Junior Witch Page 2

  “So that’s why I’m here, “ she said. “To ensure that my husband’s legacy is not destroyed by a bunch of stuck-in-their-ways witches and warlocks or by… anyone.”

  I swallowed at the heaviness in the last word. Was she referring to me? God knew I’d caused enough trouble to destroy quite a few things during my two years here. What if Bonnie decided I’d done enough damage and took my scholarship away? My heart shriveled into a prune at the thought.

  “Do you think the students will understand this, Charlie?” she asked.

  “I… I think some will, but not others,” I said, then hurriedly added, “I definitely do.”

  “I think you’re right.” She nodded. “There are some students who have inherited their parents’ prejudices, but… I feel they would change if they have the opportunity to interact with Supernaturals from different walks of life. Don’t you think?”

  Next to me, Irmagard sucked on a tooth, making a tsk, tsk sound. We glanced at her. She had a finger in her mouth as she tried to dislodge a piece of taffy from a back molar. Sensing our scrutiny, she stopped and peered at us.

  “Ya, I definitely sink so,” she slurred, pulling out a taffy-capped finger out of her mouth.

  “I’m glad you agree with me, Counselor McIntosh,” Bonnie said. “Now, Charlie, I understand that you’re a very special student.” She glanced at my cuffs, and I found myself wondering if she, like her husband, would want to take them away.

  “The Aradia Cuffs don’t choose just anyone,” Bonnie continued. “Macgregor made sure they were there of their own volition.”

  What? No, that’s not what he’d done. He’d tried to rip them from me with a spell, even made me miss spring break during my freshman year so he could steal them off my wrists. Hadn’t he? Oh, God. Had I been wrong about that? Had I been wrong about him?

  “But you’re young,” she said, “and have so much to learn. So I must beg you to please stay out of trouble.”

  Next to me, Irmagard snickered.

  I opened my mouth to tell her I’d made a promise to myself to follow the rules, but Bonnie went on.

  “I know you want to find Dean McIntosh,” she said.

  How did she kn—

  “Elspeth told me how desperate you were when you first arrived in Turkey, how adamantly you insisted that you needed to be part of the search party since you were the one who discovered the Dean’s disappearance. As I’m aware, you like to take things into your own hands, so I must beg you to leave this to us.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept right on.

  “The best people are searching for Lynssa—including Professor Fedorov and Patricia Fordyce, her assistant, an excellent witch—and they will find her.” She glanced at Irmagard and inclined her head, inviting a comment.

  Irmagard stopped digging in her pockets and looked up. “Oh, yes, yes. The best people. Uh-hum, we will definitely find her. Soon. Very soon.”

  “That’s what Elspeth said.” I nodded. “She also said I would just make things worse.”

  Bonnie lifted her perfectly penciled-in eyebrows as if in agreement.

  “And I do understand,” I said. “I didn’t go looking for her during the summer, and I won’t do it now.”

  Doing nothing had eaten at my insides every day while in Turkey, and it would here, too. But disobeying Dean McIntosh after she blocked the Enlightenment Fountain was what had ultimately caused Macgregor’s death.

  If I didn’t learn from my mistakes, then what good was I? I had to prove I could make up for what I’d done.

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Bonnie said.

  Silence filled the office for a moment as Bonnie inspected my face with so much care that I thought she might point out the zit erupting between my eyebrows.

  “There’s one last thing,” she finally said, pulling a manila folder from her desk drawer and sliding it in my direction. “I understand that you’re a witch of action, Charlie. And that’s a good thing, most of the time. But people like you tend to get bored without the proper motivation. That is why I have an assignment for you.”

  I stared at the folder with undisguised curiosity. An assignment? What could she possibly have in mind? This was good. If she was trusting me with something, it meant maybe she didn’t blame me for her husband’s death.

  “Go ahead. Take a look,” she said.

  Hesitantly, I flipped the folder open and read the cover page.

  The header read “How to Work With Gnomes.”

