Page 21 of Hexmate (Widdershins Supernatural Academy #1)

Chapter 21

Caden

O ver the next couple of days, Atlas barely left my side. The rest of the academy had gone fairly quiet as well. Classes were cancelled the day after the attack on Karrick to give everyone a chance to calm down. Or at least that’s what the administration told us.

The truth was that during that day off, the school had doubled the security on campus, strengthened the barrier, and began putting protection wards up. They were placed around the dorms to keep non-students out, which I supposed made sense. But at the same time, Karrick wasn’t attacked in a dorm and classes weren’t going to be cancelled forever. Eventually all of us were gonna be in danger once more. And there was no way the school was going to close, not when the witch elite that had nothing to lose was in charge.

It took a lot of convincing to get Atlas to let me go to class that morning. He seemed particularly intent on protecting me. While I didn’t have anything to fear from someone attacking monster races, there was still the unresolved issue with Rowan Hargrove. After Atlas blinded him in one eye and disfigured his face to save me, I had a good feeling that Rowan would be slowly plotting revenge against us. He was like a viper, happy to sit perfectly still until the opportune moment to strike. Still, with all the increased security around campus, I had a good feeling he’d bide his time for now. He and his family weren’t the type to lash out publicly. He’d wait until there were no witnesses.

So, despite the veil of darkness surrounding the academy, I went to class.

The air in the lecture hall felt heavier than usual, like the collective anxiety of the students had settled into the walls themselves. Whispers filled the space, hushed conversations about Karrick’s condition, about the security measures, about whether or not we were actually safe.

I slid into my usual seat near the back, feeling Atlas’s presence even though he wasn’t there. He had walked me to class—like some overprotective guard dog—but stayed outside, promising to meet me when he was done with practice. I knew better than to argue. He was determined to keep me within reach as much as he could.

Professor Blackwood strode in, her long robes sweeping behind her as she dropped a stack of books onto her desk. “Enough whispering,” she said sharply, silencing the room with a single glare. “If you’re here, you’re here to learn—not gossip.”

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed as the lecture began. It was supposed to be on complex spell matrices, but my mind kept drifting, my senses on edge. My instincts told me someone was watching me—something dark and lingering just beneath the surface of the mundane classroom setting.

And then I felt it. A pulse of magic, subtle but unmistakable. Not an attack—no, this was something more insidious.

It was my father.

The blood in my veins turned to ice. The pulse of magic wasn’t aggressive, not a demand or a strike, but it was unmistakably his. A whisper against my skin, curling at the edges of my senses like smoke from a dying fire.

I swallowed hard and forced my hands to stay steady on the desk. He wasn’t here—not physically. But he wanted me to know he was watching. His magic had a signature I could never mistake, a deep and ancient force that coiled around me like invisible chains.

I barely heard Professor Blackwood’s voice as she continued her lecture. My mind was elsewhere, racing through the possibilities. Why now? Why send this warning here, in the middle of class? Was this just a reminder of his presence, or was it something more? A threat? A test?

A chair creaked behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts for just a moment. I turned my head slightly, catching Rowan Hargrove’s one good eye fixed on me from across the room. He smirked when our gazes locked—slow, deliberate.

Had he felt it too? Or did he just enjoy watching me squirm?

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and faced forward again, willing myself not to react despite the wildfire spreading in my veins. Rowan’s smirk burned in the back of my head, a silent taunt that threatened to unravel the fragile control I had over myself. I gripped the edge of my desk so tightly that my knuckles turned white, forcing myself to focus on Professor Blackwood’s voice, even though her words were little more than a dull hum in my ears.

“Mr. Cromwell,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the haze in my mind like a blade.

I blinked and looked up, realizing too late that the entire class was staring at me. Professor Blackwood’s dark eyes narrowed, her gaze pinning me like an insect under glass.

“While I’m sure whatever daydream you’re having is fascinating,” she continued, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts on the application of dual-core spell matrices?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the room, but it felt distant—muted. My throat was dry when I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could come up with an answer, another pulse of magic slithered over my skin like ice water. It was smaller this time, but sharper, more focused. A warning.

“I—” My voice came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat quickly. “I don’t have an answer for that,” I finished, my voice barely audible. The class’s laughter faded into a tense silence, and Professor Blackwood’s eyes narrowed further. A flicker of something passed across her face—concern, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Focus, Mr. Cromwell.” Her tone was firm but not unkind, though I could feel the weight of her gaze lingering on me for a moment too long before she turned back to the board. She began sketching out intricate designs with quick, precise movements, but my attention had already shifted back to the invisible tendrils of magic curling through the room.

