Junior Witch Read online

  Junior Witch

  Supernatural Academy Book 3

  Ingrid Seymour

  Katie French

  Contents

  Supernatural Academy Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  SNEAK PEEK OF SENIOR WITCH, FALL SEMESTER

  Please Review

  Suggested Reading Order

  About the Author - Ingrid Seymour

  Also by Ingrid Seymour

  About the Author - Katie French

  Also by Katie French

  Supernatural Academy Map

  Chapter One

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  The gnomes were a problem. That was the only thing I knew for certain when I stepped inside Counselor McIntosh’s office on the first day of my junior year.

  Irmagard’s office always looked like an episode of Hoarders, even on a good day. From my place in the doorway, I spotted an antique tandem bicycle, a six-foot stack of 1950s-style radios, and a paper mâché goose large enough to house a human. It was wearing sunglasses.

  All this was normal, or at least the normal I’d come to expect from kooky Irmagard. After a summer on her beet farm, I’d gotten to know her many idiosyncrasies. For example, how she seemed to like her ferret, Gerald, better than almost any human; how she seemed to favor clothing that seemed to come from someone’s dead aunt’s attic storage; and how she had no reservations when it came to public nudity.

  I would never get those images out of my head.

  But now, as I fully crossed the threshold, I took in the new elements that had been added to her office.

  Gnomes.

  Currently, two naked, squat creatures were trying on a variety of hats Irmagard kept beneath a cluttered credenza. They took turns pressing a baseball cap between large batwing ears, then switching it for a bonnet and a beekeeper’s mask. Giggling, they chucked each piece into a pile of discarded headwear behind them.

  Two more were hanging from an antique, brass chandelier, the crystals clinking as they swung from side to side. Plaster cracked around the fixture’s base, threatening to send the gnomes and their trapeze to the floor. They didn’t seem to care about their imminent plunge to the trash-laden floor, though, or the fact that their naughty bits were flailing in the breeze.

  What in the hell was happening?

  “Counselor McIntosh?” I called, stepping further in.

  With the tall piles in the way, it was impossible to see the counselor’s desk upon first entry. So, avoiding the gnomes, I walked around an old copier with a doll-sized kayak stacked on top of it, then slipped between the upraised arms of two mannequins wearing very old Supernatural Academy spirit gear and jaunty, albeit dead-eyed smiles.

  Finally, her desk came into view.

  “Counselor McIntosh?”

  She blinked up at me from where she sat behind her desk. Gerald was perched on a stack of files with bits of what looked like battered catfish in his paws. It seemed Irmagard was sharing her fish sandwich with him. His little black eyes blinked up at me from behind the dark gray markings around them.

  Irmagard stopped chewing mid-bite and stood. “Charlie, you’re early.” Her eyes darted around the room as if I’d just caught her doing something illegal.

  “Yeah... the flight was on time, for once, and I got a car right away. Go figure. Thanks for paying for all that, by the way.”

  I blushed the bright red of a poor college student who had to accept charity at every turn. It was one thing to get my entire tuition paid for, but, since my mother was dead and my dad had “buggered off” as the British say, what else could I do? I literally didn’t have a penny to my name.

  Anything, literally anything, I had needed so far, Dean McIntosh had provided, with a few items from Disha. Now with the Dean missing, the task fell to Irmagard. Nearly all tasks had, as I’d been told.

  I’d offered to get a summer job, but it had been decreed, once again, that I needed supervision over the long holiday. Not only did I possess one of the world’s most powerful magical items in my non-removable cuffs, but I’d also made enemies with the group of subversives working to overthrow both the Academy and the entire magical government. No way I could just do normal stuff such as slave at a fast food joint for minimum wage.

  Nope. My life was one of peril. First, Henderson had wanted me dead my freshman year, then Mink had taken up that mantle. And now that both of those men were in their graves, the subversives had arisen in their place.

  I’d pretty much been playing “Bad Guy Whac-a-mole” since I became a witch. Not a dull moment.

  The latest mole I’d been trying to whack was Ava Marie, AKA Tempest, AKA Ana, the subversive who pretended to be our friend then tricked us into the terrible trap that caused Macgregor Underwood’s death. Worse yet, as far as I knew, she’d convinced Rowan to work with her.

  That fact alone drove a stake right through my heart. He’d chosen to align himself with murders and thieves because Tempest had offered him what he wanted, a promise that he could have magic again. How he could fall for such blatant lies from the woman who helped orchestrate his father’s death was beyond me.

  I scolded myself as my thoughts floated away. I had spent all summer trying to distance myself from Rowan Underwood. I’d researched spells to both forget him and cut our unbreakable bond, which proved fruitless. The former were unpredictable and could cause brain damage. The latter were extremely difficult. So, in the end, I mostly opted for old-fashioned toughening-up and mental will power to get over him. Rowan would not be my focus this year.

