Jesse and the magi vault, p.9
JESSE AND THE MAGI VAULT, page 9
I don’t like leaving Jesse and Wyatt at Exemplar. But I do know that John Jackson Helms never does anything without a reason. I’ve trusted him with my life and safety for years, and I trust his judgment now.
No matter how much I dislike it.
“I’ll be there for them,” I tell John. “I’ll continue to watch Wyatt and Jesse from afar. I won’t let anything happen to either of them. I swear it.”
“Aye, and neither will Mora,” Nora adds.
“I know.” Jackson nods, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Brody will look out for them as well. He’s been dying to meet the twins since they were kids.”
“Jesse and Wyatt are in good hands,” Nora agrees. “Besides, they’re just like their da: bullheaded and resilient. They’ll be just grand, I’m sure.” Nora’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s faking it as best she can, but she’s worried about the twins.
We all are.
CHAPTER TEN
JESSE
Over the next three days, Wyatt, River, Drake, and I rest up from the trials, explore, and watch as more and more students arrive from the icebreaker.
Kade is nonplussed about me being a roomie, but as he says, he’ll be outtie in a few days, so it’s literally about us sleeping in the same room for a couple of nights before he leaves us in his legacy dust.
Whatevs. I can handle that.
I start working with Ms. Fitz, and within hours, the two of us sync up and are running at top speed. It helps that she does things exactly the same way as Nora, and I’ve worked with her my entire life.
There isn’t much work for Wyatt. He helps for a few hours one day doing some heavy lifting, but other than that, he’s off with Drake making new friends and getting settled.
Drake reconnects with his teammates and some of the other players their team met, and everyone seems pretty nice. The ‘Plus One’ stares and whispers continue, but I ignore them. I’m with Wyatt and feel the magi energy growing inside me every day. Name-calling is fifth grade, and so far in my rearview mirror, I don’t even care.
Now that I’m committing to staying, for the time being, I’m determined to show them all that I belong here.
By the first morning of classes, I’m refreshed and ready to face whatever Exemplar Hall has to throw at me. Until I walk into my first class and stop dead in the aisle.
Maverick is at the front of the room, wearing cargo pants and a tight navy polo shirt, and my mind fills with all kinds of images that do me no good here and now. Damn, the way his muscles fill out the shirt and his thick thighs hinting at the power of his wolf beneath the man… way too hot.
Someone grumbles behind me. Oh, crap, I’m holding up the crowd waiting to get into the class. I shuffle out of the way and take the shallow steps down the rows of seats in quick strides to get to Mav.
He sees me coming and shakes his head slightly, a clear warning to turn around and take a seat like my classmates.
Right. We don’t know each other.
As much as I need to speak to him, I understand what’s at stake. If anyone here finds out or even suspects the connection between Mav and me, it puts him, me, Wyatt, and our dad in danger.
I turn around, select an empty seat along the back wall, and pull out my phone. While I won’t be downloading a Magi-tek app onto my cell, Wyatt and I need the first-year chat rooms to keep up with events and assignments. And right now, I’ll use the castle magik wifi to text the guy thirty feet in front of me.
I thought you were a student here?
Mav turns to sort through a stack of papers on the podium and pulls out his phone. I help Instructor Branston teach his first-year class.
Like a teacher’s assistant?
An apprentice, but yeah, same difference.
Can we talk?
Mav scans the rows of students settling in for class to begin. Now isn’t what I’d call an opportune moment.
I roll my eyes. Obvi.
Not only is Maverick my sole source of information about this new world, but he’s also the only connection I have to Dad and the world beyond the borders of Exemplar.
Without him, I’m in the dark.
I’ll find you later. The ghost of a smile plays at the corner of Mav’s lip, and I see a hint of the man I know behind whatever mask he puts on for Exemplar. He slips his phone back into his pocket and continues with his prep and I try hard not to ogle the eye candy.
