Home > Firespell (The Dark Elite #1)(62)

Firespell (The Dark Elite #1)(62)
Author: Chloe Neill

“They knew, and they sent you to Montclare anyway?”

He nodded. “Montclare was better for everyone.”

“Why?”

“The principal knows what I am,” he said. “He’s a friend of my parents’—grew up with my mother. They shared my secret with him so that someone would understand how to deal with me if something happened.”

“If you went all Teen Wolf, you mean?”

He grinned at me, his ridiculously blue eyes tripping my heart. “You say what’s on your mind, don’t you, Parker? I like that.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have to stop flirting with me, Shepherd, or we’re never going to get anything done.”

“Flirting? You’re the one who’s getting me all riled up.”

“Oh, please. You’re all, ‘Here, Lily, have some candy.’ It’s obvious who’s flirting here.”

“Then maybe I should kiss you.”

I blinked, my cheeks suddenly on fire. “Oh. Well. If you think that’s best.”

He smiled softly, then leaned in toward me, smoke over sapphires as his lashes fell. I closed my eyes, blocking out the world around us, my heart pounding as he almost pressed his lips to mine.

“Well, well.”

Did I mention the “almost”? I mentally cursed my best friend before we jerked apart and sat up straight. Scout stood in front of us, one hand on Michael’s shoulder, looking a little better than she had a few minutes ago. The water and few minutes of rest in Michael’s company must have helped. And if anyone could summon up a little spirit and energy after a round of soul sucking, it was Scout.

“I assume I’m not interrupting anything?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jason mumbled.

I snickered and gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs. “You’re fine,” I told Scout. “We were just taking a break.”

“I can see that,” she said. “We’re ready to hike back, if you want to join us.”

Jason turned back and offered me a hand.

“I think I can manage,” I said.

“Whatever you need, Parker,” he said, offering me a dimple-laced smile.

I had an unfortunate inkling that I knew what that was.

The air in the enclave was thick with tension when we arrived. Katie and Smith weren’t thrilled that we’d walked out on them, but they were happy to see Scout. They seemed considerably less happy to see me, and gave me dirty looks as we sat around the table and Michael, Jason, and Scout detailed our adventure.

As it turned out, the message Scout received said that an Adept had been hurt. Scout didn’t say which Adept, but given her glances in Michael’s direction, I reached my own conclusion. She’d gone back to her room to put up her books and prepare for a trip into the tunnels; that’s when they grabbed her. There had been two Reapers, probably college age, but not people she recognized. She had no idea how they’d gotten into the school, but they’d been dressed, she said, like maintenance men— complete with badges and name tags. They’d already tossed her room when she arrived.

“Why you?” Michael asked, eyebrows furrowed. “If they were looking for a double shot of power, they could have chosen any of us.”

Scout dropped her hand, outstretched both of them, and stared at her fingertips. “I think it has something to do with my power,” she said, then clenched her hands into fists and raised her gaze to us again. “They kept talking about spellbinders and spellcasters, about the differences between them.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t understand most of it. I mean, ‘spellcaster’ is a made- for-television word as far as I’m aware, not an actual description of power. I’ll have to check the Grimoire , see what I can find.”

“Are you sure you still have it?” I asked. “What if they took it when they went through your stuff?”

Scout grinned widely. “What kind of spellbinder would I be if my Grimoire looked like a giant book o’ magic? Remember that comic book I showed you the other day?”

“Ah,” I said, understanding dawning. “That’s sneaky and impressive.” She winked back.

“What happened after they grabbed you?” Smith asked, with more concern in his voice than I would have given him credit for.

Scout’s voice got softer as she retold that part of her tale, and she gripped my hand as tightly as she had in the sanctuary itself. The Reapers had used siphoning spells to begin the process of ripping away her energy, her will. They’d dispersed to deal with Jason’s distraction, and that’s when we’d found her.

Jason and Michael replayed their respective parts of the story, the room quieting again when Michael told them I’d used firespell to subdue the Adepts.

But Smith and Katie still looked unconvinced. They apparently didn’t buy that I had magic, much less that particular kind of magic.

“It’s not possible,” Smith said, shaking his head. “A shot of magic, firespell or otherwise, can’t transfer magic to someone else. That’s not the way it works.”

“You’re right,” Scout said, “but that’s not what happened.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her skirt, then spread it flat on the table. “I’ve done some research. It turns out, there have been a handful of gifted folks whose magic wasn’t obvious until something happened, until some act triggered their power.”

“So it doesn’t just develop on its own,” Jill put in, “like you’d normally expect?”

Scout nodded. “Right. Lily didn’t get the magic at puberty, unlike the rest of us. It’s more like the magic is latent, in hiding, until something comes along and kicks it into gear. And once it’s kicked, it’s usually pretty big.”

“What do you mean ‘usually’?” Smith asked, brows furrowed together.

“Lily’s not the first,” Scout said. “There’s an entire line of Contingency Adepts. Twelve of them. Half of them have power magic—the ability to wield electricity.”

“Power,” I quietly repeated. “That’s why I can dim the lights?”

Scout nodded. “Exactly. And like I told you, that’s what firespell’s made of.”

“Well, that sounds okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure I was thrilled to be an Adept, but there was something comforting about knowing what had happened. I mean, the whole thing was only barely believable, but in the context in which I was currently working—and having shot magic from my fingertips—it was comforting.

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