Page 318 of Sigils & Spells

“What?” I replied slowly.

Was it my fault having Brandon and all his silver-eyed hotness in my bedroom was making it hard to think?

I turned my back on him, ignoring the rumbling growl even my dull hearing could pick up as I ran a brush through mystill damp thanks to Riotresses.

“You were on fire, Tana. Your whole body, and it looked painful. Talk to me,” Rio said, sitting next to me.

“I can’t,” I whispered, already knowing that was saying too much. “I have to go.”

Standing up on shaky legs, I saw Brandon flinch as if he wanted to move forward, but Magnus’ hand shot out, stilling the dragon.

Interesting, he let him, I thought before leaving my room.

I really had to get my focus back. Thinking about the dragon hybrid made no sense at all. Waste of time, and I had little left. Looking at my phone, I saw the message from my dad and my heart stopped.

Tana,

I’m close. I visited the site of the last battle of the Second Witch Wars where Florence fell. No one is guarding the grounds anymore. I’ve contacted a necromancer. Soon, I’ll see exactly what transpired here. I will find out who killed your mother, Tana.

He didn’t bother to sign it, and his slightly manic tone would have worried me if I didn’t also feel his excitement. Once we had a name, I could use a locater spell to track the bastards. They wouldn’t remain hidden for long.

“Miss McKenna,” Headmistress Armstrong’s voice whipped across the entryway to Incendo Coven Hall, where I’d been headed for the weekly seminar on using fire as a medium to cast spells.

Sure, the seminar was usually boring, but it gave me an opportunity to observe my fellow Incendo Coven hopefuls. The varying shades of redheaded witches and wizards worked toward controlling what was ultimately the most uncontrollable element of them all.

“Yes?”

“A moment of your time,” the former professor said, turning without checking to see if I would follow.

I’d had one uncomfortable meeting so far this semester with the headmistress, and was not looking forward to another. The witch was as guarded as the green medallion she wore around her neck. I often stared at the piece, wondering if held powers or if her affection for it was purely sentimental.

She led me away from Incendo Coven Hall to her office, and I closed the door behind me when instructed. Schooling my face to remain impassive, I waited for her to speak first.

“You seem to spend more time in the library than you do your classes, Miss McKenna,” she stated.

A reply seemed unnecessary, so I remained quiet. Her eyes narrowed, but her mood was not unfriendly. She had reason to be upset. Westwood Academy boasted the finest witch and wizard graduates across the supernatural world. Supernaturals would and have killed to enter these hallowed halls as students.

“You’re failing, Miss McKenna.”

For a second, I thought she was talking about mine and my father’s quest for vengeance and my stomach dropped. Then she turned a school issued tablet toward me, and I saw she meant my grades.

Well, fuck.

I didn’t realize things had slipped that far.

Not good, Tana.

Not good.

“I have noticed you wandering off campus often, and since I owe it to your late Grandmother Newton, I am assigning you sentinel to escort you to and from classes. No more skipping, Miss McKenna.”

I frowned.

Armstrong knew my grandmother?

That was the first I’d heard of it. She looked too young to have seen the Second Witch Wars, but we aged differently, slower than normals. There was nothing I could say in my defense, so silence it was. I was curious about her association with my grandmother, though.

“How did you know my grandmother?” I asked boldly.

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