Page 9 of Spelled By Truth and Tresses

I decided against telling her about my texting Jax. She worried too much about me already.

We reached the gates. “I’m going to head out to meet Eleanore. We have a study date in the library.”

I nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

CHAPTER 5

The smell of fresh parchment and old books hung in the air after I pushed open the heavy door to the classroom. The professor perched on the edge of their mahogany desk—the ornate, hand-crafted designs etched into the wood — worn by the passage of time, and glared at the class from the front of the room.

My eyes traveled the length of the floor to ceiling, black shelves spilling with tomes of leather books, and creased spines. The wooden frames of the shelves, adorned with intricate carvings of twisted vines, were just as beautiful as the historical texts they held.

This always was one of my favorite rooms.

Professor Elgon pushed his half-moon glasses up the bridge of his nose, then cast his eyes to me. “You are late, Miss Bathory.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

I took my seat at the front of the class, sensing the eyes boring into the back of my head. Dark gray light filtered through the arched windows, inlaid with led crisscrossed patterns, casting shadows onto the ground. I ran my fingers along the sides of my splintering desk, then pulled my book of The Advanced History of Magic from my backpack.

A ball of parchment whooshed through the air from someone behind me, landing in the chandelier, its long branches of metal hanging like vines and inlaid with melted beeswax candles. A second ball hit the back of my head, and I whipped my head around to see Jayde, giggling.

Fucking bitch.

I shot her a venomous glare, then tried to focus on today’s lesson, which ironically was about ancestors.

“Everyone to page 132,” Professor Elgon announced, and ran his hand through his brown curls. “Today we will be discussing the origins of Sirens.”

Jayde scoffed from behind me, and I let out a small sigh. But the professor’s brown eyes hovered over me for a moment longer. “Beautiful creatures,” he announced, and I squirmed in my seat until he averted his gaze. “They originated from the island of Cape Sirenorai, off the coast of Italy. Naturally, there are many myths surrounding the creatures, many dating back to Greek mythology. Can anyone tell me the true origins of the siren sisters?”

I glanced around, but no one spoke up. Hesitantly, I cleared my throat and everyone’s eyes snapped to me. “There, um, were two sisters who lived on Cape Sirenorai. Today, there are many more who live there,” I added, although it wasn’t what he asked. “It is said the two sisters were mortal descendants who were drowned at sea by the men who ruined them over four-hundred years ago. The goddess breathed life back into their souls and allowed them to enact their vengeance.”

“Very good, Miss Bathory. Can you tell us how they enacted their revenge?”

I nodded, but my breath caught in my throat. “They used their all-encompassing beauty, said to shift depending on who saw them, to lure men to the island from passing ships.”

“Wait?” A voice sounded beside me, and I noticed Thomas for the first time, sitting with his head buried in his hands. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the professor. “They’re shifters?”

“No,” I replied, then pushed the defensiveness from my tone. “Their appearance never physically changed. It was a mental power, like a psychic link they had with the men, allowing them to see only what they wanted to see. Physically, they were said to be really attractive, however.”

Jayde snorted. “Clearly that didn’t pass down to all their descendants.”

I gritted my teeth, but the professor hushed the class before I could retort back. “Does anyone know where their powers are held in their bodies? We know witches hold their powers in the heart. Phantoms in their sacral.”

“Their heads,” I stated, and he smiled toothily. “That’s why we’re not supposed to cut our hair often.”

“Yes. The two sisters, before they were drowned, were targeted because of their hair. They had very long, black hair and in those times, people were superstitious. They cut the woman’s hair off before they drowned them, and when they were brought back to life, the goddess restored their beauty, enhancing it even. So, yes, the sirens' powers are held in their minds.”

He continued into origins, but I zoned out as soon as he started talking about the immense dark powers sirens held, because of vengeance, and how often most of them went mad because of it. Especially half-mortal, half-sirens, because our human morality is constantly warring with our siren side. As the class lingered on, my magic pulsed under my skin. Everything is singed by grief and I cannot escape it, even here, in textbooks. My dad’s death lingered everywhere, and I can’t help but wonder if he did take his own life because of his powers. I knew he struggled with it, falling into deep periods of depression, but I never believed he would actually commit to the act he sometimes spoke of.

Holding on to any other belief about his death was all that kept me going; not knowing was my safety net. Because without conclusive proof, I could create another story in my mind, where my dad was the victim of something terrible, something external, but not his own mind.

If I did believe that, then I’d have to succumb to the idea that I would be heading for the same fate one day.

The moment the bell rang, I ran out of the class and toward the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me, then breathed in several deep breaths before holding the air in my lungs. The panic attack was imminent, just thinking about him was a trigger, and my fingers trembled with untapped power.

Gods, what was happening to me?

After a few minutes, the door opened and Amara and Jayde tumbled inside. I shook my head and tried to hurry out, but Amara grabbed me before I could.

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