Chapter 4
Karrick
“Ithink there’s been a mistake on my schedule,” I said, stepping up to the registrar’s desk. “I’ve got a class I didn’t sign up for.”
“Name and student number?” the woman said in a disinterested groan. She had shocking pink hair and a pair of iridescent wings. A pixie.
“Karrick Laurent,” I replied. “Student number is ten, forty-five, sixty-three.”
The pixie sighed heavily and clacked her long nails against her keyboard. I could practically feel her boredom rolling off in waves as she pulled up my information. Being a pixie, this was probably the most irritating and monotonous job on the planet for her.
“Laurent... Laurent...” she muttered, scrolling through whatever was on her screen. “Ah, here we are.” Her wings fluttered slightly as she leaned forward. “What’s the issue with your schedule?”
“I’ve got Advanced Magical Method with a focus on elemental spells,” I said, pointing to the offending class on my printed schedule. “I never signed up for that. I’m here on a football scholarship, not a magic one.”
The pixie, her name tag read Marigold, raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, according to your file, this class isn’t optional for you. So that’s why.”
“What? That’s bullshit,” I said, my voice coming out louder than intended. A few students waiting in line behind me shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry,” I added, lowering my voice. “But I don’t do magic. I’m a Beastkin.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Marigold replied dryly, looking me up and down.
My beast form wasn’t exactly subtle with the tusks and all.
“But it says right here that all Beastkin students are required to be tested for elemental aptitude. Apparently, some of your kind have shown latent skills in that department that can become problematic if not caught early.”
I snorted. “Yeah, well, not this Beastkin.”
“Look,” she said, her wings buzzing with what I guessed was irritation, “I don’t make the rules. This came down from the board decades ago after some incidents. It’s not a new policy.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of incidents. I didn’t know what she was referring to, but it made me think of Damien Cromwell instantly. How many times had this school become a battleground between magical races? How many students had to die until they figured out what the hell they were doing?
“Fine,” I growled. “Who do I talk to about getting this changed?”
Marigold tapped a few more keys. “You’ll need to attend at least three sessions before you can petition to drop the class. Professor Blackwood doesn’t allow students to drop without trying first.”
“Blackwood?” The name hit me like a punch to the gut. “Professor Blackwood teaches the class? Isn’t she like… a huge racist?”
“Reformed,” Marigold yawned. “She’s actually the advisor to the Interspecies Alliance now.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I suppose I’ll get to keep my job now that the academy is going full integration.” She waved her hands in the air sarcastically. “Yay. I’m so happy.”
I stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said.
Professor Blackwood, the same witch who’d made Atlas and Caden’s life hell when they were students here, was now supposedly reformed and teaching mandatory classes to Beastkin?
And she was a champion of magical integration?
The irony was so thick I could taste it.
“Reformed,” I repeated, my voice flat. “Right.”
“Look, big guy,” Marigold said, her wings fluttering with impatience, “I’ve got a line of students behind you and a migraine brewing.
You can either show up to the class in twenty minutes in the Elemental Arts building, room two-oh-seven, or you can explain to the school board personally why you’re skipping her mandatory course.
But either way, you’re not dropping it today. ”
I glanced back at the growing line of students, some of whom were shooting me annoyed looks.
A few were clearly other monsters, I spotted what looked like a young vampire trying to stay in the shadows and a girl with scales along her jawline, but most were witches.
Pure-blood witches, if their perfectly pressed robes and haughty expressions were anything to go by.
The weight of the ring Atlas had given me pressed against my finger, a reminder that I wasn’t completely alone here. But I couldn’t exactly call him every time I ran into bureaucratic bullshit.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Three classes. Then I’m dropping it.”
“Wonderful,” Marigold said with false cheer. “I don’t care. Next!”
I stepped away from the desk, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
The familiar heat of anger was building in my chest, the same rage that had gotten me into trouble before my attack.
I forced myself to take deep breaths, remembering what my parents had said about managing my emotions.
