Page 10 of Shackled to the World
He didn’t give her time to respond before he marched up to the door, grabbed the handle, and flung it open, the metal frame creaking and swaying as he stormed outside. She watched for a moment longer, not surprised when he took up residence under a tree to stare broodingly at her building.
Annora reluctantly turned away and hurried into her classroom. Theoretical magic—how it worked, and how to tell when magic was being used in close proximity. The class was mandatory for everyone, the group kept small to allow more one-on-one training. Thankfully, when she slipped into her chair, dropping her backpack at her feet, she had thirty seconds to spare.
The teacher shot a pointed look at the clock, annoyance shining in her eyes. The woman was a witch, resentment putting starch in her spine at being forced to teach other paranormals anything magical. She was youngish, maybe late twenties, and not very powerful, which probably explained how she got stuck with this job.
Her brown hair was spun up in a fancy twist, a glower permanently etched on her face, aging her prematurely. She wore a jacket over a silk shirt, jeans, and high heels, so pretentious Annora was surprised the woman could even bring herself to breathe the same air as the students she was supposed to teach.
Every day she would select a different student, then proceed to make the next hour of their life hell. Annora had a sinking feeling that she just landed at the top of today’s shit list.
Slouching lower in her chair, hoping the teacher would forget about her, Annora opened the textbook and did her best to pay attention, but it was hard to concentrate with all the magic saturating the room. As each student entered the classroom, their magic was revealed for all to see…and feel. The force of it made her head pound, and it was all she could do not to sneeze and choke on the polluted air.
A slight tug on her pant leg had her stiffening, and she leaned over, spotting a small ferret at her feet. Shock washed over her. “Edgar?”
He promptly sat upright, pawing the air, as if begging for forgiveness.
The pleasure at seeing an old friend again faded, her smile melting away when she realized he was still Eddie. She faced the front of the class, her heart aching. “I can’t just forgive and forget.”
It didn’t matter that he was an animal with no way to communicate with her.
He should have found a way to tell her the truth.
Even if in doing so he risked that she would no longer trust him, and he wouldn’t have been able to protect her when she needed it most.
Knowing she was being unreasonable, she released a weary sigh and rubbed the tips of her fingers over his head, unable to resist petting him.
I miss my friend.
And the bastard knew it.
He’d somehow took a piece of himself and gave the critter back to her. She suspected he didn’t do it as an act of forgiveness, but because only he understood how much the little guy had come to mean to her over the years.
As if he sensed her resolve weakening, he tugged on the zipper of her backpack and slipped inside, rummaging around until he found the snacks at the bottom of her bag that she didn’t have the heart to clean out. For the next couple of minutes all she could hear were small rustlings, wrappers being torn open and crunching as he chomped down on his chips.
The teacher was going over the different ways to sense magic, and Annora tuned out her pretentious, snobby voice. She slipped out her phone and opened it to try and decipher the pictures she took of the spell book she’d pilfered from Director Erickson.
Most of the book contained handwritten passages, many from different eras, the scrawling notes crossed out and overwritten many times. To her frustration, a good portion of the writing contained more images than words. Going on a hunch, she allowed the particles from the afterworld to fill her eyes. While she still couldn’t read anything, if she concentrated hard enough, the purpose of the spell began to slowly form in her mind.
Though she wasn’t a witch, she suspected if she pushed enough particles into the spell, it would be strong enough to trigger it.
“Are you listening, Miss Greenwood?” The teacher stomped toward her desk, her voice sharp, the clickety-clack of her shoes giving away her annoyance. “Don’t think because you’re Director Greenwood’s pet that you’re exempt from participating in my class.”
Ms. Hopper’s eyes widened almost comically when she got a look at the screen, her mouth gaped open in surprise, greed written over her face a second before she lunged forward. Annora quickly blinked away the afterworld and snapped her phone off.
“Where did you get that?” The harsh demand echoed in the now-silent classroom, and she snatched Annora’s phone away and clutched it to her chest. But no matter how often she mashed her fingers against the button, the screen remained dead. When she lifted her head, it was like a cat poised to pounce onto its prey. Her green eyes darkened to almost black, magic crackling around them as she tried to force the truth from Annora.
Static slithered along Annora’s skin, leaving behind a cold trail of slime that made her want to scrub herself raw. It was invasive and aggressive, not at all like the subtle magic she was used to sensing.
Particles rose from under her skin in retaliation, pushing the magic away to give her a little bubble of breathing space, and Annora thrust out her hand. “Give it back.”
Ms. Hopper scowled, taking a step back, as if she expected to be tackled. “This doesn’t belong to you.”
Anger ignited inside her like a tiny flame, and Annora rose to her feet, unwilling to let anyone else push her around. “You’re mistaken. That’s my phone. Give. It. Back.”
Logan gave it to her, and no way was she going to let this hag take it.
Instead of retreating, Hopper stuck her nose up in the air, her lips pursed like she’d sucked on a lemon, and threateningly shook the phone clutched tightly in her fist. “There is a page of ancient text on this phone that belongs in the private section of the university library. One I’ve never seen. Where did you get it?”
Annora bit back her reply, instantly on alert. She was warned to keep the book hidden, and she’d fucked up. She’d been staring at the damned thing for hours, every waking second she had when she wasn’t working out her frustrations with the guys.
