Page 8 of Forbidden Magic
A burst of heat spurts from my heart to the tips of my hair. Lydia’s eyes widen, and she glides her chair back several feet.
I look down at my chest and see the orange and red hues of my fire magic lurking beneath the skin. Curling my hands into fists, I force a deep breath down my windpipe. “Alright. Stay in your moldy room if you want.” I jab the end button a few times and toss the phone on the table.
“She’s not going to show, eh?” Lydia says compassionately.
I comb my hair back and check that no one noticed my outburst. The last thing I need is to set something on fire on my first day. “It seems not.”
“Hey, don’t take it personally. I hear the teachers have been working the mortals hard. To hopefully prove that we’re not worthy, you know?”
“That’s bullshit.”
Lydia smirks. “Preach it, girl.”
“We’ll show them. We’ll show all of them how bad-ass mortals can be.” I raise my lukewarm water.
“Amen.” Lydia clanks her glass against mine, and a loudclinkreverberates across the room.
The sound attracts the attention of a leather-clad girl. Brown curls dance around her heart-shaped face as she prances in our direction. She flips a chair around and mounts it, her arms hanging from the back casually. “Newbies, hi! I’m Melanie Darkwood, the student body president.” The crimson lipstick spread evenly across her full lips contrasts nicely with her white skin.
“You’re a vampire,” Lydia says, startled.
Melanie sticks out her tongue. “Thanks, Miss Obvious. And you guys are all everyone is talking about.” Her teal bustier pushes her small breasts up, and five eclectic rings shine from her hands with silver, gold, bronze, and a mix of the three. Her black, laced-up boots finish right below her knees. Somehow, this girl pulls off the dangerous biker-chick vampire look without looking raunchy.
“Nice boots,” I say with a grin.
“Thanks. I’m glad to see one of you Winslows has good taste.”
I’m about to ask what the hell she means by that, my instinct to defend my sister kicking in, but a loud voice booms from behind her.
“Juicy mortals!” A big guy with his hair tied behind his head in a man bun strolls over to us. He’s got the exact same coloring as our new vampire friend and the same nose. The swagger in his step evokes a blaring confidence, and his cute, boyish smile gives me half a mind to smile back. He’s wearing a leather jacket over his uniform, and a dark thumb ring clashes against his skin.
Melanie rolls her eyes and waves dismissively in the other vampire’s direction. “This is Trent, but ignore him. He’s boring.”
Trent puts a hand over his left breast and sprawls onto the bench behind me with his thighs opened wide. “You break my heart, sis.”
Melanie examines me from head to toe. “So, you’re Jack Winslow’s scandalous second daughter.”
“Yes.” I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, embarrassed that my illegitimacy is already public knowledge. I’m living proof that my dad is not as lawful and honest as he wants to appear. While marriage has become mundane in some human circles, the highest ranked members of the supernatural political ladder are expected to conduct themselves irreproachably.
“What about you,darling?” Melanie enunciates the word, and I catch a glimpse of her long, white fangs.
My roommate narrows her eyes. “I’m Lydia Hawks.”
“The last descendant of the famous Viola Hawks, I presume.”
“You presume right.”
“Can you see my future now?” Trent asks, leering at Lydia’s generous chest.
My friend scowls. “It’s not so bright from where I’m sitting. I see a lot of cold showers and disappointment.”
Melanie snorts into her hand. Trent flips Lydia off with a carefree smile, peels himself from the bench, and joins a group of a dozen boys in the back.
His sister leans in. “Newbies get a tour of the cliques. That’s a new school rite of passage. Now, immortals don’t like to be stared at so be discrete, but I’ll give you the 411.” She cranes her neck around and motions to the other end of the banquet table we’re sitting on. About fifteen pixies are laughing animatedly, oblivious to their surroundings. “The pixies have a talent for sarcasm, but they mostly keep to themselves.”
Melanie waves to the table next to us, the one she came from. About twenty students are eating happily, exchanging quips, throwing fries, or studying. “Those are my peeps. Shifters, vampires, mermaids, you name it. We vampires like to mingle. It’s not much fun by ourselves. It lacks… flavor.” She winks, her gaze lingering a second too long on Lydia’s neck. “Sprites are snub fucks, so they stay away from us.” She flicks her hand like she’s wiping the table full of sprite away from her peripheral vision.
“Not many witches,” I notice, looking around the room.