Beastkin were naturally prone to intense emotions, it was part of our curse.
We had to fight it if we wanted to enjoy the things everyone else got to enjoy in the modern world.
I moved away from the registration desk, forcing myself to unclench my jaw. The last thing I needed was to lose my temper on my first day back. Not when I was trying so hard to prove I could handle being here again.
Finding a quiet corner in the busy administrative building, I checked my watch.
Fifteen minutes until I had to face Professor Blackwood and her supposed reformed attitude.
The thought made my stomach turn. I’d heard enough stories from Atlas during my freshman year about her to know what she really thought of creatures like me.
I never thought to ask them about her reformation.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, earning a disapproving glance from a passing witch student with a tie so tight it looked like he might pass out at any moment.
I shouldered my bag and headed toward the Elemental Arts building, trying to ignore the stares that followed me.
Being one of the few Beastkin on campus made me stand out, especially in my natural form.
I could shift to appear more human, but I’d promised myself I wouldn’t hide anymore.
Not after what happened with Damien. If the witches couldn’t handle seeing what I really looked like, that was their problem, not mine.
This was my life; they were just side characters in it.
The Elemental Arts building was on the far side of campus, an ancient stone structure with crystal windows that caught the sunlight and scattered it in rainbow patterns across the ground.
As I approached, I felt a strange tingling across my skin, like static electricity but warmer.
Probably just the magical wards that surrounded the place to contain any unforeseen explosions from the students inside.
Inside, the hallways were lined with display cases showing various elemental artifacts. There were stones that perpetually burned without fuel, vials of water that flowed upward instead of down, and chunks of earth that floated in mid-air. All witch magic, all completely useless to someone like me.
Room two-zero-seven was at the end of a long corridor. The door was already open, and I could hear voices inside. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the doorway.
The classroom was smaller than I expected, with only about fifteen desks arranged in a semicircle facing a large demonstration table.
Most of the seats were already filled, and every head turned when I entered.
I recognized a few faces from before my year off, mostly witch students who’d given me a wide berth even before Damien’s attack. They hadn’t changed a bit.
But what surprised me was that I wasn’t the only monster in the room.
Near the back sat a girl with blue-tinted skin and gills visible on her neck, a mermaid or water nymph, if I had to guess.
And beside her was a guy whose skin seemed to shimmer and shift like desert heat, probably some kind of fire elemental.
“Mr. Laurent,” a crisp voice called from the front of the room. “How nice of you to join us.”
Professor Blackwood stood behind the demonstration table, her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in a severe bun.
She wore simple black robes with silver embroidery along the edges, very old-fashioned and traditional witch attire, but without the usual pure-blood embellishments I’d come to expect from her kind.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, though I wasn’t sorry at all. “I thought this class was a mistake on my schedule.”
Professor Blackwood, to my surprise, smiled wider. She almost seemed… warm.
“Not a mistake, Mr. Laurent. You are most welcome here.” She gestured up toward the colosseum style seating in the room. “Please find a place to sit. You won’t need your book for the first day, so you can get it from the school store later.”
I climbed the steps to find a seat, hyper-aware of every whisper that followed my movement.
The girl with blue-tinted skin caught my eye and nodded slightly.
I gave her a small nod back before settling into a seat a few rows up from her, close enough to the back that I could keep an eye on the room but not so far that Professor Blackwood would think I was trying to hide.
The desk was clearly not designed for someone my size. My knees barely fit underneath, and I had to angle myself sideways to get comfortable. The witch sitting next to me, a pale guy with perfectly styled blond hair, scooted his desk away from mine with an obvious scraping sound.
“Now then,” Professor Blackwood said, her voice carrying easily through the room, “welcome to Advanced Magical Method with a focus on elemental spells. I know some of you are here by choice, and others...” Her eyes found mine for just a moment.
“Others are here because the Academy has recognized that magical ability doesn’t always manifest in expected ways. ”
Great. So, I was the charity case.