Dread Delight: Rosewood Academy for Witches and Mages (Darkly Sweet Book 2) Read online

  Dread Delight

  Juliann Whicker

  Copyright 2018 by Juliann Whicker

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold, or given away. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Chapter 1

  Mage

  Silicon fibers to maintain the light pulse would be better than Bentonite.

  “What are you doing? You trying to blow up the lab?”

  I turned my head and blinked at Lars, his soft blue eyes even larger than usual as he stared at the mess I was making on the white lab table. I blinked at him and then reached up to grab the nozzle to spray down the pulsing ooze. Before I could spray it, he yanked it out of my hand and pulled down the red one, spraying a powder that wasn’t the water nozzle I’d almost used on high quality Cesium powder.

  I stared at the mess I’d made, the blue bleeding into black and yellow. I couldn’t remember doing that.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you should take a break, go to Darkside or home for a few days.”

  I looked down at that hand and felt a mild wave of annoyance, but not enough to shatter the bones. “Somehow, I doubt that would help.”

  He removed his hand and smiled slightly. “You could beat the crap out of Zach again. We all enjoyed that.”

  I sighed. “Definitely wouldn’t help.” I did not need another round of Zach barely defending himself while he apologized the whole time. I’d had no idea he had such a powerful guilt complex. I wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing about, taking Penny to the dance, smashing her room, not trusting her, or something else. I was betting on the something else.

  Penny had been in her room for three days. Three days. She’d embedded her name in my chest and given me one question mark. One question mark wasn’t enough.

  I probably should have thought it through, the whole letting a witch engrave in my skin, bind me to her like Wit had bound Ian, how Pitch bound Zach, but now I understood the compulsion, the craving to be owned and possessed. Not something I’d ever intended to understand. I’d made a big speech about it to my father and everything, all about how I would never marry and carry on the Huntsman name in spite of the family spell Great, great, great, great, great grandfather Harold Huntsman put on the family to make certain we increased the family magic. A spell, more like a curse. Powerful witches were diabolical, worse than a mage. Not all mages. I’d been arrogant enough to think that I was far worse than any witch I would ever meet, and then I met her, well, met if being plowed over by a female could be called such a thing. Penny Lane.

  I winced instead of smiling. Three days. I’d passed through euphoria to denial then anger. That was the fighting with Zach stage. Now I was a mess, plain and simple. A mess over a female. I didn’t know anything about her. Not true. I knew a lot more than most mages ever knew about a witch, but who was her family? What were her assets? Who did I apply to for her hand in marriage? I had no idea. There were no Lanes in any witch lines I knew. I’d looked at all the easily available sources and now there was nothing besides the obvious and equally impossible.

  I smiled at Lars. “Are you in the mood for some fun?”

  He stared at me dully before he finally nodded, only a slight nod, but from Lars, that was all I needed. He had a lot of Darksider blood. Made him a little weird. Not as much Darksider as me. Who did? Penny, and that must be the root of my attraction, the family curse that brought my father down on his knees to a half-Darksider like my mother.

  “What do you need me to do?” Lars spoke slowly, looking like a ponderous beast.

  I patted his cheek. “I need you to seduce the Matron. Fun, right?”

  He raised his eyebrows while he stared at me. “How long?”

  It was really, really satisfying how quickly his mind worked beneath that puzzled façade. “As long as possible. Depends if Ian helps me.”

  He nodded, still slow. “Three minutes, twenty-seven seconds. I’ve been meaning to bring up a complaint about the organizational system in the library.”

  I nodded and slammed his shoulder with my fist. “Excellent, man!”

  He hesitated. “Stoneburrow could give you more time.”

  I stared at him. “Yes.”

  “You don’t want him to know what you’re looking for? Is it Pitch?”

  I hesitated before I slapped his shoulder again. “That’s right. Wouldn’t want to get his hopes up.”

