Chapter 11 #2
My body recovered enough that air could enter my lungs, and the black spots retreated from my vision.
I lifted my head and sat up against the dirt wall, taking in the underground room we were in.
It looked like a hole that’d been dug deep into the ground.
The floors and walls were all pressed dirt that would crumble away if the woman with the fingernails drug her finger along it.
An arched metal door with a complicated looking locking mechanism was the only thing in the room that wasn’t dirt besides the thin mat we’d all landed on.
Our ragged breaths were the only noise that filled the space before the light from the trapdoor above us flickered for a moment before disappearing completely, the door slamming closed, leaving us in darkness. Gasps from the girls and some choked cries replaced our heavy breathing.
A warm, gritty hand found mine, weaving its fingers between my own and giving a slight squeeze. “It’s me, Brooke.”
I squeezed back. She pushed herself into a seated position, leaning back next to me against the crumbling dirt wall behind us.
“Let me see if I can…” Brooke brushed her fingers across my face, faltering around until she found the dirt wall next to my ear, her knuckles brushing against my skin. “I think whatever they gave us is starting to wear off…”
Pieces of dried dirt fell, tumbling down my neck and bouncing off my shoulder onto the ground where I sat. I pulled myself forward, the hand that held mine squeezing tightly.
“Here,” she whispered, touching our held hands with what felt like…
water. She rubbed the liquid over the outside of our hands, cleaning them, ridding them of the grime that scratched against our skin.
Although the rest of my body was covered in dirt, that small part of my body felt clean, somewhat normal in a place that was anything but.
I squeezed her hand clasped in mine as a thank-you.
I heard a loud click before the dim light of a single bulb mounted on the wall near the metal door illuminated.
It wasn’t a lot of light but enough that I could see Brooke’s eyes next to me.
They were wide, her hand gripping mine tighter with every breath she took.
A breeze blew my dirty hair away from my face.
Everyone looked up at the ceiling at the same time.
A pair of black heeled boots slowly descended from the ceiling, floating gracefully down to the ground.
The woman with the curly gray hair who’d “welcomed” us into the house before pushing us through the trapdoor used air magic to lower herself the distance that we’d all fallen.
I should’ve used my air magic to catch my fall, I thought. No. I was supposed to have one kind of magic—water. Get it right, Dafni.
The girls, except the one who’d fallen last, sat against the wall with their knees drawn up, just as I did.
I looked like the other girls in muddy clothes.
Their bodies were just as dirty as mine was, leaves and dirt tangled in their hair.
Like Annabel had predicted, it looked like some of them had put up a fight getting into the truck.
The woman with the gray curls toed the girl who’d fallen last. She was still lying on her back, her chest rising and falling unevenly.
Gray Curls shook her head before looking down the line at us.
All the girls kept their chins down, staring at the ground in front of their tucked knees.
Her eyes met mine, probably because I was the only one looking at her.
She narrowed them, studying me before looking away.
“May I be the first to congratulate you.” Gray Curls walked down the line of girls, her heels sending the dust up and around her shoes. “You’re finally here, at the Academy, where you belong.”
Someone sitting along the wall sniffled, their lips holding back a cry.
“The sedatives administered to get you here safely”—I had to fight to keep my eyes from rolling—“should be leaving your systems shortly.”
“This wasn’t what the brochure promised!”
Everyone lifted their heads to find the source of the outburst. Gray Curls’s head snapped around, finding the girl who’d just spoken out of turn. She pivoted, walking two steps back the way she came, towering over the girl.
“You’re lucky to be here. Witches need to be molded, trained.”
The girl flinched as Gray Curls spoke, spit flying from her mouth, landing on the top of the girl’s head.
“Your parents are human. They’ll never understand you…
and soon they’ll forget all about you.” She swiveled her head, looking back at the entire room.
“Should you try to run…” She looked around, admiring the solid dirt walls and the closed trapdoor at the ceiling.
“Should you somehow escape and make your way home, you’ll find your parents will no longer recognize you.
They’ve been administered a disremember potion.
You no longer have a home, parents, or a family. ”
The girl who had spoken out tucked herself into an even tighter ball.
“Now all you have is the Coven.” Gray Curls backed away and continued her march down the line. “You’ll learn from your elders while you’re here, and if you’re fortunate enough…talented enough…you could become the chosen.”
She raised her hand above her head, pointing to the metal framing around the arched door. The words Become the Chosen were written in strings of twisted metal, blending into the door. “That’s what every witch wants, and what you’ll have a chance to become here at the Academy.”
Another witch yelled out, asking, “Where are the clothes we packed—our things?”
“Silence!” Gray Curls screeched. “You’re lucky to be here! I can tell your human parents didn’t teach you magic or manners—thankfully, the Academy will instill both.”
The room was silent once again. Gray Curls smoothed the hair on the side of her head before continuing.