My father wasn’t done. The second pulse had been sharper for a reason—it wasn’t just a warning; it was a command. My stomach churned at the realization. He wanted something from me. Something now.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I tried to think, tried to piece together what he could possibly want in this moment. Whatever it was, defying him wasn’t an option—not without consequences that I wasn’t ready to face yet. Not here, surrounded by people who wouldn’t understand what kind of power my father wielded.

The air in the room grew colder, almost imperceptibly so, but enough for me to notice the goosebumps rising along my arms. My fingers tightened around the edge of my desk as I forced myself to breathe evenly. If no one else felt it, I had to pretend I didn’t either.

The last thing I needed was to give Rowan more ammunition or make Professor Blackwood pry. But my father’s magic pressed against me again—this time, pushing. Urging. There was no mistaking it now. He wanted me to leave.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, my mind scrambling for an excuse. Standing up and walking out of class without cause would only raise suspicion. But if I ignored him… My stomach twisted at the possible repercussions of that choice.

Rowan was still watching me, his smirk widening like he knew exactly what was happening, like he could see the invisible leash tightening around my throat. Maybe he could—maybe he had more connections to my father than I even realized.

I swallowed the fear clawing its way up my throat and slowly raised my hand. “Professor Blackwood,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though every nerve in my body screamed to run, “I don’t feel well.”

Her sharp eyes flicked over me, assessing, calculating. She studied me for a beat too long before nodding once toward the door. “Go to the infirmary then, Mr. Cromwell,” she said coolly, her voice devoid of sympathy but not harsh. It was a dismissal, nothing more, but one I was desperate for.

I forced myself to stand slowly, trying not to look rushed, though my legs felt shaky beneath me. The second I stepped into the aisle, I could feel every pair of eyes in the room boring into my back. Rowan’s gaze was the heaviest. It burned against my skin with a smugness that made my stomach twist further.

I didn’t dare glance at him as I made my way out of the lecture hall, but I could feel his satisfaction like an aura wrapping around me—thick and suffocating. He knew something. Maybe not what exactly, but enough to recognize my discomfort for what it was: weakness. And Rowan Hargrove lived to exploit weakness.

The moment the heavy wooden door closed behind me, I exhaled shakily, letting myself pause in the empty hallway for just a moment. My father’s magic still lingered faintly in the surrounding air, a constant reminder that I wasn’t truly alone. He wanted me somewhere specific; I could almost feel the pull, subtle yet undeniable. But how much time did I have? What would happen if I resisted?

The sharpness returned once more and this time, I really did feel like I was going to be sick. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I ran down the hall toward the bathroom. The moment I was inside the nausea faded. Only to be replaced by fear as the door slammed shut, bolting itself into place. The light flickered as I backed up against the wall, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

Darkness seemed to press in from the corners, filling the room with a smoke-like haze. It coalesced in front of me, shifting and swirling until I saw traces of an arm, a leg, a torso… A moment later, a specter stood in front of me wearing my father’s face, the blue eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.

“Hello, Caden,” he whispered, his voice echoing in an unsettling way. “It took you long enough to answer.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Father,” I managed to croak out, pressing myself further against the cold tile wall. “What do you want?”

His spectral form flickered, those burning blue eyes never leaving mine. “Is that any way to greet your father, Caden?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was an edge to it that made my skin crawl. “I’ve been watching you, son. Watching and waiting.”

“For what?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

A smile spread across his ethereal face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “For you to prove yourself worthy of the Cromwell name, as always. But instead, what do I see? My son, consorting with beasts and half-breeds.”

My heart hammered in my chest. He knew about Atlas. Of course he did. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, even as panic clawed at my insides.

His laugh was like ice cracking. “Don’t insult my intelligence, boy. That werewolf you’ve been cavorting with? He’s beneath you. A mongrel unfit for the blood that flows through your veins. And yet, you let him mark you with his scent, let him fuck you like some common pup playing at Alpha. Have you forgotten who you are, Caden? Or have your… distractions made you even weaker?”

The venom in his words was a cold dagger to my gut, but I forced myself to stand straighter, meeting those glowing blue eyes even as fear crawled up my spine. “Atlas isn’t beneath me,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “He’s strong and loyal—more than I can say for you.”

The room seemed to tremble as the temperature plummeted further. My father’s form flickered violently, the edges of his figure dark and jagged now, like an exposed nerve. “You dare,” he hissed, the sound wrapping around me like barbed wire.

“I dare,” I shot back before my courage could wither under the weight of his fury. My heart felt like it might pound its way out of my chest, but I didn’t look away. Giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cower wasn’t an option—not anymore.

