9. Cory
9
CORY
“ D o you think this would help?” Min asked, pulling a large, red, cloth-bound book off the shelf.
There was gold lettering on the spine, but I couldn’t make it out from where I was standing, on the other side of the aisle and two shelves down from her, in the first library.
Keelan, who was standing closer, took it and hefted it in his hand. It looked heavy to me, but he held it like it weighed nothing. He flipped it over to stare at the cover and read out, “ Numerical Considerations in Artifice Construction: A Guide for the Practical Witch .” He frowned. “Maybe? This seems more like a handbook for Hearth than a research work, though.”
Min frowned. “Well, it’s the best thing I’ve found so far.” Frustration filled her voice, and she gestured at the line of bookcases stretching down the aisle towards a stained glass window that spilled green and purple light onto the heavy carpet. “This place is endless.”
Erika, who stood on my other side, glanced over her shoulder at Min. “I thought you liked research.”
“I do,” Min said. “But only when I get to choose the topic. This just feels pointless. I’m not going to apply to Hearth or Harvest or History. Why do I need to do a whole report on them?”
Erika laughed. “Now you sound like Rekha.”
Min made a face. “You take that back.”
“If the shoe fits…”
“But it doesn’t . None of it fits. I know I want to apply to Harmony. This is a waste of time.” Min glared at the rows of books. “Anyway, trying to find books in this library is like trying to play chess when you can’t see the board. You’re just reaching out blindly, hoping you grab something useful.” She poked the spine of a book that was level with her face. “I think the last person who reshelved this place was drunk.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Erika said. She had quite the stack of books cradled in her arms, all about Harvest.
Two weeks after the moraghin attack, we were back in Haven Selection, collecting books for research on either History, Harvest, or Hearth. I was working with Ash and Felix again, thank God, and Felix was having the time of his life gathering sources about History.
“Not that he needs any,” Ash had pointed out. “He’s a walking, talking encyclopedia on the history of History already.”
Erika was in her element too, and I wondered if she’d always been this studious, or if she was throwing herself back into classes with a renewed zeal after the attack. I didn’t know her that well yet, but we’d bonded a little bit as the two students who’d had the closest encounters with the moraghin.
“I think they’re just trying to justify hoarding all these books,” Keelan said with a laugh, running his fingers along the spines on the shelf closest to him. “They know we could find more if they organized it better, but then they’d have to get rid of duplicates and earlier editions, or decide they didn’t need twenty books on the history of magical cures for sneeze attacks. If they leave it in this jumble, they get to avoid all that hard work, and still have an excuse to have three libraries.”
I turned back to the shelf I’d been browsing. In theory, I was looking for books on History, but I had a secret mission too. Well, that made it sound serious, when in fact, it was probably really stupid. But what I was actually looking for were books on the fundamentals of spellcasting.
I’d never admit it to my friends, but in my spare moments, I’d been wondering if I might truly be able to do some magic. In theory, I shouldn’t have been able to, as an incubus. But there were some signs that I might be something more, right? The raven, the moraghin attack, and all that?
My friends already thought I was a witch, so I knew they wouldn’t judge me for trying to learn. But since I wasn’t sure I was one, and since, even if I were, I had no idea if I’d be competent, I wanted to keep my little project under wraps for now.
All my attempts so far had just been me whispering words into the air in my bedroom, trying to manifest a light above my hand. I felt stupid. Like a little kid who thought if he wished hard enough, he could turn the broccoli on his plate into a pile of cookies.
Maybe I should try going up to Kazansky’s classroom and doing the spell there. I could find some time of day when it was empty, surely. It might help me to believe I could do it, if I stood in the same spot she’d stood in, the first time I saw magic at work.
But I had a feeling I was missing something. Some fundamental explanation for how spells worked. If I could cast them at all, that was. But since Romero’s lessons weren’t actually about catching me up on what I’d missed in my first semester, I needed to figure out what that something was for myself.
