Page 12 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)
“I feel fucking invigorated. I might not sleep for a week.” If I hadn’t known water was her jam, I’d have thought Belle was
using air to float out of class. “That was the most intense water experience of my life. I can’t wait for more advanced classes.
They’ve already added two to my schedule, and I’ve never felt closer to my element.”
“I’m really happy for you,” I said, barely able to stop an excessive sigh from escaping. “Meanwhile I feel closer to my chair,
because I didn’t leave it for the whole lesson.”
She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’ll get there. Otherwise, you and your chair can form your own coven.”
I choked on my own laugh, covering my mouth with my hand. “Christ. I better invite the desk too, otherwise it’ll get jealous.”
Belle nodded, forcing a serious expression. “You don’t want to know what scorned desks are capable of. Trust me on that.”
Students were sparsely dotted around the hallway as we made our way to our next class: Weatherstone and Its History of Necromancy.
Another freshman-only class that I was excited about; history had always interested me. “At least our next class isn’t an
active affinity class,” I mused, looking around at the students rushing by. “My power is still playing hide-and-seek, outside
of a slight spark with fire and metal.”
Belle gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t stress about it. Mom took eight months to figure out her affinity.
She expressed magic early, but then was stuck in her college—Grimsworth University—for almost a year before she developed a craving for the ocean.
Her dorm was a few miles from the beach, and she woke one morning knee-deep in the water. It’ll happen.”
“Fuck, good to know. It’s just hard because all of my family expressed clear affinities during their toddler years.”
“Your family isn’t exactly normal,” Belle reminded me. “I’d heard about them long before the Hottest Warlock of the Year came
strolling by.”
I squeezed my eyes closed briefly. “Please don’t ever call him that when he’s around. His head is already too big.”
The history classroom was five times the size of our last, with cork floors that squished beneath our shoes as we made our
way to the stadium seating. We’d arrived early, having booked it out of Elemental 101, which gave us a chance to observe everyone
walking in.
There were a lot of faces from our last class, including Marcus Lofting, who I remembered quite well. “It’s Fireball,” Belle
whispered, and I tried to smother my laugh.
Marcus had engulfed half the room in flames before they put it out.
“Or should we call him Aquaman?” I replied, since he’d shown as strong an aptitude for Belle’s element too.
“He could touch air as well,” she pointed out, and I wasn’t surprised that Professor Damone had been fawning all over him.
He showed signs of multiple strong elements to call, which meant they’d be watching him as a possible spellcaster.
Spellcasters were hard to classify in college because students could show small affinities in multiple areas and still only end up having a single strong affinity. A true spellcaster could touch all affinities equally except for necromancy. The dead didn’t share well with the living.
Belle and I must have been staring at Marcus a little too hard, because he caught my eye and offered the slightest of smiles.
I turned my gaze away, trying not to notice that he was quite nice to look at—a few inches taller than me with broad shoulders,
messy dark blond hair, and piercing blue eyes.
“Spellcasters are way too much work,” I said, before realizing that Belle would have no idea what I was talking about. I’d
answered my own damn thoughts.
“Way too much,” she agreed, taking that brain slip in stride. “Drama-free is the key this year. We’re only at college once,
and I’m not tying myself down to any witch or warlock.”
“Same.”
We high-fived over it, settling the deal the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to date. I absolutely needed
to find an outlet for the rage of fire in my veins, lest the dreams keep me awake for the entire year. But nothing serious.
That wasn’t my focus here.
“Have you ever had a boyf...?” Belle trailed off suddenly, and I stiffened in my seat, forcing my gaze not to look toward
the door. Because I felt what had shocked her. I felt him.
How in the Hel...?
“Who— and I cannot emphasize this enough —the fuck is that?” Belle breathed.
“Logan Kingston,” I bit out, gritting my teeth as I continued to fight my eyeballs’ need to turn his way. Disloyal bastards.
“He’s both my best friend and archnemesis, apparently.”
Her gaze snapped to my face, but then she was looking at him again, as if she couldn’t help herself. “Are you telling me that
gorgeous hunk of power that just walked in the room is your friend?”
The laugh that burst from me was hard. “Did you miss the archnemesis part? We’re enemies, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”
“Did your dad fire his dad too?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled, before getting more specific. “His dad has a blood oath against mine. It’s a long story,
but there’s a chance Logan might want to murder me.”
She snorted as if I was kidding, but I didn’t join her.
From my peripherals, I could see that Belle wasn’t the only one gawking. Even if Logan hadn’t been a giant, gorgeous specimen
of warlock, he was a spellcaster, and power was sexy in our world. What can I say, we’re fickle little witches.
Logan must have reached his seat, as Belle’s full attention returned to me. “Murder or not, maybe you two should bang it out
first. Imagine the hate fucking. That’s way too fine a warlock to waste as a nemesis if there’s no hate fucking.”
It was horror that twisted my features. Absolute horror and nothing else. So help me goddess. “He’s legitimately terrifying,”
I breathed.
Belle shrugged. “The warlocks who fuck the best always are. It’s like riding a roller coaster that’s never had a safety check.
You have no idea what’s going to happen, but it’s always thrilling.”
“Or you end up dead,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “Repeat after me, we don’t fuck bad boys.”
Belle opened her mouth, and then slammed it shut. “Sorry, I can’t. My programming is preventing me from lying.”
Shaking my head, I had to laugh, and I felt somewhat better about that asshat being in the room. When my neck started to hurt
from the odd angle I was holding to avoid him, I turned to face the front, catching a glimpse of Logan out of the corner of
my eye. Not just Logan, but Giant, and another white-haired warlock. All three were in conversation, ignoring the gawking
from the crowd.
I found myself glaring at his profile, which was just as perfect as the front view.
