Chapter 6
Or, depending on who you asked, a death sentence.
"I heard the professor is deranged," Ivy whispered as we squeezed into the back row of the lecture hall. "I heard he once turned a student into a llama because they were texting. A llama, Lina! The majestic wool quotient alone..."
"That's a rumor," I said, opening my notebook. My hand was still shaking slightly from the blood draw, but I forced myself to focus. " Besides, we need this credit. It's the only advanced magic elective that didn't require a 'Compatibility Waiver' from the Dean."
"Because the Dean is afraid of him," Kai said from my other side. He looked tired—the bite on his arm was healing, but the stress of restraining Rhett had taken a toll. "Professor Rook has tenure. And immunity. And apparently, a collection of cursed teapots."
"Perfect," Rhett muttered, crossing his arms. "Just what we need. More instability."
The lecture hall was packed. Witches, Shifters, and even a few Vampires (sitting in the darkest corners) were waiting with bated breath.
Suddenly, the doors at the front of the room slammed open.
A man strode in.
He was... luminous. That was the only word for it. He wore a velvet coat the color of crushed amethysts, fitted trousers, and boots that clicked sharply on the linoleum. His hair was a wild, windswept mane of silver that seemed to defy gravity, and his eyes were a startling, electric teal.
He didn't walk to the podium. He leaped onto it.
PROMPTY jumping onto the desk with the grace of a gazelle, he spun around to face the class.
"Good afternoon, potential disasters!" he boomed. His voice was melodic, rich, and vibrated with a dangerous amount of joy. "I am Professor Rook. You may call me Rook. You may call me Professor. Do NOT call me late for tea, or I will invert your gravity."
He clapped his hands. Sparks of teal magic showered down on the front row. A girl squeaked.
"Welcome to Chaos Theory," Rook announced, pacing the length of the desk. "Most magic is about control. Order. Lines and circles. Boring! Chaos Theory is about the what if. It is about the glorious, messy, explosive space between intention and reality."
He stopped, his teal eyes scanning the room. They landed—inevitably—on us.
"Ah," he grinned, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. "The Triad. And... oh, hello."
His gaze shifted to Ivy.
Ivy froze. She was wearing a sweater covered in sequins that spelled out NOPE.
"You," Rook pointed a long, elegant finger at her. “Pink hair. Aura like a supernova in a blender. What is your name?"
"Ivy," she squeaked. Then, clearing her throat, "Ivy Hollow. Sir."
"Ivy Hollow," Rook repeated, tasting the name. "Delicious. You smell like ozone and bad decisions. Come down here."
"Oh no," Rhett whispered.
"Oh yes," Rook countered, his hearing apparently excellent. "Come, come! We need a volunteer for our first demonstration: The Probability Pivot."
Ivy looked at me. I nodded encouragingly. "Go. He seems... fun?"
"He seems insane," Ivy corrected, but she stood up. She marched down the stairs, her sequins shimmering.
"Excellent!" Rook hopped off the desk, landing silently beside her. He was tall—taller than Stone, but leaner. While Stone was a mountain, Rook was a willow branch—whip-thin and impossible to break.
"Now, Miss Hollow," Rook said, circling her. "Chaos magic requires a catalyst. A spark. I want you to think of something you want. Something you crave. Don't say it! Just feel it."
Ivy closed her eyes. I saw her jaw tighten. I wondered what she was thinking of. Her impounded broom? Vengeance on Stone?
Or maybe just the Stone part.
"Good," Rook purred. "Now... hold this."
He handed her a glass orb filled with swirling grey smoke.
"When I count to three, I want you to push your intent into the orb. Don't control it. Just... shove. Ready? One. Two. THREE!"
Ivy shoved.
BOOM.
The orb didn't shatter. It exploded into a cloud of pink glitter.
But not just glitter. Sentient glitter.
The sparkles swirled into the air, forming shapes. Tiny, glowing butterflies. Miniature brooms. And—I squinted—was that a tiny, glittery pair of handcuffs?
The class gapped.
Rook threw his head back and laughed—a sound like chimes in a storm.
"Marvelous!" he crowed, catching a glitter-handcuff in mid-air. "Subconscious desire manifest as atmospheric particulate! You, my dear, are a natural agent of entropy!"
Ivy opened her eyes, blinking as glitter rained down on her. "Did I... did I do it right?"
"Right? Wrong? Irrelevant!" Rook draped an arm around her shoulders. He leaned in close, his silver hair brushing against her blue. "You were interesting. That is the only metric that matters."
Up in the back row, Rhett stiffened. "Why is he touching her?"
"He's a Fae," Lucien murmured. "They're tactile. And he likes her aura."
"I don't like it," Rhett grumbled.
Rook released Ivy, but before she could return to her seat, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear.
Ivy’s eyes went wide. She nodded slowly.
"Class dismissed!" Rook announced suddenly, hopping back onto his desk. "Your homework is to do something unexpected. Surprise the universe! Go!"
As the students filed out, confused but entertained, Ivy practically ran back up the stairs to us. She was covered in pink dust.
"What did he say?" I asked as we shuffled into the hallway. "He whispered something to you."
Ivy looked around, then leaned in. "He said: 'The Dean doesn't have a scent because he ate it. Tell the Wolf with the target on her chest to watch her blood'."
I froze.
"He knows," Kai whispered.
"Of course he knows," Lucien said. "He's Fae. They see patterns in the chaos."
"He's on our side," Ivy said, brushing glitter off her shoulder. "I think. Or... he just hates the Dean because Marrow tried to ban paisley waistcoats."
"An ally is an ally," I said, feeling a flicker of hope. "Even a glittery one."
"Especially a glittery one," Ivy agreed. She looked down at her hands, which were still glowing faintly pink. "Also... I think I still have the handcuffs."
She opened her palm. A tiny, perfect pair of glitter-cuffs sat there.
"Keep them," Kai drawled, smirking. "You never know when you'll run into an Officer of the Law."
Ivy turned bright red. "Shut up."
"Let's go home," Rhett said, putting an arm around me. "I've had enough chaos for one day. I want pizza. And a fortress."
"Pizza fortress," I agreed. "Sounds like a plan."