Page 33 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
“Televised sex with someone in a furry costume?” I guessed.
She laughed. “Ew.”
“You were suspended by your nipple rings from the ceiling?”
“I do have nipple rings. Now you’re giving me ideas.”
I laughed and pulled open the door to Barron’s class, which was not a big lecture hall like Wolfe’s. Amulet Creation was set up like a science lab. Only sixteen students could fit at the eight stainless steel tables. Beakers and tubes crowded a countertop on the left wall. The right wall looked more like an apothecary’s shop, with candles and dried herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling. Stone mortars and pestles were stacked on the floor. It was a weird amalgamation of science and old-world sorcery. I led Emelia over to the table in the back right-hand corner of the room and we took our seats just as the professor entered.
Though Zavier and I made fun of Huchmala, that was nothing compared to the comments that flew around school about Barron.
Leena Barron was a MILF. Even I thought she was hot. She was a blonde in her early forties who’d been a model when she was young, but then had a couple friends OD. Apparently, that “inspired her” to work with troubled youth—or so the interview she’d given inCandida few years back had said. Professor Barron wore low cut shirts and had a tattoo of a dragon that curled around her breast. Today, her white shirt revealed his head, while the flames disappeared under the rounded collar. I suspected the professor was less savory and ‘savior-y’ than she led people to believe; if her eyes were any indication, she had a taste for the older male students.
The guys leaned back in their seats, shirts rolled up, untucked and unbuttoned, flexing and trying to hold it like stupid ass primates. The jerkwads got away with anything in her class if they were somewhat ripped. But I shut my mouth. Because if my dad taught me one thing, it was that you don’t fuck with an amulet maker. Amulets could be good, could be healing, or they could be goddamned horrific. My eyes flickered across the posters of ancient Egypt behind the professor’s desk; the place where the first magicals had surfaced. Back then, they’d made all kinds of amulets for the pharaohs. Some of those had lasted thousands of years—cursing anyone who broke into a pharaoh’s tomb. Even though spell writing was more commonplace nowadays, and more revered in our fast-paced society while amulets were considered stodgy and time-consuming—inefficient—a proficient amulet maker could fuck you up. And your progeny after you.
Leena Barron started her lecture right after the bell finished ringing. She hopped up onto her desk, crossed her legs in a way that made her dark blue skirt pull tight against her thighs. Her voice was low and syrupy-sweet when she said, “This week, we’re going to work on Recollection Amulets, or amulets that help enhance your memory. While these amulets aren’t allowed in school and will be held in our repository until your graduation, many industries like their employees to learn more quickly and easily. A Recollection Amulet can be a valuable tool when you enter the workplace.”
A guy or two nodded.
Emelia was the only one in the class who took notes as Professor Barron went through the steps to create the amulet. It would require simmering lilac and gladiolus petals in a bath sprinkled with a scorned woman’s tears—because scorned women never forget. Once that solution had sat through the full moon (due to rise in four days), you had to dip your parchment strip into it, then dry it over an eternal flame that had been burning for at least a hundred years.
“How are we supposed to get access to a flame like that? The Pinnacle has all those.” Emelia scoffed.
I slid my torso across the table away from Emelia as Professor Barron stared coldly at the new girl. “Excuse me, aren’t you simply here for the week? Emelia Berringer?”
“Yeah,” Emelia replied, fidgeting with her earring.
“Then you won’t be here for that portion of the amulet creation,” Professor Barron slid off the desk, smooth as silk, and flowed down the aisles to swipe Emelia’s notebook. “It’s so unfortunate you won’t get to see it. My dear friend will be lending us his eternal flame for this project. He’s a big supporter of Metamorphose graduates.”
Emelia’s face flamed but she kept her mouth shut as Professor Barron took her notebook. The professor sashayed back to her desk and dropped the notebook onto her desk.
“Bet that friend got his flame illegally,” Emelia muttered.
I’d never looked into eternal flame, but I bet it went for a pretty penny if it was black market. Hard to hide and transport though, since you couldn’t let it go out.
Professor Barron gave a wide, fake smile to the class. “Now, why don’t you all go ahead and get started?” She gestured toward the dried herbs on the wall. “First one to identify gladiolus gets ten extra points on this project.”
Well fuck. I was out. But it was funny as hell to watch the clueless guys in class try to fake their way through examining the flowers, each of them trying to be all secretive about searching their phones.
“Hayley, why don’t you stand up and give it a shot?”
Every part of my body stiffened on being called out like that in front of the class. My eyes met Professor Barron’s and her blue orbs were cold and aggressive. Her easy demeanor was gone. Dammit all to hell. She wanted to have a pissing contest? Here? Why the fuck was a professor like her challenging me? I turned to see the guys in the room also staring at me, arms crossed. Oh. It was because she had backup. Lots of it, by the look of those muscles. But why put me in my place right now? She had to know I’d just met Emelia too. Other than the naughty uniform when I’d shown up here, I’d kept my head down for the past couple days. I hadn’t fucked with her or the other profs at all. She’d have no reason to hate me. Unless she was another Grayson lackey. I eyed her, trying to decide if she was working on behalf of the faculty or the Mars’ billions. The urge to blind her with darkness and break her pretty nose came on fast and hard. I had to clench my fists to hold my power in.
Deep breath,I told myself. It was hard not to retaliate when I’d been screwing with faculty for years.
I glanced over at Emelia, expecting to share a sympathetic look with her. But she had an odd expression on her face. Her eyes flickered from me to a spot on the wall and back again. I glanced over at the wall, where a long-stemmed floral arrangement with a rainbow array of flowers shaped like soft stars, their points blunted, sat in an earthen vase. I quirked an eyebrow.Who the hell knows what a gladiolus looks like? Other than a grandma who gardens?
But, since my go-to method of humiliating professors was out, I gave it a shot. I stood and pointed to a bright orange spear of flowers.
The professor’s face lit up with surprised delight.
“Brilliant, Hayley. Bring them on up.”
I stood and grabbed the vase. My eyes were on Barron’s, trying to decide if she was genuinely happy or just planning to extend my humiliation. That’s why I didn’t notice when the door opened, and someone walked in. I didn’t even turn around until I felt a presence at my back. A presence that was dark and looming.
Then a voice. The voice of my nightmares.
Evan Fucking Weston reached around me and handed a slip to Professor Barron. “New transfer.”
