Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1) Read online

  “Oxygen,” I demanded, and they immediately released me.

  “You look wonderful.” Cerys Davies stepped back to examine me. “Very refreshed.”

  “It’s all that open space in Fairhaven,” Mia said. “I bet you spent hours outside every day, enjoying the fresh air.”

  “It’s not like we don’t get fresh air on campus,” Bryn countered. “We’ve got a forest, orchards, a river, and a lake. You can’t get much more outdoorsy than Spellslingers.” Bryn Morrow had come straight to the academy from Terrene, the human world. As the secret daughter of the Shadow Sorcerer, one of the most feared sorcerers in our history, Bryn understood the issues surrounding my grandmother better than most. She and I had bonded over our ‘shameful’ backgrounds.

  “How’s your grandmother?” Cerys asked. Her specialty was earth magic and that also seemed to have the effect of making her the most maternal of the group.

  “Not great,” I admitted. “Part of me hated to leave.” I didn’t bother to mention my grandmother’s efforts to secure a potion. I didn’t want to say anything that reflected poorly on her. The elderly witch had endured enough of that in her lifetime. I scooped Clementine into my arms and we all left the platform together.

  “Meet anyone special while you were home?” Mia asked, almost hopeful.

  “In Fairhaven?” I laughed. “You know we’re pariahs. It’s enough of an experience to go to the shops. One visit will sour you on society for the rest of the week.”

  “Bryn’s the only one who got to spend time with someone special,” Cerys said.

  “We spent half the summer at his family’s place,” Bryn said. “You’ve never seen a moat like theirs. It’s nuts.”

  “I’ve never seen a moat at all,” Mia said. “Not in real life.”

  “I’m glad they’ve been accepting of you,” I said. Initially, I’d worried because Graydon Alastair Mappleworth III came from a long, privileged line of vampires. The vampire had served as a Warden of the West years ago, until the death of his partner. His guilt had driven him to the fringes of society, trading in information. A chance meeting with Bryn had led to his redemption, as well as closure in connection with his partner's murder. Now he was back to serving as a warden as well as a clinical instructor at the academy, and he and Bryn had been together ever since.

  “It’s been over a year now,” Bryn said. “And we don’t see them often. Holidays and special occasions.”

  “We ran into Professor Langley on the way to the station,” Cerys said. “I’m already dreading his class.”

  “He looked at us like he was surprised to see us back,” Bryn said with an easy laugh. “He’ll be in for a rude awakening tomorrow morning when we’re assembled in front of him.”

  Clementine rubbed against my leg, eager to get moving. I scooped her up. “You want to be reunited with your friend, too, don’t you?”

  “I can’t say Icarus is particularly excited,” Bryn said, “but he’s willing to try again.” Clementine and Bryn’s snowy owl familiar weren’t often on the best of terms.

  “That’s all we can hope for,” I said.

  Our second year program kicked off the next morning with Professor Langley’s Understanding Symbols class. The dour wizard stood at the head of the class in his traditional black cloak, looking as though he’d rather be knee-deep in hellhound manure than teaching us. I had a complicated relationship with the professor. On the one hand, I thought he was particularly brilliant. On the other hand, he was one of the professors who never let me forget my heritage.

  On the table in front of him sat a large wicker basket. Oftentimes he brought Mrs. Butters to class, but somehow I doubted that the adorable chicken was contained within the basket.

  “As the name of the class suggests,” Professor Langley began, “this class is all about understanding symbols. This knowledge will assist you in many of your future endeavors as an agent, no matter which division you find yourself working in upon graduation.”

  A faint hissing sound emanated from the basket and my curiosity got the better of me. “Professor? Is there a snake in your basket?”

  A flash of annoyance flickered across his sculpted features. “Miss Degraff, how nice to see you eager and ready to learn on our very first day back.”

  His failure to answer my question was clearly deliberate. He wanted to control the pace of the lecture and, if that meant ignoring me, then so be it.

  “Mr. Gumtree, would you be so kind as to close the door?” the professor asked.

