Chapter 5 Nyx
NYX
“So, how does this work?” I ask as Augustine polishes off her third beer. She offers me an unopened can but I decline, despite how badly I need something to settle my nerves.
“I’m going to open a portal that will bring us to campus. From there, we’ll grab the keys and I’ll take you to your room. The welcome wagon will come by sometime tomorrow morning.”
“You’re not staying?” I surprise myself by asking. It’s not like we’re besties, but there’s something to be said for her unapologetic honesty that brings a modicum of comfort.
“Sorry cupcake,” she says, “things to do, places to be. People to kidnap. You know how it goes.” I scoff and watch as she gets up and pulls something out of her jacket.
“Is that an honest to fuck wand?” I ask, mouth agape.
“It’s a rune wand. Witches and those with enough witch blood use talismans like this to channel magic.” She holds it up so I can see closer. The gleaming copper wand has a tapered tip that widens into a twisted handle, decorated with various runes running down the sides.
“So does that mean you’re a witch?”
“Not full blooded, but I have enough to channel primordial magic,” she confirms.
“So then, what are you? Or is that rude to ask?”
“I didn’t think you were the kind of person who gave a shit about being rude.”
“Maybe you just bring out the worst in me.” I shrug, and she lets out a full-bodied laugh.
“Don’t make me start to like you, little witch. You’re already making my life more difficult.” This time I’m the one who can’t contain my laugh. She pushes the couch away from the wall and pulls up the window blinds, baring the window.
“Are you ready to see some magic?” She glances back at me.
“Depends, are you going to light something else on fire?”
“I can if you want me to,” she replies with a manic grin before turning back to the window. Fucking pyromaniac, this one.
“You’ll learn more about portals in your classes, but the basic premise is that you need a reflective surface that’s large enough to fit through—mirrors, glass, or still water.
” She begins to trace runes around the edges of the glass with her wand.
“Once the runes are imbued with power, the portal will activate and we step through.”
My curiosity runs rampant, and I barely manage to contain the thousand questions I have. “How do you know what runes to use?”
“Depends on where you are and where you want to go, if you’re taking anyone with you, and how long you need the portal to remain active, among other things.
Aside from the runes required to power the portal, you also need the coordinates for the initiation point and the destination point to anchor each end,” she finishes, pointing to several runes at the center of the window.
Before my eyes, they begin to glow and pulse, and light ripples across the glass surface.
When they transition to solid white, she puts her wand away and turns to me.
“It’s going to feel cold for a second, but then you’ll be on the other side. I recommend inhaling before stepping through and exhaling when you step out.”
“That’s it? Feels like there should be, I don’t know, sparks or something.” I turn to her.
She crooks her eyebrow, nodding toward the shimmering glass. “Touch it.”
“You touch it.”
“Pussy.”
“Harpy.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are, cupcake,” Augustine says, and presses her hand to the surface. Cracks appear like the glass is shattering under her touch, and I gasp when it disappears.
“What the fuck,” I whisper.
“Your turn,” she says, hand still halfway through the cracked surface.
“It’s not going to hurt, is it?”
“Stop being a pussy, just touch it already.”
“Just touch it already,” I mimic, and she scoffs. The surface is cool as I bring my palm closer and press forward—shocked when just like Augustine’s, it sinks past the surface. Marveling at the feeling of ice-cold water numbing my fingertips, I pull my hand back and inspect it.
“You good?” she asks as she cocks an eyebrow in impatience.
“I mean, no.”
“Too bad.” She waits another beat before taking my hand and pulling me with her.
I have just enough time to take a breath before she steps through the glass and pulls me with her.
The sound of shattering glass and the sensation of being dunked into ice-cold water makes me tense in shock, but Augustine doesn’t let go until we’re on the other side.
I crash into her as we exit the portal and she steadies me with deceptive strength.
The large mirror with oxidized glass spots glows faintly from the runes carved into the ornate wooden frame, and they fade before my eyes as the surface ripples briefly before going still.
I stand, and run through a mental checklist, ensuring all my body parts are in the right place.
