Page 33 of Malcroix Bones Academy (Bones and Shadow #1)

It struck me that his voice sounded nothing at all like it had at any other point that day, in the dining room for any of our meals, or even while he’d had me locked in that closet. I started to try and understand the difference, but felt him push on me in some way, as if telling me no.

After the barest pause, I decided not to press it.

“All right,” he said. “Now you can go up.”

I focused more of my magic on that writhing, burning, sparking sun.

“Not bad,” he commented. “Now ask it if it’ll project a lower-level primal down here for you to use. Something regular Magicals can see.”

I opened my eyes. “What?”

“Just ask it, Shadow,” he said, still oddly patient. “If it gives you a hard time, tell it why you need to do it. Explain that no one else can see it but me, and that will cause you problems. Or hell, tell it whatever you want. You should probably say hello first. Don’t be rude.”

Frowning a touch, I approached the writhing ball of light cautiously.

I felt a little foolish, but did what Bones said.

I’m sorry I didn’t see you until now, I thought at it. I’m sorry it took this wanker seeing it for me to even know you were there…

“Nice,” Caelum murmured under his breath.

“Stop eavesdropping, and you won’t hear bad things,” I countered.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just get on with it, will you? I need to know if this works before we try something else. And I don’t think you want to spend all night arguing with me, instead of finally talking to the primal you thought you didn’t have.”

Weighing that, I decided maybe he had a point.

Sorry, I thought at the fiercely glowing ball of light.

He’s right. I do need a primal down here.

I don’t know why he’s right, but he seems to think it’s dangerous for anyone to know about you…

or about that black flame and crystal he has.

So, like him, I need something to keep people from looking too closely.

I felt a presence there, and jumped violently.

“Calm down,” Caelum said. “It’s just checking you out. As you rightly surmised, it’s been feeling a little neglected. You’ll work with it better, the more you understand one another. That needs to go both ways.”

“What is it?” I asked, my voice a touch nervous.

Without really thinking about it, I’d assumed my primal would be a part of myself. I’d speculated that in part from observing the primals of others.

Now it felt like something completely foreign.

“Not completely foreign,” he corrected. “With magic, like attracts like. You want to work with that resonance, not against it. There’s a strong resonance between you and this presence, or it wouldn’t have connected with you in the first place.”

“You mean when my magic opened? For the test?” I clarified.

I wondered if he’d tell the truth.

I barely had time to think it before he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “You had this before. I saw it with you that day in London. Your mother obviously didn’t block your magic entirely.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat close unexpectedly.

I fought it back, focusing on the intense gold-white ball hovering over me. It was difficult. Although I’d known it was him, that he’d been there in London that day, suddenly it felt crushingly real. He’d really been there.

He’d watched them kill my parents, just like I had.

“Does it have a name?” I whispered.

“Ask it,” Caelum suggested.

I gritted my teeth, again feeling foolish. Then, taking a breath, I thought at the small sun, a touch louder: Do you have a name?

There was the barest pause.

Then feeling and presence washed over me, densely enough, it constricted my breath.

I struggled under the weight of it, feeling some part of me fighting not to close down in fear.

At the same time, the pressure and heat felt good, even familiar.

It felt like being enveloped in something strong enough to hold me, even if I lost control.

Even if I didn’t hold back, even a little.

“Did you get that?” Caelum asked.

I shook my head, but not really in a no. “Sort of? I didn’t get a name… exactly. But I definitely got the sense that the answer was yes. I can feel it more now. The presence.” I hesitated, then added, “It’s familiar.”

“Did it agree to supply you with a lower primal?”

I frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you open your eyes and look?” he suggested.

My eyes flickered open, and I stared down at something standing on the library’s stone floor.

It looked back at me, its eyes white-gold, the exact same color as the fiery sun.

It stomped its foot and tossed its head, jabbing the air with its long, black horn, flicking its snake-like tail around muscular haunches.

It was coal black, but its whole body glowed with the gold of its eyes, interspersed with blue and green flashes of light.

It looked fierce, and not particularly friendly.

“It’s a monocerus,” I said, dumbfounded.

“You approve?” The amusement was back in his voice.

I nodded. It rubbed its horn against a foreleg, and shook its long mane, which was black and nearly touched the floor.

“But it’s still… it’s the other thing, too?” I asked.

I looked up at Caelum, and he nodded.

“It is,” he affirmed. “It’s just a projection.

Your real primal hasn’t changed, but if you work on spells in class, or do any magical work, especially in front of other Magicals, it will operate as if it was your primal.

I mean, essentially, it is your primal. It just looks a bit more like everyone else’s. Which makes you less… obvious.”

I placed my hands on my hips, still watching the monocerus. “Why, though? Why is it so important no one knows?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

I frowned. “Of course it matters.”

“Why?” he asked, with maddening reasonableness.

“Because you’re definitely hiding something.” I looked up, staring at him. “And now you’ve roped me into helping you hide it. I’m just wondering why. Why on earth would you trust me with something like this?”

“Magique,” he said, clearing his throat. “Why on Magique would I trust you with something like this. You need to adjust your language. It’s another thing that makes you stand out. Trust me, Magicals notice every single time you reference your old world.”

I clenched my jaw, annoyed by the deflection.

I also, grudgingly, made a mental note to try and remember that.

“Why would you tell me anything?” I repeated.

He shrugged, then pointed a finger over his own head, his eyes flat.

“Because I had no choice,” he said simply.