This was what my adopted sister, Rebecca, had chosen to do. At the age of twenty-nine, she was about to become the newest Herbology teacher at St. Bastian’s. Rebecca was a walking encyclopaedia for herbs and was adept at advising witches and warlocks on the right magical ingredients for their spells.
Amid all those high achievements and greatness, there was me, Darya Cristescu, an eighteen-year-old dhampir who had magical blood but whose talent for spells was non-existent. I routinely messed things up and got some of the worst grades in my classes. Seriously, if I was asked to turn a mouse into a toad, I’d somehow manage to turn that mouse into a swarm of bees.
Spells, for me, rarely went as planned.
The only class I excelled at was Weapons and Self-defence, which was why I planned to join the Hawthorn Guard as soon as I graduated from St. Bastian’s. Well, if I graduated, and going by my grades, there was no guarantee I would. The problem was that I needed my diploma to qualify for recruitment
The Guard operated completely separately from the regular human police. They specialised in supernatural matters and worked to keep all supernatural species living in peace and harmony among the (mostly) unaware human population. My parents knew of my plans to join, though I suspected my mother still hoped that I’d follow in her footsteps and harness my magic. Become a witch she could be proud of.
I hated that I was doomed to disappoint her on that front.
“Darya, where have you gone? You look a million miles away,” Grace said, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Nowhere. I just feel a little sorry for Peter,” I replied. “He’s always on his own.”
“No, he isn’t. I see him with Sophia Diego at school all the time,” Grace said. “I wonder if they’re together.”
A sharp stab of jealousy sliced through my gut. Grace had no idea of the feelings I harboured for Peter, so I could hardly expect her to know how a statement like that could hurt me.
“I think they’re just friends,” I said, hoping she didn’t hear any jealousy in my voice. Sophia Diego, of the Diego magical clan, was just as talented as Peter. Some people at school bullied her for her weight, even though, in my opinion, she had the enviable curves of a 1950s pinup.
“Well, that’s too bad for old Petey,” Grace said, “because that girl is stunning. I mean, I definitely would.”
“She might be gay,” I replied, a little too hopefully, because if she were, that would keep her away from Peter. “You should ask around.”
Grace grinned. “Perhaps I will.” I knew she wouldn’t, though. My cousin was far too infatuated with someone else.
I sensed someone’s attention and found Nic staring at me. As soon as I caught him looking, he glanced away. Self-consciousness tugged at my chest because there was something perceptive in his gaze that told me he’d noticed my reaction to our talk of Peter and Sophia. Great. That was all I needed. Someone figuring out my secret crush.
Then again, as shy as he was, Nic didn’t seem the type to spread gossip.
“By the way,” Grace went on, “I heard Rebecca’s starting work at St. Bastian’s this term. Do you know if she’ll be teaching any of my classes?”
Speaking of crushes, though in this case not-so-secret, Grace was smitten with my older sister. Rebecca was oblivious, of course, with her head stuck in her research half the time. And though I referred to Grace as my cousin, we weren’t blood-related since she was adopted. Rebecca, too, had been adopted by my parents when she was just eleven years old. Her father, the late Governor Pamphrock, had once ruled over the north side of the city but was killed in the war, leaving Rebecca an orphan. My parents had found it in their hearts to take her in, and now she was an intrinsic part of our family. I couldn’t imagine growing up without her.
“You’ll probably have her for Foundation Herbology,” I said, and Grace’s eyes lit up. Vampires and other supernatural species weren’t required to take the same magic classes as witches and warlocks. Still, they did have to complete some foundation-level courses to have a basic knowledge of how magic worked.
“Please don’t make trouble for her in class, Grace. You know how stressed and uptight Rebecca can get about things. She’s nervous enough as it is about starting her new job.”
“Hey, a little mild teasing won’t hurt her. It’s a rite of passage for students to give new teachers a tough time. It’ll be all in good fun, I promise.”
I frowned. “You know Rebecca won’t take it that way. She’s sensitive.”
“I know. It’s so hot,” Grace swooned. “I love a woman who’s in touch with her emotions.”
I wouldn’t exactly describe it that way. Rebecca suffered from anxiety and panic attacks her whole life due to her tumultuous childhood. She’d been kidnapped twice before my parents took her in, and she still suffered from trauma, attending weekly therapy sessions to help manage it. I didn’t mention this to Grace because it was my sister’s private business.