Page 12 of Forbidden Magic
Omen
Lydia and I make our way to our first class the next morning. We’re still rubbing sleep off our tired eyes, my hair is sticking out from the bun I slept in, and coffee is still working its way into my brain. There are four time slots at Dark Falls. The ridiculously early class between 5:00 and 8:00 am, then 10:00 to 12:00, 3:00 to 5:00 pm and the night class from 7:00 to 10:00 pm. Vampires and other night-time creatures have slots 2 and 3 off to sleep.
Spell and Sorcery is bound to be my favorite subject, and butterflies flutter in my stomach from excitement. My Monday and Thursday mornings will be spent learning the secrets of the best casters in the world.
The classroom is right above the auditorium, and it’s the biggest one in the main hall. Twelve large wooden desks are set in three rows of four in front of a gigantic blackboard. Each desk has two stools.
Lydia and I sit next to the window in the middle row. I hold out my hand for a high five. “Hey there, lab partner.”
She sets her cauldron and grimoire down on the wood and shakes her head. “Melanie told me this teacher picks the teams at random.”
I wrinkle my nose and shrug. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“Hey, I would have preferred to pair up with you too,” Lydia says with a smile. She lowers her voice and shoots a glance at Bailey and Blane who are tormenting the white mouse in the vivarium at the back of the class. “If I end up with one the snake twins, I’ll have to quit school.”
The twins are tall and lean with pointy noses and jet black hair, but there’s no question they pack serious muscles under their Academy jackets. When one of them steals a glance at my roommate and licks his lips, I shudder.
Lydia’s gaze falls to my neck. “What’s up with your hair?”
A few strands have turned bright red overnight, an aftermath of that whole almost-catching-on-fire incident. “It happens when I let myself burn a little too hot.” I try to hide the red lock by combing it under the rest.
“You’re a closeted redhead,” Lydia teases in a whisper.
“I wish. This is Santa-red, not normal-red.” And I hate how it betrays my emotions.
Two pixies who live in our dorm come in, identical twins with long blond hair, bright blue eyes, perfectly applied pink eye shadow and elaborate up-dos. They giggled at us this morning, our disheveled appearances cracking them up to no end. I watch for my sister’s arrival, but students stream in one by one until there are only two seats remaining, and Allie is still a no show. My heart skips a beat when Flynn waltzes in.
I hold my breath, and sure enough, the devil follows.
I force my gaze back to the front.
The teacher has smooth ebony skin and purple irises. Her hair is as black as mine and tied at the back of her neck, a jeweled spike holding it in place. A gray pencil skirt and matching jacket emphasize her generous curves, her hourglass shape so pronounced that I almost expect sand to fall to the floor as she paces the room.
The clock strikes five, and she opens her mouth. Complete silence falls over the class in an instant.
“For those of you who are joining us this quarter, I’m Rose Devereaux. New blood means new spells and a lot of hard work to be done. I don’t keep slackers in my class. I don’t give extensions or second chances. This is the spine of your curriculum, and if you’re skilled and motivated, we have years to get acquainted. If you graduate from my class, you’ll be amongst the elite sorcerers of the world. But I warn you, only one in five students makes it to the end. One in five is kicked out of the Academy altogether.”
She takes a sorcerer’s hat from her desk and tugs at the pointy end. Dust sprinkles to the ground while she tucks a piece of parchment and a black feather inside. “We’re going to let chance determine your partners. Newbies, don’t be intimidated if you end up with one of our seasoned students. In fact, it will be a great opportunity for you to catch up.”
She goes around the room to the other side and lets the students pick names from the raggedy hat. Teams are formed. Groans and squeals resonate around me as the pairs form, until she reaches Flynn.
I cross my fingers between my thighs and wait, my heart hammering.
The ethereal blond Fae flicks a small piece of parchment open, and his wolfish stare zeroes in on Melanie. “Want a bite, Mel?”
“Been there. Done that,” she says with a smirk, strutting in Flynn’s direction.
The dark-haired prince relinquishes his seat to Mel and reaches for the hat.
There are only seven other students left.
Not me. Not me. Not me. Pick someone else. Anyone else.
I rest my elbow on the windowsill, the glass cold against my skin.
SPLAT.
A dark mass crashed into the window. Letting out a surprised cry, I jerk away from the glass.
