“What’s that?”
“They work as both archivists and public relations managers, essentially. It’s APOA’s job to ensure that our traditions, history, culture, and important artifacts are preserved for future generations, as well as to interface with the non-magickal public to try to help people better understand us.”
“Sounds like they could use some more help in that department.”
“They’re chronically understaffed. Many of our graduates do go on to work for APOA, but it’s not as hands-on as some of the other magickal careers, and therefore less exciting. Here, this way.”
I follow him down a wide stone pathway lined on each side with blooming zinnia and hedgehog cactus flowers in bright pinks, oranges, and reds. Students and teachers pass us by, many of them nodding or smiling at Dr. Devane, most offering me the same greeting. We’re all moving too fast for me to home in on any individual energy signatures, but the overall vibe I’m getting is one of excitement and happiness, the eager anticipation that comes with the start of a new school year.
A gentle breeze caresses my skin, the normally blazing afternoon sun muted to a pleasant glow. At this time of day, the heat should be oppressive, but it feels balmy and relaxing, much lighter than it did in the desert at Lala’s.
“How am I not melting right now?” I ask.
“We have our air- and water-blessed students to thank for the temperature control,” Dr. Devane explains. “Though we do try to keep our interference with the natural environment at a minimum. It’s important that we have access to the elements in their purest form, since the natural world is such a core component of our magick.”
“Are we even in Arizona anymore?” Looking around at the vast campus, I can’t figure out where this place would fit on a map. There are saguaros, which only grow in the southwestern part of the state and into Mexico. But other than that, I have no reference points.
“We are, though not the Arizona most people know. The Academy, just like our counterparts overseas, exists in a sort of middle space between the earthly realm and the astral realm. That’s why we use the portals—we literallycan’twalk or drive off campus.”
“I guess Uber’s out of the question too.”
“Actually, there is an astral version that can travel through the portals, but you don’t need to worry about that just yet. Escorts at all times moving to and from campus—remember that, Miss Milan.”
“Stevie.”
Dr. Devane smiles. “Stevie. Right. And I meant what I said earlier.” He lowers his voice, leaning in just a little closer. “You are in danger out there. It’s best if you stay put for the time being, keep your off-campus wanderings to an absolute minimum.”
“No problem. Especially now that I see how much crazy stuff there is to explore here. I’ll keep myself busy for at least a month.”
He laughs, a sound like the ocean, a sound that makes me wish we didn’t have to have those pesky professional boundaries.
“You’ll receive a full tour of the campus shortly,” he says. “First, we need to head to the administration building to get you officially registered for classes. Our semester begins on October first, so you’ll have a couple of days to settle in first, shop for your supplies, maybe make a few friends. Sound good?”
I nod, because—much to my own surprise—it does sound good.
“Here we are,” he says, stopping in front of a huge building that dominates the landscape—the looming spires I saw through the portal.
I crane my neck to look up at the four black flags waving atop the entrance, each emblazoned in silver with one of the Tarot suits.
They snap in the breeze, the silver catching the light and sparkling like diamonds. As the metal grommets clank against the flagpoles, a sensation slips over my skin like slippery soap bubbles in a hot bath, luxurious and inviting and utterly perfect. It’s the magick, I realize. The magick of the Tarot, and the Academy itself, wrapping its arms around me. A Tarot card appears—not in my pocket or my shoe, not on the pavement at my feet, but in my mind. A couple stands on a grassy spring meadow, he in a bright green tartan, she in a long blue dress. They gaze into each other’s eyes, sharing wine from two chalices.
You belong here, Stevie Milan. We are your family, and you are ours. Welcome home.
It’s one of those messages I can’t quite explain, but my heart trusts it fully, despite all of my reservations, despite all of my fears, despite all of my shame at breaking my promise to Mom and Dad.
Whatever happened back then was all part of the path that eventually led me here. I know it, right down to my bones. A spiral within a spiral within a spiral. I am meant for this.
And maybe now, by being here, I can finally find some answers to the questions that have haunted my family for decades.
Maybe I can finally let them go.
Tears blur the flags, and I shield my eyes from the sun, as if that’s what’s causing the waterworks.
“We use the house system here,” Dr. Devane explains about the flags. “Each house corresponds with a Tarot suit and its element, and each student is assigned to a house based on their strongest elemental gift.”
“How do we know which one is strongest?”
“There’s a test. You’ll take it inside. Nothing to worry about—it’s really just a guided meditation to reveal your affinity.” He stretches his fingers toward the flags, pointing at each one in turn. “House of Flame and Fury is wands—fire. House of Blood and Sorrow is cups—water. House of Breath and Blade—that would be swords, or air. And pentacles—the earth element—for the House of Iron and Bone. Lucky for you, youwon’tbe tested on all the names. Not today, anyway.”
