Lock and Key (Nocturne Academy 1)

The girl who had been the first to light her wick, stepped forward again.

“May the Goddess shine her light upon what we have done in her presence here,” she intoned. “By her will, I close this Circle and dismiss the powers that we adjured to come. Be Ye gone—so Mote it Be.” Leaning forward, she carefully blew out only the wick she had lighted.

The three other girls followed suit and went back to their seats while Ms. Yasmeen nodded in approval.

“Very good—an excellent first Circle. This class is off to an auspicious start,” she said. “Now then—who’s next?”

Four by four, she called students forward to repeat the ritual and every time they called the Circle and lit their wicks perfectly. By the time I was called, in the last group, long runnels of white wax had dripped down its formerly pristine sides and the round stone room was filled with the smell of whatever herbs had been used to scent the candle—vanilla and jasmine and cinnamon, I thought.

I was the last person to call my corner—“Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the North. Spirits of Earth, powers of Stability…” But when I said the last words in the ritual and stepped forward to blow on the wick in front of me…nothing happened.

I heard a murmur run around the room and felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. This couldn’t be happening to me. I was a straight A student—I had never failed at anything! Even in my most hated subject—math—I still managed to find a way to make the grade.

Closing my eyes, I repeated the last words of the ritual loudly and firmly, “I conjure ye, O Circle of Light to be a temple between the worlds. In the name of the Silver Lady and the Golden Lord. Wherefore do I bless and consecrate thee, So Mote It Be.”

Then I blew on the wick with all my might, willing it to light, picturing a flame springing to life in my mind as the black key throbbed between my breasts.

Again, nothing happened.

Which seemed wrong—completely and utterly wrong. And not just because I was usually a straight A student.

This ritual—this power that I could feel all around me, so palpable I could almost reach out and touch it—ought to be mine. I was sure of it. I never would have thought so before—never would have dreamed that I might have—or should have—any kind of supernatural powers. I would have thought the idea was crazy…bizarre.

Now it seemed bizarre and wrong that I didn’t have any powers—not even enough to light a candle.

The other students in the class were murmuring again and the three who had called the circle with me—all at least four or five years younger than me—were looking at the teacher to know what to do.

Ms. Yasmeen was staring at me in apparent concentration, a frown between her bright orange eyebrows as though she couldn’t quite figure me out. At last she waved a hand at the class.

“That is enough. Miss Tenbrook, dismiss the Circle. Even a partial Circle must be respected.”

The girl to my left did as she was told, speaking the words even though there was no fourth candle flame to blow out. Then the bell chimed and the girls all began to gather their things and move to the next class.

My cheeks were still burning with shame and my body throbbing with frustration as I, too, went to get my backpack and blazer, which were hanging on the back of my chair. Inside I felt like a bottle of Coke someone had shaken and shaken until it was ready to blow and yet I was unable to release the pressure that had been building in me from the first moment I had seen the very first candle wick flame to life.

“Miss Latimer, please come see me before you go.” Ms. Yasmeen’s clear, bugle voice cut through my frustrated thoughts as I shoved my notebook and pen savagely back into my pack. Shouldering the pack, I went reluctantly over to her desk, feeling as ashamed as though I had just made a big fat F on a test.

“Ms. Yasmeen,” I said quickly, before she could even speak. “I don’t think this is the right class for me. I think I must be a Null—that’s what I’ve been classed as, anyway—and I think it’s probably a correct classification. Maybe…maybe I should ask to be transferred to a Norm studies class in place of this one for this period.”

All the weird terms rolling off my tongue would have been complete gibberish to me only that morning. But now, thanks to Emma, Kaitlyn, and Avery, I at least had a grasp on what this place was all about. And it was clear I wasn’t going to fit in here—at least, not the magical side of the Academy.