Midnight Magic, page 150
“Have I ever seen a touch tank? Yeah, I’ve been outdoors, thanks,” I replied sarcastically. I narrowed my eyes at him and pursed my lips.
Did he think I was born yesterday?
Or did my faded jeans and broken in sneakers scream poor to him?
I could not care less about what people thought of me, but saying it was something else. It rankled my pride.
“Okay, my bad. Easy does it,” he replied casually.
“Now, unlike your mortal touch tanks, this one doesn’t have anything in it beside water. It’s from the lake in the woods next door, actually.”
“Not the ocean?” I asked, because even without touching it I smelled the salt in the water on the air.
“The Academy is built on ley lines and the surrounding land is rich in minerals. It’s why we have such outstanding gardens and greenhouses,” he said, and for some reason sounded to me like one of those voiceover actors.
I tried to look impressed, but imagine I failed since he frowned at my non-reaction.
“You know, my family has donated millions to the school to support the upkeep of the grounds and buildings.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes, it is a fact. Westwood Academy is an important establishment among supernaturals worldwide, Rio. The gardens and greenhouses here supply thirty-one percent of the magical world with ingredients necessary for potion making, scrying, and spellcasting. Not to mention, dozens of other supernatural rituals. You know, I could, uh, show you around sometime. Maybe after dinner?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Otto. I’m a bit busy catching up on my studies and all,” I replied, and made a point of yawning.
“Yes, well, the offer is open. Anyway, the Winter Forest that surrounds our school is home to Brin Lake, whose waters were used to fill this tank. Can you sense the high salt content?” he asked, blue eyes searching my face for something, I didn’t know what.
He continued to talk, and I got the distinct impression he really liked the sound of his own voice.
Sigh.
I listened to Otto drone on and on about the academy and its attributes.
It was like the pitch a car dealer made before trying to sell you something. I just didn’t know what it was Otto was trying to sell me. Sometimes, being quiet was better than brandishing a weapon. People liked to talk. Otto was no different. The longer I let him, the more likely he was to reveal his true intentions.
“So, Westwood Academy is the only school for witches and wizards?’
“No,” Otto said, still grinning. “But it’s the best. Or else I wouldn’t be here.”
“I see,” I replied, but I didn’t. Not really.
“I’m curious. Your hair didn’t change color yet. Even with your little trick on the first day,” he mused.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know what powers you have, but Professor Cannon thinks they must be great. Now, try and bend the water like you did before.”
“Bend the water? I don’t know what you mean.”
“The first day of class, and every day thereafter, the assignment called for the groups to move water from one or both tanks on their designated tables to a pitcher or vessel. Do you recall?”
“Yes, I am not a fucking idiot.”
“That assignment,” he continued, unperturbed by my outburst, “is a standard aptitude test for a water witch or wizard. Most newbies can’t do more than stir the water, as you can see by these students.” He gestured to the class with a sneer.
He was right, though. Many students were still studying the water. Some were breaking down its chemical makeup. Others trying to divine where it came from using stones and charts. But no one had managed to fill any of their containers. A few drops here and there were all that was managed.
“See how they struggle? But you, Rio, well, you managed to explode every tank in the classroom without more than a cursory glance.”
“That was an accident.”
“That’s what I think. You don’t have any great power, do you? So, to prove I am right, do it again.”
“What?”
His tone really grated on my nerves. Gone was the charming flirt who’d asked me to dinner. In his place was a conceited jerk. I was far better off not knowing. I turned to leave, but his hand shot out and gripped my wrist.
“Look, Professor Cannon told me to teach you, and I am. Now, do it again.”
“I don’t know how,” I said, and that was the truth.
I’d never actively tapped into my powers. Not on purpose, anyway. It wasn’t something Lelo encouraged, since he thought it would only bring me to her attention. Denying our heritage didn’t work out so well for my mother, though. Maybe that’s why Lelo sent me here.
“I knew she couldn’t do it again, Otto.”
The same thin blonde witch, with the sky blue streaks, Otto had been whispering to the first time I saw him, on the lawn outside the mansion, turned to face us. She was the kind of girl I used to want to be when I was younger. It was embarrassing now, but I was just a kid then. I’d grown a lot since middle school.
Learning to love my unique heritage, the blend of Mexican, Scandinavian, and American, was a huge part of who I was now. It was not something to scorn or be embarrassed by. Milagros was my mother’s name, and I wore it proudly. The father who left me gave me his nose and not much more. But Lelo had taught me to be proud of who I was, to hold my head high.
Damn.
I missed him with every passing moment. And I wasn’t a kid anymore. Despite the dirty looks the seemingly perfect witch kept casting my way, I could read the jealousy on her face plain as day.
“You’re wasting your time with her, Otto. Come join us. We could have fun,” she said, biting her lower lip provocatively.
I wanted to scream at her to have some self-respect, but it was none of my business. Besides, I wanted nothing to do with that little clique of witch and wizard sycophants.
