Curses: Academy of Magical Beings, #2

By Emery Cole

Carissa's a junior at one of the most prestigious academies for magical beings. She recently lost her mother in a highly questionable death, yet, one that she denies is suspicious. She's intent on getting the best grades possible and spending time with her perfect boyfriend Nick.

 

At least, when she isn't forced to go her tutoring lessons with Ronin. Her! Tutoring lessons! Unheard of. She's always been a straight A student. So what if she got one B? Okay, a B minus, but still.

 

So, back to Nick. Things seem to go to hell in a handbasket when she catches him with her best friend. You'd think that's the worst of it, wouldn't you? Until she realizes there's evil at bay. Evil that wishes ill for her and her sisters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EmCo
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201025632

Book preview

1

Two Months Later

"I t's nice to see you, Carissa. How was the Yule holiday?"

I groaned inwardly. It was fine.

I understand that it might have been a bit difficult for you and the girls this year—

It was fine, I insisted. What did you want to speak with me about?

Well, Carissa… I was looking at your transcripts, and I noticed that there is a bit of a discrepancy.

How so? I've always gotten straight As.

Well, yes, that's what I mean. The discrepancy is that I noticed you actually have a B minus, said the professor, Dr. Palmer.

That’s not possible.

I thought so too, at first. She chuckled lightly, though she looked at me with a nervous expression. I didn't offer her a polite smile in return, impatiently waiting for her to reach the punchline. Of course, you’ve always been one of the best students at this university, and we all expect you to become the valedictorian next year when you're a senior, which is why I found this so surprising. I'm sure you've been very distracted by recent events, and that's why this didn’t cross your radar, so I thought I would meet with you this morning so that we could discuss it together. I didn't want you to have to find out on your own since I know how seriously you take your grades.

It was the first day of the spring semester of my junior year at Arceneaux University. While everyone else was on the way to their first classes of the day and preparing to do nothing but enjoy an easy syllabus week, the first thing I did that morning was march across campus to meet with my academic advisor, Dr. Palmer. She was the head of the Elemental Magic department and in charge of all the students who were in my major. I liked her. She was patient and reasonable. She didn't coddle students. She made all of us work hard, even those of us who knew that we were in her inner circle of favorites.

However, I knew that being one of Dr. Palmer's best students wasn't the reason that she called me into her office that early in the day. Rather, she felt an obligation to look out for me. Most people on campus had been like that recently. While it was certainly nice of them, I could barely stomach it.

Ever since my mother died, they all acted as if my sisters and I were ticking time bombs. They treated us like we were children of the university, and therefore everyone’s responsibility. We managed to fend them off for the most part and get some privacy over the course of final exams and the holidays. But, now that classes were back in session, the professors who used to work alongside my mother were back in full pseudo-parental mode.

I didn't need new parents. I needed to know what the hell Dr. Palmer was talking about.

Well, I'm listening, I said.

It's just.... your Latin grade. Your final exam result was lower than expected, which brought your overall Latin grade down to a B-minus.

It was that bad? I've only ever had As in Latin.

Bordering on A minuses, yes. But, my dear, you received a C on the final. Of course, I went directly to Dr. Mana and spoke with him. I asked him to look at your exam again, and he told me that he actually read through it three times because he, too, was shocked by how low the grade was. Nobody is blaming you, Carissa. As I said, I'm only telling you this because I know it is better for you to find out from me, your advisor, than by yourself when you look at your exam results when they're released later this week.

Even if he checked it three times, I'm sure there's been a mistake, I replied stubbornly. "Latin hasn't always been my greatest strength, but I've never done that poorly."

Carissa, you've been under a lot of stress this past semester. You've suffered a great loss. I think it's completely understandable that your grades would be lower than usual. In fact, if they weren't, I would be a little more concerned. It's okay to focus on other things right now. I encourage you to do so.

I blinked. I didn't need sympathy. I didn't want it.

Well, is there an extra credit opportunity available? Were you able to broker a deal with Dr. Mana on my behalf?

