14. Matilda
14
MATILDA
Crashing into someone as I run from the dangerous TA of Dark Magick, I draw to a stop, panting heavily. I look up, and my stomach drops to my feet before bouncing back up again, making me feel a bit nauseous.
“Where’s the fire?” Luc asks with a soft laugh, his slight American accent making me shiver in all the right places.
I gulp, trying to catch my breath. Luc’s dark eyes rake over me, a smirk on his lips.
“No fire,” I manage to say. “Just... running late.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because it looks to me like you’re running from something. Or someone. Draven show his true colours already?”
Clenching my jaw, I grit out, “No. Not him.”
Luc’s eyes narrow. “Who then?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, not wanting to get into the whatever the hell that was with the TA of the Advanced Dark Magick class. Jeez. He is hot enough to melt the knickers off someone, but I’m in no position to be looking. Nor should I. Vex is also a colossal arsehole. “I should go. I have to get to Basic Air Magick.”
As I try to step around him, Luc’s hand shoots out, grasping my arm. His touch sends a jolt through me, different from Vex’s but no less intense.
“Not so fast, my sweet witch,” he murmurs. “I think you owe me an explanation. After all, you did nearly bowl me over.”
I bite my lip, conflicted. Part of me wants to confide in Luc, to spill everything about Vex and the Dark Magick class. But another part, a wiser part, tells me to keep my mouth shut.
“It’s really nothing,” I insist. “Just a misunderstanding with a class I was assigned.”
Luc’s grip on my arm tightens slightly. “Which class?”
I hesitate but decide there’s no point in lying. “Advanced Dark Magick.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
“No need to look so fucking amused,” I spit out as he tries and fails to hide his laugh. “I know it was an error, and I will speak to Professor Blackthorn about it. So if you don’t mind?” I tug on my arm, and he lets me go, appraising me with a look that sends chills over me.
“Advanced Dark Magick. There is more to you than meets the eye, Matilda. I look forward to learning more.” He saunters off, thankfully leaving me alone to steady my racing heart.
I pull out my map and timetable and deduce that I don’t have time to see Blackthorn right now about this cock-up, but maybe after Air Magick.
“One question, though,” Luc says, stopping and turning back around. “Why Advanced Dark Magick but Basic Air Magick?”
“You would have to ask Professor Blackthorn. And if you get an answer before lunch, that would be fabulous if you could pass it on.” I turn on my heel and march off in the direction of Basic Air Magick. Now this is a class I am actually excited about. My sister, Janice, has Air Magick, and she can do all sorts of fun things. Hopefully, I’m not as useless in this area as I was in Dark Magick.
Entering the Basic Air Magick classroom with time to spare, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. After the disaster in Advanced Dark Magick, I’m desperate for something—anything—to go right.
The room is airy and bright, with large windows letting in streams of sunlight. It’s the exact opposite of the oppressive atmosphere of the Dark Magick class. I feel myself relaxing slightly as I find an empty seat near the back.
As other students file in, chatting and laughing, I notice immediately the difference in age, even if it’s only four years. It’s a reminder of how out of place I am, a new student with wonky magick struggling to find my footing.
The professor, a willowy woman with silver hair that floats around her head, glides to the front of the room. “Welcome, everyone,” she says, her voice as light as a breeze. “I’m Professor Whiston. After the theory from the first term, we are now going to start on practicals based on what you’ve learned.”
I gulp.
I haven’t learned anything yet.
Professor Whiston’s eyes land on me. “Matilda, yes?”
I nod, feeling my cheeks heat up as all eyes turn to me.
“Partner up with Sammy so you can catch up.”
I glance around, and a cute girl with a button nose sticks her hand up with a bright smile. She has her hair neatly braided and is wearing a white shirt and a tartan skirt. I return her smile, and she gathers up her books, crossing over to sit next to me.
“Hi,” she says, all bubbly and nice.
“Hi, I’m Matilda.”
“Got that,” she says with a giggle. “How much do you know about Air Magick?”
“Not much,” I admit with a shrug. “This is more experimental to see if I can classify.”
She nods slowly. “Okay, I get it.”
I doubt she does, but she doesn’t ask for details, and I don’t provide any. Need to know and all that. I don’t know her, and I don’t trust anyone to confide in them that I’m practically useless. Except Draven. But that was a slip of the tongue rather than actually providing information.
“Start at the first page of the grimoire and attempt the Witch’s Eye spell.”
“Witch’s Eye?” I ask as Sammy opens up her grimoire. One appears in front of me when Whiston waves her hand, and I smile my thanks. I open it and smell a fresh ocean breeze. It relaxes me, and I pore over the spell.