  He smiled slightly. “You’re lying. I hope the two of you aren’t going to war.”

  I cocked my head. “Why? There are so many opportunities for profit during war.”

  He showed his teeth in a smile before he turned away. “My father always told me: never fight over lollipops. Let me know when you want me.”

  I nodded and waved my hand over the lab table. Green light suffused the mess and then it dissolved, eaten away by green fizzling sparks.

  After that, I called Ian. He was game. Very game. His eagerness made me a little nervous, but nervous would make me careful, or reckless. Either way…

  I waited until five fifteen when the Matron closed up her office and went down to the teacher’s lounge to bully the Chemistry professor into making Rosewood students finally ace the Chem exam. I walked down the hall, singing loudly. It was one of my favorite Scottish ballads about a girl who got eaten by a bear. The invisible sentry was invisible, so I actually bumped into him when he stepped into my path.

  “This area is off limits to students.”

  I narrowed my eyes like I was trying to see him, but I was actually looking through him, counting the footsteps to the doorway that led to the dungeon. All the records in Rosewood were in the dungeon.

  “Interesting that you’d mention that. I suppose you ought to let the new teacher know all about the intricate rules of Rosewood. For some reason she didn’t want to listen to me explain all the reasons why I couldn’t run down to the dungeon and fetch…” I pulled a paper out of my inside jacket pocket and flourished it around like I didn’t know where his face was until I felt the invisible hand on the edge of the paper as he read through the list of objects Professor Vale had requested. “What is that, a thirteenth century mace? Those are some really fine pieces of armor.”

  He took the paper while he glowered at me, an invisible glower that I tried to look cowed by. Honestly it was vaguely amusing. The door to the dungeon opened and I realized belatedly that there were two invisible guards.

  Fun. I watched the slip of paper walk through the door and then a woman’s voice, “We’ll deliver the items to the professor along with a clear message about sending students into forbidden areas.”

  I backed away with the smile I saved for particularly delightful witches. “I appreciate it. Have a lovely evening.” I bowed then turned on my heel. I walked down the hall until I saw a pimply guy around my height. I bumped into him and immediately he looked dashing, debonair, handsome and I looked unkempt and awkward. It was an excellent glamour, if I did say so myself.

  I walked down a hall that ran parallel to the hall where the guard was walking with that slip of paper. A vent was all I needed. I turned into vapor and drifted until I came up against the wards, the barriers that protected the contents of the dungeon from smoke. I waited in that pleasant floating moment until the ward dissolved and I snapped inside the dungeon beside Ian. He was smoothing out his jacket.

  “I haven’t been transfigured into an inanimate object
in far too long. I think I gave the guard a papercut.”

  I smiled broadly at the room filled with piles and shelves of objects, a veritable cave of wonders, only not a cave with the stone walls and arched roof. I walked towards the far side of the room, illuminating a few feet in front of me. Ian examined objects as he followed, his golden eyes sparking as he saw a particularly pretty rock.

  “If you get caught, you’ll be expelled,” Ian said, lazily, like it was only something to say.

  I grinned at him over my shoulder as I paused outside a door, running my hands above the surface, not touching, but analyzing every piece of it. “My father was expelled in tenth grade. I’m definitely the unmotivated son he never wanted.”

  He snorted. “You’re better at not getting caught.”

  I curled my lips as I stared at the door. “Until recently.”

  He nudged me. “The girl? I like her.”

  “Yes, you like a lot of girls. It’s the Goldie in you. I personally feel more…”

  “You don’t collect girls. What do you collect?”

  “Curiosities.”

  He leaned against the stone wall, seemingly relaxed, his golden skin reflecting in the light of the pretty he’d found. “She is a curious girl. What are your intentions? You have them, I assume.”

  I inhaled deeply then blew on the door, lighting up layers and layers of runes in gold, purple and orange. I studied them for a moment then they blinked out. I pressed my palm on the door, grabbed Ian’s neck and channeled his energy into the spell work, green stars that grew beneath my hand in a spiral until the door swung open. Three minutes.

