Page 35 of Stormbringer (Tracthesian Academy #1)

M arc was waiting for Wayla to get out of work when the click of high heels echoed down the street, and he glanced up. Inwardly, he groaned. His stepmother, in an expensive pencil skirt and a silk blouse, was barreling down on him with a frown on her face.

“Marshall,” she snapped as she reached him. “What is this I hear from your father that you are not coming home on Sunday?”

“Hatty,” Marc drawled. “I don’t know what you are hearing.”

“I’ve told you a million times to call me Heather, if you refuse to call me Mom,” Hatty the Harpy replied.

“I guess you’ll have to tell me again.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

He wasn’t calling her mom, not now or ever.

Marc’s mother had barely been laid to rest before she wormed her way into their lives.

He had always suspected that his father had been having an affair with her before that time, but never found any proof.

With her heels, Hatty was as tall as him, if not a smidgen taller. He had a feeling she had chosen the heels for that reason today. She tried to look down at her nose at Marc and look hurt at the same time. She didn’t succeed on either.

“What do you want, Hatty?” Needling her was one of the joys in his life, and seeing the tick in the corner of her eye brought him childish satisfaction.

“I want you to come home. We are having a family dinner for my birthday before your father takes me to some surprise destination for a holiday.”

Marc snorted. “Family dinner that includes how many people?” Before she could answer, he spied Wayla coming through the library door and slipped past his darling stepmother.

“Sparkle,” he called out and enjoyed the smile blossoming on her face.

She met him at the bottom of the stairs, and Marc leaned in to kiss Wayla just as the harpy slid next to him.

“Who is this, Marshall?”

Wave stuck out her full arm with the widest smile. “Hi, I’m Wayla.” Hatty refused to take her hand and eyed Wayla like she had some sort of disease.

“Marshall?” She prompted again. Marc held in his groan.

“Wayla, this is my stepmother, Heather Ulrichce. Hatty, this is Wayla, my girlfriend.” Silently, he prayed that Wayla would just go with it.

“Your—what?” Hatty gasped. Then her eyes narrowed on Wayla. “Who are your parents? Where do you come from?”

Wayla, honest to gods, perfect Wayla, actually scratched her nose and shifted in place restlessly. “Me? Oh, I’m here and there abouts. Moved quite a lot. Momma and me had this lovely RV, you know. We kept it pretty and all too.”

Hatty choked. “An… RV?”

“Oh, you don’t know? It stands for a recreational vehicle,” Wayla explained with wide eyes. “I thought everybody knew that.”

Marc had to bite his cheek hard to keep his expression in check.

“You-you can’t be serious,” Hatty stammered. Marc knew she meant the bit of her being his girlfriend, but Wayla stepped in again before he needed to say anything.

“Sure, I am. Haven’t you ever lived in an RV? Marki-bear tells me you have a real nice house though. I would love to see it sometime.”

“No,” Hatty started to gasp, but now it was Marc’s turn.

“That’s right, bunny. Hatty is having a family dinner on Sunday and was just inviting us over. It’s her birthday.”

“I-but—” Hatty stammered.

“Yay!” Wayla squealed. “I bet I’ve never seen a nice house like yours, Hatty!

I’m so excited. Marki-bear, you need to take me shopping.

I need a new leather skirt and shoes.” She then glanced innocently at Hatty.

“Is it your 500 th birthday? You look well preserved. I’d like to be like you when I’m old. ” She winked at Hatty.

“What? No! I’m not 500,” Hatty spluttered. “Marshall, did you tell this… girl, that I’m 500?”

“Oh, oops,” Wayla gasped and blushed. She could blush on purpose? “Sorry,” she mumbled then, looking contrite. “Marki-bear, you told me she was old.”

He had told her no such thing, but seeing Hatty pale, made him want to kiss Wayla breathless. “Shh, bunny. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you shopping tonight. How about that?”

“Marshall! You can’t mean to bring this girl home to—”

“Either we come together, or I don’t come at all, Mom . Your choice.”

“Fine. Fine!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Wait until your father hears about this.” She stomped away with extra click in her heels. “Seven pm, sharp! Don’t be late.”

“Bye, Hatty!” Wayla called after her. Marc wasn’t sure if he should be terrified by her acting abilities or kiss the ground she walked on. He settled on the middle ground and swung her into his arms.

T hankfully, the basement only had Jarred in it when they made their way downstairs. Wayla’s shielding practice had become a general time for everyone’s shielding practice, but today, Marc really wanted her to focus.

Jarred eyed both of them up and down and then looked at Wayla meaningfully. She threw up her hands.

“It was an emergency, and Chrissy took full advantage!”

“What are you talking about?” Marc asked.

Jarred rolled his eyes. “She’s wearing a dress.”

“So?”

“When have you seen Wayla wear a dress before?”

“I wear dresses,” Wayla huffed.

“To shielding practice?” Jarred ran his eyes up Wayla’s legs.

“Chrissy said it was stretchy.”

“I thought you were going to change here,” Marc said, feeling a bit confused.

“Change into what?” Now Wayla looked exasperated.

“Training clothes,” Marc replied.

“No. This is what you get,” Wayla said and then turned to Jarred. “So, what am I trying to grasp today? General shield or ice shield or power surge block?”

“I still don’t get how you can be so precise with water and wind but fail at a simple shield,” Marc groaned before Jarred could reply.

“It just doesn’t want to stick,” Wayla gave the same reply yet again.

“Okay,” Jarred jumped in before they could devolve into bickering. “Try to explain it to me again, precious. What is the issue?”

“I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“Humor me,” he said, and Marc nodded.

“Fine. I can construct the thing, I think, but the moment I try to pull it in, it… evaporates.”

“Have you tried building it directly on you?” Jarred asked. Wayla bit her lip and shook her head. She looked to the side and then sighed.

“Maybe we should just give up. Admit I suck at shielding and call it a day.”

“Absolutely not,” Marc almost shouted. Wayla looked guilty as she replied.

“I feel bad for wasting your time week after week.”

“It’s not a waste,” Jarred said. “You’ve gotten good at falling, if nothing else.”

“Ha-ha,” Wayla choked out and then shook out her limbs. “All right, let’s get to it then.”

“Sparkle,” Marc hesitated. “Could you pull up the flimsy shield?”

Wayla looked thoughtful. “Maybe? But it’s flimsy, wouldn’t it be just as much of a waste?”

“Maybe not. If you managed that, it gives us something to work from. Partial coverage is better than none.”

“All right, I’ll try.”

“I’m going to use wind again,” Marc said. Wayla nodded, and her forehead wrinkled. Marc could sense a minor change in the air around her. “Ready?”

Wayla nodded.

Marc pushed a small blast of air at her, and this time it ripped around her. Wayla’s dress swayed, but her hair stood still.

“Oh, wow. I think you got it!” Jarred cheered.

“Explain what you did, sparkle.”

“What you told me to do. I wrapped a simple layer around myself,” Wayla said carefully.

“Around yourself? Not into yourself?”

Wayla’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah. External.”

“Don’t look so sad, precious.”

Wayla just shrugged, not looking cheered up in the least. “Marc has several shields going on at once, and some even activate without conscious thought.”

“We are all failures if we compare ourselves to Marc.”

“How do you do it? Layer in so many internal shields?” Wayla looked hopefully at him. Marc frowned.

“I don’t think that’s relevant until you can consistently pull up and keep one shield in place.”

“Humor me?”

“It takes finesse and locking them together in the right order. Not something you are ready for. Now, let’s try that again.”

Wayla’s face fell, but she squared her shoulders and faced him. Marc let the wind blow.