"We gave him exactly what he wanted," Kai said, wiping blood from his arm.
"No," I said, watching the door. "We gave him a sample masked with Ivy's potion. If he tries to consume that... he's going to get a nasty surprise."
"What kind of surprise?" Rhett asked weakly.
"Ivy said she added a 'micro-curse'," I admitted. "Something about... unceasing hiccups?"
It was a small victory. A petty one.
But as we helped Rhett out of the room, I knew it wasn't enough. Marrow had my blood. He knew I was a battery.
The game had begun. And the Queen of Hearts was already losing.
6
After the sterility and violation of the Registry, "Chaos Theory 101" sounded like exactly what the doctor ordered.
Or, depending on who you asked, a death sentence.
"I heard the professor is deranged," Ivy whispered as we squeezed into the back row of the lecture hall. "I heard he once turned a student into a llama because they were texting. A llama, Lina! The majestic wool quotient alone..."
"That's a rumor," I said, opening my notebook. My hand was still shaking slightly from the blood draw, but I forced myself to focus. " Besides, we need this credit. It's the only advanced magic elective that didn't require a 'Compatibility Waiver' from the Dean."
"Because the Dean is afraid of him," Kai said from my other side. He looked tired—the bite on his arm was healing, but the stress of restraining Rhett had taken a toll. "Professor Rook has tenure. And immunity. And apparently, a collection of cursed teapots."
"Perfect," Rhett muttered, crossing his arms. "Just what we need. More instability."
The lecture hall was packed. Witches, Shifters, and even a few Vampires (sitting in the darkest corners) were waiting with bated breath.
Suddenly, the doors at the front of the room slammed open.
A man strode in.
He was... luminous. That was the only word for it. He wore a velvet coat the color of crushed amethysts, fitted trousers, and boots that clicked sharply on the linoleum. His hair was a wild, windswept mane of silver that seemed to defy gravity, and his eyes were a startling, electric teal.
He didn't walk to the podium. He leaped onto it.
PROMPTY jumping onto the desk with the grace of a gazelle, he spun around to face the class.
"Good afternoon, potential disasters!" he boomed. His voice was melodic, rich, and vibrated with a dangerous amount of joy. "I am Professor Rook. You may call me Rook. You may call me Professor. Do NOT call me late for tea, or I will invert your gravity."
He clapped his hands. Sparks of teal magic showered down on the front row. A girl squeaked.
"Welcome to Chaos Theory," Rook announced, pacing the length of the desk. "Most magic is about control. Order. Lines and circles. Boring! Chaos Theory is about thewhat if. It is about the glorious, messy, explosive space between intention and reality."
He stopped, his teal eyes scanning the room. They landed—inevitably—on us.
"Ah," he grinned, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. "The Triad. And... oh, hello."
His gaze shifted to Ivy.
Ivy froze. She was wearing a sweater covered in sequins that spelled outNOPE.
"You," Rook pointed a long, elegant finger at her. “Pink hair. Aura like a supernova in a blender. What is your name?"
"Ivy," she squeaked. Then, clearing her throat, "Ivy Hollow. Sir."
"Ivy Hollow," Rook repeated, tasting the name. "Delicious. You smell like ozone and bad decisions. Come down here."