  Bonnie smiled sweetly. “That folder contains a profile of every gnome in Counselor McIntosh’s service. I don’t know if you are aware of this, but gnomes can be a bit difficult without proper guidance. However, with some instruction, they can be quite an asset and, right now, we can use all the help we can get. So... I’m putting you in charge of bringing them up to speed. Everything you need to know to accomplish this task is in there.” She pointed at the folder, while I did my best to keep a straight face.

  Seriously?

  They wanted me to train a bunch of unruly gnomes? What the hell? This was a bogus assignment, a way to keep me spinning my wheels to make sure I stayed out of trouble.

  I was doomed.

  Chapter Three

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  “So, wait. Let me get this straight.” Disha pulled a bed pillow to her chest with a gleeful smile on her face. “You’re now the gnome police?”

  I fell back onto Bridget’s bed as she watched from the desk chair. It seemed she and Disha had gotten over their roommate difficulties from last year and had chosen to room together in the Junior Dorm as well. Disha had agreed to stop putting Ewok spells on Bridget, and Bridget had agreed to strap herself into bed at night to keep her nighttime floating and spell casting to a minimum.

  Bridget also had an amused smile on her face as I had unraveled all the details of my very strange visit with Irmagard and Bonnie. And, both girls were having way too much fun with my misery.

  I sighed and threw up my hands. “I’m supposed to read this handbook, and—I don’t know—help Irmagard control them.” I shrugged and thumbed through the stack of papers Bonnie had given me. When I got to gnomes’ personal hygiene, I made an exasperated noise and chucked the papers on the floor.

  “What? Is there anything in there that’s ab-gnome-al?” Disha quipped, flashing her perfect white teeth.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Bridget chimed in next. “Yeah, and remember not to call them elves because that’s a miss-gnome-er.” She giggled behind her hand.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “This is serious.”

  “One more, one more,” Disha said, unable to suppress her smile. “But after that, we’ll stop because we know you’ll love us gnome matter what.”

  I threw my head back in exasperation. “You guys are the literal worst.”

  “No,” Disha corrected, “we’re the best because we’re going to help you.” Her eyes darted to Bridget who nodded. Did they have roommate ESP now? I tried hard not to be jealous.

  “Yep,” Bridget agreed. “I’ve spent some time in gnome communities on trips with my parents. I have a pretty good handle on gnome etiquette.”

  Bridget tossed her red hair—which she wore loose and curly—over her shoulder. Her skin was tan and her green eyes sparkled brightly. She appeared much healthier and happier than when I’d last seen her at the end of sophomore year.

  I’d heard that Bobby, her werewolf brother, had finally recovered from his magical stab wound and was back to his old self. He’d declined to return to the Academy, however. Too many bad memories. Who could blame him when things were more precarious now than they were last year?

  “There’s such a thing as gnome etiquette?” I asked, turning my thoughts away from my school’s many problems. “When I saw them today, they didn’t even wear pants.” I shivered as gross images floated into my head. I mentally swatted them away like pests.

  �
�Well, yeah, there is a lot of nudity.” Bridget’s eyes glazed over as an unfortunate look crossed her face. “Like, a lot.”

  “Gross,” Disha said, getting up to root around beside her bed. “Hey, I cleaned out my closet over the summer.” She hefted up a huge duffle bag overflowing with clothes and handed it to me. “And don’t even tell me you don’t want them because, if you don’t take them, I’ll just throw them away.” She gave me a stern, no-nonsense look as I lifted the bulging sack.

  “Good god. I’ll have enough outfits to wear a different one every day.” I glanced at the shirts, jeans, and shoes peeking out of the bag’s open mouth.

  “Or we could give them to the gnomes,” Bridget offered with a smirk.

  This got us all laughing again, imaging tiny, warty creatures in Disha’s blouses and dresses.

  “Seriously, Char,” Disha said, wiping away a happy tear, “We’ll help you. You know, ‘cause we’re your gnomies.”