  “Don’t they dust in here?”

  I glanced at Ian before I closed my eyes and did a very small working based on the words engraved in my chest. Penny Lane. A filing cabinet sparked green in the far corner. I wandered through the maze of filing cabinets to that small drawer, the small manila envelope, and a slip of paper.

  Penny Lane,

  Sponsored by P.L. Rose for attendance at Rosewood Academy. Extreme diligence requested.

  Other than that, there was a class schedule, room number, and letter of acceptance. Where Penny’s guardian was supposed to sign, the space was blank. I gritted my teeth before I hesitated, staring at the dorm list. That wasn’t the right number. That would put her in the wing two buildings over and one floor up from Lilac Stories. I tucked the file away and turned back to Ian. He was fingering through a stack of manila folders until he pulled out a hefty sheaf of papers. Witley Pennmore.

  “Two minutes, thirteen seconds.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, leafing through. “Did you know that she’s had over two dozen complaints filed against her by other witches? If it wasn’t for Jackson’s intervention, she wouldn’t be allowed here at Rosewood.”

  “Really? She’s the Matron’s favorite.”

  Ian smirked and studied the file while I started pacing. So much risk for such little fruit. Not that it wasn’t a pleasure to break and enter into a vault, but I’d expected something, a home address, a name, some idea of who the creature was who I had all sorts of intentions towards.

  I grabbed Ian’s shoulder. “Time.”

  He shoved the folder back inside the drawer, slammed it closed, and we ran out of the room. I stopped to close the door, difficult with the way my mind was racing. P.L. Rose. It was something. It had to be enough.

  We spent the next twelve hours as a mace and helmet, the real ones shrunk so when the guards put us down in Professor Vale’s office box, after her forcing them to return for the right artifacts which I’d somehow written wrong on the paper that was Ian, I could take them out of my pockets, expand them, and turn to Ian who was staring at me, his pocket bulging from the pretty stone he was taking with him.

  “Thief.”

  He grinned at me. “Burglar.”

  I laughed and nodded at him before I stepped into Darkside, into a tavern at the foot of the Dark Hills where we’d gone often in our misspent youth.

  I walked through the dark clothed men to a corner booth and slid in, resting my head against the hard oak. I’d really thought this was the authentic experience when I was younger. Magic, mayhem, cheap alcohol…

  “Did you order?”

  I shook my head as Ian sat down across from me. He drew circles on the table that flared gold and exploded in miniature golden suns.

  “Very pretty. Have you thought about coming for the tourney?”

  “Against Blackheart? Going to the same school with Wit would be interesting. Maybe I should try that. I haven’t seduced her in ages. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  I scowled at the man who flung down large mugs of something sour smelling the color of green mop water. “She’s very mysterious.”

  “That’s right. She’s your curiosity, so she has to continue surprising you. What about when her surprises are finished, when the truth is revealed and she’s left as nothing more or less than a slightly quirky witch the same as any other?”

  I drank long then thumped the mug on the table while I stared at him. “It’s not my emotional attachment that concerns me. What I think of her, what I feel, what I don’t feel, none of that has any bearing on the matter at hand. What I want is for Penny Lane to fall desperately, madly, utterly in love with me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And then…”

  “Stay that way. Permanently.”

  He wrinkled his forehead and leaned across the table to stare at me, his eyes flickering gold. “That sounds like a lot of effort, Drake. Witches require so much effort, even more than one’s scaly mount.”

  I glanced around as though someone could hear through the fancy spark ward Ian had cloaked us in. I spread my hands on the table and scowled at him. “You know, I think you’re right. It’s time I put some effort into something. Hopefully she’ll prove a challenge.”

  It was later, after I staggered to my bed, when I remembered a portrait hanging at the top of the stairs in the ballroom. A portrait of Penelope Rose, co-founder of Rosewood Academy.

