Grave Digger Academy Page 5

  Makayla rushed forward, pushing on the left windowpane, allowing Leo to concentrate on the right. Grunts and groans escaped gritted teeth as the two matched their weight and strength against the resolve of the storm. The soles of shoes squeaked loudly, testing every spot they could find for traction. The gusting wind made the first mistake, letting up for a mere split second. The two halves slammed together, the lock fastening immediately after.

  “Phew,” Makayla huffed, gasping for air. She slid to the floor, soaked from head to toe. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Fine,” Leo replied, taking the spot beside her. “I could have sworn those were tightly sealed and latched earlier.”

  “They were,” Cali groaned, sitting up. “I checked myself when the clouds swooped in. There is no way they should have opened.”

  “Thomas!” Makayla called out.

  “Still here,” Thomas replied, waving a marshmallow on a stick over his head. “That was nasty.”

  “Did you move at all?” Cali asked.

  “I put myself in front of the fire,” Thomas replied. “I was worried for a second the flames were going to go out. I still have a half a bag to roast.”

  “Great job,” Leo chuckled. “Maybe next time we can switch places. I think I’ll go find some dry clothes.”

  “Do you think a necromancer was behind it?” Thomas asked, without even a glance at any of his peers.

  Leo paused. “Responsible for the storm?” he questioned. “I think all the talk has everyone riled up. Not everything is dark magic.” He disappeared down the hall.

  “I meant the window blowing open,” Thomas muttered.

  “It was probably coincidence,” Cali suggested. “These things are known to happen in extreme weather. I wouldn’t worry about it.” She turned to Makayla. “This is why we don’t talk about them... the necromancers. It puts fear into the hearts of most witches. Why are you so focused on them?”

  Makayla’s shoulders shrugged. “Probably because the first law of magic is there are no coincidences. Things are happening for a reason.”

  Cali placed one hand firmly on Makayla’s shoulder. “You are a first-year student. You don’t even know any magic. I think there are witches equipped to handle these things, should they arise. Think about it. Why would you be the only one to see any signs?”

  “She has a point,” Thomas agreed, shoving three marshmallows in his mouth at once. Apparently he’d given up toasting them. “Hey, your necklace is doing that thing again. It’s not green this time, though.”

  Makayla glanced down at a thick black fog swirling inside the tiny sphere. One finger touched the glass surface. Light flashed, a shock tingling her senses.

  A vision!

  An abandoned Necromancy Academy sat on the other side of the cemetery. A light flickered in a tower window—candles. Someone was inside.

  Chapter Twelve

  Listening to hours of lessons with a throbbing headache was too much to bear. A bottle of pain relievers was in her grasp, the lid about to flick off, when a hairy hand snatched it away. “Hey!” Makayla complained.

  “This is a class in herbs and plants,” the instructor announced. “Your time would be better spent finding a natural remedy for whatever ails you.”

  “My head ails me,” Makayla complained, her eyes catching a glimpse of a strange tattoo on her professor’s hand between his thumb and forefinger. It was the only patch not covered in hair. “I can hardly see straight. I had a rather nasty fall last night. Can I have my pills back?” A part of her begged to question the man about the unusual marking: a triangle with an almond shape in the centre.

  “Absolutely not,” the instructor snapped, turning his back to her. “I am Professor Woolly. In this class you will learn how to make nature your helper. That includes both medically and as a grave digger. There will be no mumbling about wolfsbane and garlic. Those are merely urban legends that die hard.”

  Makayla perked up. “Are there many other urban legends?” she questioned. “Will we be studying them?”

  The instructor swivelled on the spot, shoes squeaking on the freshly polished floor. One hand twirled a long end of a bushy moustache; the other side left dangling well below his chin. “Why would I teach about something that isn’t true? These fables serve no purpose.”

  “Are none of them true?” Makayla blurted out.

  “I am not a professor of fiction, my dear,” Woolly answered. “If you want such answers I suggest you spend some time in a library... spare time that is. Please open your books to the section on graveyard dust.”

  “We are starting with valerian?” Leo complained. “Shouldn’t we start with herbs that provide us some protection first?”

  Professor Woolly unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking a seat on the corner of his desk. “How interesting that we have an expert in this class. From what I hear it’s contagious.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Leo said. “I meant no disrespect.” He held up one finger. “Still, it would, in my opinion, be prudent to learn how to protect ourselves before trying to take on the undead.”

  The professor’s textbook snapped shut. “Pray tell, where are these undead you plan to do battle with?” He waited, brows raised. “No answer?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Leo admitted.

  “That’s right, you don’t,” Woolly agreed. “Do you know why that is? Anyone?” He motioned around the room.

  A bubble made of gum snapped. “Because we are first-years,” Frankie answered. “We won’t be confronting possible cases of undead for at least two more years.”

  “Correct!” Woolly exclaimed, his moustache twitching over top a smile. “So you see, it doesn’t matter what order I teach things to you.” He paced down the aisle stopping at Leo’s desk. “I can choose, because I am your instructor. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Leo answered after clearing his throat.

