6. Michael
6
Michael
It’s almost impossible to keep a straight face with how the Valkyrie looks at me, a fascinating mixture of shock and intrigue coloring her cheeks. When I saw her wandering around, I knew she was a student, but I wished she wasn’t mine. Something about her calls to me, and I approached her before I could stop myself.
I should have stopped myself.
Even though we are probably not that far off in ages, there is no world in which a teacher-student relationship is appropriate, especially not here.
But a Valkyrie .
I never dreamed I’d ever meet one. All supernaturals are things of myths and legends, and even among the spirit community, Valkyrie are considered sparse. And yet, here’s one in my class, not taking her eyes off me as I try my hardest to introduce this quarter’s curriculum. She rests her pointed chin on her hands as she watches me move across the front of the room, her mouth pulled tight in concentration.
Those big brown eyes are almost black in the light of my classroom, and her hair is pulled back in a simple braid. Unlike most winged supernaturals here, who try to downplay the obvious marker of their spirit, she has her wings out, with no regard for the space she takes up.
It’s quite refreshing.
Her wings are so unlike the ones I’ve seen on the other supernaturals that I struggle to look away from them. They flex and twitch, seemingly with a mind of their own or as if they’re reacting to her thoughts.
Angel wings are so large they’re close to dragging the ground and uniformly white. Demon wings are fleshy and small, like a bat, and usually only found in black and shades of grey. Fairies have wispy, translucent wings like insects that appear in a rainbow of colors, not unlike flowers. But the bottom of Stella’s wings barely touch her waist, and they look twice as wide as her even though they’re slightly tucked in. Her feathers aren’t all straight down, either. No, the wingtips are flared and each white feather sparkles when the light hits it just right.
She’s fucking stunning.
And she’s off limits.
Not only off limits.
Forbidden.
A complication I do not need.
I’m not supposed to get entangled with anyone, be it within the sheets or by the heart. My job here doesn’t solely include teaching.
It’s my first year as a professor at Robert Sinclair’s Reformation Academy, having finished my schooling two quarters ago, and I need to make a good impression so they keep me around. They hesitated to allow me to teach straight out of classes, but eventually, they relented as long as I stayed away from shifter specific courses.
That is fine by me. What I teach doesn’t matter.
All that matters is being here.
One condition of employment is that, like students, I’m not allowed to leave the property. I’m not sure why it is this way, and I resent that I am held to the same standards as the students, but I’m not in a position to complain. I’ve asked around and have only been told that it is “just the way it is” and that if I want a job off campus, they will schedule my exit interview.
All students undergo a final assessment and exit interview before they are allowed to leave campus, but I was approved to skip it because I was staying on to teach. I tried to find my classmates after their assessments, but they were quickly escorted off the property.
I need to know what I missed, but I’m not willing to risk leaving here until I have all the information I need.
When my best friend, Joseph, attended the Reformation Academy on a scholarship, his parents were so proud of him. They wanted him to get a great job and integrate as a simplynatural so he could have a better life than they did. It wasn’t self-loathing, he told me, but rather parents wanting better for their child than they had.
But something happened while he was here, and I’ve got to figure out what it was.
Joseph came back broken. And maybe I’m the only one who noticed, but I need to know why.
He barely remembered me. His personality was all but gone, and his choices made no sense. He’s a bear shifter who works as a zookeeper and says he doesn’t need to shift because he spends enough time around bears now to realize that that is not the life he wants to lead.
As if he can erase his spirit.
And they call him a success story.
Even though we haven’t spoken since I enrolled, he’s still my best friend. And I want my best friend back. I need to know what happened to him.
And it all comes back to Robert Sinclair’s Reformation Academy.
I suppose I’m also considered one of their success stories since I finished the curriculum and am now a teacher.
A certified simplynatural.
There is nothing natural about what they’re doing here. I’m not sure how I avoided it, but I don’t think I’ve gone through whatever transformation this place intended for me. I feel no desire to eschew my spirit, but I have learned to imitate the mannerisms of those who have.
I’m a cervidae shifter, which does not sound nearly as exciting as a bear shifter, I’m aware, but my stag is a part of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him, though, and even longer since I shifted. I haven’t found a place on campus that feels secure enough to risk it.
But when I laid eyes on Stella, I felt him stirring. Just a little. Enough to make me take closer notice.
Ultimately, no one was surprised when I followed in Joseph’s footsteps and applied for scholarship admission. We’d always done everything together.
