Junior Witch by Ingrid Seymour & Katie French

Author:Ingrid Seymour & Katie French [Seymour, Ingrid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

SPRING SEMESTER

EARLY JANUARY

No more death. I couldn’t take it.

I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, trying to compartmentalize my grief, but was finding it impossible. Every time someone around me died, it was as if I was experiencing the deaths of everyone I loved all over again.

Mom.

Trey.

Dean Underwood.

Dean McIntosh.

Why her? She’d been one of the best people I’d ever met. Had she once raised her voice to me, or given me the talking-to I deserved? I knew the answer was no. How could one woman embody such patience, such understanding, and such raw magical power?

Why did she have to be dead?

Anger flitted around the edges of my grief, making brief appearances here and there. Tempest needed to be stopped, that was clear. But how, if Professor Fedorov and Priscilla Fordyce couldn’t even stop her?

And Rowan. How could he have anything to do with a group that murdered Dean McIntosh? It made me sick to think of him standing there watching as Tempest blasted her.

Or worse, participating.

My chest felt as if someone was taking a rusty can opener and prying open my heart. Dean McIntosh had been the closest thing to a mother figure I’d had since my own had died. When my mother had gone, I’d told myself I didn’t need anyone to fill that void, that I was fine on my own, but Lynssa made me realize how much I missed having someone to talk to, bounce ideas off of and tell me everything was going to be okay.

Who would fill that void now?

How could things ever be okay again?

A knock sounded at my dorm room door just before it was thrown open. I smeared tears across my face in time to see Disha barreling toward my bed. She fell onto me, curling her long, brown arms around my body.

We lay like that for a long time, pressed together in sadness, holding each other. Finally, she dug in her messenger bag, pulled out a little package and pressed it into my hands.

Slowly, I unwrapped the crinkly brown paper to reveal a giant chocolate muffin from the place in town I liked so much.

I stared into my best friend’s eyes. “Is this from Tom’s? How did you even have time to get this?”

Disha shrugged her slim shoulders. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was disheveled, something she would never have allowed on a normal day. “I wanted to give you something, but couldn’t think of what to do so I went with baked goods.”

“Baked goods are great,” I said, setting the muffin on the night table. Right now, I didn’t feel like eating anything, even a delicious pastry from Tom’s.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry,” she said, holding my hand. “I know how much she meant to you.”

I nodded, sniffling. “She meant a lot to a lot of people.”

“Students are crying everywhere. I saw two people lying on the lawn outside just sobbing. It’s awful.”

Glancing out my window, I couldn’t see any of the student mourners Disha was talking about, but then again, that was probably for the best.

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