Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1) Page 5

  I covered my mouth and waited for the two interlopers to pass us by. I watched their boots trek across the floor. If I’d performed it correctly, then the spell would help us blend in with our environment.

  “I told you there’s no one here,” the second voice said, sounding pleased to be proven right. Judging from his tone, I’d bet it didn’t happen very often.

  “This place is a mess,” the first voice said. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean it up.”

  “I don’t think anybody will be cleaning up until we know whether the wizard was taken or has gone into hiding.”

  “I heard some druid kidnapped him, maybe even killed him for money.”

  Peter winced.

  “I heard he’s still alive,” the other voice said. “The AMF is running checks in the various underworlds to see if he’s been admitted.”

  “What about the Other Side?”

  “You know how hard it is to get confirmation from there,” the voice replied. “Like trying to take blood from a vampire.”

  The boots shuffled out of the lab, and I waited for the click of the door before I drew a full breath.

  “Nice work, princess,” Peter said. “How’d you do that?” He pulled himself into a standing position and stretched.

  “I made us blend into the background,” I said. “We would’ve resembled table legs or something if they’d bothered to look.”

  “Almost as good as invisibility,” he said.

  “It did the job.” I glanced around the lab one last time. “We should probably sneak out of here while luck is still in our favor.”

  Peter winked. “Hang around with me long enough, princess, and you’ll see. Luck is always in my favor.”

  “Our topic today is often referred to as the three C’s,” Professor Langley announced, his hands clasped behind his back. As much I wanted to spend all my time assisting in the search for Professor Fraser, I couldn’t risk skipping one of Professor Langley’s classes. He didn’t care what the reason was for missing. He’d love an excuse to give me a failing mark.

  “You’re going to teach us how to be calm, cool, and collected?” Bryn interrupted. She leaned back in her chair and grinned. “Now this I’d like to see.”

  “No, Miss Morrow, your human world associations do not apply in this context,” the professor relied on his clipped tone. “Our topic today is cleansing, consecration, and charging. As you will one day discover, these are surprisingly useful rituals for agents to understand.”

  “Why useful?” Bryn asked. She didn’t bother to raise her hand. She had a much more relaxed attitude to a classroom setting than I did, probably as a result of being homeschooled by her mother.

  Professor Langley leveled a gaze at her. “I’m getting to that, Miss Morrow. Patience.” He splayed his hands on the table in front of him. “As you can see, I have set out a few items in preparation.”

  I could see a small bowl of water, a candle, a white candle, a dish of hops flowers, and another bowl.

  “What’s in the second bowl, Professor?” Mia asked.

  “For this lesson, I have chosen salt as it is readily available,” he replied. “I have also chosen hops flowers here, but the choice of plant is dependent upon the need.”

  “Which item are we consecrating?” Priscilla interjected.

  Professor Langley pressed his thin lips together. “I appreciate that you are all eager to learn, but I request that you hold your questions until I’ve had the opportunity to complete my introduction. Can anyone explain the importance of cleansing?”

  “To smell good,” Ollie said, and a few students laughed.

  Professor Langley didn’t crack a smile. “Your views on hygiene are of no consequence here, Mr. Fitzgibbons.” He surveyed the room. “Anyone with an intelligent answer? Miss Holmes?”

  Mia squirmed slightly in her seat. “To clear negative energy from an item?”

  “Are you asking me or answering me?” the professor demanded.

  Mia straightened and spoke in a loud, clear voice. “To clear negative energy from an item.”

  “Better, Miss Holmes, and quite correct.” He picked up a dagger from the table and showed it to the class. “Let us say you have bested a demon on the battlefield and disarmed him.”

  “That’s optimistic,” Findley said.

  “For some of you, yes,” the professor agreed. “I shall amend. Let us say Miss Degraff has disarmed a demon on the battlefield.” Everyone laughed. “Her own weapon has been destroyed in the fight, but she has acquired her opponent’s weapon. Should she immediately wield it?”