  Chapter 2

  Witch

  Work. Days and nights I worked, falling into my craft like I’d done when Poppy first left with her psychotic lover. I had ordinary lotions, potions and hurters to make for my regular online shop, but that wouldn’t be enough to keep me from going crazy, from feeling and thinking and wanting. I ached with so much wanting, I wanted to rip out my own heart to stop the pain.

  Along with business as usual, I filled out orders for difficult hurters that would make some little sorcerer somewhere extremely happy.

  I had stacks of boxes on the floor and shelves, carefully packaged and labeled. I stood in my room, Señor Mort draped around my neck. I turned to start a new batch when a wave of dizziness hit me. I crashed onto my bed, sending it swinging wildly while sleep pounced on me and dragged me down into the deep waters where nothing else could touch me.

  I woke up some hours later in the dark and checked my phone for the date and time. Had I really locked myself in my room for five days? I felt numb which was better than in pain or wracked with humiliation when I thought about tying Drake up to a tree and confessing my deepest darkest desires for him, or the humiliation of being helpless while Zach ripped through me searching for magic I’d never had after I’d incomprehensibly stupidly trusted him. Yep. Much better.

  I sighed and sat up. What was I supposed to do now? The idea of facing Zach, Viney, Drake… I shuddered and climbed down to get my computer.

  I went to the site that was secure and I could email my hacker friend. She responded quickly, agreeing to hack into Rosewood once more to change my rooms. When she asked which room I wanted I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t done research. Who could I marry? Barry? Lars? My fingers trembled as I typed hastily, ‘somewhere far from Lilac Stories’ and slammed my computer lid closed.

  I went to the site for deliveries and scheduled a pickup in Fairfield behind the dollar store that backed to the woods at the bottom of the hills. I w
asn’t going to deal with him here where someone else might see him. Walking down to town would give me the chance to move, to work my thoughts through my body until I’d come to some conclusion about my next step. I couldn’t hide in my room forever. I mean, I could, but that would be stupid and much more awkward than going home and hiding in my attic, at least until the place was demolished. There wasn’t time for me to hide. I shouldn’t have wasted so much time on making hurters, but I had to. I had hurt that had to go somewhere. Couldn’t exactly channel it into prospective grooms. Or maybe I could.

  I almost smiled before I shook my head and checked my phone. They gave me approximately six hours until pickup. How long would it take me to walk down to the town? I lay back down, setting my alarm for two hours so when I woke up, it was nine a.m. on a Thursday morning when everyone should be in class, in fact Drake would be in my ballet class without me.

  I didn’t want to wear color, not yet. I wasn’t quite ready to become Penny Macaroon Lane, so I put on the black silk dress and cloak after I’d stitched my strap together and sewn black ribbons to the edges of the cloak because my cord was probably still in a tree somewhere.

  I opened the door to the common room, and saw a stack of waffles on the table.

  I stared at those waffles for a moment while my stomach tightened and my heart pounded. No. I wasn’t ready to feel anything, not yet. I grabbed a few of them before I headed out of the purple room, and then down the corridor, chewing on waffles too quickly before I headed across the green, feeling conspicuous in my black cloak and gown in broad daylight, heavy sack slung over my shoulders.

  I climbed the fence and hiked briskly through the woods. It was cold enough that my nose got runny as I hiked. I kept the sun over my left shoulder as I traveled the ravines and rises, jumping over small streams, glad for the exercise after being holed up in my room for days. It took about four hours to make it to the base of the hills and come out behind Fairfield. My pace picked up on the straight ground while I shifted my large pack on my shoulders.

  A brown truck pulled up behind the large brick box of a building. I broke into a jog, my body aching and straining, but I let it, pushing harder while my feet struck the ground, long legs eating across the distance until I hit the blacktop and slowed down, heart pounding while I approached Signore Ludi.