At least my parents want me around.
After tonight, we’d be out of touch for months. No matter how much I wanted to be here, I had to admit that sucked. Plus, a spy academy was bound to be dangerous. Mom and Dad just didn’t want me hurt. I was their only kid.
“There’s no way I’m leaving,” I said, keeping my tone measured. “I’m sorry, but you guys have always said I need to follow my own path. I haven’t been here long, but I’m sure this is where I’m meant to be.”
Mom nodded. “No witch or wizard could lay eyes on Spellcasters and not want to stay. It’s a special place. I’ll just miss you—and worry.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.” Our eyes, the same shade of brown, connected, and for the first time since I announced my intent to enroll at Spellcasters, I felt like Mom understood.
Everyone had finished their meals, and servers swept the plates away. When a bell tinkled through the cavernous hall, Headmistress Wake took the stage once again.
“Now that it appears everyone has finished their meals, I shall begin the commencement speech for the incoming Spellcasters class.” She straightened the jacket of her pantsuit and pulled the microphone off its stand.
“I’d like to welcome our class of initiates into the elite halls of Spellcasters.” Headmistress Wake smiled, but once again, it didn’t reach her eyes. I wondered if she even knew how to smile warmly. “A calling such as espionage is not an easy road, and I commend you for your choice. However, just because you arrived today, does not mean you’ll make it to the end of the year.”
Mom squirmed in her chair. Murmurs filled the hall, and I leaned back, wondering what she was talking about.
The headmistress began to pace, and her steps echoed in the vast room. “Your first year at Spellcasters is known as the Culling. It will be filled with two trials, one challenge, and many more tribulations, designed to ensure that you actually belong among the top students that Spellcasters accepts.” Wake’s dark eyes moved across the crowd with hawk-like intensity.
“These trials will take place on Samhain and Beltane. The challenge is on Imbolc. You must succeed in two of the three Spellcasters tests to graduate from initiate status and be admitted into year two. There is no guarantee that this will be your reality. Spellcasters isnotsome normal human college, and yes, there have been fatalities over the years. We have made no secret about that. You are adults, and it is not our responsibility to baby you. Itisour mission to train you so that you might progress from initiates to members of the Supernatural Society of Spies. Make sure you are entering these halls with full knowledge of what we expect. To move forward in this world, you must be willing to risk everything you know. You cannot coast by on the hard work of others.” The headmistress caught my eye, and I looked away as whispers rose from the crowd.
Headmistress Wake cleared her throat. “As you know, the U.S. government contracts Spellcasters alumni as agents. Because of this, we at Spellcasters work diligently to assure that our graduates are the best trained in supernatural espionage.” She sniffed. “That being said, if you’re not up to being theabsolutebest in the world, please leave now.”
Unsurprisingly, no one stood up. I caught Eva’s gaze from across the room, and she mouthed,“What the hell?”
Yeah, whatwasup with Headmistress Wake’s speech? I thought Spellcasters was supposed to welcome us tonight, not scare us off.
“Excellent,” the headmistress said, once it was clear no one was taking her up on her offer. “At the very least, you have a fighting spirit. Now let’s see if you have sufficient skill and strength to back it up. Classes will begin at eight tomorrow morning, and you all have a full roster of seven classes. A staff member has placed your schedules on your desks. Until then,” Wake performed a shallow bow, “I welcome you to Spellcasters and bid you goodnight. Parents, we shall see you during the Yule break.”She returned her microphone to the stand and marched out of the room.
You could hear a pin drop in Sampson Hall. Mom leaned closer to me, as if she wanted to say something, but a wavering voice interrupted her.
“Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen, and students.” A man on the stage with round glasses and elbow patches on his sleeves spoke. “I’m Professor Tittelbaum, the Magical Languages instructor for the Grind and Crucible years. If you’re all finished with your refreshments, please show yourself to the front lawn. Goodbyes will be said there.”
People began to stand, and I realized I was missing my opportunity to announce the mixer. I stood up, threw my shoulders back, and turned to my mom.
“How do I look?”
Her appraising gaze ran over me. “Beautiful as always, Odie.”
I gave her a grateful smile and then, harkening back to my theater days, projected my voice. “Excuse me! Before everyone leaves, I have an announcement.”
Everyone turned, and I beamed. “My friend Eva Proctor and I, Odette Dane, would like to invite the first year class to a mixer. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be in the Marie Laveau Room.”
“Sweet,” someone said, but I barely registered their excitement, because Alex Wardwell was in my direct line of sight, and he actually had the audacity toscowland cross his arms over his chest.
“There’s no obligation,” I added, trying to ignore the ridiculous, yet insistent pang of hurt that shot through me at his reaction.He’s no one to me. Just a pretty face. Why should I care what Alex thinks?“We thought getting together before classes to bond would be nice. I hope to see you all there.” I sat and hoped that no one noticed the slight waver in my voice that Alex’s reaction had sparked.
Chapter Six
Tears brimmed in Mom’s eyes and reflected the pale moonlight. My heart clenched, knowing these would be our last moments together as a family until Yule break.
“You realize I’ll miss you so much, right honey?” Mom took a stuttering breath. “And worry. I know you’re all grown up, but like Headmistress Wake said, Spellcasters isn’t exactly safe.”
“I’ll miss you guys too.”
Mom bit her lip and glanced at Dad. Their eyes connected, and Dad shook his head. I hoped that he was using their marriage bond, or whatever married people had, to psychically tell her not to push it.
“We understand it’s time for you to spread your wings, little pea,” Dad said, his tone soothing, a balm to Mom’s anxiety. “We won’t try to stop you any longer. Just know, if you ever want to leave—like this is too much, or you don’t fit in—you canalwayscome home. There’s no shame in that. Also, we have something for you.”