  “Not unless she’s wiped it down with some serious anti-bacterial soap,” Madge said. “Demons carry nasty diseases.”

  “Your own predilections aside, Miss LaRue” the professor began, “it is sometimes imperative that you cleanse the weapon of its previous owner’s energy. A demon can transfer its ill intent into a weapon the same as your magic flows through your wand.”

  “What if I’m still fighting?” I asked. I pictured myself in a tense battle, surrounded by demons on all sides. One demon down but five to go. How could I possibly squeeze in a cleansing ritual?

  “Obviously if your life is in immediate danger, then there is no choice but to take the risk,” the professor explained. “However, if you have time, then these three rituals can make an enormous difference to your ability to use the weapon effectively. Claiming it as yours. Bending it to your will.” He inhaled deeply. “It is often the difference between life and death.”

  I didn’t doubt him. I’d heard enough tales during family meals about protective spells on yielded weapons and other challenging circumstances that involved acquiring an item previously owned by the enemy.

  “So, first we shall cleanse this weapon of its negative energy,” he continued. “Would anyone care to assist me?” Dozens of hands went up. “Miss Davies, why don’t we start with you?”

  Cerys stood and joined the professor at the table. “I’m a pretty adept cleaner,” she said. “Just ask my roommates.”

  I laughed. “You should see her rune rocks. Nobody’s rocks shine like hers.” It was true. Cerys treated her collection like museum pieces. She only used a certain cloth to wipe them down and always made sure they were placed in the ‘right’ position on the windowsill.

  “And I assume you are not merely cleaning them on a physical level,” the professor said.

  “No,” Cerys replied. “Well, that’s one reason, but it’s to keep their energy pure. When they sit on one place too long, they tend to absorb other energies around them.”

  Professor Langley appeared delighted by this. “You are an ideal choice then.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Cerys and she smiled back. High praise, indeed.

  “Are we going to bury the weapon in dirt?” Cerys asked. “That’s one way I like to cleanse my rune rocks.”

  “Not today,” the professor replied. “Though it is a reasonable choice, especially when in the field.”

  Cerys frowned. “It doesn’t make sense to cleanse it in the salt water, though. Not if it’s metal.”

  “Another reasonable thought from Miss Davies,” the professor said. “Pay attention, class. You may actually learn something.” He returned his focus to Cerys. “What would you do in this situation then?”

  She studied the contents of the table. “I’d light these hops flowers on fire and brush them over the weapon.”

  “Anything else or are you finished?” Professor Langley asked.

  Cerys chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I would do a basic cleansing incantation at the same time.”

  “Well done, Miss Davies,” the professor said. “You may take your seat.” He waited until Cerys was seated to call his next victim. “And who would like to tackle the next C?”

  I raised my hand. “Consecration?”

  “Correct,” he said. His lips curved almost imperceptibly. “Look at that. Another important C. Join me, Miss Degraff. Let us see whether you have the skill o
f your renowned predecessor.”

  “This isn’t something we practiced often,” I admitted, “but I have been taught.” I strode to the front of the classroom to stand beside the table. “Can I do it my way or is there a particular method you want me to share with the others?”

  “Naturally, I’m curious to witness your way,” he said. He gestured to the items on the table with an understated flourish. “The floor is yours.” He moved aside and allowed me sole use of the table.

  I stood directly behind the weapon. It was an exquisite piece. “A seven-branched sword.”

  “Excellent,” the professor murmured. “You’ve seen one before?”

  “Yes,” I said. In my family’s armory, in fact. I chose to keep that tidbit to myself. Our armory was technically not permissible thanks to my grandmother’s history. My father made sure that it was hidden away in the event that our estate was ever searched.

  “How curious,” he remarked. “Do you know which type of demon once brandished it?”

  “A logger demon,” I said without hesitation. The name logger demon stemmed from the fact that they tended to wipe out forestation wherever they went. “My family would use the four elements to consecrate it.” I glanced up. “But that’s because of our particular skillset. If your magic isn’t grounded in the elements, you may want to choose another method.”

