Chapter 13
Nix
“Only ten minutes late. You’re a superstar, Finn.” Nix leans through the two front seats and smacks a big, wet kiss on his mate’s cheek for driving his Rover like it’s Formula One to get them there almost on time.
“Yeah, thanks. You coming through on your way home later, or…” Grayson asks, twisting the strap of his leather bag in his hand.
“I have office hours and a C-section in an hour, but I can be here to pick you up after class.” He sounds like his usual self, but his scent is a bit sour, and there’s a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“I don’t want you to go in without me. I feel like something big is going on, and there’s power in numbers. ”
Nix understands that feeling perfectly. Professor Kirwan hadn’t felt like the big bad, but the guy on the phone? He was scary. If there’s one thing Nix has learned at Sentinel or even from the last few years, it’s that the big bad very rarely did their own dirty work.
“I think we’ll be okay today. It’s not like whatever Kirwan has planned is going to go down in a school filled with children,” Grayson says with a shrug.
Finn’s head swings around. “That’s not at all reassuring, but…yeah, okay. Call me. I will reschedule on my end.” He wraps his hand around the back of Grayson’s neck and kisses him so hard their teeth clack. “Keep your wits about you.”
“Will do.” Grayson gets out and opens the back door for Nix.
“Nix?” Finn calls him back before he can slide out.
“Yeah?”
“Just…do what you have to do today. Whatever it takes, okay?” Finn must really have a bad feeling if he’s suggesting violence. He taps his forehead, “Let me know what’s going on?”
“Will do. See you this afternoon. Love you.”
Finn watches them slip through the magical gate, and once they’re on this side and the blue Rover is out of sight, Grayson grabs him around the waist. “Hang on, Angel, and close your eyes.”
Nix slams his eyes closed, and the world slips sideways. Fractals of light ping behind his lids, and the whoosh of air moving at a speed Nix can’t fathom tosses his hair around his head.
The first time Grayson had teleported with him pressed close, Nix had thrown up immediately after.
Eyes closed was the only way to survive what Nix can only describe as being reduced to pure Plain and then reconstituted in a different location.
Atomized and rebuilt in seconds, and the inertia was a serious bitch.
They end up outside a tall wooden door on the second floor. It’s closed already, with a class in session, the sign hanging above swaying in the lightest of breezes. The slight opening under the door whistles, too.
“Shit, they’ve started already. Just stay behind me. When I open the door, there’s going to be a bit of a vacuum, okay? And…I’m not going to be dialing back The Plain today. I’m done doing that.”
“Fucking right, you are,” Nix kisses him hard on the lips. “And later? If she wants a piece of you, she’s going to have to come through me.”
“Nix, that’s not—”
The door opens, and a willowy, blonde woman of about seventeen pokes her head out. “Hey, Grayson. You’d better get in here. Professor Mehta is about to demonstrate external shielding.”
Neither Nix nor Grayson mentions that Grayson’s been shielding since Florida.
“Thanks, Zoe. This is my mate Nix.”
“Oh, cool. Love your shirt.”
“Oh…uh…thanks,” he says, looking down. He narrowly avoids a face-palm when he sees he’s wearing his It’s Bitch O’clock t-shirt under his sweater at a school filled with teenagers. He’d not chosen it consciously when he’d gotten dressed, but perhaps his subconscious had been sending a message.
“You have to let them in for this to work, Zoe.” The melodious voice comes from inside the classroom and sounds like it’s being carried on the wind. “Grayson, you can make up for these lost fifteen minutes before class tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Professor,” Grayson says with a nod. He throws his bag on the bench inside the door and pulls off his jacket. Leaning in, he whispers, “That’s Professor Knox Mehta. He’s a Luminary with a high-level Air Affinity. He’s really chill.”
The professor is tall and lean, in a flowing robe in every color of the sky, from the palest blue of a bright summer’s day to the frosty grey-white of a winter storm.
His shoulder-length hair is white, pin-straight, and it sets off his brown skin.
His eyes are grey, but so light they’re almost white, and they sparkle with mischief.
He floats closer, his robes trailing behind him like fog. “Thank you for the resounding endorsement, Grayson. Who have you brought with you today?”
Grayson takes Nix’s hand in his, and their bond snaps and crackles as Grayson lets The Plain flow to its maximum. He must have been holding it down for so long that Nix hadn’t noticed the tiny nuances. It feels incredible, and it makes him shiver.
