Chapter 11 #2
The friend’s crow squawked in alarm, flapping its wings and sending a gust of air over them.
“Oh. Right. Of course.” The friend settled back in her seat, still smiling, but the warmth had dimmed slightly.
More students filtered in, and with them came the stares.
Some curious, some disbelieving, some outright hostile.
Realistically, they should be happy that their peer had succeeded.
Perhaps for some reason, they thought she was a threat, or they resented her when they’d written her off already.
Humans and witches were far too predictable, but he asked her anyway.
“Why are they staring at you, little witch?”
She didn’t reply, but her mouth set into a hard line to indicate she was listening.
It occurred to him she probably didn’t know how to speak down the bond.
He hadn’t known it was something he could do either with a witch; usually, it was something reserved for shifters within the same den, but for some reason, it had worked in the same way with her.
Unfortunately, he would have to teach her.
A wrongness bled within him. He shouldn’t be teaching a witch anything to do with shifters.
Mind speak was reserved for families within dens, for mates, but in this case, it seemed necessary.
“If you want to speak to me, imagine you are speaking to me in your mind,” he explained to her like he would a child shifter back at his den.
She pondered what he said for a moment. “Can you hear me?”
He shivered as the bond hummed at the connection, enjoying her angelic voice sliding over his mind. It’s just the bond; it means nothing.
To distract himself—or to hear her voice again—he teased her, “How did you imagine me in your mind? A cat? Human? Naked purrhaps?”
A blush rose to the tip of her cheeks; she was so deliciously fun to tease. He watched as pink spread down her slender neck, fangs pulsating with the need to bite her. Mark her.
“I imagined you as a ghost after I’d murdered you,” she sent back.
Any sort of heat that remained was thoroughly doused in ice water.
“Rude.” Felix licked his paw, his tongue running over the fur—a habit he’d picked up when he was trying not to let his rage overtake his rational mind.
“They are staring because we used to be friends until they shunned me for being familiarless and now they probably don’t know what to do. They thought I would have been expelled,” she said bitterly.
“That’s awful.” Felix faked sincerity, but it was enough to earn a sparkle of hope from the little witch’s eyes as he looked at her. “Every witch is a waste of space. They shouldn’t have made you feel so special.”
Her face fell. If he weren’t in his cat form right now, he would be grinning ear to ear.
She was so easy to rile up. Despite the slightly dire circumstances, it was the most fun he had had in a while.
The back of his mind warned him that it was becoming too fun, and Felix was an addict of fun.
It was the only way to relieve stress from his job.
He dabbled in many addictions, and he should be afraid of the little witch becoming one of them.
The professor who had suggested to collar him—and was now inscribed on his kill list—cleared his throat as his dark crimson robes swept behind him. His phoenix familiar flew in after him, finding a perch next to the lectern as he approached.
“Welcome to your final year!” His voice carried across the space.
There was something about him, apart from just being a witch, that had Felix’s teeth setting on edge.
He continued, “You stand here today because the goddess has found you worthy. Because you proved yourself capable of the bond that separates witch from mortal.”
The little witch sank down in her seat, crossing her hands over her chest.
“This year, you will train in all three houses.” He left the lectern, putting his hands behind his back.
“You will be tested.” He stopped, looking right at the space where she was.
“And should you fail, you will not graduate. You will not join your peers.” He held out his arm, beckoning forth the massive phoenix.
“Caerwyn has no room for weakness, not anymore.”
Felix didn’t care for the way the professor looked at the witch, his nostrils flaring as if he were a dragon, claws digging into the wood of the desk he sat on.
“When you graduate, you will be placed in a house you are best suited to, and you may be deployed to a human territory or in service to the university.”
For the rest of the class, the professor set out the witches’ fourth-year schedule.
Their days were to be split up into physical training, healing, and history, which, Felix thought, was likely where their witch propaganda would be smushed into their little pea brains.
It was what caused all the problems in his territory. Their ego was always the death of them.
The little witch was starting to nod off. Her palm held up her head as her lush lips parted.
“Are you dreaming about me, witch?”
It jolted her awake. “Shut up!” she said aloud to him. The whole room turned to look at her. She sank into her seat even lower, the blush once again creeping across her freckled face.
Oops.