Nightworld Academy Box Set: Terms One - Three by LJ Swallow

Author:LJ Swallow [SWALLOW, LJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

JAMIE

Physical Education is my least favourite class, and I’m relieved I only attend once a week. This term, the faculty put Walcott and Gilgamesh in the same class—witches head to head with shifters—which is bloody stupid since they’re physically stronger. This term we play hockey which is supposed to be a non-contact sport, but Gilgamesh kids like nothing better than to remind us we’re weaker with a slip of the hockey stick. We’re at a disadvantage unless spells are used, and that’s not allowed.

Today, I’m counting on somebody 'accidentally' hitting me, so I can test my new magic defences.

I’m not sorry about casting the spell on myself, whatever the others think. How can they understand what it’s like to have a death threat hanging over your head, like a constant black cloud following you everywhere? I bet they’d use any method available to stay safe. Sure, I took a risk casting the spell, but I’m okay. I don’t feel any different.

No, I do feel different—safer.

I feel awful about what happened to Maeve afterwards, but I don’t believe this was connected. Amelia says I’m fooling myself if I think that’s true. Maeve’s still freaked out by the blur between the present and the future, but she’s coping better than I thought she would and there’s no ill effects. So no harm done.

Professor O’Reilly stands with arms crossed tight across his barrel chest, the sports shirt straining against his biceps as he watches us file into the sports hall from the rain. This ex-military guy is one of few teachers who'll discipline you for using his first name. He demands respect from us all—he’s bloody scary.

Maeve passes then half-hides on Ash’s right-hand side, her eyes wide as she looks round at us all. She voiced her worry about competing against the other houses, but Amelia assured her she'll survive.

Survive was the wrong word to use, since Maeve turned pale.

We stand against the wall and Professor O’Reilly walks along to inspect us. Every class I have with him, I feel as if I’m thirteen again, because he looks down at us as if we’re dumb kids. He’s overly strict on sports uniform too—thanks to his military background, everything has to be perfect.

His slight limp is the only clue to the professor's disability. His career fighting for the Confederacy ended abruptly following a loss against hunters. He can still shift into a huge wolf that I wouldn’t tangle with, even with three legs, but his physical prowess isn’t enough for a combat role. Instead of taking a desk job, the professor decided to train others in the hope he’ll find strong candidates for military leadership.

He has his eye on Ash.

Professor O’Reilly stops in front of Maeve and appraises her. His gaze rests on her shoes long enough for the rest of us to fall quiet. He fixes her with his amber eyes.

“You do not have the correct shoes, Miss Foster.”

She straightens but doesn’t look down at the black and white Vans. “Sorry. I didn’t know I needed specific shoes until today.

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