Page 24 of Phoenix Academy: Madness

"Witches know things," I tell her. "We keep an oral history. Writing information down tends to get us in trouble."

"Ah, right." Petra sobers up. "Being killed for your powers. Phoenix and witches have that in common." Pointing up ahead, she tells me, "This is the old gym. It was renovated over the summer after an...incidentlast year. The building doesn't have a name yet, but Headmaster Towers will probably call it the Cheng Facility, after the teacher we lost last year."

I stare up at the reinforced stairs, thick glass windows, and cement walls. "It's... big. And looks pretty fireproof."

"That was the renovation in question. Turns out wood burns. Who knew?"

Pretty much everyone, but I can tell she's just being sarcastic. "So is this mage we're waiting for inside, or..."

"I'm right here."

I whirl around to face a man like none I've ever seen before. With pale blue eyes, dark hair, and a cheery smile, he looks completely normal on the outside—average even, like an actor in a commercial for allergy medication.

But I don't even have to pull up the full force of my naturalist senses to tell he'sfarfrom average.

His entire being glows with elemental magic. From the air that whirls around his head to the fire in his mouth, water in his veins, and the earth at his feet, he's gathered power to him. It lounges next to him like a sleeping tiger, ready to pounce at any moment.

There are storage vessels for the power, of course: a necklace that rests against his white button-up shirt, a handkerchief inside his Phoenix Academy blazer pocket, the false bottoms in the soles of his shoes, and the thick gold and silver bracelets around his wrists. Mages are always pulling elements from the world around them and storing their power in artifacts to keep close at hand. Since they don't rely on the spirit realm or nature's living forces to draw on power, the way witches do, they don't have magic in their souls and can't access it at a moment's notice.

Normally that makes them weak unless they've prepared for a spell, in which case they're far more powerful than us witches—until they cast the magic, using runes and texts they refuse to share with those who aren't a part of their mage network. But this mage is far from weak, at least to my eyes. He seems like he's prepared enough elemental magic at hand to cast something magnificent.

This, then, is the kind of power that can hide an entire campus on the opposite side of the country.

This is the sort of man who, in the heyday of mage power, decided the outcome of warfare with the snap of a finger.

Thisis an Auerbach, the family of mages who took magic from witches like me for centuries, denying us the very thing we were born having. In many ways, they're no different than the Heretic, who at leastlookslike a psychopath without a soul. The mage standing before me has the gall to seem sweet and easygoing despite the ancestry he shares with murderous witch hunters.

"You must be my new student." I stare at the hand he holds out, unable to stop the grimace that turns down the corners of my mouth. "Ah. I can see that we might need to clarify a few things about our respective places in the magical world before we get started. Care to go inside?"

"Are the names Jessica and Georgina Wolfe familiar to you?" I clench my fists, breathing slowly through my nose to keep the anger down, very aware of the fact that Petra is just a few feet away from me. "They were my grandmother and great aunt. My mother's mother and aunt. Before an Auerbach killed them."

That hand of his stays in the air despite its unwelcomeness, waiting for a friendly shake that'll never come. Far too calmly, he says, "I can assure you, I've had nothing to do with any cutting of a witch's connection to magic. At least I assume that's what you're talking about—my paternal name is well-known in the witch world for its association with magic keepers. I believe you'd call them witch hunters."

"That's exactly what they were." I fold my arms stubbornly across my chest, and he finally drops his proffered hand with a sigh. "What makes you think you know more about using and controlling magic than me? Just because I was raised on an oral tradition of spell-casting doesn't mean I'm a know-nothing."

"I never said you were," he responds mildly. "Shall we go inside?"

I clench my teeth. "Why?"

"Because your aura is leaking feral magic, and I think it's starting to have an effect on Petra over here." To her, he says calmly, "Hello, Petra. I believe we met earlier this morning, when there was a magical event on campus. Are you doing well?"

"Hanging in there," she responds, but there's the edge of a growl in her voice. "It's happening again, Ari."

Glancing over at her guiltily, I switch on my naturalist senses and can see the tinge of blue infecting her. This time I didn't even feel my magic leak out of me. It just happened, like my heart beating or my lungs taking in air.

That's the third time this morning.

And an arrogant mage got to witness it.

Shame courses through me, undeniable and cold. It washes away the anger and leaves nothing but exhaustion in its place. I've got a long road ahead of me if this is what having Blue Phoenix powers is going to be like.

"Let's go inside." I shake off the anger, swallowing my guilt over fucking Petra over again. "You'll probably want to stay out here, Petra."

"Oh, I've got to escort you inside. But not to worry—there's all kinds of wards on this place. Right Greggy?"

"I told you to call me Gregory or Mr. Auerbach," he grumbles, but Petra just shoots him a mischievous grin that makes it clear that won't be happening. "Yes, there are wards inside. I believe one of them will have an affect on your magic, though so far I've only tested it on other phoenix subtypes. I don't expect there's any reason why it should be different, though."

Warily, I ask him, "What do you mean by 'affect?' Is it permanent?"

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