Page 6 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“I’ll be here to collect my fucking pension, if this takes much longer,” he says in a slightly accented grumble. The sarcasm makes me find him a lot less attractive. My brain is too fried for this. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Are you from Validus Vale?”
“Impressive powers of deduction, new girl.” Yep, it’s decided, his rich, husky Eastern European accent and good looks don’t make up for him being a complete arsehole. He runs a hand through his thick black hair, and I catch a glimpse of nasty scars on his forearm.
“Hurry up.” He heads toward the exit, and I struggle to keep up with his long-legged strides. Mister Sexy-but-douchey leads me to a red zone where a dirty jeep is abandoned at an angle to thecurb. The appearance of the man, his vehicle, and his parking job are equally careless.
“Bags in the back,” he grunts.
I obediently heave my suitcase onto the piles of papers and books that litter the back seat, then open the passenger door. “Thanks for picking me up, I’m Theo,” I mumble. I don’t think he’s a student, too old, but he seems too scruffy and cigarette-smoky to be a teacher.
The man, who doesn’t give me his name, starts the engine and pulls away before I’ve even sat down properly, let alone put my seatbelt on. When he lurches to a stop at a red light, I nearly hurtle through the windshield. I’m winded, and also feel something wet spreading over my chest. I landed on top of a takeaway coffee cup.
The rude-dude doesn’t seem to have even noticed; he zips through the traffic with maneuvers that cause all around to honk loudly. I sit back, wearing cold coffee down my favorite sweater. It’s a vast, pale lilac knit that says ‘Don’t Kill my Vibe’ on the front. I’d added the lettering myself, stitching on letters made from quilting scraps. Having it covered in coffee is pissing me off.
“Thanks for the welcome, dude,” I mutter under my breath, letting a hint of sarcasm creep into my tone. I snap in the buckle of my seatbelt and take a slow, deep breath. It must be two in the morning in the UK. My head is pounding, and I’m exhausted.
There’s a beat of silence, then he answers. “Less of the sass, Ms. Wilson. I am not ‘Dude’. It’s Professor Feniks to you. The academy expects its faculty to be spoken to with respect.”
Tits.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I hope you have a better attitude towards your studies. There are plenty of students who would have loved to receive theGuggenheimer Scholarship. Don’t make the selection committee regret their choice, Ms. Wilson.”
His brain is fizzing with static. I can’t hear his thoughts at all. This professor must be pretty powerful. However, I don’t need to tune into his brain to guess what he’s thinking.
That I shouldn’t be here, the committee made a mistake. I mean, Validus Vale has never had an unawoken come for the intensive and then fail.
Until me.
I’d blossomed in the boyfriend and sex department, but my magic spark? Zip. Yawning widely, I stretch out my legs among the piles of unmarked essays and rest my head on the warm seat.
Once again, the whims of fate are guiding me along a path that is probably just paved with a whole lot of bullshit. When will I ever learn to choose my own destiny?
???
A door slam wakes me up. Professor Whatever-his-name-is has parked and gotten out of the truck. “From here, you can walk,” he says, nodding toward a driveway. “The main building will have registration.”
We’re outside the faculty housing, which is a few hundred yards from the academy. Stifling a groan, I take my bag and suitcase out of the jeep and square my shoulders. “Thanks for the ride and all the help, Professor,” I say, keeping any sarcasm out of my voice this time because I don’t want another telling off.
“Yah, yah. Welcome to Validus Vale, blah, blah, blah,” he replies, then strides off to the faculty housing. I turn my gaze to face the academy. Validus Vale is built from gray stone in a style that could probably be described as Transylvanian Gothic. Dark, mullioned windows dot the walls, and an actual tower, like a circular Disney-but-emo tower, soars from the group ofbuildings. I don’t know how many magic academies there are scattered around the globe, but Validus Vale has consistently ranked number one, by a lot.
The afternoon sun burns hot, making me sweat through my already travel-worn clothes. I don’t have an extensive wardrobe, but that doesn’t matter. Validus Vale has a strict uniform policy; even the PJs are academy-issued. At least I’ll look like everyone else. I already know my up-cycled fashions won’t fly here.
Pulling my bag up the grand entrance steps, I enter the high-ceilinged reception hall. The place is buzzing with students and various staff and faculty. Hundreds of inner thoughts bounce around the room, making me dizzy. I see a long table with a sign floating over it, reading, “Registration,” but I don’t make my way towards it. The voices are so overwhelming, I think I might freak out. Or pass out.
Neither option is good to do right now, so I stand to one side and quickly start going through all the word combinations found in REGISTRATION until I’m calm again.
Gain, gaining, rate, rating, ratings, station, strait (is that a word?)
OK, hopefully I’m alright now.
“Name?” the woman behind the registration table asks, not looking up at me.
“Theo Wilson,” I reply.
Now the housing coordinator lifts her eyes. “You’re Theo Wilson? Yeah, I heard you were coming back, took the Guggenheimer Scholarship somehow. You’re two days late.” Her voice echoes in my head.—She must have connections. Wouldn’t think so to look at her—
Ugh. I feel myself turning red. Fidgeting with my luggage strap, I wait as the woman goes back to staring at her screen. “Huh, for some reason, Dean Crankshawe has you listed for CommunisHouse,” she says, a frown creasing her brow. “That must have been a mistake, but I'll fix it for you.”