  “Oh, my God!” I threw one of her hand-me-down blouses at her face. “Stop!”

  “Last one, I swear,” she said, rolling with laughter on the bed.

  When the giggles subsided, Bridget put a hand on my shoulder, fixing me with a serious look. “Have you heard from Rowan?”

  Disha shot her a look that said she might kill Bridget later for even bringing him up, but I brushed it off. I was stronger than that.

  “Nope. I’m done with him. Not thinking about it. My focus is school, school, school.”

  Well, and gnomes, but I wouldn’t dare bring that up for fear they might make more bad puns.

  “Speaking of school,” Disha said slyly, “there’s this new cutie downstairs that I think you’d like. I bumped into him while he was moving in boxes and got his name. Mason. He could help you get over your Rowan blues.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Don’t you normally have dibs on all the cuties?” Bridget asked.

  I shook my head. “Didn’t you hear? Disha’s heart has been stolen by a guy she met this summer. She swears she’s a one-man girl, now.”

  Disha had spilled the details in an email while I was in Turkey. She’d met Mr. Wonderful at one of her parents’ parties and even though there’d been some bumps with him over the summer—namely a very interesting first date that she didn’t like to talk about—she was in love.

  Or so she claimed. That was yet to be tested by all the hot male baristas and Latin Irish lead singers on campus. Not to mention Professor Fedorov, if he ever got back from searching for Dean McIntosh.

  “Drew might visit over Thanksgiving,” Disha said dreamily, thinking of her man, “but until then, we Facetime every night. Anyway, stop changing the subject. The hottie downstairs is a third-year transfer from Merryweather University. A bunch of Merryweather students are here, actually. The school had to shut down.”

  Bridget jumped up, her eyes wide. “Because they tried to do what the Academy did and let non-wizards attend with the rest. A student supposedly died from a werewolf bite and the board tried to cover it up, but obviously, the news got out, so they had to close.” Bridget spat it all out in one breath, exasperated and shaking her head. The glow went out of her eyes as she bit the sleeve of her neon green jumpsuit jacket.

  I frowned, thinking how similar that story was to our own Academy. We’d had enough terrible incidents here to warrant a shutdown if the right parties got their panties in a twist. Yet, the Board of Regents and the deans had always worked it out. Now, with the two most powerful deans no longer with us, what chance did we stand at staying open if something awful were to happen?

  Slim to none.

  At the very least, they would make the Academy get rid of all new students, and that wouldn’t be right.

  “You guys,” I said, making sure they saw the severity of my gaze before continuing, “I know the current deans told me to take care of the gnomes, but I think our real priority is making sure something like what happened at Merryweather does not happen here. One bad incident and we could be shut down, too. I cannot let that happen.”

  “Me, neither,” Bridget agreed. “I do not want to go to work for my parents. I did enough of that this summer. Gag me with a pitchfork if I have to teach Oprah one more protection spell.”

  I blinked at her comment, but Disha bowled right past it without even a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m in, too,” she said. “Being home for four months really solidified my need for several states between me and my parents. Plus, if the Academy shuts down, the next closest school is in Canada. Alberta.” She gave an inward shiver, probably thinking about the chill, as well as how her beautiful body would have to be stuffed into large parkas and ski masks.

  “So, it’s settled,” I said, placing my fist determinedly on the tabletop. “Team Witch Squad will make sure the school stays safe and open.”

  “And get some pants on those gnomes,” Bridget added, pointing a triumphant finger in the air.

  “And still go to parties?” Disha asked with a flip of her hair.

  I shrugged and then nodded. “Some.”

  “Alright, Charlie’s Angel,” Disha quipped with a smirk. “What about matching T-shirts? Outfits? I know a guy who does amazing things with leather.”

  “No!” Bridget and I shouted in unison. Visions of her catsuit floated in my imagination. There was no way I was wearing anything close to that.

  Disha stood up, checking her lip gloss in the full-length mirror beside her bed. “Anyway, we have to go. Our first class starts in half an hour and we need to get all the way to the Spells cave.”

