7. Matilda
7
MATILDA
We pull up outside the academy and I stare up at the ancient gothic buildings that are infused with so much magick it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I smooth down the static from my hair which the wards caused as we popped through at the main gate.
Draven’s hand lingers on my thigh, and I look over at him. He is silent, glowering, and looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He notices me staring and squeezes my thigh before he says, “Wait here.”
I frown but do as I’m told. He is in no mood to push boundaries right now. I look around as he closes the car door and see a small group a few metres away, with a gorgeous red head whose feet are on fire, a very handsome man and a seriously good-looking guy about my age with dark brown hair, talking to a distinguished-looking man in a billowing black cloak. Chewing my lip as I feel completely out of place, I look up when Draven opens my door. He holds his hand out, and I take it, gripping it as he helps me out of the low seat. I straighten my clothes and look around again as he hauls the two backpacks out of the footwell. He grunts at the weight of the one with Janice’s jewels in. I snatch it from him before he can comment and sling it on my back with both straps, nearly falling backwards from the weight. He catches me and gives me a curious stare, but doesn’t say anything. He shuts the door and wraps his arm around me, leading me towards the building.
The scent of brimstone and evil is in the air, and I gulp as I look back at the small group. The red head feels my gaze on her and she turns her head slowly to scrutinise me with eyes so green they are practically glowing. My gaze locks with hers. I can’t look away. She is probing me down to my soul, and it withers slightly under the intense stare.
“Eyes on me,” Draven murmurs, stopping and turning my face towards him.
It takes all I have to draw my gaze away from hers to him. I blink and focus on his blue eyes.
“You aren’t ready for that yet,” he says.
“Ready for what?” My voice is hoarse from not exactly fear, but something more terrifying.
“My mother.”
I snap my head back to the red head who is still looking at me. “Your mother?”
“The one and only.”
“The Queen of Hell,” I mutter in awe.
“No, that would be my grandmother. My mother is the Devil.”
“What?” I ask, my mouth dropping open as I look back at Draven. It’s like a game of ping-pong. “The Devil?” I repeat with a hiss.
“What did you expect when I said I was a Prince of Hell?” he asks, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t fucking know,” I snap quietly. “Not that you were the Devil’s son!” Okay, now that I say it out loud, I realise how dumb that sounds, but seriously. What. The. Fuck? “The Devil is a woman?” My curiosity gets the better of me as I turn towards her again, but this time, she is whispering something to the hot guy.
Draven snickers. “Yeah, she gets that a lot.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Aren’t you going to say hello?”
“No, I already said my goodbyes earlier. Come, let’s get you inside and to the Admissions office.”
I let him lead me into the building, but I can’t get the weight of the Devil’s eyes off me. She is probably wondering who the fuck I am and why her son arrived with me and has his arm around me. Did I just get a target on my back?
I feel like I just got a target on my back.
Fuck.
But as soon as we step into the foyer of this grand building, I temporarily forget the Devil and focus on the splendour of this place.
“Wow,” I murmur.
The interior of MistHallow Academy is just as imposing as the outside. Towering stone walls lined with flickering torches, ornate tapestries depicting magickal scenes, and the occasional suit of armour standing sentinel in the corners. The air hums with power, making my skin tingle.
Draven guides me towards a desk at the far side, his arm still firmly around my shoulders. I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact between us, remembering what we did in his car not long ago. Heat rises to my cheeks.
“We’ll ask at the information desk,” he says.
I nod, suddenly nervous. What if they don’t accept me? What if my magick is too weak? What if I have no choice but to go back home?
“Stop overthinking,” Draven murmurs, kissing my temple. “They won’t have a choice.”
That doesn’t reassure me.
“Hi there,” a blue-skinned woman chirps as we arrive at the information desk. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to start this term. Draven, Prince of Hell,” he says, getting that out of the way.
“Oh, yes, of course,” the woman replies and practically falls all over herself to sort him out while I’m standing here like a lost fart, wringing the strap of my other backpack while the one on my back gets heavier by the second.
Must be nice . The errant thought is bitter, but I can’t help it. He seems to have everything so easy, where I’ve had to fight just to retain some sense of self and not be forced into submission by a family who hates me.
