Page 32 of Overwhelmed By Magic

I shouldn’t have asked such a loaded question. “That depends,” Ambrose purrs, his green eyes turning almost black as he backs me up against the mattress until I’m falling to my ass. Skye has been the only one to make me lose my breath the way I do around this mage and the way I get lost in his eyes is terrifying. He searches my expression before backing off and heading for the door. “No, I don’t think it should. See if you can’t grab your little human tonight. I think I have something that might cheer him up.”

In no world are Ambrose’s words safe ones.

“I think the kids call it truth or dare these days.”

A groan falls from my lips. “That sounds like it could be a disaster.”

“A little bit of alcohol, a game, and all of us? That doesn’t sound bad,” Ambrose purrs. “And we can even play spin the bottle afterward. I would very much like to see you kiss Jade. Or Jade and Skye. Goddess, Rumi and Skye. Do you think he would?”

I pass the mage, frowning at his playful antics. “We’re not having a fucking orgy for your entertainment, Ambrose.” Although, alcohol and Jade in the same room is probably exactly what that is going to turn into.

I’ll have to warn Skye.

If he’s speaking to me again.

20

SKYE

I hate everything. I haven’t been able to eat properly and the fucking bite on my neck itches more than my wrists do. Anxiety and a twinge of fear cloud my thoughts as I hide away in my office, trying to understand who put me here and why. Trying to call outside earlier this week was a fucking disaster when I found that the working phone was in Tamara's office. The few minutes on the phone with my mother revealed absolutely nothing other than her screaming at Harlow for dragging me into this mess.

The thought that this place was truly a prison hadn’t occurred to me before, but that’s exactly what it is. Between the three meals a day in the cafeteria, squirreling away to our rooms so we don’t get caught in the crosshairs of unruly Magila, and finding out that all communication sent outside of Grimrose is monitored, I feel like I can’t even speak without doing something wrong.

Tamara and Leo have frequented my office, asking me a bucketful of questions regarding the several moments I nearly died, not that I have any answers for them. Rumi, Ambrose, and Harlow have been there in some combination to drag me out of harm’s way before anything happens or they just scowl and snarl like animals till people give us a wide enough berth. I can’t say I hate their protectiveness but it’s getting ridiculous that I can’t even use the bathroom without them guarding me.

One of many reasons I’ve chosen to stay tucked into my office with the cot and private bathroom.

Tamara seems the most intrigued by the students’ interest in me but not enough to protect me from further attacks. I’ve caught her once or twice watching from across the cafeteria when someone tries to grab at me, curiosity written all over her face. Azriel has been rather distant, not that I expected us to become best friends or anything.

The worst moment, though, was two days ago when Harlow dragged me through the void. I’m not angry with him. Hell, I love him for saving my sorry ass yet again. I don’t even know what was about to attack me but I felt the air that whooshed past my chest as I stepped into the hallway. The problem is that I felt essence pass through me from the void, an eerie feeling that still lingers in my wrists and at the edge of my mind.

The nightmares have worsened and I have no idea how to tell Harlow. Closing my eyes brings back those wandering hands but now there are whispers, chants that accompany them. Even my concentration has gone to hell as I hide away in my office, biding my time by reading volumes of Magila history and ignoring the rest of the world.

Whatever existence this is, it fucking sucks.

Unfortunately, today, it’s about to get worse.

Friday is the first day of counseling and I’m still confused about what I’m supposed to do when these Magila have no hope of actually leaving. Worse, I’ve been given the ones who’ve been here longer than I’ve been alive. Hell, between Ambrose and Rumi, my great-grandparents were probably just born. What the fuck am I supposed to say to them? How am I supposed to soothe their worries?

I’ve reread the packet given to me a billion times. I’ve even asked Tamara a question or two but she manages a shrug before disappearing into her own office. Have we given up on the students or does everyone really just not know what to do?

I sag in my chair, whirling around in circles several times, waiting for either Tamara or Leo to knock. There’s going to be a group meeting before we see the students but I can’t imagine my presence there going over well. I haven’t even spoken with any of the other counselors and I couldn’t pick them out of the crowd, either. It really feels like I’ve been shoved into a little bubble and forced to perform. I let out a little sigh as I lean back against the headrest, my lids closing even though I fight it.

It isn’t until I’m under that I realize I’m not asleep.

Well, I am but I’m not.

Frowning, I sit up, finding myself in the middle of a hallway, staring into a room that I’ve never seen before. A large tree sits in the middle, thick roots exploded across the stone. Essence hangs around the forest green foliage, pinks, golds, and blues swirling in and out of sight like little pixies. It’s the book at the base of the tree that draws my attention though. Symbols I can’t make out are written coarsely across the front, the book beating with more essence than the room is.

I push to my feet, still confused as to where I am but I follow my curiosity despite how dangerous it is. When I step across the threshold, it’s like Mother Nature herself greets me, a pink butterfly crafted from essence gathering from my wrist before it soars through the room. Its path lights up the walls which reveal the truth.

Knowledge.

Books upon books litter shelves jutting out from the stone—all vibrant colors and shapes. I don’t even know the words that they hold but I can tell that it’s knowledge that has been stolen from us, from Magila, from everyone. The butterfly continues through the room until it lands on a small red leather-bound journal near the back.

If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what it is.

Careful to avoid the roots of the tree, I hurry toward it. I’ve seen enough movies to know that removing this book will either be the key to everything or disaster. However, I need to know. And this is the first clue I’ve received since I’ve been here.

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