Page 24 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“The DNA isn’t conclusive to which subspecies,” he continues, “but my dad is convinced it’s the kratos line.” He rolls his eyes. “Naturally.”
“What’s the kratos line?” I ask. My daemon knowledge is more than a little spotty.
“The strongest daemons ever.” Duncan rolls his eyes at Willow and me. “All brawn and no brains. Just the kind of thing my dad admires.”
Willow starts doodling a picture of Duncan with horns and giant muscles, while I drift off and think about my own heritage.
Mum had DNA from Celtic brownies on one side, and Ratatoskr, a Norse messenger squirrel, on the other. Both low-power lowly creatures. Dad had no magic DNA in his system at all. Looking back, maybe that was why they both were so scared of the witching community. Being fully human, or very low status, makes you vulnerable.
Though both are better than being an AUA.
My DNA testing had been inconclusive; there were magical genes in me, the report said, but of such poor quality the testers at WMO couldn’t tell what they were from. Maybe the Ratatoskr accidentally buried my magic alongside its stash of acorns?
I fill in the worksheet with Mum’s info, then add Aunt Nancy (also squirrel) and my cousins, who had amphisbaenia DNA from their dad’s side. Other than that, I’ve got nothing. Wasit common to have duff DNA like mine? I kinda wanted to ask Professor Bildeblast, but I also didn’t want to draw more attention to my lack.
I turn in the poorly-completed ‘family tree’, deciding to let sleeping dogs/magic lie.
The last class of the day is called ‘Nurture your Spark 101’ and taught by someone named Professor Octobus.
When we enter, the lights in the classroom are dimmed to a low level, and the temperature is turned way up. Scented candles fill the air with a deep, musky scent that immediately sets my eyes watering.
“I don’t believe in pampering defectives,” Professor Octobus starts, in what is obviously going to be a rousing and supportive speech. “But this is a new protocol designed by Dean Crankshawe, so here we are.”
Professor Octobus reminds me of the sports teacher from Glee. She has that same pursed-lip, pissed off look, like she’d just stepped in dog shit or something. She mutters something under her breath about sparing the rod and spoiling the child, then sighs dramatically. “Take a position on the floor,” she commands.
The desks have been pushed back, revealing a collection of yoga mats and cushions. In my still jet-lagged state, they look incredibly inviting. I sink onto the nearest one, stretch out, and close my eyes. A soundscape begins. Whale song overlaid with chanting.
“Reach inside yourselves,” Professor Octobus drones, clearly reading from a script, “down to your beautiful spark. Let the warmth of the room nurture it, help the flame of your magic build inside you.” Giving a cough, she adds, “Load of bullshit.”
“Inspiring,” whispers Willow.
I hear the sound of papers being discarded. “Alright then, students. Just lie there, and get your magic to kick it up a notch, alright? I’ll be back at the end of the lesson.” A door opens, then closes again.
—Grow my flame/try and relax/deep breaths/that fire alarm looks like a camera/shit, concentrate/grow flame/I wonder if we’re being recorded—Duncan’s brain is racing so intensely, I’m worried he’s going to stroke out.
—I got this, I’m a Bloomhower/I’ve got this!—Willow (silently) repeats her mantra as she takes deep, dramatic breaths.
“Just lie there, and get your magic to kick it up a notch…” Professor Octobus had said. If only it were that simple. It’s not like I haven’t tried before, but one more effort couldn’t hurt.
I send my mind on an inward journey, picturing myself as a tiny atom working its way through flesh, bone, and blood to the very center of my being, where my spark should lie and…
As usual, there is nothing.
Retreating my mind back into the overheated classroom, I give up on my spark and instead worry about my looming appointment. Another thing I don’t have any control over.
Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.
Fucking Cosmo Drakeward. I hate him so intensely that my fingers curl into fists. All the candles, heat, and whalesong can’t calm me down. I’d like to punch him in his smug face. Break his perfect nose. Then kick him in the balls.
Did I mention that I hate him?
Letting out a long sigh, I roll onto my side and find Willow staring at me with big eyes.
“Theo,” she whispers. “My spark started growing, like a full-on flame for at least a minute.” Even in the low light, I can see her beaming smile. “At first, I thought it was going to be the usuallimp dick, but this time I could make it grow. Like blowing gently on kindling, you know? Oh, Gods, Theo. I’m doing it!”
Am I envious? Yes. But am I jealous? Not for a second. I wish my new friend the most flaming inferno of magic ever. “That’s so great, but I’m not surprised; you’ve got potential Elite written all over you,” I reply quietly, sliding my hand across the mat and squeezing her shoulder.
Giving me another grin, she crawls through the prone bodies and bends over Duncan to whisper the news. His silhouetted shape gives her the thumbs up.