As the blue-skinned woman, Eldra, she tells him is her name, fusses over Draven, I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. The weight of the backpack full of jewels is starting to make my shoulders ache. I glance around the grand foyer, feeling small and out of place.
“And who might this be?” the woman asks, finally finished sorting out Draven’s paperwork.
Draven’s arm tightens around me. “This is Matilda. She needs to speak with Headmaster Blackthorn as a matter of urgency. She is in need of sanctuary.”
I blink and gulp as Eldra’s eyes search mine, and she nods slowly. “I see. Please wait here, and I will get Professor Blackthorn.”
She scampers off, and I stare at Draven. He stares back, but then smiles. “They won’t turn you away. This place is known for helping out students in need. I read about it in the prospectus. They are proud of this fact. But I’m here if you need me to kick him up the arse for you.”
I nod slowly.
He frowns and grasps my chin lightly. “Try it the right way first. We can fall back on threats if it doesn’t work, okay?”
“Th-threats?” I stammer.
He smiles, that slow, sinister curving of his lips. “Either way, you will be enrolled here in less than an hour.”
My hands tremble as Eldra comes rushing back with the man in the black cloak from outside, who was talking with Draven’s mother. He nods his head to Draven. “Welcome, Mr Draven. We are honoured to have you on our student body.”
Draven nods once, but doesn’t say anything.
Then the Headmaster’s bright blue eyes focus on me. “And who might you be?” he asks kindly.
I swallow, feeling small under the Headmaster’s piercing gaze. “Matilda, sir. I was told this place might offer me sanctuary.”
Headmaster Blackthorn’s eyes soften slightly. “I see. And who told you this, Miss Matilda?”
“My-my older sister, Janice. She said MistHallow helps students in need.”
He nods slowly, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to figure out who Janice is. “We do indeed. Why don’t you come to my office, and we can discuss your situation in private?”
I glance at Draven, suddenly reluctant to leave his side. He gives me a reassuring nod.
“I’ll wait here,” he says quietly.
Taking a deep breath, I follow Headmaster Blackthorn down a long corridor lined with portraits of past headmasters. We enter a circular office filled with strange magickal artefacts and shelves overflowing with ancient tomes.
“Please, have a seat,” he says, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.
I remove the heavy backpack and place it at my feet with the other one, wondering when I’m supposed to offer him the contents. I sit, my hands twisting nervously in my lap.
“Now then,” Blackthorn says, settling into his own chair. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re seeking sanctuary, Matilda?”
I take a shaky breath. “My family hate me,” I blurt out. “They’re abusive. Physically and emotionally. They’ve kept me isolated, used me as a servant, tormented me, told me I’m useless and not fit for purpose….” Tears sting my eyes, but I keep going now it’s all pouring out. “My brother’s friend takes advantage of me, and no one stops him. I?—”
“I beg your pardon?” Blackthorn interrupts, his eyes turning black, and I gulp back the mouthful of saliva that has flooded my mouth. “No one stops him?”
I shake my head, and a tear slides down my face.
Professor Blackthorn’s expression darkens, a cold fury emanating from him. “I see,” he says quietly. “And how long has this been going on, Miss Matilda?”
I swallow hard. “The abuse? Years, since I was a child,” I whisper. “Stryker’s assaults started when I was eighteen.”
“And you are now…?”
“Twenty-one. I realise that this is the final year I would be allowed to study here, but I just need a place to regroup, be safe while I figure something out.” The desperation in my tone fills the office.
“You were right to come here, Miss Matilda. MistHallow offers sanctuary to all magickal beings in need, but especially to those who have suffered as you have. You are safe here.”
Relief floods through me, so intense I nearly sob. “Really?” I ask, hardly daring to believe it.
He nods firmly. “Really. We will enrol you immediately and provide you with everything you need: housing, supplies, counselling if you wish it. No one will harm you here.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping at my eyes. “I—I have something for you.” I reach down and lift the heavy backpack onto my lap with a grunt. “My sister gave me this. She said it would help.”
I stand up and thump it onto the desk between us.