  I was going to kick ass and take names, starting with what I’d come here to tell the counselor. I straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat, drawing her attention back to me.

  “Counselor McIntosh, I’m here to tell you that, all summer, I learned as much as I could from your sister, Elspeth. She and the library were fantastic. They helped me master unmasking spells and taught me how to make myself impervious to vampire enthralling. I’ve also nearly managed to uncover how to break the bonding spell between me and… you know, the guy I was bonded to. Anyway, I’m saying all of this because I know that with your other sister missing things are tough, and I want you to know that I’m here, ready to help you with anything you need.”

  With my speech done—I’d been rehearsing it for weeks—I nodded as if to put an exclamation point on it. Offering to lend a hand was my way to help undo what had been done. With Dean Underwood dead and Dean McIntosh missing, the Academy was in its most precarious spot yet. To complicate matters, Elspeth had let it slip that the Board of Regents had wanted to replace Irmagard with someone “more qualified,” but had allowed her to stay on a provisional basis. Yet, some old fart named Regent Raymond Nyquist had been selected to join the staff to keep an eye on Irmagard.

  All of these changes worried me, to say the least.

/>   Rowan and Ava Marie had given anyone who stood against “Lessers” a great gift by their horrible deeds last spring. People were pissed and wanted action taken right away.

  And, with the two most vocal advocates for non-wizard inclusion dead or gone, what would stop the haters?

  Everything was in turmoil with Irmagard at the wheel. Staring at her office and the naked gnome that was currently digging through her file drawer, it seemed the ship was careening out of control.

  Maybe it was a good thing I’d come to offer my services.

  But, after my speech, she didn’t seem thrilled. She glanced at me and then stared up at the ceiling where more plaster was cascading down as the gnomes really got the chandelier swinging. Cracks angled away from the fixture, creating an awful spider web that would break apart at any moment.

  “Our new guests seem to have made themselves at home, don’t you think?” she asked.

  Frowning, I followed her gaze to the little creatures who finally broke the chandelier loose. It went crashing into a pile, a series of thuds echoing after.

  “Are they okay?” I asked.

  Irmagard craned her neck to watch them climb out of the rubble. “Oh, yes. Gnomes are very resilient.”

  “Why are they here?” I asked quietly, waving a hand in front of my face to dissipate the plaster dust wafting through the air.

  “They are here to help,” she said without irony, standing and brushing off her teal corduroy overalls. Under them, she wore a t-shirt covered in sunflowers. “Gnomes are really amazing creatures, Charlie. Did you know they are the only non-wizards that can wield magic? They can draw from the source unlike vampires and werewolves and zombies and… well, you know the list.” She waved a hand dismissively.

  I shook my head. I had no experience with gnomes. We’d covered them briefly in Magical Creatures 102, but I’d not really tuned in on their abilities since that was right around the time Answorth tried to drain all my blood on the forest floor.

  “How are the gnomes supposed to help?” I asked, glancing around at them. To me, they seemed like unsupervised toddlers.

  Irmagard smiled at one who was dragging a stack of newspapers under a chest of drawers. “They are here to help me manage all the daily tasks. It’s a lot, you know, with my sister gone. She did so much. And, Underwood... I really don’t know what we would’ve done if we hadn’t found a replacement.”

  “A replacement?” This was news to me. Elspeth hadn’t mentioned a word, but then, she’d been gone a lot, off on research trips for the library, leaving me alone much of the time with only her talking donkey and piles of flying books for company. I’d learned a ton, but, to be honest, I’d been incredibly lonely. A donkey wasn’t exactly a great substitute for family and friends.

  “Yes, a replacement,” Irmagard said, putting a hand on my back, leading me through the piles to the door. “Let me introduce you.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when we left her storage room office. The air was clearer and there were no tiny, pale rumps waiting to spring out at me at any turn.

  We walked down the hall to where Dean Underwood’s office door stood closed. His name was still on the plate, a sad reminder that his memory would linger on. Sure, he hadn’t been the most supportive or sensitive, but in the end, he’d taken care of all of us, keeping us safe, doing his best to protect us.

  His death still felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

  My heart pattered as Counselor McIntosh turned the knob and pushed in.

  The office looked exactly as it had when Macgregor was alive. No book was out of place. The stately wooden desk and leather office chairs were in the same position. The only new element was the woman standing at the window with her back to us.

  She had perfectly coiffed blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob. Her clothes were fashionable and expensive, yet very feminine, down to the black kitten heels she wore.

  “Bonnie, I have someone here for you to meet.”

