Chapter 10
Archer
“I’d like to speak to Dean Thornfield, please,” I said the moment I stepped up to the front desk in the admin building. “If he’s in. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Can I ask what it’s about?” the secretary asked, hardly glancing up at me.
“It’s a personal matter,” I replied, keeping my reasoning simple. “My name is Archer Quinn.”
The secretary looked up, her eyes going wide. The Quinn name, despite how much I hated it, did hold weight at Widdershins Academy. My father was one of their biggest donors and, at one point, had been part of the school board.
“Of course, Mr. Quinn,” she said, getting up from her desk. “I’ll just let him know you’re here.”
“Thank you very much,” I nodded.
I watched her waddle down the hallway, her satyr hoofs clacking on the marble floor as she went. As soon as she was out of sight, I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly to steady myself.
For nearly three days I’d been thinking about whether I was going to take Amelia’s advice.
She wanted me to rebel, to stick it to our parents and their pretentious lifestyle by going out and getting laid with a vampire professor.
At first the idea seemed crazy. But the more I thought about it, the more it grew on me.
My parents couldn’t know what I was doing and Valen, in the grand scheme of things, had a lot more to lose than I did by spilling our secret.
Amelia wasn’t going to tell them either, that was for sure.
And Lila, Valen’s sister, didn’t seem like the type to spill the beans either.
So really, as long I was careful, there should be no reason why Valen couldn’t blow my back out for the rest of the year.
Then, when I graduated, we’d go our separate ways with some good memories in tow and our secret intact.
It was a win-win situation as far as I could see.
But Valen, I knew, needed convincing. There was still heat in his gaze. He wanted to fuck me again. So I just had to make him understand that I wasn’t going to turn him in. Once he knew that, I was sure he’d give in.
I just had to get close to him first. Alone. And for that, I needed Dean Thornfield.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, rehearsing what I was going to say in my head.
The plan was simple enough. I was going to ask Dean Thornfield if I could audit Professor Crowe’s Monster History class.
It was a perfectly reasonable request from an academically motivated student.
The fact that it would give me regular access to Valen without raising suspicions was just a convenient side effect.
The sound of hooves on marble announced the secretary’s return before I saw her round the corner.
“Dean Thornfield will see you now,” she said with a warm smile. “Right this way.”
I followed her down the hallway, past enchanted landscape paintings and display cases filled with magical artifacts.
The administrative building always made me feel odd, especially when my family’s name was on half the donated artifacts.
But today, though, I was grateful for the Quinn name and the doors it opened.
The secretary knocked on a heavy oak door before pushing it open. “Mr. Quinn to see you, sir.”
“Thank you, Margaret. Please, come in, Archer.”
Dean Thornfield stood behind his desk, a tall man with graying hair and kind blue eyes that held more intelligence than most people gave him credit for. He gestured to the chair across from his desk as Margaret closed the door behind me.
“Please, sit. It’s good to see you. How are your parents?”
“They’re well, thank you for asking.” I settled into the chair, trying to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Not at all. What can I do for you?”
I took a breath, committing to the lie I’d crafted. “I was hoping to audit Professor Crowe’s Monster History class this semester. I know it’s not part of my official course load, but I feel like my education has been... limited in certain areas.”
Dean Thornfield’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Limited how?”
“Well, my family has always emphasized traditional magical theory and pure-blood witch history,” I said, which was absolutely true.
“But I realize I don’t know much about the other supernatural species that make up our world.
Their cultures, their contributions to magical society, or their perspectives on historical events. ”
The Dean leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp eyes. “That’s quite a mature realization, Archer. Most students from your background never question the scope of their education.”
Heat crept up my neck. Did he know about my parents’ recent restrictions? About their increasingly isolationist views? “I just think a well-rounded education is important. Especially if I’m going to be working in the magical community after graduation.”
“Indeed.” He was quiet for a moment, fingers steepled in front of him. “And what do your parents think about this desire to expand your historical knowledge?”
My stomach clenched. This was the tricky part. “They don’t need to know the specifics of every class I attend,” I said carefully. “As long as my required coursework remains excellent, they don’t need to know about my… supplemental education.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. But my parents just didn’t need to know. They just didn’t know I was planning to use that trust to get closer to a vampire professor they’d probably try to have executed if they found out about our weekend encounter.
Dean Thornfield nodded slowly. “Professor Crowe’s class does offer a unique perspective on magical history. He has firsthand experience with many of the events he teaches about.”
“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “Primary source knowledge instead of just textbook theory.”
“The class meets three times a week,” he continued, pulling out a file from his desk drawer. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, plus a Friday discussion section. It’s quite intensive, and Professor Crowe has high standards. And you’ve already missed the first week.”
“I’m prepared to make up for that.”
He studied me for another long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he could see right through my carefully constructed reasoning. Finally, he picked up a pen and began writing on an official form.
“Very well. I’ll approve your audit request.” He signed the paper with a flourish, then looked up at me. “However, I want you to understand something, Archer.”
My pulse quickened. “Sir?”
“Professor Crowe is an excellent educator, but he can be... challenging for students who come from more traditional backgrounds. He doesn’t coddle anyone, and he has little patience for prejudice or close-minded thinking.
” The Dean’s eyes met mine directly. “I trust that won’t be a problem for you? ”
“Not at all,” I said, accepting the signed form. “I’m looking forward to being challenged. And I want to open my mind even further. For the good of myself and everyone I’ll work with in the future.”
“Good.” He stood, signaling the end of our meeting. “The class meets in a half hour. Give this form to Professor Crowe when you get to his class. I’m sure he won’t have a problem with it.”
I rose as well, tucking the form safely into my bag. “Thank you, Dean Thornfield. I really appreciate this.”
“Of course. And Archer?” He paused as I reached for the door handle. “I hope you find Professor Crowe’s class as enlightening as I suspect you will. And thank you for expanding for horizons.” He paused again. “The world needs more witches like us.”
I stood there for a moment, letting his meaning wash over me. Up until that moment I thought the Dean was more on the traditional side like my family. Clearly that wasn’t the case.
“No problem. I’m sure I’ll get a lot out of it,” I said, then let myself out of his office.
Margaret smiled at me as I passed her desk. “Have a good day, Mr. Quinn.”
“You too,” I replied, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
I made it all the way outside before allowing myself a small smile of victory. Phase one complete. Now I just had to figure out how to convince a centuries-old vampire that sleeping with his student was worth the risk.
But first, I couldn’t be late for his class.
I hurried across campus toward the history building, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.
The signed form felt like it was burning a hole in my bag, and I couldn’t quite believe I’d actually gone through with this.
Part of me wondered if I was making a huge mistake, but it was too late to back down now.
The history building was one of the older structures on campus, all stone walls and ivy-covered windows that gave it an appropriately ancient atmosphere.
I’d walked past it countless times but hadn’t been inside since freshman year.
Now, as I climbed the worn stone steps, I felt like I was crossing some kind of threshold.
I found the classroom easily enough, a room on the western side according to the form Dean Thornfield had given me.
Through the small window in the door, I could see students already seated, notebooks open and ready.
My stomach did a little flip as I realized I was about to see Valen again, and this time I couldn’t run away or pretend it wasn’t happening.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked once and pushed the door open.
The room fell silent as I stepped inside, and I immediately felt the weight of curious stares from the other students. But my attention was entirely focused on the figure standing at the front of the classroom.