Shadow Mage: (Witchling Wars: Luxra Echelon, Book 1) Read online

  “Prove?” he said with a twisted smile. Almost as if he was mocking me.

  I nearly scowled at him. Lucky for me I remembered my place in time and just stared at him with wide eyes.

  He stifled a laugh and moved away from his desk. He walked around it to take the seat next to me and leaned forward on his knees.

  My heart beat faster. He was closer to me than I had ever allowed myself to get to him. Close enough for me to feel a hint of his breath as he breathed out.

  “You think you might have enough evidence to prove your theory?” he repeated.

  “Y…yes,” I nodded. “You see… I visited some of the excavation sites from the archaeological dig taking place near York last month. They were kind enough to let me walk around with an escort. I saw some things from their photographs of the burial sites that might imply that-” I stopped myself mid-sentence, realizing all too well that what I was about to say would sound like a bunch of lunacy. And if he thought it was that would mean starting my dissertation all over with a different topic. A rush of adrenaline shot through my body and made the top of my hairline sweat.

  Typical. I was the sort of nerd that breaks a sweat over my master’s dissertation more so than the fact that a gorgeous man was seated only a couple feet away from me.

  “That what?” he pressed.

  I wrung my hands together, preparing to hear him laugh as the words left my mouth. “That the ancients might have thought they were working with some sort of magic.”

  His brows crinkled together. But to my surprise, it wasn’t out of amusement. He was intrigued.

  I took his silence for an invitation to keep talking. “During the medieval period there were all sorts of things people would do to ward off bad spirits, demons, and what they perceived as witchcraft. Well, these burial sites that I saw in York looked similar. Only the bodies were buried with items that many would associate with conjuring magic rather than trying to defend against it. I know it sounds utterly insane and likely nothing more than ancient tribal superstitions but it could help us to understand the period and those tribes better.”

  He let one hand rest on the arm of his chair, bringing his hand dangerously close to my knee. “It’s not utter insanity,” he said. “In fact, I think it might make for a wonderful exploration of the topic. I would encourage you to look into more funerary rites given to deceased children during the period. There’s been research done about the various superstitions tribes had regarding the causes of death when the young died unexpectedly. You might find a couple of interesting case studies, particularly in the works of Buckley and Ellswerth.”

  I took out my cell phone and made a note of the names to research later.

  “What made you interested in this morbid topic, Miss Waggener?” There was something genuinely inquisitive about the way he asked me.

  I moved a stray piece of hair away from my face and played with the hem of my shirt. I had to channel my nervous knots somewhere. The room was getting hot. I thought of taking my jacket off but resisted.

  “I guess it was that dig in York.” Heat rose to my cheeks. I wasn’t imagining it. I was blushing. The man was making me blush. My professor. The head of the department.

  ‘Damn it! Get it together!’

  I cleared my throat and kept talking. “I took lots of my own photographs that I intend to use for visual aids in my dissertation. They will offer more undiscovered insights previously unknown until this recent excavation.”

  “Not that,” he leaned in a little closer. “What happened in your life to make you so curious about death? Particularly funerary rites?”

  His voice had an edge of concern to it. Almost as if he was asking if I had lost someone close to me. The question was definitely a personal one. But for some reason, I didn’t mind.

  I shrugged my shoulders and took the opportunity of a broader conversation to remove my coat. The room seemed to get warmer as I sat there. Unlike the brisk air that would greet me once I stepped outside again.

  “Oh, nothing in particular,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “I just found the excavation happening near York really interesting.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked me. His voice gained a depth that I didn’t notice before. “I guess I’d like to think that your interest is motivated by something that might make your perception a bit more unique. A certain life experience perhaps.”

  “No. I guess I’m lucky. I’ve never really lost anyone close to me.”

  “How very fortunate.”

  I nearly opened my mouth to ask him if he had until I realized it would be completely inappropriate. But then again, he brought it up.

  He let out a heavy breath. “I don’t like seeing students come through these walls with hardships pressing on them. Often we lose things without even knowing they’re lost.”

  “Like what?”

  He brought his leg up to sit on top of his knee. And as he did, his foot brushed up against my leg.

  A shiver ran up the length of my thigh. Did he do that intentionally?

  He rested his hand on his leg and observed me as if I was an object of immense fascination. “During my lectures, you always seem somewhat far away,” he said. “At first I thought perhaps my lectures didn’t interest you until I saw your proposal for the topic of your dissertation. Then I suppose I wrongly assumed that your thoughts were driven to focus on more serious matters.”

  “Serious matters?”

  “Perhaps a personal loss. Something you might have needed to speak of but didn’t know you could.”

  I caught myself playing with a long piece of my frizzy hair and quickly let it go. I looked like I was flirting. Or was he flirting with me? He was trying to get me to talk about my personal life. Even if it was a morbid topic like death it felt a little odd.