I’m in the middle of forming a response about setting up a private lesson when there’s a sudden presence beside me.
“Phones away!”
I jump and whirl around to see a slightly older but no less handsome version of the blond douche Disney prince I know and loathe as Chad-the-cad Branston. This must be Bruce Branston, Chad’s dad, and Dumbledore’s son. Please tell me this is the last of them. I don’t think I could deal. Three is already three too many, thank you very much.
“Insipid socializing or attending my class. Which will it be, Storme?”
The bite in his tone stings. I’ve never seen him before, yet he knows who I am? Does that mean he knows my secret too? He scowls at me, and I fumble to shove my phone into the pocket of my navy blazer. “Sorry, sir.”
“Jesse Storme, first year, behavior unbecoming a Knight. Five demerit points.”
There’s that same fizzle in the air as when Mav said those words to Chad for trying to clock me. Except this time, there’s an uncomfortable pop in the center of my chest that accompanies it.
Tack it onto the growing list of eccentricities at Exemplar Hall that I can’t explain.
I don’t have too long to dwell, because the skin at the back of my neck prickles with a warning of danger. I can’t tell if it’s from Instructor Dickhead or one of the many pairs of eyes trained on me.
They may not know I’m a girl, but they definitely know I’m not one of them. It’s like they can smell it on me. Is that a thing in the magi world? Mav can smell my emotions. Can non-shifters? The fact that I don’t know what powers are against me is evidence that I don’t belong here.
“Kade, good to see you, son,” Branston says, shaking hands with my roomie as he enters the class. “Take a seat, and we’ll get things started.”
Kade scans the rows. The only empty seat in the room is to my left, and I groan. I sit up straighter and force a smile as his overwhelming cologne stink cloud settles over me. Why does a guy need cologne in an all-male academy anyway? Who’s he trying to impress?
“All right, quiet down,” Branston says from the front. “For those of you who don’t already know me, I am Instructor Branston, and this is The Truth Behind First World Development. Over the next four months, you will learn how the Magi, Illuminati, Freemasons, Druids, and the Odin Brotherhood influenced the world as we know it today. And, by the end of the semester, you’ll see that the Nary’s are even more inept and clueless than we accuse them of being.”
Branston pauses, eyes landing on me for a moment longer than the other students. “For each of my classes, I expect you to be seated, with your laptops open, and your full attention at the front of the room when I arrive.”
Each of the students around me have sleek laptops in front of them and tap away dutifully on their keyboards as instructor Branston begins the lesson. I draw my mechanical pencil against a fresh spiral notebook and start taking notes the old-fashioned way.
I don’t call it poor. I call it retro.
* * *
At the end of ninety minutes in First World Development, I close my notebook and check my schedule. I have ten minutes to get to the other end of the castle to Symbology, Runes, and Ancient Wisdom Lost Through the Ages taught by Brody Varian. It’s on the third floor in the east wing.
Sitting at the back of the classroom has an advantage. While everyone else is saving files and tucking their laptops into computer bags, I’m up and hustling down the hall before any other bodies are filling the space.
That advantage dries up like a Sahara puddle in July. I’m only a quarter of the way across the castle when the student body ebbs out of doorways and clog the corridors with a press of male bodies.
“Plus One,” someone mutters from the crowd.
I make like I didn’t hear it and take the next set of stairs, climbing up two floors. With my gaze firmly fixed on the floor ahead of me, I plod along among the sea of guys, hoping to blend in.
I’ve got to be getting close. S-326 the placard on the wall says as I pass by. No. I need E-318.
S? Am I in the South Wing?
Am I completely turned around?
With a sickening lurch in my belly, I realize I have no idea where I am or where I’m going. I guess I didn’t figure out the layout of the school as well as I thought I did.
Yay me!
One thing I do know is that I’m on the third floor, so it stands to reason that if I turn left at an upcoming intersection, I’ll be heading towards the East wing.