I paused, my eyes catching sight of a dusty book with a mottled, moth-eaten spine. I couldn’t read all the words in the title, so I pulled it out from the shelf to inspect it. Introduction to Spellwork: A Modern Witch’s Primer. I flicked it open and scanned for a copyright date. First published in 1898, fourth edition in 1937.
Modern , huh? But still, it might contain some useful information. Wasn’t magic supposed to be some eternal truth or substance? How much could the basic instructions have changed in eighty odd years?
“Whatcha got there?” Erika asked.
I jumped and dropped the book. It fell to the carpet with a muffled thump, releasing a cloud of dust into the air.
Way to be smooth . Way to keep things on the down low .
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I was just—it looked so old. I was curious.” I bent to grab the book and shoved it back onto the shelf. I’d have to find a time to check it out when no one else was around.
“Yeah, some of these books are ancient,” Erika said. She held a book out to me, a slim volume bound in blue cloth. “You guys are looking at History, right? Maybe this could be useful?”
I took the book from and studied it. The Advantages and Disadvantages of Written Magical Records: A Historical Perspective .
“Could be,” I said.
“I mean, it says ‘ History ’ right there on the cover.” She pointed at it.
“Yeah, but I—” I shrugged. “I still feel like I don’t understand any of this. It’ll probably be helpful, though, you’re right.”
I stuck it in the crook of my arm. Would it help with our research? Felix would know.
“That’s good, though,” Erika said. “That you don’t understand stuff. That’s the whole point of our first year. To introduce us to all the different types of magic out there, before we pick one to focus on. There’s so much that still confuses me too.”
“Yeah, but it’s different for you,” I told her. “You like, get magic. You grew up in a family of witches.”
“Doesn’t mean I could do any magic, though. I didn’t come into my powers until age seventeen.”
“But you still heard about all of this stuff. People talked about it. To me, all this magic stuff feels like trying to learn Ancient Greek.”
Erika laughed. “Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that learning Ancient Greek is a huge help if you’re trying to study the magical systems of antiquity.”
I looked at her, widening my eyes half in jest, half in legitimate panic.
She giggled. “Don’t worry, we don’t get to that until second year.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “I feel like I’m drowning just trying to keep all that we’ve learned so far in my head.”
“I mean, it’s optional,” she said. “You don’t need it for every haven. It’s most useful if you’re studying comparative historical magic.”
“Wait, are you planning to go out for History like Felix?”
“Nah, probably not. Hex is where the cutting edge spellwork is being done. But Ancient Greek is a help there too.”
“Right,” I deadpanned. “Because what’s more cutting edge than a dead language?”
“All invention builds on knowledge of the past,” she said primly—and then grinned. “But I’m also kind of a language geek. It just sounds fun.”
I looked at her stack of books. “Do they use a lot of ancient languages in Harvest?”
“Sort of. A lot of ancient magic had to do with the natural world. Some of the oldest spells we’ve found date back to early Mesopotamian kingdoms attempting to control floods, bring rain, increase crop yields, and all that. But I mostly just picked Harvest to research because it’s the haven I know least about. It’s always good to expand your knowledge, right?”
“Don’t let Ash hear you say that,” I snickered. “So okay, you want to learn Ancient Greek. What other languages do you want to study?”
“Oh God, the list is so long. But I’ll probably start with Sanskrit, and then Egyptian and Sumerian written records.” She grinned. “I heard Vesperwood even has an elective on Linear A.”
I frowned. “Like, algebra?”
Erika shook her head. “No, it’s the name of a language—well, a script—that no one’s deciphered yet. From thirty-five hundred years ago.”
“And they teach that here?”
“Not teach, exactly. But you work on trying to decrypt it through a magical lens. Or something like that. Val was a little vague on the details, since she’s never taken it.”
Val, or Valeria Martinez, was Erika’s older sister, a fourth-year Hunter who, from Erika’s description, was equal parts Barbie doll and Xena, Warrior Princess. She’d pointed Val out at lunch once, across the refectory. All I’d been able to see was curly brown hair on someone who was at least six feet tall. She’d looked like she could beat me up, though.