He could really use a bump on his nose—someone should break it for him.
As my thoughts grew murderous, and I maturely ignored my irrational anger at a warlock who’d done nothing to me yet, he turned and met my gaze full-on.
Like he knew I’d been staring at him. Gulp.
A student walked up the pathway between us, breaking the tension, and I was finally able to turn away. Shit shit shit. I should not have looked his way. I’d known not to from the second he entered this room.
“Definitely enemies,” Belle confirmed, patting my arm. “I vote for enemies with benefits, because there was tension, Paisley.
All the tension.”
If only she knew that tension might be born of hatred. If Logan blamed my family for the death of his mother, then I doubted
we’d ever move past it. All that was left to determine was how much he hated me, and if he planned on destroying my family
to sate an old revenge.
“What’s he even doing in this class?” I felt completely out of sorts. My uniform was strangling me, my skin clammy under all
the layers. On top of that, the swirls of energy in my center were performing a fucking dance. “He’s supposed to be a junior
and long past freshmen classes.”
Belle shrugged. “Did he transfer this year? Because this is a specific class for Weatherstone. Everyone has to take it before
they can graduate.”
Fuck. “Yep, he did.”
The last of the students hurried in as Headmaster Gregor entered the room. He had a blond male professor at his side, who
was both younger and taller than Gregor.
“Welcome,” Professor Gregor said, just as he’d done yesterday.
“This class is designed to give you an overview of Weatherstone and the witches Writworth and Ancot. As a necromancer, blessed to govern this school over the last ten years, there’s a legacy of dozens behind me.
Those of us who find an affinity in the energy of the dead, cross planes of existence to discover more questions than answers usually.
It’s not an affinity for those who settle, but for those who seek beyond the norm.
With that being said, I will now leave you in the capable hands of Professor Jones, a former necro student of mine. ”
There was polite applause as Professor Jones took over from Gregor. “It’s great to see so many new faces,” he said, his voice
both deep and with a slight Southern drawl. “I know for many of y’all, this feels like a filler class, but I promise that
understanding the history of your world helps you step into the future as a stronger, more well-rounded witch and warlock.
With that being said, let’s get started.”
The next hour was spent delving into Writworth and Ancot, the two witches who started Weatherstone. Professor Jones explained
that they were friends, both born into English families filled with elementals. “They were the only necromancers in their
small village,” he said, “and at this time in history, that affinity had a very dark reputation. Female necromancers were
often accused of being witches by humans and burned at the stake.”
“Witches and warlocks just cut their heads off, if I remember my history,” Belle added in my ear. She was taking diligent
notes, and I could already tell that she was dedicated to her bookwork. Meanwhile, I’d written ten lines, and most weren’t
even legible.
“The lack of understanding almost wiped out our affinity completely,” Professor Jones continued.
“Rose Writworth and Francesca Ancot escaped in the middle of the night after hearing Rose’s father turn them in to the local law enforcement.
They crossed the Atlantic, stowing away on a rickety old ship, the SS Brigade , which would have met a watery death if they hadn’t used their magic to guide it.
Once they reached the Americas, they searched
for the perfect plot of land to establish themselves, and with one goal in mind—turn necromancy into an affinity with the
same respect as the others.
“They were untrained,” he continued, pacing as he spoke. “As were all necros in those days. They didn’t understand the risks
of connecting to the dead, and as they sought to achieve their goals, they did whatever it took for the power. Even drawing
on energy from darker souls they should never have touched.”
He let the tale settle in the room, and I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms. He had a way about him, this professor, turning
a lecture into what felt like a scary campfire story.
“They used their magic to call for those seeking a different life, drawing them from all over the world. As many of you would
have felt already, there’s a power here in this school, a beacon to our kind.”
I’d felt it from the moment I crossed the entrance gates, that trailing of energy along my spine.
He wrapped his lecture soon after, calling out over the chime of the bell: “I’ll continue with their story next week, but
we’ll go deeper into their backstory first. You need to understand the world they lived in to better understand their motivations.
I’d also suggest some independent research of your own. I promise, they’re fascinating and terrifying witches.”
As I packed my notes away, I found myself looking forward to the next lesson. Belle followed me as we left class, and I ended
up strolling next to Marcus, of all warlocks.
“Better lesson than I expected,” he said, and I looked around to make sure he was talking to me.
He was.
“It was great,” I replied with a quick smile. “I love history, and even though Elemental 101 kicked my ass, it was amazing too.”
He let out a low, soothing sort of laugh. “At least you didn’t almost burn the school down.” A slight pink flushed his cheeks,
but he didn’t sound embarrassed.
“At least you won’t have to form a coven with your desk and chair,” I offered.
He shot me a confused look but took the comment in stride. “One fear to cross off the list, I guess.”
Belle popped her head in then, smiling broadly. “I’m Belle,” she said brightly. “Water elemental.”
“Marcus,” he replied. “Fire elemental.”
He hesitated just a second before his response, and I wondered if he was thinking about all the other elements he’d managed
to express today.
“Paisley,” I added. “Affinity unknown.”
Marcus shot me a nice smile. “The mystery is half the fun. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Paisley. Something tells me that
you might surprise us all.”
When we exited the room, he peeled off, heading in the opposite direction to us with a brief “See you later.”
Belle met my gaze, eyes wide. “Did he just say he’s keeping an eye on you? Well, damn. Let’s bring him into the dining room
coven. He’s hot and powerful—I mean, not Logan Kingston hot, but he’s also not trying to murder you. Big bonus points.”
“All the bonus points,” I agreed.
I’d initially dismissed him as a possible hookup, but I couldn’t deny that flicker of interest between us. A flicker could
fan a fire, and as we headed for lunch, I decided it was a maybe.