Page 54 of Phoenix Academy: Madness

My voice is raspy as I insist, "I have to at least cut the thing's strings."

"I think they've got it," he observes wryly, as one of the panthers grabs Gilgamesh's arm in its mouth and rips it apart. I wince. "There goes my simulacrum, I guess. Over a month of work down the drain."

"Sorry," I say. "I guess it didn't go as planned."

"That's an understatement. Not to worry, though—we'll figure out some other ways for you to test channeling your magic. Maybe on something with fewer variables. I'm sure if I call the right people and study the correct texts, I can find some forgotten way to channel the element of spirit into objects, so we don't have to trythisagain. Agate might be a good material for spirit energy, or maybe a copper alloy."

I keep quiet, not wanting to ask too many questions and risk him shutting his mouth. Mages channel elements into objects and store powerful magic that way over time, so they're never relying just on what's at hand—or, like us witches, what runs through our blood and is available in the form of living things around us, like herbs or small animals. But they keep the knowledge of what to channel magic into, and how to keep it there instead of leaking out, to themselves.

I know Auerbach keeps magic in his bracelets, among other objects he lugs around with him. And I'm certain that if I just study them a little more, or find the right information somewhere, I might be able to store my own magic to use against the Heretic.

If he's going to teach me how to do that, all the better. I just can't show him how eager I am to learn this particular bit of magecraft—or figure out that the only thing I want to do with it is murder a madman. Somehow I doubt he'll understand my desire for bloody vengeance.

"Well." Trailing off, Auerbach coughs awkwardly. "Looks like the simulacrum is dead. Or, to be more accurate, no longer animated. Just in time for class to be over with. Think you can make it to the next one without a medic?"

Stretching my body, I feel only stiffness, no pain. "I've got regenerative powers. I'll be fine."

"Good. Next class, we'll talk about channeling. And I'll have this mess cleaned up by then."

Leaning back against the wall, I watch as he approaches the rune and flicks his wrists. The shifters leave the boundaries, both twins shifting back to human form, while David wraps some kind of bandage around his forearm. Their eyes flick to me, and I force myself up to my feet, doing my best not to look shaken at all.

The truth is, the encounter with the spirit frightened me. Not because of the part where the simulacrum wrapped its hands around my neck—though that part was unpleasant—but because of what he told me, or at least tried to tell me, and the visions that followed.

I'm starting to think it's possible that the Blue Phoenix guiding me in my dreams were right. Thereissomething afoot, something dire involving the spirit realm, that could very well bubble over and put many people in danger.

Which means someone will need to stop it.

A someone who just might be me.

"You okay?" Xavier asks, and I flash him the best smile I can muster.

"I'm fine."

It's nowhere near how I'm really feeling, but he doesn't seem to notice. Neither does Reggie. David shoots me a look, but that's just David—I doubt he can tell that I'm feeling less than enthused.

Whoever made the choice to put the fate of the future in my hands, they made the wrong choice. Prophetic dreams or no, I'm not the girl for any job involving restless spirits or doomed futures.

I've been given the responsibility regardless, though, which can only mean one thing: certain doom, death, and destruction.

Let's just hope I'm the only one to pay the price for my inevitable failure.

* * *

During Weapons Combat, my last class of the day, I fumble a dozen different moves I could've sworn I already had memorized. For some reason I can't seem to concentrate—or maybe I'm concentrating too hard. Either way, I feel like a complete failure. I can't seem to stop thinking about what that spirit was trying to say to me this morning. It felt like a warning that I won't be able to ignore.

I can feel Kade grow impatient with me, his voice sharp and short as he repeats, again, that I need to put more force into my upper arm and not just my wrist. He tells me to shift my weight. To twist my arm the other way. Too slow—now too fast. Again.Again.

By the end of class I feel thoroughly wrung out, especially after the doozy that was Group Combat before it, and Phoenix fire Casting beforethat.Every muscle in my body is quietly but insistently screaming at me. If the campus had a hot tub, I'd be heading straight towards its relaxing jets. In fact I think I could use a long soak in a hot bath, especially since I lucked out and got a room to myself due to my powers.

On my way towards the door, though, I'm stopped by familiar scowling blue eyes and a lip twisted in irritation. "X wants to talk to you."

"Where is he?"

"Behind you."

Glancing over, I spot him in conversation with Kade. He gives me a little wave of apology to let me know he's on his way over—and until then, I've got only David for company.

Lucky me. I'm sure a scintillating conversation will break out between the two of us for any moment. He'll warm up to me, stop scowling, and act like a normal not-human being for once.

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