Page 24 of Forbidden Magic
“Sometimes.” She shrugs, avoiding eye contact. As much as she’s been abusing the gesture, her shoulders should hurt from the effort.
My mouth slacks. Allie missingmath? Hell has frozen over.
Mr. Wright clicks his purple tongue. “You can gossip on your own time, Miss Winslow.”
I force my attention back to the offending document and stare intently at it until the seminar is over. By “safe space to discuss mortal issues,” the leprechaun clearly meant “read silently and leave me the fuck alone.” My face is still heated, my blood boiling with all the witty comebacks I should have thrown at him, starting with how his name was ill-chosen, considering he’s wrong about everything he intends to teach us about ourselves.
* * *
Gargoyles guardthe entry to the huge Dark Falls library. A tall one with a large forehead, protruding bottom jaw, and viciously pointy teeth yawns next to the staircase leading to the entrance. Its perfect gray figure is distorted for a moment, the crack of the stone and the rigid arch of its back, setting my teeth on edge.
Impenetrable eyes bear into mine, the shades of gray swirling to life. “Name?”
“Julia Winslow.”
It nods, fluffs its leathery wings, and settles back into its slumber. Hugging my bag to my chest, I thud up the steps. Thunder rumbles through the sky, the clouds coming to life too.
The entrance to the building is majestic. There are two round staircases on each side, and a monumental chandelier hangs in midair above my head. The tiny flames of the golden candlesticks shimmer and give the austere atmosphere a bit of warmth. I read in the Dark Falls brochure that it’s the only one of its kind in the world. It burns continuously without dropping a hint of wax, and it’s unaffected by the wind.
The book stacks are on the third and second floor and wrap around the walls from all sides, towering above the study hall.
A series of leather bound volumes are set out front, and I flip through one quietly. It’s a reference system that works with magic, and I bite my bottom lip, unsure.
It’s only the second day. I have no assignments yet.
The volume opens to a page and the title “The Witches of Dark Falls” appears, flanked by a few dark alphabet letters. I scribble them on a slip and climb up the stairs. Once again taken by the grandeur of it all, my knuckles clench against the banister, and my mouth dries up at the mountains and mountains of rare books within my reach.
The other students shuffle in, so I tuck the piece of paper in my blazer’s pocket, stowing it for later, and sprawl out on the table farthest away from the teacher’s desk, right next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The rain starts hammering on the glass, eachtap tap taplouder than the last.
A man walks to the front, sits on the reference desk, and raps his fingers against his dark blue jeans. “Hello, class. For those of you newbies, I’m Daniel Osbourne, Duel coach and Guided Studies teacher extraordinaire.”
I arch a brow at his green wool polo, and my ears perk up. My first Duel class is tomorrow. I’m positively vibrating with nerves at the prospect. At least, the teacher looks cool.
A warm smile tops his masculine face.
The pixie twins sit right in front of him and bat their eyelashes dreamily.
Cole stalks off to the back table in the opposite corner. His court is nowhere to be seen, and the twins are too busy drooling over Mr. Osbourne to hover around him.
He unpacks his leather bag, a pen tucked behind his pointy ear. His gaze turns in my direction.
I school my sight back on the teacher and wait a few seconds before I steal another glance.
A mischievous smile plays with the corners of his mouth like he’s privy to some big secret. When he meets my gaze with his two piercing amber irises, I clutch my pencil and angle my chair away from him.
I need to concentrate on Mr. Osbourne’s instructions.
The seasoned students are to study. The newbies have to practice with the reference system, each of us is assigned a list of ten books to locate in the mayhem upstairs.
After climbing the stairs to the third floor, I rest a tall ladder against a particularly skewed stack and check that it’s steady before starting my ascension. I’d never admit to a fear of heights, but I hope that the next book on my list will not be so far up. I search for the right edition not to have to climb again and finally close my hand around the desired spine.
A dark shadow slithers from the front panel and wraps its black tail around my wrist. I hold my breath as it probes my arm. A black line of ink flashes from underneath my skin like a thousand little runes are hiding beneath the dermis and stretching to life. What the actual fuck?
Books are alive. Every supernatural knows that, but they usually don’t attack people.
A cold patch spreads along the shadow’s trajectory and gives my skin a purple tint.
I yank my hand off the shelf and clench the ladder.