Right?
I follow behind a few guys after hearing them say something about symbology, but they break off at J-342, and I end up even more lost than before.
J? What does that mean?
I’m pretty sure I’ve been down this hallway twice now. Unless someone thought it was a good idea to decorate all the walls with the same gigantic painting of a blue dragon.
“Maybe if this school wasn’t a giant maze,” I mutter. “How does anyone find their way around this place?”
I go through a door and come out a dimly lit part of the school I have yet to explore. I don’t think this is where I’m supposed to be, either. When I turn around, the door I came through has disappeared.
Perfect. Now I’m definitely lost.
I’m late, and if all the instructors are as intense as Bruce Branston, I’m in trouble.
You look lost, a voice says.
I look around but don’t see anyone. My heart starts to race. Okay, new problem. I’m in a shadowed corridor, lost, alone, and someone is messing with me. “Who’s there?”
Breathe, Jesse, the voice says.
I spin and start backing against the wall. At the same time, something in the shadowed corner shifts and out trots a beautiful black cat.
“Catsanova?” I swallow and pat my chest. “You scared the bejeebers outta me, kitty.”
Sorry, the cat says, doing a figure eight around my ankles. I sensed a surge of nervous energy and came to see who was about to have a panic attack.
I chuckle, my heart slowing to a healthier rate. “That would be me. You wouldn’t happen to know where Brody Varian’s third-floor symbology class is? My schedule says E-318, which I thought was the east wing, but it’s not, because now we’re in J.”
This way.
I follow, astonished that my life now involves me getting directions from a magical, talking cat.
You’ve mistaken the lettering system, Catsanova tells me. There are eleven sections to the school, named after the eleven planets recognized at the time Exemplar was established: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Vesta, Juno, Ceres, Pallas, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus.
“Hmph. No mention of that in the first-year tour.”
Catsanova pads along the halls, his tail up, the tip swaying back and forth in a flip as he goes. I fight the urge to tell him to hurry. I know I’m late because the corridors are empty, except for the occasional other first-year I see looking as panicked and lost as I feel.
“Jesse!” someone calls.
I turn and my mood instantly lifts as Jack Prince runs out of a washroom looking flushed. “Jack! You made it!”
The guy looks far better than the last time I saw him. After almost having been drowned two days after his incident, I understand what he went through, getting our icebreaker team the second vial.
I’m relieved to see him here.
“When you quit and left us, I was so worried you’d be sent home.”
“I’m here.” He shrugs and my gaze is drawn to his arms hugging a stack of books and papers to his chest. He looks good in a plain white button-up that contrasts his dark skin, the sleeves rolled over his navy Exemplar blazer.
Has Jack gained a bit of muscle since the trials? It’s nothing crazy but the difference between a few days is definitely noticeable.
The work of the Magi Vault, maybe?
A meow brings me back to my current disaster. “Oh, I gotta run,” I say. “I’m crazy late for symbology.”
Jack’s eyes light up. “That’s where I’m going too.”
“Perfect. Let’s hurry.”
The two of us get moving, and though I’m dying to find out what happened after Jack quit the trials, all I can think about is how late we are and when we’ll find the Earth wing.
“Jesse,” Jack says after a few minutes. “Are we following that cat to class?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I told him I was lost, and he seems to know the way.”
Jack laughs and his dark eyes are full of the wonder that I feel every day here. “I love magik.”
By the time Jack and I find the right class, we’re ten minutes late. My palms are sweaty, and my hand slips on the polished door handle. I try to sneak us in as quietly as possible to avoid the instructor’s notice, but he stops speaking as soon as the door opens.
I’m killing it at not drawing attention to myself.
The instructor turns and wow… he’s a looker. Brody Varian is in his early thirties with ebony hair and a rugged, three-day scruff. He’s athletic fit with a muscled upper body, a slim waist, and damn, he’ll be delish to look at all semester. “Come in. Don’t be shy.”