Dr. Palmer sighed quietly, but she didn’t look surprised by my determination to move past the more emotional aspect of her statement. Dr. Mana recommended that you simply continue on with his second-semester course. He understands that death in the family can have a profound effect on our ability to maintain otherwise pristine academic records, and he did not want to suggest putting more pressure on you with extra credit.

I can handle the pressure.

But Carissa—

"I can handle it. I’m fine. It's been two months. If I'm going to be the valedictorian that you all expect me to be, then I need the opportunity to prove that I’m not crap at Latin."

It's just that the low exam grade suggests that you might be a bit further behind than what extra credit would allow you to prove. That's why Dr. Mana thinks that you should carry on as usual and work your way towards a higher grade this semester.

God, I hated Latin. It was a dead language, and in my opinion, it should stay dead. I hated that it formed the basis of most older forms of magic. I hated that I needed to be good at Latin in order to be good at a lot of other things. Obviously, Latin wasn't the only language that magic could be cast in. A lot of ancient languages contained the ability to summon immense amounts of power just from the words alone. Even common languages like French and Spanish were useful to young witches. Knowing more spells and more languages was beneficial overall.

Unfortunately, languages never came easily to me. It was the only thing that wasn't natural. If I was being honest, ever since I was born and was able to understand the concept of magic and comprehend the fact that I was a witch, magic came to me easily. I never really had to try that hard. It was always there, light and glittering in the very center of my chest, waiting to be used. It was like a comforting friend.

It wasn't until I got to college that I realized how gifted I was, though. My mother had a way of humbling my sisters and me. Not in a cruel way, but just in a way that made us more cautious of the way that we tapped into our magic.

But when other professors saw what I was capable of and witnessed the great well of power within me, my strength became more tangible. I studied hard. I worked myself to the bone, all while maintaining a great social life and plenty of extracurricular activities. I was the shining star of the Quinlan sisters, and I was proud of it.

But Latin was determined to ensure that I was knocked down a peg.

I don't want to carry on as usual, I told Dr. Palmer. I'm willing to do what needs to be done in order to ensure that I can catch up with the rest of the class and maintain my perfect grade point average. This is important to me.

It's quite alright, Carissa. I know that I've pushed you hard these past three years, but I feel like I should tell you that not everyone needs to be perfect. In fact, perfection is unattainable even for witches and warlocks. It's okay that your Latin grade is less than ideal. It's a difficult subject. There's a reason that it isn't spoken as a common language nowadays.

With all due respect, Dr. Palmer, I really don't need you to pacify me. I huffed, sitting up straight in the chair across from her large oak desk. I just need you to give me the answer that I am looking for. I am not fragile. I'm not going to break under the pressure. I know that every staff member at Arceneaux University seems to be under the impression that my sisters and I are going to implode from the weight of grief that you all seem convinced is crushing us, but we're really okay. Personally, I just want things to be normal. I want to get through this semester like a normal student. I don't wanna be treated like a baby.

Dr. Palmer exhaled loudly. She was quiet for a moment, running her hands through her dark, bluish-black hair and adjusting her glasses. She stared down at the copy of my transcript that she’d printed out, and I followed her line of sight, my stomach twisting at the little red mark she made around the B-minus. I had to fix it. If I was going to get into a doctoral program at this university and become one of the most respected elemental researchers in the world, I needed to have perfect grades.

A lot of people believed that my sisters and I got accepted to Arceneaux University, one of the most prestigious academies of magical beings known around the world, because our mother taught here. However, that wasn't true. We worked just as hard as everyone else to earn our place here. In fact, I would dare to say that we worked even harder. Or rather, I worked even harder. I didn't want anyone to assume that I got good grades just because my mother was a professor. I wanted there to be no question about it that I was simply that talented and capable and strong on my own.

Of course, now that I'd gotten my first B and my mother was gone, that was even harder to prove than ever before.

