Page 1 of The Witch & the Wolf

Prologue – Arlo

Arlo straightened his tie, hoping that the next formal family event would be his last one. His family expected him to turn up and put on a good showing. The Sixclaw family had prestige. Power. His particular branch of the family, however, budded into fruit – fruit that threatened to drop off from the branch itself and seed into a new family. A new clan.

His mother didn’t want that. She wanted their family to stay together, to be attached to the powerful Sixclaw name. His father, however, wanted to embrace the necromantic magic that ran through their branch of the family. Only their side of the Sixclaws had the strain – and the magic itself was enough to fund lucrative careers, to fund their own new clan.

He paused by the door, hearing another heated argument between his parents.

“Don’t try any of your foul dark shenanigans,” his mother spat at his father. “I have a hard enough time trying to keep everything respectable and to the standards that are expected of us. You’ve put too much fancy into our son’s head. Both our sons. Now he wants to run off to Dreadmor Academy as well instead of picking the option that’s best for all of us.”

“Dreadmor will foster his talents better than Archon,” his father argued back heatedly, his voice rasping. “Not everything is about these parties, about prestige. Sometimes, we have to do things ourselves. We can break off. We have enough clout to do it.”

“No, we can’t – we can’t break up the family. I love you. You know I love you. But this – we can’t do this. You shouldn’t have encouraged that magic. It’s obscene. People distrust such… practices!”

He peered through the door crack to see his mother’s hands balled up into fists against her husband’s chest. Then her head rested against him, and he cradled her.

“We’ll find a way to make this work. We will.”

She stayed in the embrace before tearing away with a dramatic sob. “We…” She swallowed. “Let’s get ready.”

A cold, numb feeling spread through Arlo’s body and brain, frosting over his heart.

His parents argued more and more. And now, with his choice to go to Dreadmor – it might just be the final wedge in their floundering relationship.

Selfish, he thought of himself. So selfish. He should just tear up the admission letter. Beg for Archon to let him in. Fix the family. But his magic… he wanted to learn.

With guilt, he closed the door, searching for a jacket to present himself to the last party before his term started. I’m sorry.

Chapter One - Holly

Dreadmor Academy. Located in an obscure corner of the world, straddling the barrier between normal and fantastical, it stood tall and proud centuries after its formation.

Out of all the prestigious supernatural schools that existed, perhaps Dreadmor sat most firmly on the edge of reality. It danced with the energy of wild magic, of untamed sections of land where dangers lurked, and all around it, magic burned bright as the day it was formed, like the burst of power from the Big Bang, when the universe was hottest, ripe with the new creation of stars and planets.

In those pockets of untamed land, glimpses of other realities might be seen – and occasionally, some of those realities glimpsed back.

All in all, it was the perfect sort of location for those who looked to perfect their magic, intermingle with the supernatural – and sometimes get a lot more than they bargained for.

Holly grinned as she walked under the stylized black iron gateway. It gave a suitably ominous creak as she ventured into the academy grounds, noting the light mist in the background, obscuring the wildlands from view.

She knew, pretty much as soon as she could walk and talk, that this was the school for her. After all, dark magic ran in her family. Her mother, father, cousins, aunts, and uncles loved to boast about it, with grand claims that they descended from prominent Celtic practitioners. Perhaps they were a little vague on some of the details about which Celtic practitioner, but she’d heard stories ranging from having direct links to the goddess Ishtar, Inanna, Hecate, links to The Morrigan, Baba Yaga – even though not all of these had Celtic origin. They just liked the stories and the sense of feeling important and connected.

Having some prepped stories seemed appropriate for attending this particular academy.

The grounds stretched out before her, with gargoyle-topped fountains, neat little rows of white-and-red plants, impeccably trimmed bushes – and one tree artfully carved into the shape of a griffin. Upon closer inspection, it seemed the leaves were enchanted, as they gave the faintest of green glimmers, causing the griffin’s wings to ripple and move. Nice.

Dreadmor’s huge double-door entrance remained closed, but in a touch of ingenious magic, all she needed to do was step through what seemed like solid wood, ending up inside the vast hallway. She took out her guide map, and it illuminated for her a faint pathway to her first lesson, which she followed dutifully since, judging by the size and depth of the academy, it’d be very easy to get lost without such a map.

Other students, also new, held out their maps as well, following glimmering green trails to their destinations. A few intermingled with her trail. Other new students were heading to the same class as her, which caused a small worry to creep in.

For all her pride in being accepted here, none of her friends back home had managed the same, meaning that she was starting at this school without knowing anyone. Sure, one of her aunts actually taught one of the lessons, but she didn’t want to be seen as the person clinging to a teacher and having no friends.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come down to anything like that, although, from examining their clothes, some of the students definitely appeared to come from families wealthier than hers. Others oozed with magic. One woman showed off by changing her hair color with a nifty illusion spell, flicking through the colors of the rainbow in seconds.

Illusions were not really Holly’s talent. Her talent was a little more specific and perhaps not as well suited for a normal classroom. It might have gotten her into Dreadmor’s Summer Camp so she could earn credits before starting her first year, but she just missed the boat on the admissions. Still, she might try again. Her older sister gushed about how awesome and fun the summer camp was and how it was worth everyone’s while to go there at least once in their lifetime.

Though apparently, the latest camp to happen might have been a little too worthwhile for some. The papers covered it as some “mild” tears in reality that appeared over the camp. Nothing to worry about, everything completely under control, not a big deal or anything – as if tears in reality happened on a regular basis.

However, as Holly knew, the papers either exaggerated or greatly downplayed situations, depending on their agenda. Holly’s aunt Grena – the aforementioned Dreadmor teacher – had hinted at such. But even she didn’t have all the details.

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