Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

A union between a Cristescu and a Girard could never happen.

Even if he had wished me a Happy New Year. My butterflies still hadn’t fully subsided.

I knocked on Rebecca’s door, and she called for me to come in. I stepped into the room and found her wrestling with her long, thick blonde hair. It was a shade darker than mine, and she typically wore it in a neat bun. Not a strand out of place.

“Why don’t you ever wear your hair down?” I asked, stepping up behind her. “It would look so pretty.”

“Because it gets in the way,” she replied, securing the bun in place with an elastic and several carefully placed slides.

Rebecca wore a calf-length navy skirt, flat shoes, and a pale blouse. She always dressed very sensibly. Mum said Rebecca’s biological father was hundreds of years old when she was born and that he would dress her in frilly, old-fashioned dresses when she was little. Even now, her style was that of someone twenty years older than she was. I watched as she clipped in a small pair of gold earrings.

“Are you almost ready to go?”

Rebecca stood from her dresser, running her hands down her skirt. “Yes, almost.”

She grabbed a cardigan from her wardrobe and pulled it on over her blouse before gathering a few things into her handbag.

“Just to warn you, Grace might be in one of your classes today,” I said, and my sister frowned.

“I don’t see why you feel the need to warn me about that.”

“I know she likes to tease you, so I just thought you might want to be prepared.”

“There’s nothing to prepare for. If she acts out, I’ll send her to the principal’s office.”

I sighed because Rebecca had no idea that sending Grace to the principal’s office was probably one of my cousin’s top sexual fantasies.

My parents were already out of the house, my mother off on whatever witchy business she was attending and my father to the Hawthorn Council, where he stood as a representative for the vampires.

Rebecca and I climbed into my car and completed the fifteen-mile drive to St. Bastian’s in no time. When we were almost there, I spotted lots of students walking along the path that led to the school, though only one stood out.

Peter Girard was instantly recognisable with his tall frame and dark hair. Ever since I got my car, I’d battled the urge to pull over and offer him a lift from the bus stop. Somehow, I managed to resist, mainly out of fear of him declining the offer and looking at me like I was some sort of creep trying to lure him into my car.

With our family histories, it was common sense to mistrust one another. And yes, I was still keeping my wits about me when it came to him, even though I trusted him the other night when I’d taken his chewing gum. Looking back, I’d been stupid to take it. For all I knew, he could’ve bespelled the gum. It could’ve caused me to choke or given me a nasty rash. He was certainly a talented enough warlock to do it. And yet, I’d shoved the gum into my mouth without hesitation. I’d allowed my crush to override my logic, and I couldn’t let that happen again.

I parked in a free spot and climbed out, saying goodbye to my sister and wishing her good luck on her first day. I spied Nic hanging out on a bench by the entrance and shot him a friendly smile.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and swept his long fringe out of his face. “Hi, Darya. Did you hear about the new student?”

I perked up at that. St. Bastian’s was something of a closed community. Everyone knew everyone, so it was always exciting when a new student enrolled. “No, who is it?”

“His name is Ren Tanaka. Supposedly, he’s Mrs Tanaka’s grandson. His parents passed away, so he’s come to live with her,” Nic said.

Mrs Tanaka was the Clairvoyance teacher. I wasn’t surprised that people were gossiping about her grandson already. We all enjoyed something new and curious to distract us from our daily lives. “How did his parents pass away?”

Nic shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure yet, but there are all sorts of rumours flying around.” Of course, there were. There was nothing St. Bastian’s loved more than a bit of fresh gossip.

“What sort of rumours?”

“Some people are saying it was a car accident, but others are saying the accident is a cover-up and that Ren killed his parents with a spell gone wrong.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do people always have to make up crazy stories?”

Nic shrugged. “Entertainment, I guess.”

“Come on. We’d better get to class before the bell rings,” I said, and Nic stood from the bench he’d been sitting on as we headed into the building.