  “Good point,” Professor Langley chimed in.

  I didn’t need my wand for this. My control of a basic flame was as simple as drawing breath. I rubbed my hands together and placed them on the weapon. Flames curled from my fingertips and caressed the seven branches of the sword.

  “Damn, Dani,” Bryn’s voice cut through the quiet. “How do you make it look so easy?”

  I couldn’t resist a proud smile as I continued my process. “I dedicate the use of this weapon to the gods.” I extinguished the fire. “Now water.” I met Bryn’s curious gaze. “I think you might be able to assist with that.”

  She slid out of her seat and joined me at the table. “How much water are we talking?”

  “A sprinkle,” I said. “Mia, you could provide the air.”

  “Absolutely,” Mia said, and stood.

  Cerys didn’t wait to be summoned. “And earth, too?”

  My three roommates stood around the table. “You don’t need four witches for this,” I explained to the class. “But I thought it would be nice to be inclusive.”

  “Plus, we’re better together,” Mia added. “The magic will be stronger.”

  Water sprinkled from Bryn’s fingertips and dotted the weapon, then Mia conjured a puff of smoke that wafted over it. Cerys scooped a handful of salt from the small bowl on the table and scattered the granules over the weapon. Each witch performed an incantation as she worked.

  “Nicely done, witches,” Professor Langley said, almost begrudgingly. “The final part of today’s lesson involves charging.”

  “This?” I queried, motioning to the weapon.

  “Perhaps,” the professor replied. “What is the purpose of charging?”

  “Empowering an object with my energy,” I said.

  “I should think you’d not only want to clear this weapon of its previous owner’s energy, but imbue it with your own as well, especially if you intend to fight with it.”

  I nodded. “It’s recommended to use the most powerful element of your magic for charging, so, for me, that’s fire.” I held my hands over the weapon and began to chant. I felt my magic rise within me, ready to obey my command. I called upon the sun, choosing solar power to charge the weapon. I felt a connection form between the sword and me as my magic flowed from my hands to the object. I loved moments like this, when power poured from me effortlessly. It was a release of pressure and it felt good.

  “I believe your work is done, Miss Degraff,” the professor prompted.

  My eyes flew open—I hadn’t even realized that they’d closed—and I lowered my hands. I could feel the shift in the weapon’s energy. The ritual was a success.

  A bell chimed, signaling the end of class. Everyone filed out of the room at a rapid clip, eager for lunch. I returned to my chair to retrieve my belongings.

  “Miss Degraff,” Professor Langley said. “You are a credit to your family.”

  “My grandmother taught me everything I did here today,” I said proudly, tossing my ponytail back over my shoulder. “She was a remarkable witch, with and without her magic.”

  His dark eyes scrutinized me. “You are quite a remarkable witch, Miss Degraff. I think your grandmother would be very proud.”

  “Thank you. I consider that to be the highest of compliments,” I said quietly, and left the room.

  Chapter Six

  I was planning to check in with Peter after Arcane Rites when I heard someone say that Advanced Potions was back on.

  “How is it back on?” I asked Priscilla, who’d made the remark to Madge.

  “There’s a substitute,” Priscilla said. “Some witch who’d interviewed for the job before Professor Fraser got it.”

  A bitter rival for the job at Spellslingers? That was a strong motive right there. Take your rival out of the equation temporarily—long enough to impress the decision-makers—and you had yourself a new job. I decided it was worth my time to attend this particular class.

  “My name is Michaela Puddleduck and I’ll be standing in for Professor Fraser during his…unexpected absence.”

  Murmurs followed her statement. Others seemed only vaguely aware of the professor’s disappearance.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Priscilla said. “When can we expect Professor Fraser’s return?”