  “Umm… I’ll do as you suggested.” I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows and let my knuckles rest over my skin. The air seemed to get thicker as the seconds went by. “I’ll look up Buckley and Ellswerth in the library. And if you want I can forward you the pictures I took at the excavation site.”

  His eyes wandered to my right forearm. “That’s an interesting tattoo.”

  I glanced down at my arm as if I had forgotten my tattoo was even there. After almost a year of having it, I just thought of it as my skin. I never even really saw it.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said.

  “Does it have any special meaning?”

  I glanced back up at him. His eyes weren’t looking at my arm. They were back to focusing on me.

  “I got it before I came here.”

  “Is there any intent as to the design. It seems rather intricate.”

  I sucked in deeper breaths. The air was getting harder and harder to breathe. “It’s a copy of a key from a necklace my mom gave me. My sister always admired it and would sometimes steal it from my jewelry box when we were kids. So I gave it to her before I left and had the design tattooed.”

  “Were you worried you would forget what it looked like?” He smiled in a way that I found unnerving. Then he set down his leg, allowing it to subtly brush up against mine again. This time I knew it had to be intentional. “If you say you have enough primary sources then I believe this will be a great dissertation. Read over the previously published dissertations in the library and pay close attention to the way they’re constructing arguments. Then re-write these pages and schedule an appointment with me again in two weeks to show me your progress.”

  I nodded and reached for my coat. I threw it over my shoulders and wondered why I had conceded to taking it off in the first place. My skin felt hot to the touch. And I couldn’t for the life of me remember it being so unbelievably warm in his office when I first walked in.

  He stood up from his chair and towered over me, lingering for a few more seconds than necessary.

  I leaned over to grab my backpack and flung it over one shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Professor Connelly.”

  “Of course,” he sai
d. He opened the door to let me out and I sped through the hallway and down the stairs without another word. The brisk air outside hit me like a head-on car wreck. A dull ache erupted throughout my back, reminding me of how harsh the Scottish winds were when they hit my body at just the right angle. On top of that, I had the droplets of sweat forming at my forehead and the back of my neck. The droplets rolled down my spine and gave me an instant chill. I wrapped my arms in front of me and thought over what the hell just happened.

  Did Professor Connelly come onto me? Was he intentionally flirting? Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Or maybe I should tell someone that there was a professor potentially hitting on students?

  I shook my head. That final thought was the last thing I should do. All it would accomplish was putting my place in my master’s program in jeopardy. It was my word against a well-respected professor. I doubted anyone would listen.

  I never liked getting hit on by men. It always felt intrusive. Girls like Annette found it fun. It made me feel like there was a bright light sitting over my head threatening to reveal every character flaw. A feeling that was heightened every time Annette talked me into going clubbing with her.

  Call me crazy but a cozy and quiet night in is always more peaceful to me than being surrounded by strangers in a night club trying to rub up against me. Even my sister grilled me when I decided to stay home from my high school prom. Not only did no one ask me to go but the thought of getting all dolled up and drawing attention to myself was enough to make me nervous.

  By the time I reached my hall and took off my coat and shirt it was clear that I needed a shower. A hot one. Tension spread throughout my body and made it impossible for me to loosen my muscles.

  Professor Connelly had a certain power over women. One I was certain he was perfectly aware of. The sort of raw masculinity that couldn’t be taught or practiced. Men either had it or they didn’t. And he did. He used it on me. A small part of me was too timid to admit that it was somewhat flattering.

  I ripped open my backpack and tossed Annette’s medication onto her bed at the opposite end of the room.

  Then I darted for the shower and turned it on. It took twenty minutes of standing there breathing in the hot steam before my heart stopped beating as though Professor Connelly had stripped me bare and pressed me up against the wall.

  I leaned my head against the bathroom tiles, trying to ward away the thought from my mind.

  Two more sessions. I had two sessions with him to go before I could complete the required appointments I needed to finish my dissertation. And I was determined to make them as professional as possible. Professor Connelly might have been able to make some of the female students lose their heads but I was determined he wouldn’t have that effect on me. They would probably feel like they won the lottery. I, however, felt violated.

  Professor Connelly didn’t appeal to me anymore. He could flash all the handsome smiles he wanted. I would be ready next time with a scowl on my face.

  3

  The only nice thing about having long and ridiculously curly hair was that I barely had to do any styling to make it look like I put in some effort. I pinned a few pieces back and added the final touch of makeup before Annette even came in.

  She walked right over to her bed and opened up the prescription. “Ah, you’re such a doll. Thank you.”

  I rolled my eyes and continued working with my hair, pulling little bits of curls out of the pins to frame my face. Curiosity got the best of me as she ripped open the paper bag and pulled out what was inside. I didn’t see a proper prescription bottle. Just a plastic tube with an odd cork sealing the top. She took a swig of the clear bubbly liquid inside and tucked it into a black velvet pouch. Then she placed it inside her dresser drawer.

  “The guy behind the counter wanted to make sure you know how to take it properly,” I said, realizing I probably should have asked before she downed a quarter of the contents.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I know what I’m doing. As long as it doesn’t interfere with alcohol I’ll be fine.”