“This is my soulmate, Nix Rhodes, Professor.” Grayson draws Nix in at his side, and Nix doesn’t take his eyes off the teacher for a single second.
He isn’t much older than they are, if his unlined cheeks and youthful demeanor are anything to go by, but Nix isn’t going to be fooled by an attractive face ever again.
A swirl of air tickles Nix’s hand in welcome as the handsome professor shows his respect by not offering his hand to a Were’s mate on a first meeting. It shows the teacher has done his research, and Nix feels his muscles unclench a little.
“How nice to meet you, Nix. I understand from the email I received this morning that you will be observing Grayson’s studies on behalf of your pack alpha today?”
“If you don’t mind? I won’t be in the way.” It’s a courtesy only, because Nix is staying, even if the teacher minds. He expects that there will be teachers throughout the day who won’t appreciate Nix’s presence at all.
“I look forward to it. It’s not very often we get to show off, isn’t that right, students?”
The students laugh, and it’s easy to see why the teacher is so well-liked.
“Now, as you probably know, this is a senior-level Air Affinity seminar. We work on developing our own natural inclinations, but we also work to improve those areas the Guild feels every magic user registered with an Air Affinity should know. Today, we will be ignoring the latter completely and having some fun instead.”
“See? Chill,” Grayson chuckles.
“Nix, if you will sit behind the blue line over there, we will get started. Today, we will talk about defense shields, and then for the last ten minutes, we will work on controlling minute airflow to mimic weather patterns.” He gags at the last task, no doubt because that sounds boring.
The two-hour class flies by, and the swirling vortex of air currents in the three-story room has Nix clutching Grayson’s jacket tighter around his shoulders. Despite the cold, it’s easy to get swept up in the Professor’s easygoing, charismatic way of teaching.
At one point, he demonstrates how to channel energy from The Plain to create an air shield, then encourages the students to try blowing past each other’s defenses. Laughter echoes through the space as shields ripple and gusts fly in all directions.
“Excellent, Grayson! How large can you make that shield? I suspect you’ve been practicing!”
Nix chuckles under his breath, knowing exactly how large a shield Grayson can make while also creating searing fireballs at the same time.
Zoe flops down beside Nix with her water bottle. Her hair is a tatty mess, but she seems happy, too.
“He’s a great teacher,” she murmurs, cheeks pink. “He’s the youngest Luminary in the US.”
Ah. Zoe has a crush on her teacher. Nix can see the appeal.
“Impressive.”
Grayson hasn’t been so relaxed in ages. He and Knox stand chatting like friends off to the side while they watch the younger students use magic that Nix can feel through his bond with Grayson.
“Most of the teachers here are gross.” She pulls a tin of mints from her pocket and offers Nix one. He declines, as the strong mint can dull his sense of smell, and that feeling he needs his wits about him hasn’t gone away.
“Who else is cool?”
“Back when I had general ed courses, our Earth master was really nice. And a few others who are long gone now. The new headmaster is a bozo.”
“Zoe, we’re impressing our guest with shields, not hot air. Go. Lily, practice with Zoe, please.”
“Sorry, professor. But tell me I’m not wrong.” The young woman looks shamefaced—not because she’d just called the head of the school a dickhead, but because her crush caught her doing it.
Knox snorts in what Nix thinks looks like agreement. “My apologies, Nix.” His face turns serious again as he turns his attention back to Grayson.”You’ll remember what I said?”
“Sure will. I appreciate the heads-up and the advice, Professor.”
“Hmm. You have my number as well,” Knox murmurs. His eyes turn back to his students, but his fingers move at his side in a complicated weave.
Nix has several questions—like why Grayson might need a heads-up, or why he has his professor’s number. His instincts ping hard.
“Do you mind if we head out to our next class? Professor Bixby isn’t—”
“As understanding as I am about your tardiness. Tomorrow, fifteen minutes early, please. I have a few things to show you.” His tone brooks no argument. “It was nice to meet you, Nix. Grayson seems much more settled when you’re here—stronger, too.”
“Thank you for having me, Professor.” Nix offers him a small wave. “Bye!”