  Miss Puddleduck bristled. “How should I know? I’m only here at Chancellor Tilkin’s request. She remembered me from my interview.” She rearranged the bottles on the table. “Of course, they hired Mr. Fraser for the position, so I’ve been forced to continue my role as a tutor despite my impeccable credentials.” She seemed to realize she’d said too much. “Never mind all that. Let’s get on with the lesson, shall we?”

  I exchanged knowing looks with Bryn.

  “Today’s lesson will involve what I call a ‘loose lips’ potion,” Miss Puddleduck said. “As I’m sure you know, there’s no such thing as a truth potion, but there are ways to relax your subject to the point of extracting the information you’re after.”

  “Yeah, get them hammered,” Ollie snickered, and Miss Puddleduck gave him a withering look.

  My hand shot up. “At the end of our last class, Professor Fraser mentioned that we’d be learning a Sleeping Beauty potion for this lesson.”

  Miss Puddleduck offered a prim smile. “And, as the lecturer of this particular class, I decided that we’d explore loose lips today instead.” She paused. “That’s the beauty of being in charge, Miss…?”

  “Dani Montrose Degraff,” I said.

  Miss Puddleduck snapped her fingers. “Degraff. Degraff. Why does that name sound familiar?” The glint in her eye told me she knew perfectly well why my name sounded familiar. “Of course. I see you’ve inherited your grandmother’s looks. I certainly hope you’ve avoided her less than favorable qualities.”

  My brow creased. “You knew my grandmother?”

  “No, but I’ve seen her photograph plenty,” Miss Puddleduck replied. “She’s been in the news enough times over the years. You tend not to forget when the mighty fall.” She appeared so pleased that I wanted to wipe the smile off her face.

  “You must’ve been pretty annoyed when Professor Fraser got this job over you,” I said.

  “Dani,” Cerys murmured, a warning tone.

  Anger blazed in her eyes. “Of course I was annoyed. I’m far more qualified.”

  “How do you know?” I asked. “Do you know Professor Fraser?”

  “We’ve met,” she said vaguely. So she knew what he looked like. “I’m not a fan of some of the company he apparently keeps. I prefer my own life to be black and white, rather than bathed in grey.”

  “That almost soun
ds like an accusation,” I said. I knew I was baiting her, but I didn’t care.

  Miss Puddleduck approached my table and stuck her nose very near to mine. “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that you’re such a fan of Grantham Fraser, given your background. Like I said, grey areas.”

  The muscle in my cheek pulsed as I struggled to maintain my temper. I’d be no good to anyone if I lost my head. It was like clinic—I had to learn how to take action under duress. “I apologize for my impudence, Miss Puddleduck. Let me make it up to you and assist you with today’s potion.”

  The instructor took a step back, pleased with this development. “Yes, of course. Apology accepted.”

  I joined her at the table where she had her ingredients ready. Much to her surprise, I quickly identified all three components of the mixture.

  “How…Why…?” Miss Puddleduck was clearly flustered. “Yes, well. Do you know the measurements? They’re crucial to a successful potion.”

  My shoulders drooped deliberately. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  I’d never seen someone so eager to show off her knowledge and one-up a student. No wonder she didn’t get the job. To be honest, I was surprised the chancellor had even chosen her as a substitute. They must have been at a loose end.

  Miss Puddleduck held up the first bottle of bright blue liquid and poured it into an empty beaker to the halfway mark. “You must measure precisely or you risk sending your subject to sleep.” She gave me a pointed look. “See, Miss Degraff. We’re covering your Sleeping Beauty potion after all.” She held up the second bottle of purple liquid and measured three ounces before adding it to the beaker. She completed the mixture by adding a dash of yellow liquid, which rested on the top layer like oil over water.

  “How do we test it?” I asked.

  “The subject needs to drink the entirety of the potion,” she said, and a smile parted her lips. “I do believe you volunteered, Miss Degraff.”

  “You’re right, I did.” I slid the potion bottle closer to her. “Go on then. I’ll ask the questions and see how loose your lips are.”

  Miss Puddleduck laughed gaily. “That’s not quite how it works.”