“Now, this is a special year. Years like this only come once a generation and only when we have a male witch come of age. You all are lucky to be here, but all of you will also be at a disadvantage. There are other young human-born witches who have been here at the Academy for several years and witches born from magical parents who have been training and waiting for this moment since they were born. They’ll be better prepared than you and ready for the evaluations that begin in a few weeks. ”
I looked over at Brooke, who stared at Gray Curls with her mouth open.
“Even more of a reason you should be listening to my every word—following the instruction your elders are giving you. If you want a chance at becoming the chosen, it will take fortitude, power, and the aptitude to know when to listen.” Her eyelids partially closed as her glaring eyes made their way around the room, scanning our faces.
“So…we’re not going to be taking college prep classes?” one of the witches asked.
“Enough!” Gray Curls snapped.
A collective gasp echoed across the room.
“When you walk through the door, there will be no more whining, no more complaining. You’re here to train at the Academy and serve the Coven. You’ll be nothing but grateful you’re here. This is an opportunity to become the chosen. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
Gray Curls turned to the witch with long fingernails, who stood on the opposite side of the rounded room with her arms crossed, her claws tapping her arm in a steady rhythm. “Are we ready?”
Fingernails nodded once before walking toward the metal door and entering a combination of numbers into the keypad, her nails clicking with every key strike.
The door took a moment to disengage all the locks inside it.
With a single black boot, she propped the door open, crossing her arms in front of her body again.
“Strip.” Gray Curls gave the command casually.
I looked down the line of girls, who looked just as confused as I felt.
She sighed before looking back at Fingernails. “Every year I forget they’re imbeciles when they arrive.” Her boots clunked along the dirt floor before she stopped in front of the girl who had challenged her earlier. “Maybe if I show you, you’ll understand.”
Gray Curls spun the girl around by her shoulders, so her back was to her. Taking the collar of her pale yellow dress between her two hands, she tore it down her back, the thin fabric shredding easily. The girl covered her mouth with her hands, keeping her shriek muffled.
“Take off your dirty clothes,” Gray Curls commanded, stepping back and waiting.
The surrounding girls started pulling their clothes off slowly.
“Speed it up! All of it off! I don’t want any of the filth you brought with you to make its way into the Academy.”
Everyone moved faster, stripping the clothing from their bodies, leaving puddles of worn clothing in front of them.
I followed suit, letting the faded green dress fall to my feet, peeling the underwear off and letting it fall on top of the dress.
I stood like the other girls, covering myself the best I could with my two hands.
When everyone had undressed, shaking, not from the cold but from being uncomfortable and scared, Gray Curls motioned to me to walk through the metal door.
“We’ve got showers and uniforms.”
The promise of clothes had the rest of the girls walking toward the door, pressuring me to lead the way.
The arched door was short enough that I had to duck my head to walk through it.
Tiled floors and walls replaced the dirt floor we’d just exited, the cool tile numbing my feet.
Every few steps, I walked over a small drain on the floor.
When I met the tiled wall on the far side of the room, I stopped and turned around, watching the girls line up on the wall, their backs to the tile.
Fingernails walked into the narrow room, bending down to pick up a black hose attached to a spigot on the opposite wall. It was finally light enough to see her features. Like Gray Curls, her face was covered in a mix of sores and warts, her nose long and bulbous at the tip.
I braced myself as she twisted the knob and squeezed the nozzle.
Jets of ice-cold water hit my skin. The girls screamed as the spray hit them, crouching over, trying to avoid the icy water.
Did they not have hot water in the Coven?
Even the Velkans’ trailer had tepid water—something I’d become used to living there. This was just plain torture.
I glanced up at Fingernails, manning the hose, the smile on her face told me she was enjoying spraying young witches with cold water.
They couldn’t treat us like this, like we were nothing more than farm animals.
Even the animals at my grandmother’s cottage got bathed with water warmed by the sun.
This was inhumane, completely unnecessary.
Was this what it was going to be like here?
The seasoned witches preying on those who were new and weaker?
Everyone around me huddled in a cluster, struggling to get to the middle of the group, to get protection from the jets of cold water.
Being left on the outside of the group, Fingernails aimed the hose at me, and I winced each time the stream of water hit my skin. I found myself cowering with the other witches, their fear infectious.
A jet of water hit me directly in my face.
I coughed, spitting out the water that had gone up my nose.
It was enough to snap me out of whatever feeling of fear I’d absorbed from the witches around me—this wasn’t right.
Annabel had wanted to do something to stop this, to end the torment the human-born witches at the Academy went through.
She wasn’t able to do anything because she needed to protect her children.
But me? I could do something. I wasn’t about to stand here and let Fingernails torment us.
The witches next to me shook, bracing themselves for the next cold spray.
No one else was doing anything besides recoiling and trembling together, waiting for the cruelty to stop.
Staying part of this group, cowering in fear beside them, wasn’t who I wanted to be.
I was only one witch, but I could take up space with my magic.