As a student, I learned many disgusting things about this place. The students get more and more docile the longer they’re here. They go from being vibrant beings to subdued and reserved, with the countenance expected of a simplynatural. But it doesn’t seem to be the courses. They’re propaganda, sure, but Joseph was too bright to change who he is entirely because of a little bit of propaganda.
And wouldn’t it be easy to break through that once they’re back in the real world?
Whatever happens, I think it occurs during the exit interview, but I need more proof if I am going to try to drive any real change.
So, I cannot allow myself to get distracted by lost Valkyrie. I must focus on gathering all the information I need to destroy this place.
Somehow, I make it through my lecture, but I’m unsure if I followed the syllabus. I’m not even convinced I spoke coherent sentences, but no one stopped me, so it must’ve been okay.
Students, none of them suppressing any of their supernatural tendencies yet, file out of the room. The only nice thing about teaching here is seeing how varied the spirits are. A few vampires cluster together, whispering under their breath to one another, and a handful of shifters file out after them. A tall, slender supernatural with a smattering of red scales around his eyes like a mask nearly knocks the Valkyrie – Stella – over as he pushes past her. Her wings whip out to their full width and help her regain her balance.
The interaction took seconds, but it was like time slowed down as her wings extended and she settled herself back on her feet. The whole process was so smooth and graceful that it was as if she never stumbled at all.
As she passes my desk, she narrows her eyes at me in a facsimile of frustration, but the corner of her mouth quirks in a crooked smile. “Professor Jessup.” Her voice has a touch of humor, and I greet her half-smile with my own. “You couldn’t tell me you were my professor when you were helping me find the room?”
“And miss the look of shock on your face? Come now, Stella, you must have noticed already that this is not the most entertaining place you could be. I have to get my laughs where I can.”
Shit.
That is not something I should be saying.
A simplynatural would never disparage the Academy like that.
This is why she is dangerous to my mission. My guard has already dropped way too far down for comfort.
But it rolls off Stella’s back as she hoists herself up to perch on the edge of my desk. “You’re telling me. The other newbies seem good, but anyone who’s been here a while is like a personality vacuum.” She claps her hands dramatically in front of her chest, eyes wide and pleading but sparkling with humor. “Promise me you won’t let me turn out like that. Oh please, Professor, please!”
“I vow it.” The words are out before I can stop them. I’m going to blame it on the way her begging caused the blood to rush from my head. I shouldn’t be making promises like that. I’m here for answers, not to save every student that interests me. And yet, every part of me knows I will keep this promise.
I will not allow this place to ruin her.
Only I can do that.
I’m not going to examine where that intrusive thought came from.
“Oh, a vow, now we’re getting serious. You know, usually, there is a ceremony before males say their vows to me,” she says jokingly. I choke on my next breath, but she doesn’t notice. “Anyways, my next class is next door, so I don’t think I need an escort to that one. Unless you want to?”
“I better not.” I can feel my neck heat under her attention and confidence. It’s like nothing phases this female. She’s delightfully unbothered by the realm around her.
It’s refreshing.
“But,” I say quickly, not wanting the conversation to end, “I have a few minutes to chat. Why don’t you tell me what brought you to the Academy?” I brace myself against the wall, propping a foot up and crossing my arms over my chest. She turns herself on my desktop to face me more fully, pulling her legs up and crossing them in a way that has to be uncomfortable with those massive boots. Her dress rises on her muscular thighs, and I look away as she adjusts the hem, but not before a flash of red burns itself into my retinas.
“Oh, so I was hiding as an Authentic for ten years,” she begins.
How could she hide as an Authentic? Even without the wings, her muscular build and violence-tinged aura are obviously supernatural. At least to me.
“And I slept with a guy, and he found out about my wings, and he reported me to our company, and they got me arrested for lying about my spirit status.” She speaks in a way that is so blasé it’s almost uncomfortable.
Does it not matter to her that her choices were incarceration or this academy?
“Well, that is unfortunate. But I am glad you chose to come here.” I clear my throat and look away, tucking some hair behind my ear. Every moment in her presence feels dangerous. Every word out of her mouth feels like I am one step closer to my destruction. “Now, get to class before you’re late, Stella.”
“Yes, sir!” she says as she hops off my desk. She even gives me a little two-finger salute before she walks out.
As many times as I repeat to myself that I will not let her distract me, something tells me that it is going to be a hard battle.