Fundamentals of the Supernatural World

I pass through the double doors and into the classroom, which looks like a standard lecture hall. There are rows of desks facing towards the center of the room where there is a desk and whiteboard that is no doubt for the professor to use. I turn to my left to take a seat in the row second from the back, hoping to get a seat closest to the wall. If I can, I'd rather only have someone on one side of me.

I put my bag down on the floor next to me and settle into the chair. I pull out my notebook and glance out of the corner of my eye at the rest of the classroom to take in my surroundings a little more, without being too obvious about it. I'm not really sure what to expect, but I'm trying to get my nerves under control. The last thing I need is to be on edge and lose control of my temper.

I take another sip of my perfectly made mocha latte, just in case. Ryker has a few things going for him, but being a damn good barista may be his best quality yet.

Perhaps it's a close tie with his abs, I think to myself with a grin on my lips as a memory with him in my shower flashes through my head.

A door slams and my attention is drawn to the front of the room where a very tan, tall man with dark hair and eyes wanders to the front desk. I'm surprised to see that he's a professor, given how young he looks. Possibly in his mid-twenties, at most.

He puts his coffee cup down on the desk with a little too much force, given that some of it splashes over the edges. With his bag carelessly dropped onto a chair, he sits on the edge of the front of the desk facing the class.

As he flicks his gaze dismissively over all of us, he rolls up the sleeves of his white button down shirt, which is layered under a tan vest and goes nicely with his black pants. He sighs disappointedly and looks away from the group. Are we that unimpressive? I take another glance at the other students and see some who look like the walking dead, a few that have wide eyes frozen in fear, and others that look like they couldn��t care less where they are.

I smirk as I see the kid who gave me the lilax tea this morning, with his pen posed about his notebook ready to record the professor's musings like his life depends on it. There's a couple of girls in the row behind him that must have finally come out of their own social bubble long enough to realize the professor is in the room, and as they look him over, they subconsciously straighten their posture and push their chests out. I cringe in embarrassment for them.

"Buenas dias, underlings", the unusual and darkly handsome professor grunts in our general direction. "The name's Luca Florentino, but you will address me as Professor Florentino. This is day one of Fundamentals of the Supernatural World, so if your schedule says anything differently, then raise your hand now." His voice has smooth Spanish lilt to it.

One of the blokes that I pegged with an exceptional amount of fear slowly raises his hand as he looks to Florentino. Nothing but a drawn out silence greets him, as the professor gives him a flat, unimpressed look.

When the professor continues to stare, his raised arm starts to tremble slightly. "Well, get on with it then", Florentino finally shouts before he starts actually barking. At the sound, the student flinches back and stands up so fast that his legs flail and get caught on his chair. He stumbles over the chair a few times before kicking it off of him and barreling through the classroom exit. When the professor finally stops barking, I try, and fail, to keep my laughter in and wipe the grin off my face. Florentino's gaze cuts in my direction and he gives me a quick wink before turning back to the class.

"Fundamentals of the Supernatural World. Anyone want to take a guess as to what that means and why the hell you would need to learn it?"

Lilax kid - I really need to learn his name - raises his hand, but doesn't get a chance to answer.

"To learn about the different supernatural creatures, obviously," a high pitch voice shouts out, belonging to one of the chatty Cathy's from earlier. She has strawberry blond hair that falls in waves down her back and has a wide grin on her face that's colored in pink lipstick. "As werewolves, we would need to know about the creatures that we command," she adds snidely.

"What's your name?" Florentino asks.

"Au-"

"Don't care." Professor Florentino growls over her. "Anyone else want to give it a try?"

When the kid who makes the lilax tea raises his hand again, my respect for him doubles.

The professor nods at him to answer. "Werewolves, by nature, are interwoven and connected to the natural and supernatural world around us. Having relationships with, and a better understanding of supernatural species will allow us to better understand our role as werewolves in this complex world. Therefore, Fundamentals of the Supernatural World would include detailed teachings about species physical characteristics and behaviors, social structures and a comprehensive overview of how it relates to the supernatural community as a whole," Lilax guy says, impressing the hell out of me.

Professor Florentino gives one resounding clap. "Very good," he says. "Name?"

"My name is Calvin, Professor Florentino" he answers.

Florentino gives a nod of respect to Calvin, and turns around to grab something from his bag. He walks to the front row and throws down a stack of papers in front of a student.

"Syllabus," he says by way of explanation while the student stares at the papers like they're poisonous. When the professor gives a whistle and twirls his finger in a circle, the student catches on and starts to circulate the papers around the class.

I look over the first page of the syllabus on my hands and read 'Fundamentals of the Supernatural World guide for moronic mutts'. My lips twitch again. This professor's got jokes, I like it.

He sits casually on the end of his desk again, looking us over. "All of your deadlines, homework and exams dates are in there. So don't expect me to answer any of your useless questions about when things are due, comprende?" Most of the students are giving him either fearful or vacant looks, so he groans in frustration and scrubs a hand over his sharp jaw that has the beginnings of a dark beard.

He turns around and pulls another item from his bag, which he tosses behind him without looking. He turns around in time to see the item flying towards the class and nail a girl in the forehead. It falls down on her face, knocking her glasses off the bridge of her nose as it goes, and lands on the desk in front of her. It looks like a small bean bag.

She gives the professor a flat, unimpressed look.

"You," he says as he points at her.

"Teodora" she snaps back at him, with a sneer on her lips.

"Teodora, name a species you want to learn about today."

"Well, since I'm feeling a tad vengeful at the moment, I suppose it's fitting to start with furies," she quips while clenching her hands under the desk.

A what now? A fury?

"Good choice," he starts with a sardonic grin twisting his lips. "A fury is a woman who can shift into a bird, but as she will retain her face, this is only a partial shift. This is because they bond or share a transcendent connection with their animal, rather than transforming at a genetic level, like werewolves do. They are known for their unrestrained anger and brutality, but are selective in terms of where they direct their ire, choosing to target those that are guilty of a transgression, rather than attack larger groups of people that might include those free of blame. Furies are vengeful, wrathful and glorious in their vicious search for justice."

There's a moment when my brain shuts down and a stone settles on my stomach when I realize I am entirely out of my depth. There is so much more to the supernatural realm than I could have imagined.

My thoughts catch on something he said, so I raise my hand and Professor Florentino motions for me to speak.

"Justice for who?" I ask, trying to follow the train of this conversation.

"The wronged," he answers ambiguously and punctuates the words with a click of his tongue.

"Yeah, that's not helpful," I tell him seriously, and his impeccable eyebrows raise in perfect condescension.

"Well, Bambi," I scowl at the nickname and level him with a cold look. And his absurd grin only grows. "They might seek retribution on behalf of a victim of an assault, molestation, corruption or murder. Furies are rare and their motivations are not entirely known. What we do know, however, is who controls them."

"And who might that be?" I ask, riveted to this conversation.

"Hades, God of the Underworld".