1. Sammie

CHAPTER 1

SAMMIE

CASTLETON, 2024

F lame licks my palms. No heat. The stench of smoldering hair and charred flesh coils my stomach. My little brother lies burned at my feet, moaning in agony. Quick breaths steal my clarity and blur my vision as my hands tremble. Fists balling, the fire snuffs out with a hiss. Smoke leaves my hands as I uncurl them. Leaving my unharmed, creamy flesh as it was moments before.

"No, Jackson!"

The ground by his side bites my knees as I sink.

His moaning stops.

I roll him over; his face is mangled by pain and fear. His terrified, widened blue eyes stare at me. Singed hair falls from his head, away from his arms like dust.

Ash.

What have I done?

His chest is almost still. Wrapping an arm around his small shoulders, I sit him up, hoping he will wake up and this is another one of his little-brother pranks. His head lolls.

Screams rip from my throat.

"Momma, help!"

Jackson stirs and grabs my arms. His eyes close, and he goes limp, his head falling back.

No. Please no.

"Momma! Daddy!"

The back door to our old house flings open, slamming behind my parents. A second later, Mom drops to my side. Dad stands frozen, gaze drifting from me to Jackson.

"What happened, Sammie?" Mom utters, her hands wandering over Jackson before the healing light she carries glows from her palms.

"He wanted to practice with me. We ? —"

We were literally playing with fire. How can I tell her that?

"What, honey?" Dad says.

"Training my fire. He wanted to be a moving target. I never thought I would be able to get close, but he ? —"

He stopped, tripped. Too busy pulling inward with my eyes closed, when I opened them and shot the flame, I realized it was too late. He wasn't moving anymore. And I watched as the fireball I sent swallowed my sweet, always joking little brother.

Releasing my hold on him to Mom, I stand. Sobs spill from her in a torrent. Staggering a few steps away, I lose my stomach on the grass. Dad hovers.

Jackson's lips are grey; his chest is still. The light in his eyes dulled.

He's gone.

My body shakes violently, and bile rises again.

Dad homes in on me. "This is all your fault, Sammie. If you learned to control your power when we asked, this never would have happened!" He stalks toward me.

"I-I—" I stumble backward.

"He's dead! You murdered your own brother!"

A raw, agonizing scream pours from Momma as she slumps over my little brother's body.

B eep Beep Beep Beep Beep…

Jerking from sleep, I slam a hand on to the alarm.

God, I hate that dream.

My phone pings.

Hey sis, have an awesome first day of college! Wish I could be there too, the parentals are driving me nuts already. When are you coming home again?? Jackie.

Ping.

Mom.

Enjoy your first day, sweetheart. We are both so proud and excited for you!

I throw the covers off and sit up, resting my feet on the polished wooden floor. The girl I share my room with is still asleep. Her side of the room looks like she dragged it kicking and screaming from Dracula's castle—it couldn't be drearier if she tried. No color. No personality. Only grey and shades of ombre black, everywhere. Hello, Wednesday Addams.

Moving to my dresser, I pick out something colorful, some underwear, my toiletry tote and towel, and wander to the door. Closing it gently behind me, I traipse toward the sound of running water, greeted by tendrils of hot steam as I round the hall and into the bathroom. Girls chatter over the dividers of their showers. I smile. I'm going to like this place.

Twenty minutes and one steaming-hot shower later, I am dressed and back in the room. I fiddle with my pendant necklace, taking in the first day of my new chapter. Excited would be an understatement. Wednesday is awake, donning her accessories for the day, which consist of a black watch, an evil- eye necklace, and a bone ruched into a thick bracelet. Gothic vibes, eat your heart out.

"Morning," I chirp in her direction.

"Hey." She glances up.

I wander over and offer her my hand. "Sammie. We didn't have a chance to meet before."

"Truly," she says.

"Yeah, I fell asleep. Wiped out from unpacking, you know," I offer.

She rolls her eyes at me. "My name is Truly."

"Oh! Sorry, I thought you didn't believe me. Wonderful to meet you, Truly."

"Yeah, well," she says, brushing past me.

She walks through the door without closing it. Well, that went well. Ugh. I groan and check my phone again. Nothing from Serena. That's not like her. We have been best friends since the age of thirteen. She gave me the necklace. She wears the matching one. I don't think either of us ever take it off. Like, ever.

A knock on the wall next to my open door startles me back to reality.

Standing with two brown bags and her megawatt smile, she wiggles the bags. "Morning! Hungry?"

Serena.

Instantly, my arms are around her shoulders.

"Air, girl," she chokes.

When I've had my hug, she plops the bags onto the floor.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be halfway around the globe by now in some tiny country with no real toilets or electricity?"

"Well, apparently, my mother developed second thoughts about that."

We walk to the bed, and she hands me a brown paper package as I sit. Sweet cinnamon pastries are nestled in the bottom, the scent wafting up turning my mouth to liquid.

"Oh, what are you going to do now?" I ask, biting into a cinnamon roll.

"She made me apply to, like, six colleges. She got it into her head that if employers find out you took a second gap year, you will forever be branded lazy or a hippie or something. I don't understand half the thoughts that woman comes out with. It's not like we just graduated. After working for my gap year, I was so looking forward to a whole twelve months of fun and freedom. But I don't want to go back to waiting tables and odd retail shifts, either."

"I don't know, I'm ready for this. Working and having money is good. But I want to learn and travel and explore the world, when I have a degree, preferably. What does your dad say?"