  “All the way to the Spells cave? It’s right next door,” I reminded her.

  “Not in these shoes it’s not,” she said.

  We collected our book bags and headed out to the cave, a place I knew well by now. I thought of the last time I had been there, the day I spread Trey’s ashes into the pool at the waterfall’s base. My heart hitched a bit as we passed the shimmering pond, now frothy and turbulent from the water crashing into it.

  The cave was much changed from that somber time last semester. The flowering vines were awake with new vibrant colors and the delicate floating wisps burned bright gold, flitting around the cave’s high ceiling like aerial jellyfish as the water thundered down the rocky cliff. The air smelled of new life, new beginnings.

  The cave was no longer in mourning, and I shouldn’t be either, but my eyes still darted toward the pool as we passed in a throng of students hurrying to get to class.

  Trey, I haven’t forgotten you. I never will.

  When we got into the auditorium-style classroom, it was packed. Since the entrance opened on the top ring of stone seats, we got a view of everything below. The place was full, except for a few spots here and there. It appeared there were a lot more new students from Merryweather than I’d thought.

  When Dr. Henderson was the Spells teacher during freshman year, Disha always insisted we sit up front. Last year, when Professor Gorgon took over, Disha had sat us at least four rows back so that the severe sight of the professor’s facial boils, as she extolled the benefits of finger placement, could be blurred by distance. Gorgon, at her ripe old age of one hundred and fifteen, had not been quite as tantalizing to my boy-crazy friend.

  Professor Gorgon had retired over the summer. This year, Disha tried to rush us to the front again. I realized she believed Professor Fedorov would be teaching us, given that he was last year’s junior-level Spell’s teacher and our Defensive Magic Tutor. What I hadn’t told her yet was that he was off hunting for Dean McIntosh.

  As we searched for three seats together, I tried to explain, but, before I could, she yanked Bridget and me toward the only feasible row and plopped us down. The hard stone turned squishy beneath our butts as we settled ourselves and waited for the professor.

  Glancing around, my eye caught the other students occupying our row, three stunning individuals whom I’d never seen before.

  The first had short, pure white hair that fell messily around his long, p
ointed ears. His cheekbones and chin were thin and angular, giving him an almost feminine beauty, though something told me he was male. His clothes were normal—a stylish black coat and jeans—but he wore ancient rings on his fingers and a silver moon earring in his right ear. And, when he flashed me an unfriendly look, I could see his eyes were entirely pale blue, no pupil or iris to be found, just a glacial hunk of unyielding ice behind long white lashes.

  The girl beside him had a similar appearance, slight in build with the same angular facial features. Her hair was long and green, cascading around her slim shoulders and tumbling down her back, resembling long ropes of seaweed. And between the strands, small faun horns poked out of her head. With skin only a slightly lighter shade of green, she stood out the most among the three. She wore a thin slip of a dress that left almost nothing to the imagination and appeared to be constructed entirely of items from the forest floor.

  The third was also male with furry ears that curled at the tips. He had reddish gold hair, plaited into many braids that fell between his shoulder blades and combined into one thick rope of hair. His eyes were a greenish yellow and slitted like a cat’s, which might also explain his feline appearance.

  They were beautiful and strange, like exotic birds, and I couldn’t stop staring.

  “They’re fae folk. They’re new,” Bridget whispered far too loud.

  At this, all three snapped their strange eyes in our direction with expressions that could kill. No wonder this row was empty. Everyone in this room must be terrified.

  I didn’t feel afraid. I felt sorry for them. How horrible must it be standing out that much, especially on your first day. Add to that the fact that they were non-wizards in a school that had barely started accepting them, and who still had many prejudiced students lurking about. It was no wonder they were hostile.

  I tried a warm smile and a small wave.

  The male and female closest to me returned the greeting with a sneer. The male even flashed small, white teeth, sharp and pointed like a shark’s, before turning away from me.