I pick up my bag. “We’d better hurry then, can’t make our little guy late for his pancakes.”
As we start up my little flight of stairs, Willow clears her throat.
“What’s up?” I ask.
She gives a somewhat fake laugh. “Think your super-powers can convince Naomi to be my date for the All Hallows Ball? Ha ha, that would be funny.”
I look back at her and see how red her cheeks have turned. “Willow, babe. Just ask her. Super-powers are completely unnecessary with an amazing catch like you."
“Yeah, right.” Her brow creases into a frown, and I hate to see it.
“I’m serious!”
“What are you serious about?” asks Duncan, as we enter the Defectivum lobby.
I open my mouth, but Willow nudges me. “Pancakes,” she says.
Duncan nods. “Oh, that makes total sense.”
???
For the first time, I’m not afraid to go to my Restricted Studies class. In fact, with so many things to learn, I’m looking forward to it.
Professor Gimble’s eyebrows raise as I enter the class.
Hmm, I realize that I’ve walked in with a very un-Theo-like confident swagger. Need to nip that in the bud. I quickly look down at the floor and shuffle to my seat.
“I heard you had the flu, Wilson,” the professor says. “I don’t want you in here if you’re still contagious.”
“Doesn’t matter to me, Ma’am,” Klein sneers. “Simple viruses only plague the poor and powerless.” Kayla leans over and kisses stupid Klein on his cheek. “Exactly, our families can all afford proper healers.”
The professor dips her head in the double-K’s direction. “Very true, very true. But why waste a cent on healing when we don’t need to?”
“Um, thanks for the concern, but I’m perfectly healthy now,” I mutter.
The professor eyes me for a moment, then, turning around, she starts writing on the whiteboard. “Today, we are going to be talking about the manipulation of subjective feelings.” She writes the words "Emotion Twisting." “These are a masterful set of spells designed to control the emotional energy of another witch. There are separate casts for each potential cognitive response to a situation.”
Several people shuffle in their seats. This is strictly governed spellwork.
Professor Gimble gives a smile that reaches nowhere near her eyes. “An expert in this realm can twist a feeling of joy into one of anguish with a mere flick of the fingers,” she says. “Though that kind of excellence will undoubtedly be forever beyond your reach.”
My blood runs cold.
Twisting joy into anguish. Love into hate.
Is that what happened to Wes?
Did someonetwisthim?
I look down at my notes, my hand trembling. If this magic exists, then maybe—just maybe—it can be untwisted.
Gods.
“And a reminder,” Gimble adds, “I have special dispensation to teach these spells in this class, but they cannot be performedanywhereelse.”
That’s something, I suppose.
I watch as the students around me start to note down the many steps it takes to create this spell. Even though it makes me sick to my stomach, I follow their lead. You just never know.