  Findley Gumtree shot out of his seat like someone had lit a match under his bottom. The door slammed closed with an audible thud. He raced back to his seat in anticipation of what was to come next.

  “Now, I shall answer your question, Miss Degraff.” He lifted the lid from the basket and snakes slithered out in all directions. I counted seven different types. Incredibly, no one screamed. Probably because everyone knew Professor Langley would string them up by their toenails if they showed signs of weakness.

  I tucked my toes under my chair as a green snake slithered past. I watched its forked tongue flicker in and out as it sensed its way around the room.

  “Snakes have a long history of serving as symbols in a variety of cultures,” the professor began. “Can anyone tell me what they are symbols of?”

  I was first to raise my hand, not an uncommon occurrence. “Fertility,” I said, with my usual air of confidence.

  “And do you know which cultures in particular viewed snakes as symbols of fertility?”

  “I believe Native American tribes, as well as ancient Crete.”

  “Another symbol?” Professor Langley prompted.

  “Creation,” Cerys said. No surprise Miss Rune Rocks knew that one. “There are countless creation myths that all involve snakes. The Ouroboros is a classic symbol that shows the cyclical nature of life and death.”

  “What's the Ouroboros symbol?” Wade Goodfellow asked.

  “Allow me to demonstrate,” the professor replied. He extended his wand at the nearest snake. Suddenly, the black snake turned sharply and began to eat its own tail forming a circle. “Look familiar?”

  “Oh, right,” the young wizard said.

  “There is also the snake as a symbol of the underworld,” the professor continued.

  “They can also be a symbol of water,” Bryn said. As our resident water witch, she would know best. “Snakes are often viewed as guardians for water spirits. I know I can control any snake that’s connected to a body of water.”

  Professor Langley raised his brow. “Is that so, Miss Morrow?”

  She nodded excitedly. “A recent discovery. I was with my…I was out with a friend at the moat surrounding his family's estate and we had a run-in with one of the moat’s guardians.” She shrugged. “We worked it out.”

  I stifled a laugh. It wasn't every day that a friend talked about her boyfriend's moat. Of course, she couldn't refer to Gray Mappleworth as her boyfriend because, although he was a warden, he also worked at the academy as a clinical instructor. The school had turned a blind eye to their relationship because both were well respected in the Spellslingers community.

  “They are also a symbol of healing,” Mia said. “My grandmother swore she inherited the gift of sight as a baby when her eyelids were licked by a snake.”

  “What about wisdom?” Ollie Fitzgibbons asked.

  Professor Langley fixed him with a thousand yard stare. “What about wisdom, Mr. Fitzgibbons?” He clasped his hands behind his back in his usual pose.

  “I think they’re supposed to be really smart.” He lifted his feet gingerly as a snake passed by his table.

  “My mother wears an amulet of a snake,” Priscilla Peacock interjected. “She says it wards her against evil.”

  “Yes, a talisman,” the professor said. “A protective spell on a chain.” He surveyed the classroom, keeping a careful eye on the traveling snakes. “There is a rather important symbol that we are missing. Can anyone hazard a guess?”<
br />
  “Immortality?” I ventured.

  Professor Langley's gaze rested on me. “Why, Miss Degraff?”

  Whereas others would have withered under his critical eye, I made sure to keep my back straight and my shoulders square. “It would be an offshoot of the creation and healing associations,” I said. “Circles are often considered symbols of eternity. Snakes shed their skin, arguably a form of reincarnation. In creation myths, life dies each night and is reborn each morning.”

  “Excellent work,” the professor said, albeit begrudgingly.

  “Always need to show off,” someone hissed behind me. The seven snakes hissed at Madge LaRue in response. I was sure that Madge didn’t want me to know she was the one attempting to taunt me, but the snakes were quick to identify her. Seven elongated bodies swarmed around her legs. I craned my neck to make eye contact with her.

  “Looks like you've made a few friends today,” I said.

