“Are you kidding me? I love coming here. Maeve just got these in this weekend and they’d be perfect for Samhain.” My obliviousness must show but she waves her hand in dismissal. “It’s not until Halloween so we have time to find you a gown if you don’t have one already. If not, we can come back here or visit her sister’s shop in town.” Her casual use of “we”—like she already considers me a friend or something—is ridiculous, right? She’s just being nice because she’ll get extra credit or something. The voice of reason, whispering caution in the back of my mind, warns me not to trust her casual kindness despite, surprisingly, how much I want to.
“Ms. Byrke,” Maeve calls out from the counter. “I took the liberty of selecting some accessories —"
“I can’t afford those,” I interrupt, grimacing when it comes out brusquer than intended. “I don’t?—"
“Nonsense. Your grant includes an allowance for uniforms.”
“Okay, but?—"
“Ms. Byrke, one thing you’ll soon discover here is that if I say something is a part of your wardrobe, it simply is.” Her tone softens as Tori joins us. “Ms. Hektreia, please bring Ms. Byrke by again when you need an ensemble for Samhain.”
“Sure thing, Maeve. You’re the best—as always,” she replies with a bright smile. Before I can protest further, she takes the bag from Maeve and turns me toward the exit. I’m still trying to process what just happened when the door closes behind us, andTori hands me the bag. I’m grateful she doesn’t try and fill the heavy silence between us while I collect myself.
“Is—was that normal?” I finally ask.
“Which part?”
“Oh I don’t know, the tailored uniforms, an entire new wardrobe delivered to my dorm, a freaking goodie bag—take your pick.” She giggles at my sarcasm.
“Depends on what you think is normal. Compared to human colleges? No. For the magical community? Dreadhurst is the best school for dark wielders in North America. It has a huge endowment, tons of wealthy and influential legacy donors, not to mention sponsorship from the various Councils. So yes, they can require tailored uniforms and you can expect them to be delivered to your door. One of the perks of being richer than God,” she explains with a casual shrug. My mind reels, but everything else is forgotten when we crest a small hill and I finally lay eyes on the library.
When she opens one of the massive, groaning doors, it’s the closest I’ve come to a religious experience. A kaleidoscope of rainbows from the stained-glass ceiling of the atrium above dances across the marble floors. The creak of wooden chairs and desks, scraping against the floor as people settling in to work is music to my ears. And the scent of musty books, containing centuries of knowledge fills the air, better than any flower I’ve ever smelt. But the massive, double helix staircase is the centerpiece of the entire tableau.
“Holy shit, I’ve only read about these,” I say in awe. I’d never hoped to see anything like the Renaissance-era masterpiece of intertwining masonry in person.
“Few appreciate the genius behind one of Da Vinci’s last great contributions to engineering these days,” a deep, masculine voice says from behind me. The middle-aged man crooks his eyebrow as I take in his dapper khakis, argyle sweatercomplete with elbow patches, and clear-rimmed glasses perched on his furrowed forehead. His stern expression changes as soon as he spots Tori.
“Ms. Hektreia! Tell me—has your Meconopsis betonicifolia bloomed yet?” he asks eagerly.
“Not yet, Master Roux.”
“Ah, shame. Do let me know when it does, I’d like to document its variegation pattern for our records. Master Aurox was just telling me the other about his theory of how the variation in patterns may influence certain?—”
“We’re actually here to pick up some devices for a new student,” she interrupts, and he scrutinizes me.
“Nyx Byrke, I presume?” I nod. “Come with me, please.” I shoot Tori a wary side glance and she nods for me to follow. He steps through the doors behind the circulation desk and sets two boxes on the counter.
“Laptop and phone. Please sign here to confirm receipt,” he asks, sliding a tablet to me. I sign it without reading, thinking that surely—any moment now—I’ll wake up from this dream where nice people give me nice things. “The email advised that your schedule was still undetermined, so please come back once your classes have been assigned. We also have a large digital catalog that you can access via the student portal.” I add the boxes to the bag from Maeve’s and their weight mirrors the one settling in my stomach.
I think Tori realizes I’m reaching the end of my rope, so she thanks Master Roux before gently leading me out of the library. I’m surprised I lasted this long, honestly. It’s not the whole abduction thing, the magic thing, or even the “demons-are-real” thing. It’s the “people-being-nice-to-me” thing—an even more foreign concept.
She leads me in the opposite direction we came, towards the planetarium. “I’ll take you the long way back to the dorms so youcan put your stuff back, and then we can grab lunch?” As nice as the offer is, I don’t think I can handle anything else today—physically or emotionally. All I want is to get back to my room and freak out in private.
“Thanks, but I think I need a minute. Get everything set up, you know?” There’s a brief flash of disappointment in her eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly.
“No worries, I get it.” She shrugs nonchalantly. As we continue our walk and the planetarium comes into view, she begins to recount its history on campus but despite her efforts, my brain refuses to commit anything she says to memory. I’ll have to put it on my list of things to read later when I’m no longer on the verge of losing my shit. Which may be sooner rather than later when we pass an honest to God—Goddess? Fuck if I know—temple overlooking the cliffs.
The cold, pungent salt air picks up and I pause for a moment to just… be.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
I ground myself in the sound of whooshing wind, rustling the leaves and grass. I feel the heavy weight of the bag in my hand. And finally, I see the warm, golden sunlight, peeking through the clouds. With one more deep inhale, I turn to follow Tori—only to crash into a fucking tree.
Oh. Wait. Not a fucking tree.