  “Does it though?”

  She didn’t answer me. I went over to my bed and sat there playing on my phone while she continued getting ready.

  “Thanks for coming tonight and abandoning the library for once,” she said.

  I quietly conquered the intense temptation to groan and screwed a happy smile on my face. “It’s your birthday. Of course, I’ll come this once.”

  ‘Just don’t expect it to be a reoccurring thing.’

  She snickered as she removed her blouse and put on something a little more night-life appropriate. She had a collection of clubbing outfits that she brought with her all the way from Boston. I was left wondering how she didn’t freeze to death most nights when she left after the pre-drinking in our main hall ended. Spandex tight dresses were never my first choice when it came to fashionable outing attire but unlike some women, she wore it well. Her curves were perfectly plump and her stomach nicely extenuated by the material and array of sequins lining the seams.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to borrow one of my dresses?” she asked me, turning around to see me in nothing more than a pair of tight skinny jeans and a slightly fancier than normal blouse that I went out of my way to buy for the occasion.

  “No, I’m fine with this.”

  “Whatever.” She wasn’t too thrilled about my choice of attire but knew she was lucky that I even said yes to being her designated responsible adult at the club for the night. I agreed to only have a drink or two so she could have at least one relatively sober person there to make sure she got back in one piece.

  “I’m just thrilled I don’t have a UK driver’s license or a car,” I told her. “The last thing I want to do is drive you around all night while everyone else gets trashed.”

  “Oh, we’ll have a car.”

  “You’re ordering a cab?”

  “No, a friend loaned me his vehicle. Emily is going to drive us for the night. And before you ask, she already promised not to drink. It’s her present to me.”

  I groaned. That could only mean one thing. The night wouldn’t be over at 2 am when all the pubs and clubs shut down. She would make sure we found someone’s house for us to crash until the crack of dawn if we had someone that could drive us around.

  “Fine, but I want one thing to be perfectly clear between us.” I made sure my voice sounded sterner than usual to let her know I was serious.

  She turned around from her mirror and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s that?”

  “When I say no, it means no.”

  “Okay, mom.”

  “I’m serious, Annette. You’re my friend and I don’t want you suddenly getting hammered and thinking it’s a good idea to toss yourself into some stranger’s arms just because you’ve had one too many drinks.”

  “I don’t have to worry about that,” she said with a smile. “I have you there to protect me.”

  “Not if you ignore me and throw a drink in my face like you did the first week we got here.”

  She let out a sigh. “I’ve apologized for that a hundred times.”

  “Regardless, when I say you’ve had enough, you’ve had enough. And when I tell you a certain Scotsman is good looking but not worthy of screwing, you listen to me.”

  She considered my words a little too long. Almost as if there was something else going through her mind. Her cheeks flushed through the pile of blusher she applied to her face.

  ‘Jeez, what did I say wrong?’

  “Annette?”

  “Look,” she came over to the bed and sat beside me. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “About tonight. I’m not just celebrating my birthday. It’s sort of a… send-off.”

  My brow lifted. “A send-off for what?”

  “Me. I’m going back to Boston in two weeks. I decided earlier today.”

  My heart plummeted deep inside my chest. Annette and I couldn’t
be more opposite. She was an outgoing party girl and I was the book nerd. But I couldn’t help but like her, no matter how many times I found her irritating. I was the older sister in my family. The one who had to be responsible. It was Annette that forced me to get out of my shell the first few months I was in Edinburgh and taught me to live a little bit. That I could mix having a social life with achieving what I wanted academically. We explored the city together, we laughed at the odd cultural differences together, and we even vented about moments of homesickness together.

  “But why?”

  Her eyes fell to the comforter on my bed. “Would it be alright if I didn’t say?”

  “You’re going to leave without finishing your degree and not even bother telling me why?”

  “I’m thinking of coming back,” she tried to comfort me. “Maybe next year. By that time you’ll probably have a job and we can still hang out. I just need to go home and take care of-”

  She stopped speaking and forced herself to make eye contact with me. “Of a mistake. It’s difficult to explain and I just can’t right now. Maybe someday but tonight I want to have a blast. So please just let me do that.”

  Annette got up from the bed and fished through her wardrobe for a pair of sparkly high heels. I was left in complete dismay when she didn’t give me the slightest explanation. But it was her birthday. I would give her this one gift and allow her the privacy of not telling me. At least not tonight. She could prepare for a proper grilling later.

  “You ladies ready?” Our friend Caitlyn from across the hall peeped her head in. “Pre-drinking starts in ten minutes.”

  She shut the door behind her just as Anette finished strapping on her heels. As if the prospect of her getting smashed wasn’t bad enough, now I would have to make sure she didn’t break an ankle in her heels walking over the cobblestones outside.

  “Don’t tell them,” Annette said to me as she stood up and admired her reflection in the corner mirror.