Chapter 3
AVERY
Our guidance counselor, Mrs. Foley, studied us over the rims of her glasses.
She looked to be in her fifties, but shifters aged a bit slower than humans, so she could’ve been pushing seventy, for all I knew.
She was thin but fit, and she’d twisted her long gray hair into a claw clip on the back of her head.
She wore a casual sweater, and her forced smile told us she wasn’t thrilled to be dealing with new students in her office on a Sunday afternoon.
Two file folders lay open in front of her. “Avery Baxter?” she asked, glancing at me. When I nodded, she went back to my file. “Twenty-one years old. Enough credits from the Fulton City Community College to enter our school as a second-semester junior. So, right on time, I suppose.”
I was lucky all those credits had even transferred.
She looked at Ian. “So that makes you Ian Baxter, twenty years old, with enough community college credits to enter as a second-semester sophomore.”
He gave her a little salute.
“However,” she went on, pursing her lips, “you are both lacking in the magical side of your education, which means you will be required to take our entry-level Lunar Magic 101 class. Every student at Proteus College must take it during their freshman year, and luckily for you both, there are a few seats left in this semester’s course. ”
Ian and I exchanged a look, and he shrugged.
“I also recommend grabbing the last few open seats in Shifter History and Culture,” she went on. “It is also required, but it can be taken at any time before graduation.”
It was obvious this lady thought Ian’s and my educational background, given we had attended only human schools, meant we were sorry excuses for shifters and woefully behind the rest of the student body.
The truth was that plenty of shifter kids got a human education.
There just weren’t that many shifter-exclusive schools in the country, and they were almost always expensive and private.
“That’s fine with us,” I said. “I assume we can take non-magical classes here, as well?”
She waved a hand. “Of course. This is a comprehensive college education, and most of us go on to have careers that don’t involve the use of magic. We send just as many students off to medical school and law school as we do to the Guardians or rune apprenticeships.”
Until now, I hadn’t had particularly strong feelings about what I wanted to do with my life.
I took college courses, worked part-time at a fitness center, and occasionally killed things in the streets at night.
I’d been taking it one day at a time, but the events of last month had made the decision for me.
My dads thought I needed to prove myself as a Guardian to truly be safe, so that was what I was going to do.
“In that case,” Ian said. “I still need to take O-Chem, if there’s room this semester.”
Mrs. Foley’s fingers flew over her keyboard. “We can do that, but it conflicts with Shifter History and Culture. I suppose you can just take that in the fall.” She punched a few keys, then she raised a brow at him. “Do you have a secondary affinity for apothecary magic?”
He shrugged. “I’m decent.”
He was underselling. Our dad, Joseph, a pharmacist by day, was excellent with apothecary magic and had taught Ian everything he knew.
Mrs. Foley hummed and typed some more. “Then let’s get you in our Apothecary 101 class and its evening lab. Pharmacy or Chemistry track?”
“Pharmacy.”
“Excellent.” She typed some more. “We just need one more course for a full twelve hours for you.”
“I’ll be joining Guardian training,” he said, sounding very matter-of-fact.
She stopped typing and raised a brow at him. “I am not sure they’ll allow that. Guardian training is very competitive, and only the top of the freshman leaderboard is allowed into the second year.”
He shot me a confused look, which I returned with a shrug.
“I’d still like to try my hand at it,” Ian replied, smiling and oozing charm. “I’m quite adept with my katana.”
She softened—slightly. “Do you have a beast?”
“A fox.”
She considered that. “I suppose that will be okay. We do have all manner of ordinary-level shifters in the Support Squadron classes.”
Of course. Only Primes got to be true Guardians.
Ian’s smile grew. “Perfect. Then I think my schedule is set.”
She didn’t look totally convinced, but she moved on. “Now, Miss Baxter,” she said, her scrutinizing stare now pointed at me, “what are your non-magical interests?”
I shrugged. “I like the Humanities.”
She checked my file. “You do have enough credits to get you into an upper-level Humanities course.” She returned to the computer and typed some more. “How does Folklore and Literature sound?”
“Sounds great.”
