Page 41 of Magical Mission
Hedge Witch.
Was I just sensing something in between here and there, or was it merely my imagination?
My stomach turned.
I didn’t remember the dream, but I remembered how itfelt.
Unnerving. Too close. Someone was watching me whom I didn’t want to see.
I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold under my bare feet, grounding me for a second. The room was quiet except for Frank’s steady snores, the occasional rustle of the window drapes in the breeze, and the distant thrum of the Academy’s heartbeat beneath it all.
Every day, I felt the connection a little stronger.
But even though everything looked the same, I didn’t feel the same.
Today was the first day of classes. I was supposed to be up early, bright-eyed and perky, setting the tone for a new chapter of magic and learning.
Instead, I felt like something was watching from just beyond the edge of waking.
I padded over to the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face, trying to shake off the feeling. The water trickled down my neck, and I shivered despite myself.
He had been in my dream.
Gideon.
I didn’t remember the words. I didn’t remember his face. But Iknewit had been him. The sensation reminded me of the scent of smoke lingering after you’ve put out the fire. The fire was gone, but the essence remained.
I gripped the edge of the basin tightly, and my knuckles turned white.
He was watching. I knew it. Ifeltit. Somehow, he was pressing against the edge of this place. Maybe it wasn’t physically, not yet, but spiritually… psychically, or whatever the word was for the kind of looming that didn’t need a body.
The Academy had opened, and it hadn’t just called the lost and the hopeful.
It had stirred everything awake.
Even him.
I straightened and looked at myself in the mirror. My dark hair was a mess. My eyes were ringed with shadows. I looked like someone who hadn’t slept well in weeks.
But I didn’t look afraid.
That counted for something.
Behind me, Frank stirred and lifted his massive head before I stepped into the shower.
“Sorry for waking you,” I told my dad.
His jowls quivered in a sleepy grunt, but he looked at me like he knew.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know. I’m okay.”
The water rinsed down my spine as the soap suds drifted into the drain, and the mere act felt like I was washing away Shadowick.
By the time I’d finished and wrapped a towel around me, I felt a million times better.
Frank hopped down from the bed with a soft thud and wandered over to the window. One of his ears flopped lazily as he leaned into his favorite stool.
I got dressed slowly, pulling on a light and simple charcoal gray sweater with a faint embroidery of vines winding along the cuffs. I hadn’t chosen anything elaborate. I wanted to feel like myself.
