Chapter Five

Poppy

“Nice of you to finally join us, Ms. Alderidge.”

Master Garon looks down at me with his eyes narrowed. I’ve always hated his gaze. The pale blue irises are almost cruel. Lifeless. Flat. They remind me of ice. “Some students here take their learning seriously. They show up on time.”

He’s turned away, as if I'm not even worth the scolding.

Bowing my head, I shuffle towards my seat. “Apologies, Master Garon.”

Halewood Academy was like a school, with desks and workspaces in each training room. But unlike a normal crowded school with a sea of faces passing through the doors each day, there were only a handful of students in each class. At least the low numbers meant I was able to have a desk all to myself. Well, if you ignore the pink demon currently perched on the edge swinging her feet like this is all a game.

“Sit down properly,”

I hiss between gritted teeth, earning me a few looks from Fenella Lawton and her little sidekick, Cordelia Spruce. Fuck them. I don’t have the headspace to deal with their little taunts or savage stares. If one of them puts spider silk on my chair again this week, I swear I’ll set fire to their broomsticks.

Manon seems to agree with me as she slides off my desk and wanders over to where they’re sharing a space. I watch, partly horrified, partly thrilled, as she conjures a dark green slug creature with these luminescent little swirls and stars down its body and places it on the brim of Fenella’s pointed hat. We’re only supposed to wear those hats when we’re casting spells, but since Fenella has recently been recruited as an active member into the Coven, she wears hers everywhere like a boast. And Master Garon allows her. She’s the definition of a teacher’s pet, flipping her perfect blonde curls every time she answers his questions and earns yet more praise.

Pressing a finger against her lips, Manon warns me to stay silent as she does the same to Cordelia before returning to drop down into the seat next to me. How no one sees the chair move is beyond me. She must have created some sort of illusion or glamor spell.

“Pssst,”

Anette, a kind witchling who’s a year younger than me, leans across the gaps in our tables to offer me a small smile. “Happy birthday Poppy!”

My returning smile is tight and forced. Birthdays were never a cause of celebration in my family, since they simply served as another reminder that I was nothing but a failure. A powerless witch. Except…this year, I wasn’t. I had power. Somewhere. Buried inside me. Maybe this time father would actually look at me over dinner.

Manon clicks her fingers, and I see some sort of shimmery bubble fall down around us. I assume it’s a privacy shield as she turns to glare at me.

“It’s your birthday?”

she whispers, looking annoyed as she crosses her arms. The pout and the position are ridiculous, because it looks like her tits are going to burst out of her shirt if she breathes a little too heavily. I swear, if a button pings off and hits Master Garon, I will kill her with my bare hands. “Hmmmmm, I wonder if that’s why you were bound.”

“Bound?”

Frowning, I suddenly stiffen, my body feeling heavy. I know what she's implying, but I need her to confirm it. “The knots…they were done on purpose?”

“Yes.”

She tilts her head and looks me over, and I know she’s doing that scanning thing. I wonder what she sees when she looks at my magic. “You were born on Samhain, when the Otherworld is closest to this plane. Perhaps your magic is dangerous?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to stay calm. “And you didn’t think to share that little bit of information?”

Manon shrugs and I want to strangle her. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. It matters.”

How can she not understand that? What is she, a monst–never mind.

“Ms. Alderidge?”

Master Garon’s voice cuts through the shimmery bubble. His words are just as cold as his eyes, and it’s like we’ve been drenched with a bucket of water. “Are we boring you?”

“No, apologies.”

I stammer, pretending to brush at the surface of my desk. “There was a spider. It’s gone now.”

“Of course, unsurprising a witchling like you is afraid of spiders. How disappointing.”

He looks down his beaky nose at me, making me shiver.

There are witches at the academy who think Master Garon is handsome, but he makes me uncomfortable. There’s something slimy and sticky about his gaze. It clings to me and makes me feel dirty—and not in a good way.

Running a hand through his thinning golden curls, he leans against the edge of his desk and clasps his hands in front of him. He’s wearing a high neck sweater and a pair of dark slacks. If they didn’t hide his eyes, I think he'd wear glasses too, just for the aesthetic.

“As I was saying before the interruption,”

he gives me a pointed look. “Last night there was an unusual spike in energy detected at the Academy, therefore I would like to remind you all to be wary and remain vigilant. Samhain is a serious event. Witches and witchlings who do not know how to handle their magic, should not be wielding it so freely on Halloween.”

The rest of the class passes in a blur, where I try to ignore the nosy pink demon beside me who wanders around, making little jokes and pulling faces. There’s a time or two where she gets close to Master Garon, and I hold my breath, sure that she’s about to be discovered, only for him to continue his lecture, unaware of the creature pretending to choke him with her tail.