“Wonderful. Now, we just need three more credit hours for you—”
“I will also be joining Guardian training.”
Her fingers froze over the keys. “I’m sorry?”
“Put me down for Guardian training, please. Same as my brother.”
She stared at me. “There are no females in the Guardians.”
Not particularly surprising. Very few females could shift at all. “Why not?” I asked anyway.
She swiveled away from her computer and removed her reading glasses.
She looked me over like she was wondering where I’d stashed all the audacity.
I didn’t necessarily stand out from other females with shifter blood.
I was five foot ten, and I had the leanly muscled build of an athlete, but shifters skewed tall and athletic, latent or not. It was just how the genes were.
Too bad I’d left my swords in the car.
“Do you have a beast?” she asked, her tone just skirting the line of disappointed.
“I don’t have to answer that.”
Shifters were backwards in a lot of ways, but the code on privacy regarding one’s ability to shift or what type of beast they had was iron-clad and had been for decades. Plenty of us revealed what we were, but it was never required.
She frowned, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t condone you joining Guardian training, whether you have the enhanced strength of a beast or not. The only reason to do so is to become an actual Guardian, and that is a very dangerous job. Our females are too valuable to lose on the front lines.”
Years of practice kept me from rolling my eyes. Our parents had fought alongside a few female shifters in the past, but none of them had been official Guardians, just as my dads hadn’t been.
Guardians couldn’t be everywhere, and in the past, they’d traveled around doing outreach to smaller, more isolated communities, teaching tactics and Moon-blessing blades so that those communities would have some hope of defending themselves in the event a stray wraith made an appearance.
My parents had learned young, honed their skills, and passed them to us.
The small communities with fewer shifters living outside Guardian patrol zones needed all capable hands and couldn’t afford to discriminate.
“I see,” I replied with a tight smile. “I should focus on convincing one of your power quads to bond with me, right?”
If she pursed her lips any harder, they were going to get stuck that way.
“I can hear the sarcasm there, Miss Baxter, but for our latent students, becoming the central bond to one of our Prime quads is just as important a job as that of a Guardian. As I’m certain you are aware, many male shifters experience a settling of their beast when they bond.
And for many of our Primes, a bond can substantially increase their power.
There’s a reason the most successful quads in the Guardians are all bonded. ”
“Yeah, come on, Aves,” Ian said with a shit-eating grin. “We won’t have the next generation of Guardians without your help in popping out some Prime shifter babies.”
I smacked him. “Quit it.”
Mrs. Foley cleared her throat. “He isn’t wrong, but of course that comes later.
Many of our female students, both latent and our growing number of girls who do have the ability to shift, all go on to have successful careers in whatever magical or non-magical field they choose before settling down to start a family.
The possibilities are endless, Miss Baxter. ”
I wasn’t going to convince her to enroll me in training, but I didn’t get into a fight with a Giant wraith, almost lose my leg, then agree to come all this way to give up that easily.
I’d figure something out.
She went back to her keyboard. “Do you have any secondary affinities?” she asked me.
I sighed. “I’m decent with runes and wards.”
“Excellent,” she said, perking right up. After a few more noisy keyboard strokes, she deflated. “Unfortunately, our entry-level runes class is full. But”—more typing—“I think we can get you a private tutor and have that approved for the full three credit hours.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Great. I’ll email Professor Blackwell. He’ll be teaching your intro Lunar Magic course as well.”
“Can’t wait.”
Ian snickered, and I swatted his arm again.
It only took about five more minutes for our official schedules to land in our new school email inboxes.
Afterward, Mrs. Foley ushered us out of her office and sent us down the hall to Housing, where the very flustered lady in charge profusely apologized that there were no available rooms in the underclassmen dorm for Ian, but there was an available suite in the upperclassmen dorm, and oh my gosh would he and I mind sharing even though the suites aren’t usually co-ed but they’ll make an exception this time because we’re siblings?
We both stared at her for a solid five seconds before blurting, “Yes!”
No rolling the dice on the chance of a weird or creepy roommate? Not even a question.
Things were looking up.