His mouth curled into something that might’ve been a smile but looked more like a snarl. “Such fire,” he mused, though his tone was laced with disdain. “Maybe this werewolf isn’t worthless after all. I’ve never seen such anger within you. That’s good. Anger is power.”

My heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? A moment ago he was chastising me, threatening me, and now he liked Atlas? What was going on?

“Yes…” he said, more to himself than to me. “I see now that this mongrel has some potential.”

I felt my brow furrow in confusion. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice stronger now despite the tremor in my hands.

My father’s spectral form shifted, becoming more solid as he took a step closer. I could almost feel the chill emanating from him. “Power recognizes power, Caden,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “And while I despise the idea of my son consorting with a beast, I cannot deny the strength this... Atlas has awakened in you.”

So, he did know Atlas’s name. His words made my skin crawl, but I held my ground. “You don’t know anything about Atlas or what he means to me,” I spat.

A cold laugh echoed through the bathroom. “Oh, but I do. I know everything, Caden. I know how he makes you feel alive, how he ignites a fire in your blood that you never knew existed. How your magic blooms around him without prompting…” His eyes narrowed. “But what you fail to understand is that fire, that passion, can be harnessed for greater purposes.”

How did he know about my magic? Atlas and I were in a secret room when that happened. He couldn’t possibly have spied on us, could he? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and fear. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, my dear boy, that perhaps this dalliance of yours holds the key to finally making you worthy of the Cromwell line.” The specter shunted forward, it’s face only inches from my own. “I have a new task for you,” he whispered, his voice dripping with venom and malice. “Make the Alpha your familiar by any means necessary.”

“W-What?!” I muttered, taking a step backward. “That’s illegal. I… I can’t do that. I won’t do that!”

My father’s expression didn’t change, but the air around us grew colder, sharper, like invisible claws scraping against my skin. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable—anticipation, amusement, or maybe something worse.

“Oh, but you can,” he murmured, his voice curling around me like smoke. “And you will.”

I shook my head violently, forcing my back against the tile wall as if I could somehow escape his presence. “No,” I said again, stronger this time. “You can’t make me do that.”

His lips twitched in something that was almost a smirk. “Can’t I?”

A pressure clamped around my chest like an unseen hand squeezing the air from my lungs. I gasped, doubling forward as a sharp, burning sensation spread through my veins—a reminder of his power, of the control he still had over me despite the distance.

“You forget your place, Caden,” he said coolly, watching impassively as I struggled to breathe. “You are a Cromwell first and foremost—one of the last pureblood heirs to true power. That… creature you cling to? He is nothing but a tool. A tool that will amplify your power a hundred-fold.”

I fell to my knees, gripping the floor as white-hot agony pulsed through my body. My father’s voice echoed in my ears, growing sharper with every word. “You will use him, bend him to your will, and make him your familiar, or you will face the consequences of your weakness.”

The pressure in my chest loosened just enough for me to suck in a shuddering breath. My vision blurred with tears as I clawed at the cold, tiled floor beneath me, fighting against the overwhelming force of his magic. “I won’t…” I whispered hoarsely, even though the words felt like shards of glass tearing through my throat. “I won’t do it…”

The spectral form of my father crouched in front of me, his glowing eyes burning into mine with a terrible intensity. “Defiance is admirable,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “But it is also futile. I’ve had an ace up my sleeve this whole time that you didn’t know about.” He leaned close, chuckling under his breath. “I put a blood curse on you the day you arrived at my estate. I see and know everything you do. And should you disobey me, I’ll just stop your heart with a snap of my fingers.”

“I… I don’t care!” I cried. “I won’t let you hurt Atlas!”

The room trembled as his presence surged forward, filling every inch of space with his suffocating power. His hand—if it could even be called that—reached out, curling under my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. The touch was cold as death, and yet it burned all the same.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” he hissed, his voice cutting through me like a blade. “Should you fail to make him your familiar, I’ll let you live.” He grinned wide, the specter’s eyes glowing bright. “But I’ll kill him in front of you. And it’ll be all your fault, Caden.”

I couldn’t breathe as he pulled away from me, his words stealing all the air from my lungs. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But as I gazed into that horrifying visage of my father, I knew deep in my chest that he was telling the truth.

“You have two weeks to complete the ritual.” He glared down at me, a cruel grin spreading over his face. “And if you fail, he will be the next beast on campus to meet a sticky end.”

Laughter filled the room, building to a crescendo before the darkness suddenly disappeared and the lights popped back on. I sat there, back against the wall, hyperventilating as the last echoes of my father’s cruel laughter died away. It seemed I had only one choice.

Trick my mate into becoming my familiar or let him die.