  Wait. Bonnie?

  “We’ve already met,” she said, turning around. Rowan’s mother gave me a warm smile. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you again.”

  Chapter Two

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  Rowan’s mother was standing in front of me, smiling.

  Her blond locks were exactly as I remembered them, perfectly styled with not a hair out of place. Her makeup was subtle, as if she knew exactly how to project power and intelligence with eyeshadow alone.

  Behind her long lashes, Rowan’s eyes stared back at me. Her posture was relaxed, and her demeanor was calm and in control.

  Me? Not so much.

  I was crumbling inside, my heart drying up like a sand castle against the elements. When I’d left Turkey, I told myself I’d done a good job putting myself back together. Then, one look at a member of the Underwood family, and I was disintegrating again.

  “Um, hi… hello,” I said in response to her warm greeting. “Good morning.”

  God, I sounded like a broken answering machine.

  “I wasn’t aware you two knew each other,” Irmagard said, taking a seat in front of the large desk.

  The counselor gestured toward the chair next to her, but I stayed put, the guilt over my involvement in Macgregor Underwood’s death turning me into a statue. I peered over my shoulder toward the still-opened door. I wanted to run.

  Coward, I chided myself.

  I’d been brave in the face of demons, liches, and vampires, but this was way more difficult than that. Still, the least I could do was hold Bonnie’s gaze while I beared the weight of my remorse. I returned my eyes to hers.

  She smiled again, then flicked her finger. The door behind us closed. “Please take a seat, Charlie. I would like to talk to you.”

  My eyes darted to Irmagard. So that’s why she’d brought me here, not for a friendly introduction to the new Dean of Admissions. Sneaky sucker. I should have known better than to trust a woman who thought miscreant gnomes were the solution to all her problems.

  I sat, keeping my back straight and laying my hands on my thighs to stop them from fidgeting.

  How bad would it be? What was the worst thing she could say to me? I ran over all the awful words in my head. I knew how I felt about the people responsible for Trey’s death, and if that was any indication, I should buckle up. Still, Rowan’s mother had a right to be angry, and if I was any kind of woman, I would sit here and take every poison-laden barb she wanted to throw my way.

  Bonnie—or should I say Dean Underwood? God, that was going to get confusing—took a seat, her movements graceful and precise.

  Resting her manicured hands on the desk pad in front of her, she scrutinized me for a long moment, while all I could do was smile nervously at my knees.

  “I can tell you’re surprised to see me here,” she said, smoothing her hands over the desk as if to indicate her new position as Dean.

  I gave an infinitesimal shrug. Though, in fact, I was very surprised, I didn’t want her to take it the wrong way and assume I thought she was unqualified for the job.

  Or was she?

  “Don’t feel bad, Charlie,” she said. “You’re not the only one who is surprised. There is a good number of people who feel I should… stay home and do nothing but grieve for my dead husband and undead son. As a matter of fact, nearly half of the regents on the board voted against giving me the job.”

  My eyes widened. Nearly half? That didn’t sound very welcoming.

  A crinkling sound came from Irmagard’s direction. She was unwrapping a pink salt-water taffy. I frowned as she stuck it in her mouth and began chewing on it. Flicking her hand, she tossed the wrapper up in the air and made it vanish with a snap of her fingers.

  “I’d offer you one, but it was my last,” she mumbled as her teeth quickly got stuck in the chewy piece of candy.

  I blinked and glanced back at Bonnie who was smiling fondly at Counselor McIntosh.

  “As I was saying,” Bonnie returned
her attention to me, “I have the post after winning by one vote. Regent Nyquist’s vote, to be precise.”

  That name again. Maybe he wasn’t all bad, and I didn’t have to fear him firing Irmagard.

  “Macgregor had more support than that,” Bonnie continued, “but I’m glad at least some of his old friends still believe in his vision for the Academy. They also believe, now that my husband is not here, that I’m the right person to carry out his role.”

  What she described sounded like political hell but, apparently, Bonnie was as astute at the game as her husband had been.

  “I’m glad,” I said.

  Macgregor had made some changes last year, changes that caused unrest on campus and in the entire Supernatural community. All summer, I’d worried that those changes would be voided and the Academy would go back to only accepting witches and warlocks as students. With Bonnie here, maybe I didn’t need to worry so much.

  “After our son was… turned into a vampire,” Bonnie continued. “Macgregor did a lot of soul searching, trying to find the correct answer for the ever-increasing unrest among our kind. It wasn’t easy for him to go against the status quo and convince the regents to allow a change in the rules of admission. But he did it, and he felt proud of that.”

  There was a tiny waver in her voice as she said this, but it was almost imperceptible. She seemed to be a badass witch. Something I wanted to be.