  Madge pulled up her legs to sit cross-legged on the chair. “Professor,” she called. “Are we finished with show and tell? Maybe the snakes could go back in the basket?”

  The professor strode up the aisle, with slow, deliberate steps. He was plainly in no rush to recall the snakes. “Perhaps you would like to demonstrate why they are symbols of healing.”

  Her eyes popped as the realization hit her. I didn't think he would actually go the distance, but you never knew with Stefan Langley.

  “I think imagining it is sufficient,” Madge said, her voice quaking. “Some of these are poisonous.”

  “Well spotted,” the professor said. “Care to tell us which ones?”

  Madge identified four out of the seven as poisonous. “I’m not sure about the others.”

  “The others are not,” the professor replied in his clipped tone. “I’m pleased to see that most of you are starting off your second year on the right foot.” His gaze lingered on me. “Putting your best foot forward is the only way to achieve here at Spellslingers. Otherwise, you risk falling on your coddled bottoms.” He clucked his tongue. “And I am quite certain your families do not want to report to friends and loved ones that their special snowflake has drifted into the snow bank of mediocrity.”

  I rolled my eyes. Maybe he could save the winter-based lecture for colder weather.

  The professor whistled and the snakes hurried back to the basket.

  Priscilla hesitantly raised her hand. “Maybe next time you could consider filling up that basket with puppies, Professor?”

  “Or kittens,” Wade added.

  Professor Langley’s expression didn’t change. “If you can show me a magical reason for doing so, I’ll consider it.”

  There was an audible gasp until he began to laugh—a throaty, mocking laugh that left us in no doubt that he hadn’t meant a word of his response.

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” Wade mumbled. “I love kittens.”

  Chapter Three

  The week flew by as we attended a variety of second year classes. I could honestly say I enjoyed every single one of them, even Professor Langley’s. Two o'clock on Friday brought me to one of my favorite classes, though. Last year's clinic was taught by Warden of the West Theo Armitage, but the second year clinic had been taken over by Gray. The only negative about this class was that Bryn wasn't in it. Even though the academy pretended not to be aware of the relationship between Bryn and Gray, they wouldn't go so far as to allow him to instruct her formally. I had no doubt the Board of Regents had voted unanimously on this matter. Despite the fact that Bryn had proven her loyalty to her friends at Spellslingers, there were certain paranormals that would never fully trust her because of her father.

  We met outside, as we often did for practicum. While some of the more academic trainees preferred their studies to take place indoors, I relished the time outside. I spent the majority of my youth in the great outdoors, honing my skills, so I was completely comfortable in this environment.

  “Welcome back,” Gray said, scanning our faces. “I hope I didn’t leave you too sore after Tuesday’s session.”

  A few grumbles followed. It had been a good workout as far as I was concerned. We seemed to run the gamut between eager and apprehensive. I wondered whether some of my classmates objected to the clinical training being performed by a vampire. After all, the vampires had their own AMF feeder school called the Sentinel, which Gray had attended. It didn't matter to me whether I was trained by witches and wizards, as long as I received the best possible education. Fieldwork was dangerous at the best of times, and I wanted to develop the skills to overcome any challenge. I had every confidence in Gray's ability as an instructor, and not just because of his relationship with my friend. He was a force to be reckoned with when he needed to be.

  “Before we get started, Chancellor Tilkin asked me to pass along that your Advanced Potions class is cancelled today, so don’t wander over to the lab at three-thirty or you’ll be all by yourself.” He paused for effect. “Maybe some of you would work better that way. I don’t know.”

  Mia waved a hand in the air. “Warden Mappleworth, there’s no substitute?”

  “Apparently, it was unexpected, and they couldn’t find anyone on short notice,” Gray replied. “So back to my session.” He rubbed his hands together. “Today we’ll focus on action under duress.”

  That sounded challenging.

  A shrill whistle followed his statement and an enormous three-headed hellhound bounded toward Gray, the slobbering tongues dripping acid along the way.

  “Rudolph!” Cerys exclaimed happily.