The office we landed in is spacious but cozy despite its size.
Wall to wall bookcases frame the ornate fireplace, where a plush couch is set opposite two matching armchairs.
An imposing desk in front of ceiling-height windows gives off a masculine impression.
My eyes strain to take in the view even with the scattered moonlight.
Tree-lined paths are illuminated by faint lamp light, spreading from the center of campus like veins to the buildings beyond.
“Welcome to Dreadhurst.” Augustine’s sardonic comment breaks my focus. She rifles through the drawers of the desk, pulling out a folder. When she shakes it, I hear the jingling of metal on metal and then she tosses it to me.
“This is Headmaster Church’s office. Cece and I use an office just down the hall when we’re on campus, but usually we’re at Council headquarters—if we’re not traveling.
” I crook my eyebrow at her. “Fine, when we’re not ‘kidnapping” people’,” she says with air quotes, and my lips twist into a wry grin at her sarcasm.
“Follow me and don’t get lost,” she orders, moving quickly to the large, double wooden doors that exit to the hallway.
My mind races, curiosity piqued as we walk through the empty halls.
Our footsteps are the only sounds in this dead of night.
It feels wrong to break the silence, as if the walls are sleeping and my presence is disturbing their slumber.
We round the corner and a grand marble staircase appears below us.
I take a steadying breath before putting my hand on the balustrade and descending after Augustine.
The patinated marble is cold to the touch, and as my ragged shoes touch each well-worn step, I can almost imagine the echoes of our footfalls are the ghosts of those who came before.
They cut through the air and crash against the walls, announcing my arrival.
As they dissipate, leaving only silence in their wake, a sharp ache stirs in my chest with the longing to belong here in truth.
I never felt this way in Lynden. The notion strikes me so suddenly that my heart skips a beat. I don’t trust it. I can’t trust it. Not yet. No matter how much I want to. A rush of frigid air blows the hair from my face when Augustine reaches the bottom of the stairs and opens the door.
“Fuck it’s cold,” I murmur, drawing my hood over my head.
“That’s Maine in the fall for you,” Augustine comments, leading me down one of the wider paths. Wind rustles through the changing leaves of the statuesque maple trees as we continue through the darkness, broken only by the moonlight and ancient looking street lamps.
“I thought you said we were outside Boston?” I ask with a hint of accusation in my voice as I still, suddenly wary. Of-fucking-course they lied to me. And it’s my own fault for believing them.
“We’re a couple hours north in Maine, also known as the Massachusetts Bay Colony until the early 1800s.
The founders wanted to be close enough to Boston for the politics and culture, but far enough away to stay hidden in what eventually became White Mountain Forest. Edenwood is closer to Philadelphia.
” Her words assuage my suspicions—for now.
Whether she noticed my momentary alarm or not, she continues leading me towards my future home—at least for however long it takes to wake up from this dream—explaining more about campus housing.
I appreciate it. I’ve never felt more crippled by my naiveté of the world outside of Lynden.
“Student housing is organized in four wings that correspond to each classical element: fire, water, earth, and air. Freshmen are on the first floor, sophomores on the second, and so on. Post-graduate students live in a smaller building behind the main dormitory complex.” It’s a miracle I register what she’s saying.
My head’s on a swivel as I try to make out any details of the buildings we pass, too eager to wait until daylight to orient myself.
“You’re in Aries 7 this term. It’s a small single dorm but you may be reassigned next term based on how many incoming students there are.
” We finally round a corner and the gleaming, gothic building comes into view.
“Welcome to the Mercury complex.” The heavy arched wooden doors creak when she leads me through a foyer that opens in a common room, complete with couches, a roaring fireplace, and bookcases.
Through the windows on the opposite wall, I see what looks like the entrance to a shadowed courtyard.
“We’ll take a left here to Domus Ignis, but down the right hallway is Domus Aquae, and across the courtyard are Domus Terra and Domus Aeris.”
“Subtle,” I murmur, gripping the straps of my backpack tighter, and she smirks. Our footsteps echo through the vacant hallway, passing door after door. Finally, she stops.