  “Good,” Woolly said, returning to the front of the room. “I want each of you to write a paper on the uses of wormwood, patchouli, bay laurel, lotus, and valerian. Pick at least two others to include. They are to be on my desk by this time tomorrow—no exceptions.” He chuckled at the grumbles and groans his words brought forth.

  “Will there be a test on this?” Cali questioned, frantically taking notes.

  “Of course there will be a test on this!” Woolly yelled. “The use of herbs and plants is literally what this class is about.”

  “Yes, but these herbs in particular?” Cali continued.

  “All of them, in particular,” the instructor bellowed back. “You each need to know every magical weed, herb, and plant. I expect you to rattle off names and uses. If you can’t memorize, you’ll never have any hope of putting them together into more complicated applications next year.”

  “So this class is strictly factual?” Makayla questioned, eyes slanting. “Are you saying we won’t be learning any magic?”

  “Magic can’t be forced on a person,” Frankie suggested. “It has to resonate within you before it can be applied outward.”

  “Exactly!” Professor Woolly exclaimed. “I’m glad someone in this class understands a thing or two about their gift.”

  “At this point, I’m wondering if I’ll ever learn how to use my gift,” Makayla mumbled under her breath, “or if I even have a gift.”

  “You do,” Thomas whispered from the row behind her.

  “Let’s discuss a few ways in which we can use herbs and plants in the art of grave digging,” Woolly announced. “Any ideas?” He tossed a long stick of white chalk in the air, catching it on the way back down. “Don’t be shy.”

  “Burning,” Frankie suggested.

  “Good one,” the professor praised. “That is actually the most common in our line of work. What else?”

  “Sprinkled over the ground,” Sven suggested.

  “Or buried with the deceased,” his brother added.

  “Keep them coming,” Professor Woolly urged, glancing back at the class from where h
e recorded each answer on a blackboard.

  “Ingested,” Leo blurted out.

  “As an offering,” Frankie said.

  Yes, yes,” the professor agreed, wiping his hands against one another after the final word was written. “Excellent. Those are the ones we will be focusing on this year.” A bird cawing echoed through the hallway. “Class change. Off you go. Don’t forget your papers for tomorrow.” He exited via a hidden door behind the desk.

  “I wonder where that goes,” Makayla muttered.

  “Probably to a secret staff room,” Thomas huffed. “I bet they have snacks back there. I’d give anything for a slice of cake. Why don’t they have any here?”

  “Stop drooling,” Cali snapped. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? This place is just about broke. The best and most popular academies get the most funding.”

  “We are the bottom of the barrel,” Leo snickered.

  “What’s so funny?” Thomas asked. “You’re stuck here too.”

  “Not for long,” Leo replied. “I’m top of the class in just about every subject. I plan on being the transfer student this semester.”

  “If such a thing exists,” Makayla said. “That might be an urban legend for all we know.” Laughter exploded, coming out in the form of a loud snort.

  “Very funny,” Leo scoffed. “I’ll have the last laugh when I’m waving goodbye to the lot of you.”

  “Okay,” Cali sighed. “Let’s get along until then.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “U. U-R,” Makayla mumbled under her breath. Finding anything in the makeshift library was a chore, even if there were only two or three books per student—a number that was a tad low in comparison to any other academy. Out of the five shelving units only one was organized, and even then it was alphabetical rather than by topic. Luckily, it started with the Z’s and worked backward.

  “Ah! Ah! Ah!” A pudgy finger appeared under Cali’s nose. “What are you doing?” she questioned.

  “Stopping you from sneezing,” Thomas replied. “You’re welcome.”

  “Smelling your finger isn’t going to help,” Cali complained. “What were you eating, chocolate?”

  “Maybe,” Thomas answered, with a shoulder shrug and an oddly placed wink. “Want to find out later?”

  “Ew! No!” Cali shrieked.

  “I’m surprised you can smell anything,” Leo butted in. “Your nose is as red as your eyes. I suggest carrying tissues rather than Thomas’s fingers in the future. They are much more useful in situations like this.”

  “It’s the dust,” Cali sniffled. “I don’t think anyone has been in this room in ages... at least not to read a book.”

  “You should take allergy meds,” Makayla suggested. “I took some earlier. That’s the only reason I can still breathe.”

  “I have some in my room,” Cali admitted. “I was afraid to carry them around after Woolly confiscated your headache pills.”

  “It is a free period,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. “You could go take some. Nobody is going to stop you.”

  “I know,” Cali replied. “I would but...”

  “But what?” Makayla asked, squatting to read the titles on the lowest shelf.

  “I don’t like crowds,” Cali said, a sneeze following her words.

  “I wouldn’t call the student body here a crowd,” Leo snickered. “How many of us are there, maybe a hundred?”

  “Probably less,” Thomas replied.

  “Exactly my point.” Leo slid into a chair at the closest table. “If you consider that number is spread out across the entire campus...”

  “There is still bound to be some groups I’ll have to pass,” Cali whined. “Now I’m getting hives thinking about it.”

  “They could be from the allergies,” Thomas suggested.

  “That’s not helping,” Cali complained, scratching red welts as they appeared on her neck and arms.

  “Come on,” Thomas said. “I’ll walk with you. Then if we do pass anyone they’ll be staring at me not you. Okay?”