Blackthorn’s eyebrows raise as he stands and reaches over to unzip the backpack. He peers inside, and his eyes widen. “I feel I should ask where you got this,” he starts, and my mouth goes dry. “But I’m guessing you have no idea if your sister gave it to you. Rest assured, Miss Matilda, we don’t need what I can only assume is contraband. We have scholarship funding available.”
I feel like I’ve insulted him, and I chew the inside of my lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”
“It’s okay,” he says kindly, sitting back down. “Your sister was trying to look after you, and that means everything in a world where you are otherwise abused. You are a witch, yes?”
I nod and sit back down, only to realise the backpack is blocking my view of his face. With shaky hands, I reach for it and drag it off the desk. “Yes. Not a very good one.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Says who?”
“Says me. My power is weak and wonky. If that is a deal breaker, I understand,” I say, knowing I’m out of my depth here. This place is elite. I can see it, I can feel it.
“A deal breaker?” Blackthorn asks. “No, it’s not a deal breaker, Miss Matilda. Have you ever considered that your growth was stunted by the treatment from your family? I’m willing to bet you will flourish here out of their tyrannical presence.”
I stare at Professor Blackthorn, his words sinking in. Could he be right? Has my family’s abuse been holding back my magickal abilities all this time?
“I... I never thought of it that way,” I admit softly.
He nods, a kind smile on his face. “Many young witches and warlocks find their powers grow exponentially once they’re in a supportive environment. I have no doubt you’ll surprise yourself, Miss Matilda.”
A hope that I haven’t felt in a long time sprouts, but I try not to give in to it. Just in case.
“Now then,” Blackthorn continues, “let’s get you officially enrolled and settled in. What would you say your magickal strengths are?”
“I don’t have any,” I say quietly.
He searches my eyes and sees that I’m not being modest, only truthful.
“If you close your eyes and think about what you would like to learn more about with your witch powers, what comes to mind?”
I close my eyes, trying to focus on what Professor Blackthorn asked. What do I want to learn more about with my witch powers? For so long, I’ve been told I’m useless, that my magick is weak and unreliable. But now, in this office, away from my family’s influence, I let myself dream.
“I...” I start hesitantly, keeping my eyes closed. “I’ve always been drawn to elemental magick. Particularly air and water. And...” I pause, almost afraid to voice my deepest desire. “And protection spells. Defensive magick.”
I open my eyes to see Professor Blackthorn nodding thoughtfully.
“Then we will start there. Physical combat, as well as spell casting, is a good way to build up defensive magick. We have classes for both.”
“Physical combat?” I croak. “I don’t think…”
“You will be with other beginners,” he says when I trail off. “We won’t ever put you in harm’s way.”
“Okay,” I say, believing him.
“As for housing, you will be in the main housing hall, but with a small room of your own. Go back and see Eldra, and she will arrange for you to get settled. Classes start tomorrow, and you will be on a day schedule, so swing by the information desk in the morning for your timetable and a map of where everything is. Don’t worry, Miss Matilda. We’ve got you now.”
I leave Professor Blackthorn’s office feeling dazed but hopeful. My mind is spinning with everything that’s happened in the last few hours. It almost feels like a dream. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find myself back at home after this.
As I walk back down the corridor towards the main foyer, I pinch myself, just in case.
When I round the corner into the foyer, I see Draven lounging against a wall, looking bored. His eyes light up when he spots me, and he straightens.
“Well?” he asks as I approach. “Do I need to kick some arse?”
I giggle. “No need for arse-kicking. I’m in, but thank you.”
He reaches out to cup my cheek, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “No need to thank me, petal. I will always look after what’s mine.”
He bends down from his considerable height to kiss me deeply. Only Eldra, clearing her throat, breaks us apart. I feel my cheeks heat up as she hands me a key and instructs me to my room with a disapproving glare at Draven. “It’s single occupancy,” she says firmly.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replies with a charming smile that affects her more than I’d like. I shove the green-eyed monster down. I have no right to be jealous, but I will claw the eyes out of any bitch who tries it on with him.
Something tells me, this is going to be a regular occurrence.