CHAPTER8
It wasn’t until he was standing in his classroom checking supplies that Quentin realized his chalk tin was missing.He must’ve forgotten it at home because it wasn’t in the outside pocket of his bag, where he usually kept it, and it didn’t turn up when he dumped the bag upside down after he removed his computer and spell orbs.He hastily stuffed the blood packets back into the bag.
“What was that?”
Quentin’s head jerked up to see a line of students entering the classroom, all curious eyes and eager faces.He didn’t know who asked the question.
“Blood for my boyfriend.”
A young man stepped forward, grinning wildly.“I knew I picked the right class.”
His female friend nodded.“The other professors are so closed-minded.”
He didn’t have a response for that.Instead, he said, “I’m glad you approve.Please take your seats.”
Fighting a blush, Quentin set his bag on the floor, then began pulling open the metal desk’s drawers, hoping to find something left by a previous teacher.
“Ha!”He pulled out a box from the top drawer.Two chalk sticks sat in a wooden box.Written on the outside across a piece of masking tape were the words ‘ritual chalk.’
“This should do just fine.”
It took him an hour to realize his mistake.
Boom!
The explosion rocked the classroom.Quentin flashed up a shield seconds before it could take out more than a chunk off the teacher’s desk, but not fast enough to avoid a line of fire from scalding his palm.Only two classes in, and he’d already caused an explosion.Grevin would never let him live this down.
“Is everyone all right?”He called out but didn’t dare turn around to check on the students until he’d smothered every last flame.Students fainting from smoke inhalation wouldn’t be a great addition to his resume or the school’s reputation.
The lack of screaming and crying eased his concerns.Instead, they were complaining about soot in their hair and giggling about the explosion.
They couldn’t be overly traumatized.
As soon as the flames were vanquished, he spun the disaster into a teaching moment.He’d learned during his vast two days of teaching experience that education wasn’t unlike a street magic performance.Copious use of razzle-dazzle distracted the audience from noticing the card up your sleeve, or from reporting a questionable explosion to the dean.Luckily, the containment ward he hastily slapped up stopped the fire from reaching the sprinklers, so there was no need for sexy firefighters.
A mixed blessing.
“Now, class, can anyone tell me what caused the rune circle to collapse?”
As he expected, a tiny goth girl in the front of the crowd raised her hand.“Yes, Eliza?”
“Poorly constructed runes?”
“Good guess.However, as you can see, the runes changed color, which means what?Anyone?”
Lucy, a blonde with cheerleader vibes, jumped in to answer before another student could take her question.“If it had been a rune failure, they would’ve burned black.”
“Exactly.Does anyone else have a hypothesis?”
As he tossed out questions, Quentin walked the circle, trying to determine the cause of the explosion himself.
“Unstable magic?”A male answered.He didn’t recognize the voice, but the tone had more than a bit of insinuation in it.
Tossing a stick of chalk from hand to hand, Quentin paced the circle and held back the urge to snap at the insult to his skill.After all, something had caused the explosion.Instead of arguing, he threw the question back at them.
“Who can tell me the signs of unstable magic?”
Several hands popped up with various levels of confidence.
