“Anything else?” she asks, tapping the edge of my mason jar.
“One last thing.” I grab a glass eye-dropper from the counter and reach for a bottle of milky white liquid. “I was thinking about adding some moonstone elixir. Since the Moon card rules over the realm of dreams and our subconscious, I thought this might be a good conduit.”
“You’ve got good instincts for this, Stevie,” Professor Broome says as I add a few drops to the mix. Her eyes are still sparkling as usual, but this time it’s not with pride about my academic prowess or passion for her career choice. It’s nostalgia—I feel it in her energy, warm and wholesome, tinged with a hint of sadness and loss.
“Thank you, professor,” I say.
“You take after your father.” She runs a hand over my hair, a maternal gesture that makes my chest tighten. “Your mother, too. I see both influences in you.”
Blinking away the tears before they totally ruin my makeup, I smile and say, “You knew them?”
“Connor was one of my star students. Melissa’s gifts were in divination, but she was always a joy to teach, too.” Her own eyes mist, then fill with fresh concern. “Stevie, with something like this… the Dark Arcana… I suggest you wear the Eye of Horus hematite during your dreamwork. It will protect you from the more negative forces at play.”
“Even if I’m not trying to communicate with spirit?”
“The Dark Arcanaisspirit energy. Powerful spirit energy at that. Promise me you’ll take all necessary precautions?”
“Of course.” I touch my throat in search of the Egyptian pendant, but then remember I’m wearing a different necklace today—a rose quartz choker Isla loaned me. “How did you know about the Eye of Horus? It was my mother’s.”
Professor Broome leaves me with a smile and a mysterious wink, the familiar sparkle back in her eyes. “Who do you think made it for her?”
Twelve
STEVIE
Why does everything at Arcana Academy have to be so mysterious and confusing?
It’s like the administrators all watched too many fantasy movies as kids, and somehow got the impression it’s not real magick unless there are plenty of shadows, cryptic messages, and secret meet-ups inside haunted antique stores.
“Yeah, this isn’t creepy atall,” Nat says, rubbing the chill from her arms as we approach the entrance to Time Out of Mind. “Talk about a ghost town.”
“Are you sure you’re cool to go in there alone?” Isla peers in through the front window. “It looks kind of… closed.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “But I do appreciate the escort service.”
After Trello’s speech of epic impending doom this morning, I’m not surprised to find the Promenade deserted after dark, and I’m glad I decided to ask the girls to walk with me after all. No, I don’t want to live my life in fear, or feel like I can’t ever walk out the door without backup. But I also don’t want my gravestone carved with “Starla Milan: Nice Girl, Kinda Cute, Too Stupid To Live.”
Tradeoffs!
“Well, wish me luck and a passing grade.” I text Professor Maddox to buzz me in, then send the girls on their way and head inside.
The air inside smells like old books, metal, and candle wax, and as I glance around at the many shelves, I’m immediately transported back in time. The one-room store is tiny, but what it lacks in space it makes up for in really old shit to fill that space. Every shelf is jam-packed with books and knick-knacks, glass jars and bottles in every possible shape and size, statues, ceremonial daggers, sculptures, gears, pieces and parts whose origins I can’t even guess. At one end of the room, there’s a glass jewelry case full of watches, pendants, rings, and loose gemstones scattered across every shelf.
At the back, a huge grandfather clock keeps watch beneath a darkened stairwell, the soft ticks of its second-hand counting down the moments.
Footsteps creak on the stairs above, and moments later, Professor Maddox steps into the light. I almost don’t recognize her—she’s dressed in funky ripped jeans and a fitted black sweater, with copper bangles on one arm and a sparkly blue pendant at her throat. Her hair is curled, her makeup so on point even Jessa—queen of the smokey eye—would be jealous.
“Professor Maddox?”
“Nope.” She smiles, lighting up her face. I never noticed how pretty she is. “I leave her in the classroom. On girls’ night, I’m just Kelly.”
“But I thought this was a school thing. Tutoring?”
“Change of plans. Tonight, I’m taking you off-campus. Call it a field trip.”
Kelly seems genuine, but after my mistakes with Professor Phaines, I’m not taking any chances. I made assumptions that he was exactly who he said he was, and those assumptions nearly got me killed. That’s not happening again.
I reach out for her energy, looking for any signs of danger or trickery. But Kelly’s honesty—along with a good dose of friendly affection—shines through loud and clear.