Erika flicked one of her long braids over her shoulder and returned to studying the shelves. The action highlighted an angry scar on the side of her neck. It hadn’t been infected, but it was still taking a while to heal.
“How are you doing today?” I asked. “With, you know. Everything.”
I didn’t want to press her to talk about something she’d rather avoid, but I felt the need to ask anyway. She’d been through a lot, and much as she was trying to act like it never happened, I could tell it still bothered her.
It bothered me too.
“Oh, you know. My ribs still hurt any time I take too deep a breath, my ankle aches, and I’m terrified Cinda missed something and I’m about to turn into a monster. But other than that, hunky dory.” She smiled wryly. “How about you?”
“About the same. Peachy keen, really.”
In a quiet voice, only audible to me, Erika said, “I keep having these nightmares. Reliving the attack. And afterwards. I see myself turn into one of them. The whole student body staring at me, trying to kill me. Pretty melodramatic, you know?” She tried to smile again, but it wasn’t a very good one.
“If anyone has an excuse for nightmares, I think it’s you.”
“Do you have them?”
I nodded grimly. Sure, my nightmares weren’t exactly the same. But I did keep flashing back to that day. The moragh standing over me, slavering, seconds away from killing me. Try as I might, I still couldn’t remember stabbing the thing in the eye, the way Ash said I had. All I saw was myself standing there, frozen, just waiting for it to kill me. Letting it happen.
“Yeah,” I said simply. “Yeah, I do.”
“Fun times, huh?”
I snorted. “You could say that.”
I tried to go back to looking at books, but my brain refused to cooperate. Now that we were talking about it, I was stuck on the day of the attack, unable to get visions of it out of my mind. Why had I thought bringing it up was a good idea, again?
“Ash says that if you get infected, it’ll show up in twenty-four hours,” I said after a moment. “So you’re safe. We both are. We have to be.”
Erika shrugged helplessly. “That’s what I keep telling myself. Maybe one of these days I’ll even believe it.”
The loud boom of a bell filled the air as Vesperwood’s great clock began pealing the eleven strikes that ended Third Hour. After a moment’s pause, the sounds of students jostling, talking, and stacking books filled the library. Those who were checking books out made their way to the front, shuffling along in a slow line towards the massive ledger that kept track of who had borrowed what.
I bent to grab my backpack and when I straightened, Ash and Felix had joined me. Felix had an even bigger stack of books in his arms than Erika. Ash, predictably, had none.
Min looked at Felix, disgusted. “Are you serious? How can you even find anything in here?”
“You use the catalog,” he said, as if he didn’t understand the question.
I was on Min’s side. The catalog was an even larger, vellum-bound tome that sat on a desk by the door, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of the organization system. Felix, evidently, had no such problem.
“I’ll grant you that most of the texts here are elementary,” he said. “But I asked Professor Romero and he says he doesn’t expect us to need anything out of the second library or the third, so I think he’s alright with papers that concentrate on a beginner’s level understanding of the subject matter.”
“Well, here’s hoping you find this beginner’s level too,” I said, handing him the book Erika had given me. “Because it’s all gibberish to me.”
Keelan hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and looked at Felix. “You going back to your room before Combat, or are you going to carry those books around for the rest of the day?”
“It’s only one more class,” Felix said. “Why?”
“I was going to offer to take them, if you wanted. I have a pass out of Combat today, to meet up with Annaliese and Professor Rosato in Room 318. It’ll take me right by your room.
“Oh,” Felix said. “Yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”
“What are you meeting with them for?” Ash asked.
“Imbolc preparations,” Keelan said. “Things are different this year, since we have to hold celebrations in the ballroom instead of outside. They’re trying to figure out if we can still have a bonfire. I told them I’d keep water at the ready as they test out a new fire spell.”
“Suck-up,” Ash said. “You realize you’ve already made it to college. You don’t need to keep padding your file with extracurriculars.”