  “Fine,” Cali conceded with a huff. Placing her hands on Thomas’s back, she pushed him toward the door. “We’ll catch up with you two later.”

  “Found it!” Makayla exclaimed, turning in time to see the pair exiting the library. That made things awkward. Leo wasn’t exactly the friendly type. If anything, he gave off lone wolf vibes, leaving her begging to question whether taking a seat at the same table was presuming too much. Biting her bottom lip, she slid into the chair farthest from him as quietly as possible.

  “What did you find?” Leo asked without looking up.

  Makayla let out a little yelp, drawing his attention. “Sorry. I thought you were engrossed in your studies.” She paused.

  “I am,” Leo replied, flashing a toothy grin in her direction. “But if you found a book that can help with this assignment, I am all ears.” He flipped his sandy blond bangs out of his face, revealing two perfect dark brown eyes.

  That was quite possibly the first time she’d seen him crack a smile. It wasn’t anywhere near as unpleasant as she imagined. “Actually,” she grimaced, thumbs twiddling. “It’s not for the assignment, exactly.”

  “What’s it about, then?” Leo questioned, slamming his own book closed.

  “Urban legends,” Makayla admitted. “I don’t actually know much about them and I’m interested in one in particular.”

  “Which one?” Leo asked. “Maybe I can help. Don’t spread it around, but I used to want to be the guy who disproved folk tales.”

  “Okay,” Makayla agreed, teeth still grazing over her bottom lip. “It’s the one about the seventh born.”

  “The seventh born,” Leo repeated, his eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Yeah, I know that one well. It’s rather difficult to disprove that.” He chuckled.

  “So what is it?” Makayla blurted out.

  “You really don’t know?” Leo snickered. “I thought all witches knew that one. It’s popular at family gatherings.”

  “Not mine,” Makayla muttered.

  “Okay,” Leo said, nodding. “It’s a quick tale. Basically everyone knows witches are limited to having six children. If a seventh is born, they are thought to be the spawn of a demon... evil to the core.”

  “Is that it?” Makayla snapped.

  “Pretty much,” Leo admitted. “They are said to have certain unique features... red hair and green eyes, while the rest of their family would be fair. Usually the stories say there are six brothers and then a girl is born...” He paused meeting her gaze straight on. A smile twitched its way into the corners of his lips. “You’re a seventh born, aren’t you?”

  Makayla glanced away. “I am,” she admitted, eyes stinging. “I always wondered why I didn’t seem to fit in. I guess now I know.” Her posture sagged along with her spirits.

  “You don’t actually believe you are the daughter of a demon, do you?” Leo chuckled. “That’s ludicrous.”

  “But witches don’t have more than six offspring,” Makayla argued. “That’s a fact. I honestly believed I was adopted or something. I suppose I’ll have to get used to being evil.”

  Leo laughed. “Now you are being silly,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to make it my mission to disprove that urban legend once and for all.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” Makayla questioned.

  “I’m going to use you as my test subject,” he replied. “Before the year is out, I’ll convince you that demons have nothing to do with your bloodline. Deal?” He held out one hand.

  Makayla accepted his offering. “Deal.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This is your first real test of the year!” Professor Woolly exclaimed. “I want you to use all that information I’ve been forcing you to learn and brew the potions you feel would most benefit a grave digger on the job. An array for four or five items should do the trick.”

  “All we’ve done is reading,” Cali complained. “We haven’t learned anything about brewin
g potions.”

  “My dear child,” Woolly said, shaking his head, “by now you should have an understanding of the craft. If you don’t, you will be in trouble.” His tone deepened. “Anyone who fails will not go on next semester. Instead they will remain here in this room with me.” Hands clapped loudly. “Textbooks away.”

  “This is brilliant,” Cali groaned.

  “Blame the allergies,” Leo chuckled. “Looks like my competition for that transfer spot just thinned out.”

  “You have full use of the greenhouse plants and any items on the shelves in my private storage room. If it isn’t in one of those two places, you’ll have to get creative on your own,” Professor Woolly announced. “You will also have this entire week to complete your brews. Workstations must be tidied before you head off to your next class. That means time management will be an important part of this test.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll begin in three, two, one... go.”

  “Sir,” Thomas started.

  “There will be no questions during examinations,” Professor Woolly blurted out. “I am here to make sure no one sets the premises on fire, looses a limb, or pokes out their eye.”

  “Wonderful thought,” Makayla muttered under her breath. A swirling white fog in the crystal ball pendant caught her attention. If it hadn’t been for the tug on her neck, she might not have noticed it swinging loose. Once again the necklace had broken free from being tucked tightly away inside her uniform. This time it was different—mesmerizing.

  Makayla plopped onto her stool; gaze fixated on the tiny sphere. Time ticked by—the madness of the room masked in an uneasy calm. There were no images, no visions. A void was sucking her attention into a state of pure nonchalance.

  “Makayla!” Professor Woolly yelled. “Makayla!”

  “I’m sorry,” she answered, jumping to her feet.

  “Do you feel it not necessary to join your classmates in this test?” the professor questioned, one fuzzy brow arched.