Grayson pries open the door, and they’re down the stairs into the main foyer and through to the other side on foot as the tone rings for a change in classes. In moments, the halls and lobby are overrun with students dodging each other, and the din of teens’ voices rings in Nix’s sensitive ears.
“They’re so loud!” Nix almost yells over the noise.
“Right? My wolf hates class change. Come on, Bixby is a buzzkill, and I’ve been performing so shitty lately, I was sure he was going to demote me back with the first-years.”
The Water classroom is located at the back of the school, and when Grayson opens the door, the wide-open space reveals a large pool of water.
Turquoise blue and glowing with light, there’s even a waterfall along the back wall that seems to flow from nowhere.
There are drifts of snow on platforms around the room and storm clouds in the rafters, as there had been in Ignatius’s office.
“Is that snow?” Nix is surprised to see that’s not all. There are glass tunnels that funnel up into the rafters. It’s a mirror image of the Air classroom, but instead of a dry breeze, the air is humid.
“Precipitation is largely dependent on water, Mr. Rhodes,” a nasally voice states flatly from behind them. Bixby is short, round, and vaguely reminiscent of a toad. He even has a large, warty nose that takes up most of his face, and a high forehead covered by a few strands of lank grey hair.
“Professor Bixby, this is my soulmate, Nix Rhodes.”
“Thank you for having me today. I won’t be in the way,” Nix says with a smile, but this time, Professor Bixby doesn’t return the favor.
Grayson’s scent turns burnt, and his nostrils flare at the blatant rudeness.
“This is a magical classroom, Pearce. Not a place for spectators. You will remain focused, or you’ll be excused. And Mr. Rhodes, you will remain behind the blue line. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Bixby turns on his heel, his rubber-soled boots making a squeaking noise as he walks away.
They’re so noisy that Nix wonders if the older man had been lying in wait for Grayson behind the door.
“Was that a threat?” Grayson whispers. “That slimy toad. I’m going to—”
Nix barely gets a hold of his mate’s sleeve. “Just let him go, Gray. He’s pompous, but he’s just feeling territorial.”
“I don’t like it, and I’m going on record saying that if he so much as gets a drop of water on you, I will melt him like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Nix lets the image of Professor Bixby screeching “I’m melllllllllllllllllllllllllting!
” as he coalesces into a puddle of goo entertain him for a moment too long.
He’s just about to reward his mate with a kiss—Grayson’s creative, protective declaration has definitely earned it—when the classroom door bursts open.
Six students tumble in, their loud voices and unchecked exuberance bouncing off the surface of the water and echoing through the humid space.
“That’s enough, children. Put your things away and begin your practice. Pearce, show me what you remember from our last class. Your ice fractals were dismal and uncreative.”
Uncreative? Grayson Pearce couldn’t fake being uncreative if he tried.
Nix is relieved to see that the rude criticism doesn’t land hard, bouncing off the thick shell of restraint Grayson has built over the years, but something in his jaw ticks.
“I’ll be back,” he murmurs, stepping away.
“Show him what you’ve got, babe. You got this!”
The grin that breaks across his face at the encouragement is almost better than if Grayson had rubbed his hands together and cackled like a melodramatic villain. Almost.
Nix takes his seat behind the blue line and doesn’t take his eyes off his smiling mate. His expression must be unexpected, as Professor Bixby visibly flinches when he looks up from his plastic-covered tablet.
He shakes it off with a frown. “Well, the class is only fifty minutes, Pearce, get to it.”
Nix feels it the moment Grayson has had enough.
The Plain surges, hot and wild, through their bond.
In an instant, all moisture in the once-humid room vanishes.
It’s stolen from the air so fast that Nix’s nose burns, sharp and raw, as it does in winter’s driest breath.
Around them, frost blossoms in layers, coiling upward in sharp, beautiful arcs.
Within seconds, a six-foot staff forms in Grayson’s hand—solid ice, fractal-cut and glinting like a weapon born from winter itself, and it’s pointed at his professor.
His classmates gasp. Even the toad of a professor blinks—surprised, and more than a little envious. This isn’t some delicate snowflake or decorative icicle—pretty but useless. This is a weapon. And more than that, it’s not just Talent.
It’s Affinity. Not just potential, but power and control.
Grayson holds the icy staff, as if he had always done so, and Nix has to wonder what Professor Toad is going to do about it now that he knows what Grayson has been hiding from him for over a year.