“He’s not sucking up,” Min said with a grin. “He’s pining.”
Keelan’s cheeks went scarlet, and Ash’s eyes widened. He twitched his nose, like a squirrel who’d just caught the scent of the perfect acorn.
“Do tell,” he said.
“Annaliese,” Min said. “Keelan wants to bang her.”
“I do not,” Keelan said heatedly, which only made it sound like he really did. His cheeks got even redder, if that was possible.
“Oh, pardon me.” Min snickered. “He doesn’t want to bang her. He’s in love . It’s much purer.”
“You can still want to bang someone you’re in love with,” Ash said, wiggling his eyebrows. “In fact, I’d venture to say most people do.”
Keelan looked like he wished he could sink through the floor.
“What’s Imbolc?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “I’ve never heard of it before.”
I was getting tired of saying that. But Keelan sent me a grateful look, and I decided it was worth it. Besides, I was curious.
“Some holiday.” Ash said, waving his hand. “Fires. Crosses. Wandering around outside in robes.”
My brow furrowed. “Uh. That doesn’t sound great.”
Ash looked at me, confused, and then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, God no, not like that. It’s women in robes, mostly. And the crosses are a Celtic thing. Or maybe Catholic. I’ve never been sure. Sometimes there are dolls.”
I looked at Keelan, as much at sea as ever.
“It’s an old pagan holiday, co-opted by the Christian church,” he said. “Some Wiccans celebrate it as one of the eight sabbats of the year. It marks the return of spring, when lambing season begins. It honors the goddess Brigid, or St. Brigid, depending on your point of view.”
“The return of spring? But it’s February.”
“It was originally celebrated in Ireland and places like that,” Keelan said. “I think it’s warmer there, this time of year.”
“The Gulf Stream,” Erika said. “Even though they’re farther north than we are, the Gulf Stream ensures they have a much milder climate.”
“Is Vesperwood a Wiccan university? Or Celtic?” I asked.
“No,” Felix said. “That would be pretty difficult, if only from a logistical perspective. There isn’t a single Wiccan or pagan authority to affiliate with , and Celtic Reconstructionists usually avoid the syncretism that one finds in neo-pagan rituals. Their goal is to stick to what can be known from historical sources, but what we have for Imbolc can be maddeningly unclear. We don’t even know where the name comes from, or how far back it dates. It’s actually possible that it underlies the tradition of Groundhog’s Day in the U.S. But in any case, some of the faculty and students mark the day, and the celebrations are open to everyone.”
I nodded slowly, trying to take that all in. “What’s included in the celebrations?”
“A bunch of stuff,” Keelan said. “Some of the women who celebrate will get up early and do a ceremony to welcome the day. There’s ritual cleansing, then ceremonial robes, then a parade and a spell to invoke Brigid’s blessing. Some people make dolls, and leave things out for her to bless. And then there’s a big bonfire at night, and a feast.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“My family celebrates it back home,” Keelan said with a shrug. “So I wanted to help out here at school too.”
“Most people skip the dawn ceremony,” Erika said, “and just go to the feast. That’s what my sister says, anyway.”
“I hear it’s mostly an excuse for people to get drunk,” Min said with a grin.
“Well if getting drunk will help honor the gods—or goddesses, in this case—then I am more than happy to oblige,” Ash said.
Felix sighed. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because you’re just so smart.”
Ash reached over and pinched his cheek. Felix batted his hand away.
“Love you,” Ash said with a big smile. Felix glared, but he couldn’t keep it up in the face of Ash’s outrageousness. He rubbed at his cheek and smiled back.
“Don’t worry, Felix,” Min said. “You can bring your books and ask Brigid to bless those too.”
Felix stared at her in horror. “Bring books to a bonfire? I would never. What if there were sparks?”
“I didn’t mean you had to put them in the fire ,” Min said, rolling her eyes.
“Still.” Felix hugged his books to his chest, looking horrified.
