I shook my head as everyone in my class got up and rearranged themselves. As Hunter already sat next to me, he just scooted over, and we gave each other a high-five.
“Lucky we’re partners, huh?” Hunter grinned.
“Yeah, lucky us. We’re gonna kill the Samhain Trial.” I beamed back at him and hoped with all my heart that what I said was true.
Chapter Twenty-One
Itrudged down the hallway silently with the rest of my class. Hunter walked at my side, and though he’d been all bravado and pep while we brainstormed for the trials the day before, today, the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed him.
Just like the bags under my eyes spoke of the hours I’d spent studying. I’d read my Demonology text for so long that I’d fallen asleep with my arm wrapped around the tome.
Unfortunately, there werehundredsof types of lesser demons, and mine was only a beginner’s edition. Compared to the door-stopper books in the library—which I probably should have looked at more often—our texts were basic. So basic that it barely mentioned greater demons—largely incubi, succubi, and cambion. All it said was that greater demons were considered middle tier and smaller in number, but were vastly more powerful than lesser demons. They served as the officers of Hell under the six royal demons Lucifer, Ishtar, Xaphan, and Erinyes, also known as the three furies.
Not that Spellcasters would send us to fight a greater demon, anyway. The academy might be intense, but the Trial wasn’tthatcrazy. Very few witches tangled with greater demons and lived to tell the tale.
I twitched at the mere thought of coming across one. The jerky motion caught Hunter’s attention.
“How ya doing, Dane?” He mumbled his first words to me since we’d met at our dorm’s entrance.
“Okay,” I said, smoothing the wrinkles on my black T-shirt, a fidget that whispered of the truth. “Tired. I studied for hours after dinner. I wish they’d allowed us to research and practice more together—or even talk.”
Hunter nodded as our group began to descend the stairs that led to the entrance of the academy. “Me too, but you know Spellcasters, they’re sticklers for tradition.”
I’d never believed those words more. A staff member had delivered breakfast and lunch to each initiate earlier that day, negating any reason we might have to leave our rooms. We’d had access only to the bathrooms—one student at a time—so no one could confer with someone else about the trial.
“So,” I said, realizing that we’d fallen into silence. “Did you learn anything new that you want to share?” Even as I asked, I hoped he’d say no. What good would new fighting tactics or incantations be if I couldn’t practice them? Once we stepped foot in Merlin Amphitheater, the rules of the Samhain Trial forbade magic until our challenge began.
He sighed. “Nothing new. Just what we already learned in Demonology. Which, despite the fact that my brain always felt like mush after that class, doesn’t seem like enough now.”
I let out a huff of air as we stepped outside and the cold whipped across my face. Wasn’t that the truth?
The uproar that assaulted my ears upon entering Merlin Amphitheater was astounding.
“Holy shit,” I whispered as I took in all the people. “I didn’t realize we would have such a massive audience. Or that the amphitheater was so huge.”
Merlin Amphitheater was reserved for special events, such as the Samhain Trial, the Yule Ball, the Beltane Trial, and Convocation—the graduation ceremony that occurred after our Crucible year. Unless you were partaking in those events, the amphitheater was off limits.
“My older brother has been through the trials,” Hunter said, his mouth open wide as he took in the room. “He couldn’t tell me anything specific. The enchantments that they put on students who have been through them to keep their mouths shut are intense. But he did tell me that an audience would be present.” He gestured to the stands opposite where we entered. “The middle sections are for the second and third years. It’s a rite of passage that they get to watch us do what they recently accomplished.”
He then pointed to the ends of the oblong arena.
My eyebrows narrowed together. I didn’t recognize a single person over there.
“Those are humans.”
“No freaking way!” As a general rule, humans did not know about witches and warlocks.
“They work for the PIA,” Hunter added. “It’s practically the entire office.”
It would have to be. Each end held at least one hundred people. With that many humans knowing of our existence, it was a wonder that witches could keep themselves hidden. Not to mention the fae, shifters, and vampires at other academies who did similar types of work for the humans.
“My brother says that when a human signs onto the agency, they take a binding oath.” Hunter’s voice was low. “They know about us, but outside of work, they can’t tell anybody. And when they retire,” he arched his eyebrows, “well, one of our memory witches has quite a job of rearranging a life’s work.”
I shuddered. The prospect of losing a lifetime of memories was terrifying. But I had to admit, those rules ensured my safety. The fewer people who knew about magicals, the less chance there was that human hate groups would target us. We already had enough fighting between various magicals; we didn’t need to add humans to the mix.
My eyes swooped to the final side of the arena, and I saw that adults lined that part of the stadium. “I recognize our professors, but who are the rest of those people?” I asked.
“Spies—probably spymasters from around the world, too. They like to take stock of those coming up the ranks.”