“Shhh, Kelly. We don’t know what our little Rio here can do just yet,” he said, raising a finger to shush her.
She held her mouth closed, though I could tell she wanted to say something else. One thing was certain, if looks could kill, I’d be stone cold on the floor.
“Just concentrate, Rio. Let’s see that talent of yours again.” Otto’s voice was crisp and clear as he crooned to me.
A sign of his higher education and impeccable breeding, no doubt.
This game was not something I was used to. No one had ever actively tried to goad me into doing something with words.
Otto ran one hand over his perfectly pressed shirt before dropping them both into the pockets of his slacks. For some reason, an image of Magnus, the tall, heavily muscled sentinel, flashed in my brain. I preferred his gruff manor and growled words to Otto’s rehearsed lines.
“She has no powers. I’m telling you—” Kelly said, trying to get Otto’s attention once more.
“Shh,” he said, cutting her off.
“Just be quiet a sec,” I growled.
They were both annoying me, and I’d had enough of this. Using a little of what Erik said yesterday, I tried to connect with the water based on my knowledge of it. The water was from Brin Lake. I concentrated on that as my mind began to wander, and the chatter surrounding me began to fade.
Brin Lake was a salt lake.
Right here on campus.
In the middle of the woods.
This place had magic.
It was in every millimeter, filling every atom.
We are all connected to it.
Each student and teacher here.
Separate from, and yet, still a part of the trees and grass, the wind and air, the fire and heat, and the water.
Always the water.
I stared at the still surface of the tank and allowed myself to relax. A low hum, more vibration than sound, began to build from deep inside me. My inner alarm system stayed silent, so I let it in.
The connection was thin at first, but grew warm and solid with each passing second. It was nothing like the inky blackness of despair I had felt the first day of class. There was no other sound. No menacing voice inside my head. Just the steady, pulsing hum.
As I gazed at the clear, shallow tank, I could have sworn I saw the liquid throb in time with that pulse. Like the water was dancing to my magic’s own rhythmic beat. The impression I got was of something cute and playful, curious too, but sweet things could be deadly. Just ask folks with diabetes.
“You have made a connection, haven’t you? That’s good. Now, use words to control the water, Rio,” Otto said from beside me.
He sounded far away, like he was under water, or maybe I was. I didn’t know which.
But what was it he said?
Use words to control it?
Why control it?
Then, I knew. The water was there. I’d gotten its attention, and it was listening, waiting for me, but I had yet to command it. A jolt of something went through my body, and suddenly I felt myself being pulled from every direction. Memories raced through me, but they weren’t mine. It was like peeking into someone else’s head, only it was thousands of someone else’s.
The shaking seemed to possess me, stopped quite suddenly, and my mouth opened. Then, I started to speak. The words flowed out of me like water from a spout. Clipped phrases, and in a language I had never heard, but somehow, they made sense to me. Over and over, I repeated them.
“Ja' ku beetik in óoltaj
Water heed me,
Beet in voluntad
Do my will,
Ten in voluntad
Serve my will,
Ja' ku beetik in óoltaj
Water heed me…”
The rest of the room fell away the faster I spoke. I could hear the hushed whispers but only vaguely, as if from a distance, while I wove my spell. And that is what I was doing, weaving it like a thread through the loops of time, space, and the collective memories of my ancestors.
I felt magic sparking and building within me. It was right there, at my fingertips. The briny waters from the lake pulsed with energy and excitement, ready, oh so ready, to listen to my command. I felt drunk with power for a moment, reveled in what I knew I could do.
But logic overcame the sensation, thank fuck. I would not lose myself to my powers. I would not become her.
Then, I heard it.
The slow wail of la Llorona.
I pushed the bitch out of my head and concentrated on the waters.
It was important the water knew I respected it. That I was grateful for it. And so I thanked it for its obedience and willingness to serve. I didn’t know if that made me crazy or not, but I did it anyway.
“Holy shit,” Otto murmured from beside me.
The minor distraction caused my hold on the element to lessen, and once more the sobbing sound of the Milagros curse broke into my head.
Fuck that.
I struggled against her. I needed to block out all distractions, I realized, so I started with him.
The wizard had no place in my head. I shook him off like droplets from a duck’s back and continued to weave my spell, using those words I had only just learned. The voices inside my head whispered them so clearly.
It wasn’t like the voice of the weeping woman who wanted to absorb me into her madness, to turn me into some perverted version of herself. No. This was different. These voices were soft but powerful and filled with good intent.
Once I’d gotten every drop from the touch tank under my control, I sought out the rest.
After all, why stop there?
Water was literally everywhere. I knew where the other tanks were, but even if I didn’t, I could feel the pulsing rhythm of liquid in the room calling to me. My body was so warm, I was starting to sweat, but every drop was a gift. An offering from my body, I sent each bead of sweat into the water, becoming part of it.