I scan the room and realize the only spots available are in the first row. All right, walk of shame it is. With all eyes on us, Jack and I walk to the front of the room and claim our seats.
Catsanova leaves us to our spots and jumps up on the heavy wooden desk at the front of the room. It strikes me then that maybe I shouldn’t bring a cat to class, but my instructor doesn’t seem to mind.
He lifts his chin and grants the cat a smile before turning back to address the class. “All right. From the top, for the sake of those who just joined us. Welcome to Symbology, Runes, and Ancient Wisdom Lost Through the Ages. I’m your instructor, Brody Varian, but prefer to keep things loose and friendly, so please call me Prof Brody.”
He points to a clear-domed cabinet against the wall by the door and smiles. “I have one unnegotiable rule for my class. While in this room, place your tech devices in the dampening locker. And when we’re out working on any symbology or rune assignments throughout the halls of the castle, you’ll leave your tech in your rooms.”
There is a much louder rumble of male voices over that one. Brody puts his hand up to quiet the objections. “What is the name of this course?”
“Symbology, Runes, and Ancient Wisdom Lost Through the Ages,” Jack says beside me.
Brody nods. “Right you are. The key part of that title is ancient wisdom. The Magi-tek you’ve downloaded into your phones, tablets, and entertainment consoles is a modern drug. It gives you the quick hit of connection but doesn’t make you a stronger mage. It’s a crutch I don’t support.”
“It’s not a crutch,” someone snipes behind me. I turn in my seat to see Chad Branston man-spreading with Shaquille and Kristos sitting at desks on either side of him. “Magi-tek is the innovation of great minds for a more powerful future. This rune bullshit is antiquated.”
Brody laughs. “I’m not surprised you think so, Mr. Branston. Your grandfather led the charge to integrate our Source with technology twenty years ago. While I don’t argue it made for a profitable future, I disagree it’s a powerful one.”
Chad scoffs, clearly not buying it. “Magi-tek is the bomb.”
Brody smiles. “Bombs blow up and hurt people. I, however, don’t need to argue this because this is my class and I make the rules here.”
I bite my lip to keep from giggling. Oh, I like him.
“Back to my point,” Prof Brody says. He lifts his hands and phones, tablets, and almost all the laptops in the room rise into the air and float over to the bin by the door. The items sort and stack on their own, and a few seconds later, amongst the heated grunts and objections of the room, the lid of the dome closes and releases the hiss of it sealing shut.
“So, you get the picture,” Prof Brody says. “In my class, you’ll leave your fix at the door. Don’t panic. The bin is enchanted so you can only touch and claim your own belongings, so everything is safe and secure.”
“You can’t just confiscate our stuff!” Chad chokes out, a mottled red blotch rising up his neck.
Brody laughs and points to the bin. “I just did. Are you having trouble keeping up?”
Chad’s gaze grows dark, and I swear I see steam coming out of his ears.
“Before this dissolves into a pissing match,” Brody says, holding up his hand. “Let me reiterate. If you don’t like it, leave. If you don’t want your stuff in the bin, leave it in your room. There’s no need for phones in class. If you want to use laptops and tablets to take notes, delete the app off them and use them as they were meant. I’m interested in what you can do and how your connection strengthens over the semester.”
“We’ll see about that,” Chad says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dean Belmont will hear about this.”
Prof Brody tilts his head back and laughs out loud. Still chuckling, he wipes at his eyes. “Sorry, it’s been years since someone threatened to tattle to the dean. Good one. I, however, am not eight, so I don’t give a flying fuck.”
The class erupts in laughter, and I’m glad because I can’t hide my amusement any longer.
There’s a scrape of chair legs, and Chad storms over to the bin. “I want my shit.”
Brody flips his fingers toward the door, and the bin opens. Chad’s stuff hovers above the rest and he grabs it and slams through the door.
