Page 61 of Things Get Dark
“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 likeyouis 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. Ifthey 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.”