As any kid worth his Star Wars sheets knows—hiding under the blankets is not a viable strategy when the monster lives right under your bed.
There are still a few hands in the air, but Trello is clearly ready to move on. She talks right over the next questioner, still trying to reassure everyone with her “abundance of caution” platitudes.
“You doing okay?” Isla asks me.
I nod, but before I can further reassure her, Trello is hushing the room again, prepping us for a final announcement.
“We’ve got one more introduction to make before sending you off to morning classes,” she says, and immediately her energy tenses up. The words feel like they’re being pulled from her mouth, painfully and reluctantly. “She is a renowned collector and curator,” she continues, “and very knowledgeable on magick antiquities and history. She’ll be serving as interim librarian and archivist for—”
“Hopefully not just interim librarian,” comes a woman’s voice, deep and throaty. “I’m in it for the long haul, Miss Trello.”
Seconds later, the woman herself appears on stage, sauntering toward the microphone with a wave and smile for the crowd as though she’s competing in the Miss Magickal Universe pageant.
My whole body goes cold at the sight of her.
“They’ve already found a replacement?” Nat whispers. “That didn’t take long.”
“Janelle Kirkpatrick,” Trello says, and the woman bows. She actually bows.
No one applauds.
“Oh my Goddess.” Nat grimaces. “Kirkpatrick? Is she related to—”
“It’s her mother,” I confirm. “I had the pleasure of meeting her this morning. Real treat, this one.” I shiver, remembering the weird, possessive vibes she gave off around Baz. Obviously they’ve known each other a long time, but it went way beyond that. She was trying to stake her claim, and didn’t like it when I encroached on what she perceived as her territory.
I turn my head, searching for his eyes along the back wall.
But Baz is gone.
Janelle takes the podium, vomiting out an obviously-prepared speech about what a great honor it is and how amazing her credentials are and isn’t it a wonderful time to be a witch. By the time she gets to the part about achieving her life’s dream of guiding young witches and mages along the winding path of magickal enlightenment, it’s all I can do not to bolt out of there like Baz did.
Bracing myself, I reach out for her energy, half expecting to be smacked in the face with evil and darkness.
But all I get from Janelle Kirkpatrick is a vain, egomaniacal, opportunistic snake, sprinkled with a light dusting of horny cougar on the prowl.
As long as you keep your claws away from my mages, have at it, lady.
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Isla says, nodding down the end of the row to where Carly and two of the other Claires are seated. Her friends are buried in their phones, but Carly’s attention is fixed on her mother, seething.
I can feel her anger from here, simmering beneath her perfectly applied makeup and glossy black hair.
Great. So Baz can’t stand the woman. Trello can’t stand the woman. Her own daughter can’t stand the woman.
And this is our new Professor Phaines.
I settle back into my chair and close my eyes, pushing away the dark energies surrounding me.
Prophecy research with Kirin just got alotmore complicated.
* * *
With thirty minutes to spare before my Foundations of Tarot Magick class, the girls and I cruise into Jumpin’ Jack’s Java for muffins, caffeine, and a little witchy gossip, catching up on all the hookups, breakups, and fuck-ups from All Hallow’s Eve.
Pretty sure we all needed the palate cleanser after the doom-and-gloom assembly.
“Out of an abundance of caution,” Nat says, rising from our table, “I’m getting another cappuccino for the road. Do you guys want anything else?”
“I’ll take a banana nut muffin,” Isla says. “Out of an abundance of caution. Stevie?”
