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Doctor Atlas gave her a patient smile. “I know. I’m one of the doctors who’s been tending to her today.”
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. Humans, veneficae, and werewolves shuffled out, leaving room for Doctor Atlas to get inside.
Loren stepped forward before Doctor Atlas could move. “Hey, do you know anything about the Aura Healers here?”
“What about them?”
“I’m just wondering if any of them offer lessons.”
Doctor Atlas crossed her arms and drummed her clipboard against her hip. “Loren, what’s this for?”
“Just a school project,” she said quickly. “I’m supposed to get some hands-on experience with aura healing.”
“Look, Loren. I’m not trying to sound rude when I say this, but they’ve got a job to do. Did AA tell you to come to the hospital?”
“No, I just…thought you might be able to help me.”
“You’re going to have to look somewhere else, honey. I’m sorry, but none of them have the time.” The elevator doors began to shut, but she stopped them halfway with a hand. She walked inside and pressed a couple buttons.
“Nice to see you,” Loren said, trying her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
The doors began to slide shut again.
Just as Loren was turning around to head back to Dallas’s room, Doctor Atlas stopped the doors from closing.
“Loren,” she called softly. Loren turned back around. “See if you can get in to see Agatha.”
“Who’s Agatha? Does she work here?”
“She’s the owner of Agatha’s Post Secondary Education for Botany. She knows a lot about aura healing, because she used to be a Healer herself. She might be able to help you.”
Loren’s heart quickened with hope. “What should I tell her?”
Doctor Atlas shrugged, stepping back inside the elevator. “Tell her your boyfriend sent you.” A smile that resembled her son’s played on her mouth, so subtle Loren wasn’t sure if she was imagining it.
The doors slid shut. The red numbers above the elevator flashed as Doctor Atlas made her way to one of the highest floors in the building.
Loren stood there, trying to make sense of what Doctor Atlas’s last comment could mean.
But then she remembered the school Darien had recommended she look into if she ever found herself disappointed by the classes Angelthene Academy had to offer. Agatha might be her only shot at learning how to use her magic, but…the hedgewitch knew Darien somehow. Might even still talk to him, for all she knew. But she had to try. She would just have to make sure Darien never found out what she was doing.
At least not until she herself knew what she was doing. Her plan remained the same: she might not be able to tell him what was going on, but if she found out how to show him, it would be her best chance at handing him the truth without costing him his life.
—
Agatha’s Post Secondary Education for Botany was the cutest school Loren had ever seen.
Standing on the path out front of the old building, she took in every detail, mesmerized by the winged statues, the creeping ivy covering nearly every inch of the brick walls, the arched double doors that were so tall she had to tip her head all way back to see where they peaked at the seam. A fountain babbled at the side of the building, and birds chirped in the old oak trees that draped their heavy canopies across the stone path. That path was short and meandering, and it led to front steps that were covered in chalk art of bumble bees, flowers, and potions.
“Here goes nothing,” she breathed.
Loren squared her shoulders and walked up the steps, being careful not to scuff the cute chalk art. She passed by a wooden sign that read Welcome to Agatha’s Post Secondary Education for Botany, EST. 6873. She could already smell all the flowers inside as she pushed open the substantial doors. They shuddered as they swung inward with a low groan, and a gust of sultry air wrapped around her.
The inside was even more breathtaking than the outside. The entrance hall was all vaulted ceilings and windows that were stained with images of tiny winged people tending to flower gardens and vegetable crops. There was a massive curved desk in the centre of the hall, where two witches sat among crooked towers of grimoires. Quills scratched on pads of paper, enchanted to move on their own. Two owl Familiars perched on wooden posts, watching her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Loren felt like a kid in a candy store as she walked up to the desk. Her eyes were bugging out of her head, and her mouth was hanging open, her tongue already dried out.
The eldest witch looked up from her grimoire. “Can I help you?”