“Well nobody’s bringing anything, if the bonfire doesn’t happen,” Keelan said. “Which is why I need to go. But Felix, if you can bear to part with those, I’ll stick them in your room for you.”
“You promise?” Felix asked. “You’ll drop them off before you go help them experiment with indoor bonfires?”
“Scout’s honor,” Keelan said. He stretched out his arms, and waited for Felix to deposit the books in his open hands.
“Come on.” Ash linked his arm through Felix’s now unburdened arm. “Let’s go to Combat. Though with the amount of books you’ve been carrying around, you’re probably so jacked you don’t even need it.”
He pulled Felix into the main aisle of the library. With a final look at the shelf where my primer for the ‘ modern ’ witch sat, I followed the rest of my friends out. I’d just have to come back and get it later.
It was snowing lightly as we made our way to the gym for Combat, but that didn’t stop Noah from making us run Vesperwood’s five-mile loop again. It wasn’t too windy, but we still had to be careful of our footing as we wound through the trees on the dirt path that had been frozen solid since I’d gotten to campus.
There was a beauty to the woods in the winter, though. A wild stillness, an emptiness that seemed to stretch for miles. I knew there must be animals out here somewhere—the raven had to be flapping around, if nothing else—but it felt like we were the only living creatures in the world. The snow muffled every sound, except for our huffed breaths as we forged ahead.
Until we reached the lake, that was. Lake Superior was huge. The biggest lake I’d ever seen in Iowa was barely two miles around, but Superior looked the way I’d always imagined the ocean would, rolling and gray and spread out beyond the horizon.
There was a slight promontory on Vesperwood’s grounds that jutted out above the water. To the west, the land fell away to a distant beach, covered in driftwood and ice. To the east, the land stayed elevated, and curved inwards before thrusting out into the point that Point Claudette was named for. And in front of us, the vast expanse of steely water waited, looking like it could swallow a person whole and never give back their body.
The path snaked halfway out the promontory before doubling back, and I took care not to get too close to the edge. Fifteen feet down, where the sandstone bluff met the water, vast sheets of ice had broken and crushed against the shore. They stabbed upwards like giant arrowheads, ready to pierce whoever was dumb enough to fall onto them. They looked like teeth, and the lake looked hungry.
I shivered as the path ducked back into the woods, leaving the gaping maw of the lake behind.
I was exhausted by the time we reached the gym again. I was always in the slowest group, along with a few other students. Ash was one of them. I suspected he could run faster if he wanted to, but chose not to out of principle. I was too tired to feel anything but grateful for his company.
Noah was standing outside the gym as our little group shuffled up to the building. His face was unreadable. He ran with the fastest group, and had been back at the gym for a while now. Long enough to have cooled down, if the snowflakes gathering on his hair and eyelashes were any indication. His cheeks were barely pink.
I was gasping for breath and pretty sure the snot inside my nose had frozen, but I was proud of myself. I’d definitely gotten stronger in my time at Vesperwood. That said, the runs were still brutal, and in the winter chill, I was barely human by the time I finished. My legs wobbled, and I was coated in a cold-sweat that made me shiver the second we stopped moving.
“Inside,” Noah said gruffly. His eyes looked the group of us over, but they seemed to slide right past me.
It hurt. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
His granite features were all noble and hard in the soft, snow-globe light. He’d crossed his arms over his chest and stood solid as a mountain as we filed through the door one by one. He looked like he was part of earth itself, his body one more tree trunk for us to weave around, but I’d seen him move enough to know that he could spring into action faster than I could blink, if the need arose.
Like he had when he’d killed that moragh for me.
My stomach twisted. Noah hadn’t looked at me, really looked , since that day. My heart stung.
I refused to look at him as Ash and I straggled through last. So the man was gorgeous. So what? Plenty of other students and professors at this school were attractive. And it wasn’t like I even wanted him to like me anyway. How could I, when I wasn’t sure I wanted men to like me, period?
I just wished his own dislike had been a little less obvious.