When class ends, without so much as a spark of magic from me, I feel…empty. I thought that perhaps untangling some of the knots would give me something. Just something small. But I still feel as useless as I usually do.

“Poppy, stay behind please,”

Master Garon calls, not looking up from the book he’s flipping through as the others leave the room.

Manon and I look at each other, a sliver of panic unfurling low in my stomach. Had he been aware of her this whole time? Was he going to call us out for the deception?

Pale blue eyes look up at me as he gestures for me to sit opposite his desk. Closing the book softly and pushing it aside, he tilts his head and looks at me, obviously unimpressed with what he sees. “I’ve spoken to your father about your recent appeal to The Conclave. With it being denied, we think it’s best if you are withdrawn from the Academy as a student next term.”

What?

Leave? I’m an Alderidge witch. A legacy.

I belong here.

I. Belong. Here.

Sighing, he lightly taps on his desk. “If you were a more capable witchling, we would have expected you to be assisting the Halewood Coven by now, like Fenella. However, having substandard witches remain at the Academy as students is a poor use of resources. I hope you understand.”

My chest tightens as I try to swallow down the rage I can feel bubbling away inside me. Substandard? Capable? Poor use of resources? What the fuck is he talking about?

Manon growls, her voice low in my ear. “Don’t trust him, my vicious Valkyrie. Say the word and I will disembowel him. You shall wear his intestines like a scarf, my love.”

Shaking my head, I bite my tongue. Something isn’t right. Why is everyone against me? Doubting me at every turn? First my father, the Coven, then The Conclave and now, Master Garon. I feel Manon’s hand on the small of my back, her warmth giving me the strength not to cry.

Garon continues his little speech, trying to maintain a mask of indifference, but I see the way his cold eyes sparkle. He loves putting me in my place. “With Iniko leaving at the end of this term, we believe your…skills may be best used in the library, helping assist witching’s who have more empirical talents.”

There are no words. I thought I knew what pain was, but this is something else. Does no one believe in me?

“I’ll schedule a meeting in the week to discuss the next steps. You may leave now. I have important things to do.”

Without an ounce of empathy or kindness, Garon dismissed me.

Leaving the classroom in a daze, I ignore Manon chirping in my ear as she describes in detail how she’ll exact revenge for me. I don’t want her revenge. I want to do it myself. I want my powers.

Lost in my anger and the feelings of worthlessness, I barely notice where I’m going until Fenella barges me, knocking me to the stone floor.

“Filthy hag. Do you even understand how you’ve ruined the Alderidge line with your powerless taint?”

Standing over me, she spits, and it hits my cheek, making me flinch. “It’s no wonder your father barely looks at you.”

Cordelia laughs, stepping on my fingers with her black chunky loafer until I hiss. “Stay down on the floor where you belong.”

Nursing my sore fingers to my chest, I register that I've grazed my palms on the stone, my skin stinging as I lift them to look at the small beads of blood forming on the surface. A wave of something almost like nausea washes over me.

I don’t even have a chance to blink before Manon snatches her hand out and Fenella is lifted into the air. She claws and grasps at her throat, struggling to breathe as she’s gripped by an invisible force, while Manon is bathed in a pink fiery light of power. She is furious. And it’s kinda hot. “How fucking dare you,”

she growls, finally making herself visible as Cordelia screams.

Fenella’s eyes go impossibly wide when she realizes what Manon is. She tries to croak out the word, but Manon doesn’t give her the chance, choking her harder.

Cordelia raises her hands, and I know she’s about to attempt an incantation, but I won’t let her harm Manon. The demon may be a pain in the ass, but she’s my pain in the ass. “Don’t touch her.”

I snarl and it’s like all that hate, that anger at how they’ve bullied me for years builds in my chest until a vine of energy seems to burst from my chest, binding Cordelia to me like a lasso. The connection between us hums and she tries to push it off, chanting spell after spell, but my power appears to be blocking hers.

Cordelia’s eyes go hazy as I use my hand to tug on the thread, pulling and pulling until something gives. Crimson liquid leaks from her eyes and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s crying blood.

I wasn’t just withdrawing my magic, I was pulling her blood and magic with it, forcing it to stream from her eyes and bubble out of her mouth. As it spatters on my face, it’s like a bolt of electricity moving through me.

With a stunned gasp, I let the thread drop as Cordelia falls to her knees. Blood still trickles down her cheeks, landing on the stone floor in heavy droplets that sound like drum beats, filling the shocked silence.

Sharing a look with Manon, I know a seal has come undone. I can feel the magic throbbing and pulsing through me as it trickles in.

“Let her go, she’s not worth it.”

My voice comes out quiet and croaky, as I start to shake and Manon lets Fenella crumple next to Cordelia.