Page 34 of Phoenix Academy: Madness

And no, it's not Xavier and his brother Reggie, who may have an NC-17 imagination but at least doesn't hate me.

Sitting next to the handsome nerd is the angry blond himself, his ice blue eyes narrowed in irritation, a frown spoiling his plump lips, arms crossed against his chest angrily. I watch with rising hostility as he slumps in his seat and leans forward to scratch his nails against the table he and Xavier are sitting at. He doesn't even look up as I approach.

If fate was involved in turning him into one of my familiars, fate either has a bad sense of humor, or she's fucking me over.

"Hey Ari." Xavier greets me with his usual easygoing, neutral friendliness. "I found a few books about witches, but they're mostly history and biography, not instructional at all. I thought maybe you could help out."

I can't stop looking at the sullen werewolf in the corner. Noticing the direction of my gaze, Xavier says, "David came along because, as it turns out, his mother's family were witches generations ago. I recognized her maiden name in one of these biographies and thought he could help us figure out any regional books we should look for."

David doesn't look up at me as I ask, "You're descended from witches?"

"It's the reason why I could become a shifter in the first place." He frowns at Xavier. "But I think your lead will go nowhere. How many books are there around here about Arkansas and magic, anyway?"

"Eleven," Xavier answers quickly, "at least primarily. Another hundred show up with partial passages tagged in the database. Also, this will go by faster with you. There are way too many books to go through."

I don't mention to Xavier that David is probably right; this is unlikely to go anywhere at all. Witches don't write things down, and even within our oral history familiars are somewhat of a mystery. We haven't had them in so long that the last witch to have a familiar predates the existence of America.

Telling this to Xavier would risk ending this little research adventure, though. I don't even know if I like spending time with him or with the books more—I couldn't possibly choose. Even with grumpy-as-hell David around, I'd still rather be here.

So I grab a book, open its pages, and skim through it like I'm actually looking for details on the history of familiars.

The truth is, Iwillfigure out how to undo this spell. But that will have to happen after I've figured out a way to sneak off campus and get in contact with a coven to help me out.

Until then, I get to enjoy the view a couple feet away from one of the hottest nerds I've ever met—and ignore his best friend occasionally glowering at me over the stack of books on the table.

* * *

I can't sleep.

Last night, the stress of the day caught up with me, and the moment my head hit the pillows of my new room, I fell straight asleep for a solid eight hours. But now I'm all-too-aware of how thoroughly my life has changed in just a brief day. I can feel the absence of birdsong overhead, the lack of Lizzy snuggling against my side, my mother's vivaciousness missing from the world.

I can't stop thinking about seeing her spirit in that rune.

Mage Auerbach didn't want me to go into the old gym without him. He said the runes are too powerful.

But he's a mage. Their rules only apply to the rest of us, never tothem.I bet he wouldn't tell one of his mage apprentices not to use the runes. He would encourage them to explore and discover. He would share with them how to make the runes.

I want to see my mother.

So, even though it's unwise, and even though last time I was nearly destroyed, I get out of bed, grab a change of clothes out of my wardrobe, and head out of my dorm room in the dead of night.

Mages won't stop me from doing whatever it takes to see Mom again.

Even if it kills me.

After all, I know she's waiting for me on the other side.

Chapter 17

The New Englandair is cool this late at night, as winter sneaks up on autumn to steal the last bits of warmth from the air. I was told that we entered the academy's gates somewhere in Santa Cruz, but came out the other end on a campus thousands of miles away.

Mage spells. They really do act like they're gods.

With a map of the school in my mind, I pull my phoenix Academy branded jacket around myself and forge into the dark. The paths of the school are sparsely lit up every fifty feet or so, but I avoid them in favor of walking through the woods instead, damp earth churning beneath my feet. Though I don't see anyone out at this hour, the last thing I want to do is get caught.

Not that I'm sure what the consequences of being caught would even be.

Or if I would care.

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