Okay, Carissa, said Dr. Palmer. I actually know a student who is very skilled in the languages, particularly Latin. He has been getting some work-study credit from tutoring. Usually, he tutors the underclassmen in the introductory courses, but I am sure he'd be more than willing to take on an advanced student.

A tutor. She might as well have punched me in the face.

You really think I need a tutor? I muttered. I was thinking that I could just write a paper or do a research project or craft a new spell. You know, extra credit type of stuff.

I think meeting with a tutor for the next few weeks or so would be the right way to prove to Dr. Mana that you're putting in the necessary effort to improve your grades. He doesn't want to see more work. He wants to see more devotion to the subject.

And the only way I can prove that I'm devoted to Latin is by meeting with a tutor…

It's just a suggestion, Carissa. It's all I can do, replied Dr. Palmer. You don't have to meet with the tutor. It was only an idea.

The thought of getting tutored was shameful. I knew that Arceneaux University was a competitive school. Not everyone made it through all four years without transferring to an easier school for witches and warlocks or dropping out altogether. Not everyone had what it took to get through the oldest institution of its kind. There was a reason that we turned out some of the best magical people of each generation. There was a reason why Arceneaux University was home to the most cutting-edge magical research and the brightest young people. It was serious business. Because of that, tutors were a dime a dozen. Plenty of people weren't ashamed of struggling in class and therefore weren't afraid to get a tutor for a bit of extra help.

But I was Carissa Quinlan. Everyone knew me as the smartest girl in the junior class. I was the most talented, the most powerful. On top of that, I was the girlfriend of the golden boy, the son of the headmaster. I was one-half of a power couple. Everyone looked to me to be the most knowledgeable, especially when it came to elemental magic. I couldn't be seen getting tutored. If everyone saw that I also struggled just like them, my image would be tarnished. Everything would be ruined.

And I didn't want anything to be ruined. I wanted everything to stay exactly how it was. Perfectly normal. I just wanted to not change.

Thus, my first instinct was to deny the offer of a tutor. But then I thought about how much I truly did struggle in Latin. I thought about pretending that everything was totally fine and going to Latin class later that afternoon. I imagined trying to act like I knew what was going on. Truthfully, I knew that I didn't do well on the final exam, and it wasn't because I was distracted by what happened to my mother.

It was just that Latin was difficult, plain and simple. That was it. Was it really such a crime that someone couldn't understand such a convoluted, ridiculous language?

Even as I feared the demise of my reputation, I reminded myself that I was the Carissa Quinlan, which meant that I couldn't be messed with. I had friends in high places. I had a lot of people on my side. I could always make certain, via whatever means necessary, that whoever this mystery tutor was wouldn't speak about our meetings. We could meet in secret, and then once I was all caught up, and they taught me the secret tricks to getting perfect grades in Latin class, I could move on with my life. Everything could go back to normal.

Fine, I said to Dr. Palmer. I'll meet with the tutor. Who is it?

Well, actually, now that I think about it, there are a couple of options. I'm going to have to reach out to both of them and see what their availability is. But how about we make a tentative plan for you to meet them tomorrow in the library cafe? I'll email you a confirmation later this afternoon once I'm able to touch base with the work-study students.

Sure, sounds good, I agreed, mostly because I had no other options. Is that everything?

I suppose. Although, Carissa…

Yes? I paused halfway through standing up and about to run out of the office.

It hasn't been easy for any of us, but I can't imagine what you must be going through. If you need anyone to talk to—

I am fine, I repeated yet again, my voice coming out more harshly than I intended.

Then, before my academic advisor could offer me a grief therapy session or a shoulder to cry on or a basket of grandma’s cookies, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and hurried away.

I meant it. I was fine. Something bad happened, but it was two months ago. Bad things happen all the time. That was life.

Just because my mother was a witch didn't mean that she was invincible. I knew that all too well after what happened to my father. He was a warlock and, although he didn't die in a random car accident as she did, he still died, and it was still an accident. He was still gone, and there was no changing it. The only way to get through it was to accept the fact that it happened and that the past was