  Gray stroked the hound’s middle head. “Try to pretend you don’t know each other for the sake of the lesson.” Rudolph’s trio of faces hardened and the middle one growled for good measure.

  Cerys pretended to shiver with fear. “I love role playing,” she said.

  “Now, some of you have experience with your garden variety hellhound from last year’s clinic,” Gray said. “I’m willing to bet that most of you have never been cornered by one of these.” He whipped his hand away as a drop of Rudolph’s slobber burned the vampire’s skin. “Who’d like to go first?”

  I trotted forward. “Who better to battle a hound from the fires of hell than a fire witch?”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Degraff,” Gray said. “You have far more skills than just fire magic. Try not to rely too heavily on it.”

  I waltzed over to the open field, ready to take on the vicious…well, the beast. I wasn’t as thrilled about role-playing as Cerys. I needed to believe the threat was real. “Bring it, hot sauce breath.”

  Rudolph took his place at the opposite end of the field, but Gray ushered him back. “No, Rudolph, this lesson is duress. We’re going to start Degraff off at a disadvantage.” Before I could react, Gray zipped over and pinned me to the trunk of a tree on the edge of the field. “Like this.”

  “You’re going to hold me here?” I queried. “That seems a bit….” Then I noticed Cerys. The earth witch aimed her wand at me and performed an incantation. Tree branches stretched and wrapped around my body, rendering me immobile. I struggled to break free, but the tree was too strong. Rudolph snarled and steam blew from his six nostrils. I couldn’t reach my wand, which meant fire magic was my best bet. This was a tree, after all. I could burn the branches away and free myself, except then I risked a forest fire. I couldn’t be that irresponsible.

  Rudolph bolted toward me, his jaws snapping in anticipation. Fiery saliva flew in all directions, scorching the ground as he went. I tried to focus my magic away from the tinderbox around me. I summoned my magic and felt the power flow through my veins. I inhaled deeply and held my breath for a moment so that I could gather my will and refine my magic. I wanted to execute this perfectly to avoid damage—no easy feat with three demonic heads barreling toward me.

  I exhaled.

  Flames streaked from my gaping mouth, forming a wall of fire between the hellhound and me. Rudolph skidded to a halt before he reached the danger zone. T
he fiery wall crackled between us and I used the time wriggle my fingers far enough to reach my wand in my waistband. Once my fingers curled around it, I relaxed slightly. I conjured a retreat spell and the branches slid back to their normal position.

  “Well done, Degraff,” Gray said, and the flaming wall disappeared with the wave of my hand. “But you went straight to your crutch. Can anyone else offer a suggestion for what she could have done instead?”

  Several hands shot up and I proceeded to listen to a litany of critiques and suggestions. It wasn’t my favorite part of clinic. I liked to do everything above reproach. To be the best. On the other hand, I was here to improve my weaker magical abilities, so I needed to set my ego aside and listen. Easier said than done.

  Once my turn was over, Rudolph trotted over and panted happily at me. I scratched him behind all the ears and he dropped to the ground and rolled over to expose his belly. The whole class made noises of approval.

  “I wish Bryn could be here with us,” Mia said, unable to resist rubbing Rudolph’s stomach.

  “Me, too,” I said, “but it's understandable. Anyway, she gets one-on-one training with Armitage, so she’s not left out completely.” According to Bryn, she couldn't decide whether that was a plus or a minus. The Board of Regents had determined that she needed extra training to reduce the risk of her turning to dark magic like her father. Naturally, I thought it was ridiculous. If that were the way to approach training, then they would need to put me in rehab before I showed any signs of a destructive magical addiction.

  “Any more volunteers?” Gray asked. He seemed so upbeat--a welcome change from the surly vampire I'd first met with Bryn. He seemed to have found the perfect balance in working part-time at the academy and spending the other half as a Warden of the West. At his request, however, his jobs were limited to the local area so that he didn’t have to spend significant time away from Bryn. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Bryn Morrow. She’d endured more than enough misery for one witch.