"No input, as usual. It doesn't feel weird to you, going to university late? We're almost twenty ..." she says, biting into her roll.

"Well, I have another month or so until then. But I think it's kind of the norm these days, and besides, we worked hard for this. What programs did you apply for?"

"S'pose I should check out the whole higher-learning thing, if it keeps Mom happy and off my back." She jumps from the bed and walks out the door. She bends over and pops back up, tray in hand.

"Coffee?"

"Absolutely!"

W e walk arm in arm to my first class. Serena tells me she is going to check out enrollment here. I try, unsuccessfully, to contain my enthusiasm. The door to the lecture hall opens, and I file in with the crowd of excited first years. The room is huge. Seats tower upward, their burgundy fabric and folded-up bases making the entire place seem so sophisticated.

Suppressing a squeal, I ascend the carpeted stairs between the rows, sliding into a middle row before dropping into a seat and setting down my satchel full of notepads, pens, headphones, laptop, and three of each piece of writing equipment I could find in the store before fleeing my hometown of Burlington. Castleton is the only college close by that offers an archaeology program I liked. And to my complete excitement, they accepted me.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and rise. I still, fingers clasping the pen and highlighter I snatched from my satchel, raising my gaze from the stationery to the source of the feeling. Staring at me, stone-faced, mouth a thin line, is the professor.

He stands behind a long desk, hands gripping the edges, eyes burning into mine. Distain is etched over his face. His neat blond hair parts on the side, flopping over his face to one side, his dark brown eyes set in his square face, jaw tense. Goddess save me, he is smoking hot. Sammie, no! Lecturer, he is your lecturer.

Heat floods my cheeks.

My heart thunders as I hold his gaze.

"Right!" He claps, face turning from looking like he swallowed something vile to happiness in a split second. Did I see it change? Focused back on my notepad and pen, I shake my head, willing my stupid heart to slow down.

"My name is Dr. Lewis Sullivan. You can call me Lewis or Mr. Sullivan. We will be spending the next ten weeks together, so let's go over some house rules, as I know this is your first college class."

I look up a moment later, hoping to zone out on the slides as they scroll across the hall's enormous projection screen. The students around me absorb every word as he explains what Introduction to Cultural Anthropology entails. Excitement gathers after we are given the rundown of the subject and assessments for this unit.

My phone pings.

Shit!

It echoes through the huge open room. Fumbling in my things, I silence my phone and rest it on my lap. One new email. With a tap on the notification, the email pops up.

My stomach drops. My scholarship, that was approved before I enrolled, is suspended pending further documentation.

No, no, no. I can't lose this spot. And without the scholarship, I can't be here. I close my eyes and groan. The room falls silent.

"Is there something you wanted the rest of the room to know, Miss?—?"

I snap my eyes open. He gestures for me to fill in the blank, his face back to stone. Swallowing, I glance around the room. Other students stare at me, scowling, as if I have robbed them of something precious by interrupting their first-ever lecture.

"Williams."

"Well, Miss Williams?" He keeps his face straight and runs a hand through that gorgeous hair of his.

"No, nothing to share."

"Very well; you don't mind if we return to the content, then?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine by me," I say, a little too chipper, and his eyebrow drops.

Magnificent. Now he hates me. How is he old enough to be a college professor, anyway? He's like, what? Twenty-five, maybe twenty-eight or something?

The lecture ends and Mr. Sullivan packs up and walks out like a man on a sinking ship bailing to the last life raft. Gathering my things, I shove them back into my satchel. I have to see the Chancellor and sort out my scholarship. Let's pray to the Goddess it's a hiccup and nothing huge.

Sunshine explodes all over my face as I straggle outside behind the rest of my cohort. I double-check the map of campus on my phone and head in the direction of the administration building. Past the front doors, the secretary greets me.

"I am here to see the Chancellor about my scholarship," I offer.

"Yes. Samantha Williams?"

"Yep."

"Through this door"—she points to her left—"down the corridor, last door on the right. He is in a meeting but will only be a few minutes if you want to wait outside."

The corridor is long, and every step I make echoes. The door to the Chancellor's office is cracked open. I lean against the wall and pull out my phone to check my messages. Nothing. Turning on the photo app, I glance over my appearance, brushing my curly blonde hair behind my ears. Face is fine, no leftover cinnamon roll. I shove it back into my bag.

"… to swap classes with Judith. The students in the group I have are more suited to her approach." The voice is familiar, so I peek between the door and frame.

Mr. Sullivan.

He wants to swap us out? Because of me?

"At this stage, that is not an option, Lewis."

"But the cohort is more suited to her, sir."

"The answer is no, Lewis. Whatever you think you have discovered, you will have to handle it as a professional. We all come across students that test our limits. This is no different."

He is talking about me.

Footsteps thunder toward the door. Do I flee now and come back later or stand my ground? Undecided, I hover, facing back down the hallway.

The door bursts open. I spin and slam into Mr. Sullivan's chest.

Shit.

My backpack slips from my shoulder and hits the ground, spilling the contents across the polished floor.

He hovers for a moment, taking me in. Rigid, he stares at me before stalking down the corridor. I gather my belongings and stand, brushing the non-existent dust from my knees.

"Arrogant ass," I mutter.

He stops dead.

How did he hear that?

His hands ball to fists, uncurling and slamming into his pockets. Breath firmly held, I can only hope he doesn't stalk back here and ream me out for disrespecting a faculty member.

He turns back, looking me over, then disappears through the door.