered his room.
I slipped the packets into my cloak pocket and stood. “Thank you, Alana. It’s nice to have someone I can always count on.”
“You have three witches in your room right now that would move heaven and earth for you,” Alana said, escorting me to the door.
“But I don’t want them to,” I said. “Loved ones should never be put in that position.”
“Sweet child,” Alana said. “We do whatever we can for those we care about. That’s exactly what loved ones are for.”
“Now that we’re assembled and dry, we’ve got a fun session in store.” Finn Horton, the Master at Arms, had us lined up in rows of two in the armory. An unexpected downpour at the start of the lesson had forced us inside, much to my dismay. I preferred the outdoors to a musty academy room, even in the rain.
“Why is Professor Mayweather here?” Priscilla Peacock asked. The witch managed to charge even the most basic question with negativity. It took real talent.
“Professor Mayweather is the reason this lesson will be fun,” Master Horton explained. “She’s here to lend me a little magical assistance.”
Professor Abelia Mayweather stepped forward in a dark pink cloak that I’d never seen before. I also noticed a shade of lipstick that she didn’t typically wear. Interesting.
“Maybe someone has a crush on the Master at Arms,” I whispered to Mia.
“Or a hot date afterward,” Mia replied.
It was hard to imagine Abelia Mayweather on a date. The herbologist seemed to spend more time with plants than paranormals. Then again, she was one of the most delightful professors at Spellslingers, so I could understand someone wanting to spend quality time with her.
“Master Horton has asked me to call up a variety of paranormal creatures as your challengers today,” the professor said.
“Excellent,” Dani said.
Priscilla raised her hand. “Are you sure we’ll end up with worthy foes and not a bunch of giant plant creatures?”
“Giant plant creatures would be amazing,” Ollie Fitzgibbons said. “Let’s do that.” A few pupils snickered.
Professor Mayweather appeared unruffled by Priscilla’s apparent criticism. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Peacock, but I can assure you I’m more than capable of this type of magic. I have many years of practice, you see.”
Master Horton leveled a gaze at Priscilla and continued his introduction. “Your task is to choose the most useful weapon to fight this creature and then do it.” He gestured to the left where hundreds of weapons lined the armory wall. “Once the creature appears, you’ll get sixty seconds to choose your best weapon and get in the splash zone. The fight itself will last for five minutes, unless you defeat it sooner. Then we’ll critique your choice of weapon and performance afterward.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I hated critiques. Logically, I knew they were designed to improve my fighting skills, but there was something exhausting about being slapped with a litany of critical comments immediately afterward. Not to mention that so much was speculation and opinion. This wasn’t the real world. Maybe I’d behave differently if my life were at stake. No one really knew how they’d react in a crisis situation until confronted with one. This much I knew.
“This is going to be so kickass,” Dani said. Naturally, she was on board. My roommate was a flawless fighter and relished every swish and slice of her blade.
“I’m game,” Bryn added.
I forced a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fun. Just be sure to protect your weak sides.”
They both laughed at the same time. I knew what they were thinking. What weak side?
Madge LaRue went first. She fought a basilisk with a throwing star. As much as I hated to admit it because Madge was so awful, she performed well. She waited until the serpent was charging her, upright and erect in the middle, before throwing the star. The basilisk lost its head in a single strike and most of the onlookers burst into spontaneous applause.
“You’ve been practicing outside of lessons, Madge,” Master Horton said. His tone suggested he was both pleased and impressed.
“We’re Third Years now,” Madge said. “Time to start proving myself.”
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