“Yes.” Professor Dal’s eyes glow in the firelight, and it’s obvious he doesn’t notice how flustered I am. “You’re the most talented student I’ve seen in all my years of teaching here, Miss Blake. Between me and Maxon, you’ll be caught up in no time.”
This time there’s no hiding the blush on my cheeks. I duck my head in embarrassment, his praise too much to take. “I’ll settle for passing my classes.”
His fingers curl beneath my chin, and he lifts my head to meet his eyes. The soft look in his gray eyes and the gentle warmth of his fingers cause the heat in my cheeks to spread through my entire body, and I bite my lip to hold back a gasp at our sudden proximity.
“Your powers are a gift, Addy,” he says, brushing his thumb against my cheek. Whatever the humans might have told you, however they might have jeered and laughed, never forget that. You are powerful, you are worthy, and someday, you are going to do great things.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I blink rapidly to keep them from falling. How did Professor Dal know exactly the right thing to say? All day, in the back of my mind, I’d been worried that this was all a mistake, that I’d wake up the next day to find out this was all some kind of sham, like an elaborate reality TV prank or something. I didn’t feel worthy of the praise the other students were giving me, didn’t feel I could trust the genuine admiration and offers of friendship. And yet here is Professor Dal telling me that it is okay. That I’m not imagining things. That I am worthy.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I can manage past the sudden lump in my throat.
Professor Dal’s touch lingers for a beat longer on my face before he finally drops his hand and leans back against the desk. The tender look on his face from before is gone, and he is all business again. “Tell me how your first day went.”
I smile, relieved as the tension between us eases. “I really enjoyed it,” I say earnestly, and tell him about everything I’ve learned so far.
Professor Dal seems pleased about my progress. “Do you have any questions? Any concerns? Like I said, I am the head of your house. Don’t ever hesitate to come to me if you need anything.”
“When will I get my scythe and cloak?” I ask after a beat of hesitation. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but it’s chilly here at the academy, and I feel like I stick out as the only student without one. “I thought I was getting the cloak today, but I haven’t heard anything.”
Professor Dal smiles. “Madame Benita is the finest seamstress in all the realm, even better than some more well-known seamstresses in Soul City,” he chides. “We put in a request to have her come and fit you for a cloak, as they are all custom to your measurements, but she has been busy making new robes for the Soul Tracker League.”
Oh. Right. I’d read about them—they are a branch of the Reaper Army that specializes exclusively in recovering lost souls.
“Normally,” Professor Dal goes on, his deep voice vibrating right through me. “You would go to Madame Benita’s store before the year begins for a new cloak.”
“So does that mean I can go into the village?”
Professor Dal’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “First years normally aren’t allowed that privilege,” he says. “However, since I think it’s important that you familiarize yourself with life as it is outside of the academy, I will speak to the headmistress on your behalf about getting you special permission.”
A burst of excitement shoots through me, and it’s all I can do not to bounce on the balls of my feet. “Does that mean I can go this weekend?” I ask.
“Let’s get you a little further along on your studies first. The sooner you’re marked competent in basic courses, the sooner you will get your scythe, and the sooner you’ll be able to go on a mission.”
“A soul-reaping mission?” I try not to get too excited.
“Yes.” His full lips pull into a smile again.
“Will there be demons?” I ask mischievously.
“Possibly. The sooner we are able to get to the human realm to retrieve the soul, the less likely demons will rise from the pits of Hell to try and collect. But it does happen, and I know you’ll be prepared if it does. The way you killed those demons was exquisite.”
I arch an eyebrow, half expecting him to make a chef’s kiss with his fingers. “I never thought I’d live to see the day someone tells me the way I kill is exquisite.”
Professor Dal’s full lips curve into a smirk that sends my stomach into a series of somersaults. “I never thought I’d be teaching a student worthy of the compliment.”
Once again, he renders me speechless, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he returns to his desk. “Out of all the classes you attended today,” he says as he flips open a notebook, “which one interested you the most?”
I have to pick just one? “Umm,” I say, panic making my brain freeze. I pick the first one that pops into my head and blurt out, “Portals. Because I was able to access one.” At least I think that’s what I’d done. “If I hadn’t pulled my hand back, would I have actually opened up a portal into the classroom?”
“Perhaps,” he says like it’s no big deal, and scribbles something down in his notebook. “I am going to take Human Studies off your class list,” he says. “There is no point in making you take that since you are an expert.” He purses his lips, tapping the end of the pen against his lower lip. “You’ll continue to attend Reaper History, as it’s important for you to understand our history, but I’ll speak to Professor Caligua about making some allowances for you since you’ll be catching up outside the classroom as well. If you can pass all of the fifth-year tests, then I don’t see why you can’t stay in the sixth year with others your age. I’m keeping you in my demonology class, and I think the same portal class is fine as well. How do you feel about your talents when it comes to spell casting?”
“I haven’t tried much.”
“Let’s keep you where you are during the course of our studies the next two weeks, and if that hasn’t caught you up, I think going in with the third years will be beneficial. They brush up on basics before moving on to more complicated spells. And of course,” he says, dipping the pen in ink once more, “if anything is above or below your skill level, we will adjust. Though I am confident that in two weeks, you’ll be ready to rejoin those of your age.”
We went down my list of classes, Professor Dal striking some off the list and making notes to have others modified to deal with my handicap. “There,” he says, snapping the notebook shut. “I’ll run this by Professor Messor today before we finalize it, though I don’t see why she would have any objection.”
“Thank you.” I curl my hands around the arms of my chair, ready to push myself up, but I find myself reluctant to leave. “Is there anything else, Professor?” I ask hopefully.