“Okay, so Witch’s Eye is a spell to make you see things that aren’t ordinarily there,” Sammy explains, and I listen intently. “The more practised you get, the more things you can see.”
“Like what?” I ask.
Sammy leans in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well, at first, it’s just little things. You might see air currents or the path a bird flew minutes ago. But as you get better, you can see all sorts of hidden things. Invisible creatures, traces of spells, even glimpses of the past or future.”
My eyes widen. “That sounds incredible.”
“It is,” Sammy nods. “But it takes a lot of practice and learning. That’s like master-level stuff. We’re starting with the basics. First, we need to centre ourselves and connect with the air element.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Feel the air around you, moving in and out of your lungs. Imagine it swirling through your body, becoming part of you.”
I mimic her actions, closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. At first, I feel nothing but the normal sensation of air filling my lungs. But as I concentrate, I start to notice something different. A slight tingling, like static electricity running just under my skin.
“Now,” Sammy continues, her voice soft, “visualise a third eye opening in the centre of your forehead. This is your Witch’s Eye. Let it slowly open, allowing you to see beyond the physical world.”
I frown, trying to picture this mystical third eye.
Nothing happens.
My eyes fly open, and I hiss as the amethyst pendant burns my skin, and I lose concentration. What the fuck? What is it protecting me from?
I glance nervously at Sammy, but she is oblivious, concentrating on her spell. Looking around at the other students, they all seem to be focused on their assignments, but when I look at Whiston, she is staring at me with a thoughtful expression.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” I croak and look down at the grimoire again, hoping she stops looking at me. When I sneak a peek up again, she is flicking through her own grimoire.
The burning sensation from the amethyst pendant fades, but why did it react like that? Was it protecting me from the spell itself, or something else?
Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus on the task at hand. I close my eyes again, attempting to visualise the third eye as Sammy described. This time, I feel a faint tingling in the centre of my forehead. It’s subtle, barely there, but it’s something.
“Do you feel anything?” Sammy whispers.
“Yes, do you?”
“Yes! Now, we’ll try to open that eye slowly. Let your vision expand beyond what you normally see.”
I concentrate, imagining the tingling sensation spreading, an ethereal eyelid lifting. For a moment, nothing changes. Then, suddenly, I gasp.
The world around me shimmers. I can see faint trails of silvery light swirling through the air, dancing and twisting with every breath and movement in the room.
“I see it,” I breathe, amazed. “I can see the air currents!”
“Me too!” Sammy exclaims. Her delight is infectious, and we grin at each other. She lifts her hand and we high-five, giggling at our achievement.
I’m elated at my success, watching the silvery trails swirl around us. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel useless and pathetic.
“Excellent work,” Professor Whiston says, approaching our desk. Her silver hair floats even more now, like it’s caught in an invisible breeze. “Matilda, I’m impressed. For someone just starting, you’ve picked this up quickly.”
I beam at the praise, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “Thank you, Professor.”
“Now,” she continues, “let’s see if you can take it a step further. Try to focus on one of those air currents. See if you can follow its path.”
Nodding, I narrow my eyes, zeroing in on a particularly vibrant stream of silvery light. It weaves through the air, dancing around students and desks. I follow its path, my gaze moving across the room.
Suddenly, the current leads my eye to the window and beyond. It wraps around a figure standing there, staring at me with his brooding good looks and black flickering veins. “Draven,” I murmur.
“Huh?” Sammy asks, turning to me with a fierce frown as she tries to do what Whiston asks.
The professor has moved on to another table, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the Prince of Hell. His gaze is fixed on me, intense, watchful, almost stalkerish in nature. But then I blink, and he’s gone.
“Nothing,” I murmur. “Thought I saw someone.”
“The hot new guy in Year 4?” Sammy giggles. “I heard he’s a Necro and also a Prince of Hell. His half-brother is here as well.”
“You saw him too?”
She nods. “He was looking right at you. Do you guys know each other?”
“You could say that,” I murmur, wondering how much I should say. Does Draven want me to tell people about us? And what exactly would I say? Are we dating? Fucking? What? It’s probably best to just not say anything.
“Oh, do tell!” Sammy says, her eyes lighting up.
I smile. “Not much to tell. We met briefly, that’s all.”
Her face falls. “Well, there are a lot of girls here who want to tap that, so if you want him, you’d better get in line.”
The memory of riding Draven’s cock last night hits me in the guts, and when I should be feeling smug and triumphant, all I feel is worried. If there are all these girls here who want him, why would he stay with me?
Despondency crashes over me, and the connection I had to the Air Magick falls away, leaving me with nothing.
Story of my life.