Reaching out with my newfound powers, I bade the water heed my call, thanking it and praising it at the same time. The murmurs around me grew louder and louder, but I didn’t bother paying attention. Not even when I felt someone grab onto my arm and shake.
When the first slap hit my cheek, I snapped my eyes open. When the second struck my mouth, I snarled. Professor Cannon was yelling, but I could not hear her. I only knew she’d hit me.
Twice.
And I was really pissed.
Without hesitation, I used my powers, unleashing the water I now had control over. Even then it was swirling above me, well, above the entire classroom, in a sort of floating whirlpool. The water grew dark, and the swirling intensified with my anger.
I reached out, and the water mimicked my movement. Like a hand made out of nothing but liquid, it wrapped around the professor and sucked her in.
I was breathing heavily. Angry and maybe a little drunk on power, I turned to the next person who looked ready to attack. Otto licked his lower lip unconsciously, then raised his hands in surrender.
Students were screaming, and I turned to see the witch from before cowering beneath a table. Otto joined her. In fact, I think he might have pushed her in front of him a bit. His blue eyes were wide with fear and something else.
Hunger maybe?
I looked back at the ceiling, at my creation, watched the swirling water grow as I took more and more moisture from the air and wherever else I could. Students collapsed, clutching their throats. I wasn’t sure why until he showed up.
From head to toe, he wore black. Every part of his thickly muscled body covered in fitted warrior regalia. He looked good. Too good, I thought as the sentinel who haunted my very dreams inched closer to me.
Magnus Knut stood before me with his eyes raised to the ceiling as he crouched against the floating whirlpool that was gaining in speed and size as I continued to leech out all the moisture from the air and the pipes in the walls. Sheetrock and brick and stone lay crumbled on the floor as a constant flow of water pumped directly from the broken pipes to my skyward maelstrom.
“Rio! RIO!” Magnus bellowed over the sound of rushing water, which was suddenly very, very loud.
The second his stormy eyes met mine, I gasped, clutching his forearms to stop myself from crashing onto the floor. The second I touched him, my hold on the water stopped and it all came falling down like a mini tsunami. Students screamed, furniture broke, but Magnus held onto me and I to him.
His face was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.
CHAPTER 9
“I am telling you, she is too dangerous, Headmistress,” Professor Cannon’s voice was shaking, and I could hear her through the walls to the infirmary where I was laid out on the bed.
“Easy,” a voice to my right said, and I saw him there.
My very own sentinel.
I reached out for him, and his hand clasped mine. His stormy eyes seemed to rage, as if he was furious on my behalf, but what the hell did I know? It was strange, to say the least. Yes, I felt better touching him, soothed somehow, but I had no rights to him. Certainly not the right to look to him for comfort, even though I wanted to, so very badly.
I craved physical contact with Magnus. Like, I wanted to crawl inside his pocket and never, ever leave the safety and security I knew I would find there.
With him.
I wanted him.
It was as if he somehow grounded me.
I was safe with him. I could feel it. And for some reason, I trusted him. He was a stranger and yet, in the month or more since I’d been on campus, he was the only one I felt that way with, aside from my roommates.
Jade was steadfast as a rock, and Maia might be flighty, but she’d proved to be a good listener. Yes, even Tana had grown on me. The four of us were all from different covens, and yet, we’d formed a bond, a friendship.
Shit.
What had I done?
If there was one thing being friends with them had taught me, it was that witches had this thing about holding themselves accountable for their own actions.
My actions were bad.
Shit.
What did that mean for my future?
I squeezed Magnus’ hand tighter for a moment, but the big man hardly acknowledged it. He simply allowed it. And the constancy of his large hand engulfing mine brought welcomed shivers down my spine.
“What happened? Am I expelled?” I asked in a small voice, and closed my eyes as a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Where to start, hjarta mitt,” he said, and brushed the hair back from my face.
His head tilted to the left, as if he could hear something I couldn’t. Before I could attune myself to the tenderness he’d shown me, it was gone, and Magnus was just a sentinel once again. Standing guard at the side of my bed, passive, but ever ready. He wore none of the emotion I’d just seen on his face. A good thing too, since a group of older witches had just walked through the door to my room in the infirmary.
“Thank you, sentinel, stand guard at the door. We do not wish to be disturbed.”
The witch who spoke was too young to be such a bitch, in my opinion. The way she said that, dismissing Magnus like he was nothing, made me angry.
I wanted to protest, but what rights did I have to him?
My eyes locked onto his tall frame, but he didn’t even turn around.
That stung my pride.
Just a bit.
Fine, more than that.
Forcing myself to ignore it, I turned my attention to the three females. One of whom I, of course, knew already. Professor Cannon did not look at me directly, but I noticed she was wearing dry clothes and had a large bandage covering her forehead. Considering the fact my face still ached from where she’d struck me, I didn’t feel all that bad about it, really.
“Well now, Rio, what are we going to do with you?”
I looked at the older witch with her dancing eyes and the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, but I didn’t reply.
