Chapter One
“We’re not in L.A. anymore, Toto,” I said, watching Maine’s late summer greenery whip by.
“No, honey, we’re not.” Mom’s tone was quieter than normal. “Are you sure you aren’t having second thoughts?”
“No.” Irritation that I normally didn’t feel toward my parents flared at the tired question. “I don’t understand why you’re so against me going to Spellcasters. You always said I could be whatever I wanted. Do you think I can’t hack it?”
Dad grasped Mom’s hand as his gaze caught mine in the rearview mirror, his hazel eyes understanding. “We’re just worried, little pea. And believe me, weknowyou can do anything you put your mind to. Would we have flown across the country, driven from New York to Maine,andstayed overnight in Portland to drop you off on orientation day if we thought otherwise?” He paused, and hesitation flickered across his face, which was just beginning to show lines that came with age. “It’s just that becoming a spy isn’t easy. Even if you can use magic.”
“And working in Hollywood is a cakewalk?”
“By comparison, yes,” Mom replied. “Andmuchsafer. Besides, you love theater. You know we can help get you started. As an ex-dancer you’d be a double threat.”
“Honey . . .” Dad squeezed Mom’s hand, and she shook her head, resigned.
I rolled my eyes, and we fell into silence.
I didn’t have the desire to argue for the millionth time that following in their footsteps was a good thing. Sure, working in Hollywood would have been glamorous and fun, but espionage had always interested me more. The choices made by Spellcasters graduates rippled out into the rest of the world on a large scale. And even if I was never known publicly for it, making a positive difference meant a lot to me.
I’d always thought it mattered to my parents, too. They’d attended Spellcasters, spied for the U.S. government, and even patronized the academy after they quit espionage. It was because of their history that I’d expected them to laud my choice.
Their resistance to my enrollment was baffling and frustrating in equal measure.
Unfortunately for my parents, I was eighteen and an academy legacy. I didn’t need permission. Spellcasters had accepted me the moment I’d written the headmistress and expressed interest. There had been no stopping me after that. Dad recognized my drive, but Mom was still holding out.
The terrain beneath the wheels changed dramatically, and my suitcases rattled in the trunk. I glanced out the window. Smooth pavement was still flashing by even though it felt like we were traveling down a dirt road. My eyebrows furrowed.
“That’s the signal. We’re almost there.” Mom twisted her long, brown hair and laid it over her shoulder—an anxious tic.
“They haven’t changed the first marker after all these years,” Dad noted with a shake of his head.
Mom snorted. “Well, theywillchange it soon.”
I was about to ask what she meant, when a sign came into view and sent chills up my spine. I could just make out the words.
‘Saint Albert’s Academy for High-Risk Boys and Girls.’
My heart rate sped up, and I pressed my nose against the glass in anticipation.
Barbed wire flashed by in the spaces between trees. It looked menacing, and from what I’d read about Spellcasters before I applied, the precautions were even more dangerous than they appeared. The fences would not only keep out curious or malicious humans, but fae and demons trying to sneak in from Faerie or Hell.
Spellcasters was one of the most secure places I’d ever seen. And that was saying something, considering my parents had warded every nook and cranny of our Beverly Hills home.
Dad slowed to a crawl as we passed the sign. He whispered a word under his breath, and the silver prophetess seal of Spellcasters split as the academy gates burst open. A shimmering blue cloud engulfed the car, seeped in through the closed windows, and caressed my skin.
Then, just as suddenly as it materialized, it disappeared.
I was about to ask my parents what the magic had been detecting, but something else caught my eye. The letters on the sign had begun to rearrange themselves and morph into new words. My heart thumped hard when the letters stopped.
‘Spellcasters Spy Academy.’
Woodlands dominated the grounds, although I was sure I’d spotted a lake and a golf course through the trees. As the drive narrowed, long branches started to bow inward, creating the effect of a stunning green tunnel.
My excitement rose to nearly unmanageable heights. Both of my legs shook as if I’d just chugged three espressos. When the trees broke, and the school emerged, I actually squealed out loud.
“It’s like a mix of Neuschwanstein and Westminster Abbey,” I whispered.
The white facade and green-topped towers mimicked the German fairytale castle, while the stained-glass windows above massive front doors, and gargoyles resting at various intervals on ledges and windowsills reminded me of the famed abbey.
